[ the way that childe looks on his knees, lashes drawn and a gaze drawn bright as knifepoints. the surety of his hand closing over zhongli's wrist. the tilt of his jaw, shining with the clarity of unconquerable arrogance.
he has, perhaps, underestimated childe. it isn't entirely an unpleasant thought.
but it's a heartbeat or two before he takes advantage of the moment. in the hush, there's more than enough to savour -- the sounds drifting out through the marbled stillness, sloppy, obscene, as childe sinks onto his cock; the plush, slick friction of his tongue; the wet and greedy pulse of his mouth suckling at the head of his cock, fist working down in ruthless strokes. heat throbs in the pit of his stomach; zhongli breathes out, and it's nearly a shudder. ]
You have had -- some practice in these matters, I see.
[ it's equal parts dryness and the kind of praise that doesn't bear saying out loud -- not yet. his fingers drag through childe's hair, drawing him up until his mouth's opening up for zhongli's cock again. he eases into it with a measured rhythm that might nearly pass for gentleness -- steady as he guides childe down, down, bracing him until he can feel muscle clench around the throb of his cock, airless little flickers that stop just short of spasming.
he makes a sound, nearly guttural. gold snarls through his lidded eyes; the stone walls grumble around them like thunder. his grip knots tight, holding childe in place. ]
Your mouth is remarkable.
[ he sinks in again -- and once more after that, for good measure. it feels like a rhythm that he could carry for hours, fucking childe's mouth until he's nearly drunk on the yielding pressure of it, the bow of his lips, all flushed and gorgeously obscene.
but he's taken it more than well so far. it begs another question. ]
May I?
[ as his fingers trail down through the roots of childe's hair, tightening at the base of his skull, tilting his head up to just the right angle. the next push's just a little rougher, testing. ]
no subject
he has, perhaps, underestimated childe. it isn't entirely an unpleasant thought.
but it's a heartbeat or two before he takes advantage of the moment. in the hush, there's more than enough to savour -- the sounds drifting out through the marbled stillness, sloppy, obscene, as childe sinks onto his cock; the plush, slick friction of his tongue; the wet and greedy pulse of his mouth suckling at the head of his cock, fist working down in ruthless strokes. heat throbs in the pit of his stomach; zhongli breathes out, and it's nearly a shudder. ]
You have had -- some practice in these matters, I see.
[ it's equal parts dryness and the kind of praise that doesn't bear saying out loud -- not yet. his fingers drag through childe's hair, drawing him up until his mouth's opening up for zhongli's cock again. he eases into it with a measured rhythm that might nearly pass for gentleness -- steady as he guides childe down, down, bracing him until he can feel muscle clench around the throb of his cock, airless little flickers that stop just short of spasming.
he makes a sound, nearly guttural. gold snarls through his lidded eyes; the stone walls grumble around them like thunder. his grip knots tight, holding childe in place. ]
Your mouth is remarkable.
[ he sinks in again -- and once more after that, for good measure. it feels like a rhythm that he could carry for hours, fucking childe's mouth until he's nearly drunk on the yielding pressure of it, the bow of his lips, all flushed and gorgeously obscene.
but he's taken it more than well so far. it begs another question. ]
May I?
[ as his fingers trail down through the roots of childe's hair, tightening at the base of his skull, tilting his head up to just the right angle. the next push's just a little rougher, testing. ]