( blistering, impossible heat slicks his shirt to his body as a second skin, but childe — bowed taut into the firm crevices of zhongli's body, hips canting into his fist with all the clawing urgency of a drowning man — can't think long enough to consider taking it off. his head tilts sideways then back, throat arched and flexing as he swallows around zhongli's fingers the same way he'd swallowed his cock. easily. ravenously.
zhongli is a scene of limitless serenity next to childe's writhing, twitching thrusts and choked-down moans. it's a needlepoint realization that forms mid-downstroke on his cock, prickling sharp and acrid in the back of his throat. he's baiting him. he's been baited. briefly, and deliriously, he almost hates him for it. )
Don't — ( fuck with me, tease me, make me promises, wrung out around the fingers in his mouth. he'd let him fuck him here or anywhere, in front of the qixing or his beloved tsaritsa, with the kind of fleeting, graceless desperation that only a mortal mind and body can wield. weakness, he thinks, unpurged and thriving like a living thing inside him.
he drags his mouth off his fingers, teeth scraping his knuckles on release, and twists his hand in his hair, gripped tight at his nape. his other hand moves between them, snaking around zhongli's fingers and tightening his fist into an unrelenting vise for his cock to fuck, just on the edge of painful. )
Anywhere, xiansheng. ( he means it with all the disrespect in the world, but his accent, velvet-thick, hitches through each unfamiliar consonant as he unravels in zhongli's hands, and rips from his lungs in a whine, breathless and petulant. he anchors zhongli's head back for his mouth and teeth to seek his throat, tongue trailing his pulse, then stays there, bent into him, hips working in sharp, unrhythmic jolts. ) I said what I said.
( he smears his face, damp with tears and sweat, across his neck and collar, and fucks his fist until the rough, building pressure breaks his soft gasps into a hiccuping, watery oh fuck. his hips jerk into a shivering stutter as he comes, slick and molten hot between their entwined fingers, good enough that his hand wrenches zhongli's hair painfully before loosening all at once, falling limp over his shoulder.
his mind sinks down, to a blissful quiet. even when he's bonelessly sated and no longer quivering through halfhearted thrusts, he doesn't move, braced with all five fingertips on the pillar above zhongli's shoulder and his mouth latching loosely around his collar, like an afterthought. )
no subject
zhongli is a scene of limitless serenity next to childe's writhing, twitching thrusts and choked-down moans. it's a needlepoint realization that forms mid-downstroke on his cock, prickling sharp and acrid in the back of his throat. he's baiting him. he's been baited. briefly, and deliriously, he almost hates him for it. )
Don't — ( fuck with me, tease me, make me promises, wrung out around the fingers in his mouth. he'd let him fuck him here or anywhere, in front of the qixing or his beloved tsaritsa, with the kind of fleeting, graceless desperation that only a mortal mind and body can wield. weakness, he thinks, unpurged and thriving like a living thing inside him.
he drags his mouth off his fingers, teeth scraping his knuckles on release, and twists his hand in his hair, gripped tight at his nape. his other hand moves between them, snaking around zhongli's fingers and tightening his fist into an unrelenting vise for his cock to fuck, just on the edge of painful. )
Anywhere, xiansheng. ( he means it with all the disrespect in the world, but his accent, velvet-thick, hitches through each unfamiliar consonant as he unravels in zhongli's hands, and rips from his lungs in a whine, breathless and petulant. he anchors zhongli's head back for his mouth and teeth to seek his throat, tongue trailing his pulse, then stays there, bent into him, hips working in sharp, unrhythmic jolts. ) I said what I said.
( he smears his face, damp with tears and sweat, across his neck and collar, and fucks his fist until the rough, building pressure breaks his soft gasps into a hiccuping, watery oh fuck. his hips jerk into a shivering stutter as he comes, slick and molten hot between their entwined fingers, good enough that his hand wrenches zhongli's hair painfully before loosening all at once, falling limp over his shoulder.
his mind sinks down, to a blissful quiet. even when he's bonelessly sated and no longer quivering through halfhearted thrusts, he doesn't move, braced with all five fingertips on the pillar above zhongli's shoulder and his mouth latching loosely around his collar, like an afterthought. )