Archive of Our Own

Childe scrolls until his timeline won’t refresh. He drags idly at the screen, pouts at the looping animation of the throbber as the app tries and fails to fetch more content.

Ugh. Why live?

Beyond the peaks of his raised knees, on the other end of the couch, Zhongli sits deep in thought, brow furrowed as he studies his laptop screen. Then, he nods to himself. His fingers fly over the keys.

Just a couple emails, he said. I’ll be done in no time, he said. Lies. Betrayal.

Zhongli’s been glued to his laptop since he got home from work. He’d even brought it to the table, had clicked and clacked his way through the dinner Childe had so lovingly prepared. Childe’s not bitter. Okay, he is, but mostly because all he really wants is the bare minimum here. Just a simple acknowledgement of his presence would do.

He taps on his darkened phone, and it lights up with the lock screen photo that Zhongli always begs him to change. It’s a selfie—judiciously cropped to hide most of Childe's own face—with Zhongli leaning into frame to plant a kiss on his cheek. Zhongli looks incredible, of course, even though he claims his face looks too soft or too round or some bullshit like that.

Childe stands his phone on the rise of his stomach, rocks it back and forth with his pointers at the corners. The screen quickly darkens once more, and Childe huffs.

His tenuous grip slips, and the phone flops onto his stomach. Before he can catch it, the device slides down his side and tumbles to the carpet with a dull thunk.

Zhongli doesn’t even look up. He’s still engrossed in his oh-so-important work.

Childe lets his head loll to the side. He stares down at his phone, reaches out with an arm that has no shot of making contact. He flaps his hand uselessly several inches above the phone, too lazy to actually lean down.

Life is cruel. Living is pain.

Childe refocuses his attention on Zhongli and tries for telepathy. Maybe if he wills it hard enough, Zhongli will hear his silent pleas.

When that doesn’t pan out, he knocks his knees together. His thighs clap against one another, but neither the movement nor the sound draws Zhongli’s interest. Well, then. Childe might just have to resort to more drastic measures.

He smooths his hands over his thighs, lets his legs fall open. The couch creaks as he wiggles his hips, and he toys with the ends of his shorts, his palms whispering against his skin. He walks his fingers toward his groin, massages the squishy flesh of his inner thighs.

Fuck, now he’s getting all worked up.

He braces his back on the arm of the couch and lifts his hips so he can shimmy his shorts down over his ass. The elastic snaps back against his thighs, and he grunts as he works the piece of clothing down his legs, as he squirms and folds his legs back to ease the removal.

“Zhongliii.” He kicks the shorts off, and they thwap against Zhongli’s thigh.

Still no dice. Is Zhongli really that hyper focused?

“Zhongli,” he tries again. He jostles Zhongli’s leg with his foot, nudges insistently.

At last, Zhongli turns his head. He frowns at the foot on his thigh. Then, he follows Childe’s leg back to its source. His eyes flick up.

“Need something?” Zhongli asks.

“Attention,” Childe says plainly. He smooths his hands up his legs and drags them over the expanse of skin not covered by his crop top. “Please?” He rubs downward over his stomach until his fingers reach his panties.

Zhongli’s lips press into a flat line. Then, he sighs. “Give me one moment, Childe.”

As if he hasn’t had plenty of moments already.

Childe leans forward and flattens his palms against the couch. He swings a leg over the edge, bounces his calf against the cushions as he waits.

Zhongli’s keys click in a flurried chorus.

His fingers would find much better use splayed across Childe’s back, wrapped around Childe’s hips, teasing between Childe’s legs. How Zhongli can still be so distracted by work when Childe is right here is a mystery Childe will never understand.

At last, Zhongli punctuates his typing with a final, flourished keystroke. He sets his laptop on the coffee table, and it squeaks against the wood as he shoves it back.

“All right,” Zhongli says. He looks at Childe pointedly. “You have my attention, Childe.”

“Full and undivided?”

Zhongli nods. “Full and undivided.” He pats his lap. “Come here, and I’ll show you.”

Childe nearly stumbles over himself in his haste. He plants his knees on either side of Zhongli’s thighs, looms tall over his boyfriend as he invades his space. Cold fingers dance over his skin and bite at his lower back as Zhongli’s hands settle into place.

“Do you feel neglected, Childe?” Zhongli asks.

Childe swallows. “A little.”

Zhongli’s hands ease downward. They cup Childe’s ass, draw him in closer. “After all the things I’ve done for you?”

“Can you blame me?” Childe thumbs at Zhongli’s collar. “You never leave your work at work.”

