( even the pavilion's stretching shade isn't enough to diminish the intensity of zhongli's gaze, as heavy and bright as gold brick. no mortal man or woman could withstand a single look from him without splintering under the weight of it, but childe lifts his chin and holds his stare, steady. )

You wouldn't be the first to be concerned.

( or the last, most likely.

his hand slips down his wrist, skittering across his elbow and bicep until he's shifting into zhongli's space and loosely hooking his arm over his shoulder. it feels as natural as breathing, or wielding a blade with practiced finesse, the rising tide of zhongli's warm body drawing him close. he knows this part, has bruises on his knees now as evidence. it's everything else, all the things deeper than physical, that he can't touch or dissect into bite-sized pieces able to digested and understood as intimately as he understood his cock in his mouth. )

Surely you've heard the rumors by now, xiansheng. ( the honorific rolls off his tongue like he's been saying it all his life, dense like water-logged silk. it's easier to control every unruly syllable when he's not falling apart in zhongli's clenched, slick fist. he tucks his fingers beneath his collar, down the knot of his tie that he tightens snug against his throat, returning the gesture. ) It's why I'm the Tsaritsa's favorite. I'm insatiable.