( how he manages: a silent come and see, translated into a teasing flick of his tongue across the head of his cock and childe's fist twisting lower.
it's not a challenge he'd refuse on his worst day, let alone now, pleasantly drunk on the naked flush of zhongli's body and the salty-sharp taste of him. his eyes lid heavily, staring at zhongli through a shrouded sliver in his lashes. he shifts on his knees, thighs pressed in a tight clench, and lifts himself closer; his jaw drops as he eases zhongli's cock past the soft ring of his spit-damp mouth, into a waiting, gripping heat.
he could take him all the way — easily, he thinks, swallowing around a mouthful of spit and cock. but he stops halfway, mostly to savor the way he stretches him full, lips split wide to fit him comfortably, and a little because he's strung taut as a bone ready to fracture in half.
there's no hiding anymore. he feels every twitch and tremor, every low rumble vibrating through him like rolling thunder of an oncoming storm. it hits him harder than vertigo, and for a brief and fleeting second he's almost satisfied, it's almost enough, it's almost everything he's ever wanted. he'll suck his dick until he comes and lick every inch of him clean and he won't pathetically beg for more until he has nothing left but zhongli's name scorching his undeserving mouth like a holy prayer to the godless because this, a quick fuck in the golden house, is almost good enough.
almost.
his free hand strokes from zhongli's flexing thigh toward his hip and flank, and circles his wrist, guiding him into his hair to pull him down and fuck his mouth off or on at his leisure. it's a flash of a warning before he moves, descending in pulsing, bobbing sucks on his cock. his top lip drags over a blunt head tortuously slow, and down again, briefly loosening his mouth and slicking his cock in a dribble of saliva, worked in wet strokes around every part of him he doesn't touch with his tongue. )
no subject
it's not a challenge he'd refuse on his worst day, let alone now, pleasantly drunk on the naked flush of zhongli's body and the salty-sharp taste of him. his eyes lid heavily, staring at zhongli through a shrouded sliver in his lashes. he shifts on his knees, thighs pressed in a tight clench, and lifts himself closer; his jaw drops as he eases zhongli's cock past the soft ring of his spit-damp mouth, into a waiting, gripping heat.
he could take him all the way — easily, he thinks, swallowing around a mouthful of spit and cock. but he stops halfway, mostly to savor the way he stretches him full, lips split wide to fit him comfortably, and a little because he's strung taut as a bone ready to fracture in half.
there's no hiding anymore. he feels every twitch and tremor, every low rumble vibrating through him like rolling thunder of an oncoming storm. it hits him harder than vertigo, and for a brief and fleeting second he's almost satisfied, it's almost enough, it's almost everything he's ever wanted. he'll suck his dick until he comes and lick every inch of him clean and he won't pathetically beg for more until he has nothing left but zhongli's name scorching his undeserving mouth like a holy prayer to the godless because this, a quick fuck in the golden house, is almost good enough.
almost.
his free hand strokes from zhongli's flexing thigh toward his hip and flank, and circles his wrist, guiding him into his hair to pull him down and fuck his mouth off or on at his leisure. it's a flash of a warning before he moves, descending in pulsing, bobbing sucks on his cock. his top lip drags over a blunt head tortuously slow, and down again, briefly loosening his mouth and slicking his cock in a dribble of saliva, worked in wet strokes around every part of him he doesn't touch with his tongue. )