Pedant Zhongli opens his mouth to object.

“Okay, not never,” Childe says. “But c’mon, aren’t I way more interesting than emails?”

“You are more interesting than emails,” Zhongli concedes.

“Good,” Childe says. “So we agree on that.”

Zhongli chuckles. His shoulders shake under Childe’s fingers, jostle Childe’s arms. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re in competition with my emails, Childe.”

“You don’t sound sorry.”

“Hmm, you might be right.” Zhongli tips his head. “So, how should I make it up to you?” His fingers squeeze tighter around Childe’s cheeks. “What do you want, kitten?”

Oh. It’s embarrassing how quickly that kitten goes to his head, leaves him dizzy and giddy-drunk. He smooths a hand over Zhongli’s hair to ground himself, toys with the wispy flyaways that halo his head.

Zhongli’s makeup is careful and unsmudged around his eyes, but a patch of wetness gleams at each outer corner. If Childe dragged his thumb through that shiny red, would it smear?

“Childe?”

He blinks. Right. He’s supposed to answer, isn’t he?

He brushes along the line of Zhongli’s jaw, traces the curve up towards Zhongli’s ear. “I want to kiss you,” he says.

Zhongli’s grin is lopsided, and one of his eyes scrunches adorably. “Then kiss me.”

Childe leans in. His forearms rest on the solid ridge of Zhongli’s shoulders, and his thighs squish against Zhongli’s under his own weight. One of Zhongli’s arms snakes up under his shirt, and his palm presses against Childe’s back, fingers splayed between Childe’s shoulder blades. Their noses bump.

Zhongli’s huff of amusement fills Childe’s open mouth. The man has no sense of urgency, his movements honey-slow even as Childe slips a tongue between his parted lips. He traps Childe in his sticky clutches, drags each kiss out into an unhurried mess.

Wandering hands catch at Childe’s hips, guide them in slow rolls that stoke warmth in his core. His body thrums with a pleasant, buzzing ache. Fuck, he wants more.

Zhongli’s lips skim beneath Childe’s jaw. “Good?” he asks.

Childe shivers. “Want more.” He rocks his hips, and his stomach rubs against Zhongli’s. If only he could press closer. “Please.”

Zhongli sits back. He squeezes Childe’s hips, and his thumbs rub circles on Childe’s thighs. “Greedy brat,” he says. “But you did say please.”

“Please,” Childe says again. “Please, daddy.”

Zhongli’s grip tightens. “All right, kitten,” he says. “If you want more, I’ll give you more.” He swats Childe’s ass with an open palm. “Get up.”

Childe scrambles off of Zhongli’s lap. The backs of his legs hit the coffee table, but Zhongli catches him by his shirt before he can tumble backward.

“Careful,” Zhongli says. “I know you’re excited, but do try to be patient.”

Childe takes a deep breath. He nods.

Zhongli chuckles. “You are eager for attention.” He unhooks the top button of his shirt. Then the next. Slowly—painfully slowly—he reveals more of his body—the sculpted muscles of his chest, the fading lines of his scars, the hair trailing down past his navel.

Childe can’t help himself. He smooths his hands up Zhongli’s chest, fingers creeping under the loose fabric and seeking out Zhongli’s shoulders. The muscle there is firm, and Childe traces up the perfect slope towards his neck.

Before Childe can make much progress, Zhongli intercepts. His hands wrap around Childe’s wrists, his grip strong and sure. “Good boys ask before touching,” he says.

Childe deflates under his reproachful gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Zhongli rolls his eyes. “What am I supposed to do with you, you naughty thing?” He releases Childe’s wrists. “Kneel down for me.”

The space between the couch and coffee table is narrow, and Zhongli’s knees press close on either side.

“Get my belt,” Zhongli tells him. “Make yourself useful.”

Childe fumbles with the buckle as Zhongli shrugs his shirt off, reveals lithe arms corded with muscle. Fuck, Childe wants to worship every inch of Zhongli’s body, wants to cover him in kisses and paint his skin with an appreciative tongue.

“Focus,” Zhongli says.

Childe bites his lip. Right, of course. Carefully, he eases the belt through the loops until it pulls free. He coils it in his hands, imagines the leather snapping against his skin and leaving reddened welts across the backs of his thighs.

“You’re thinking something untoward,” Zhongli says. He tugs the belt from Childe’s grasp. His lips twitch upward, and he thwacks the leather against his open palm. “An intriguing idea, but I’d rather have you squirming for…different reasons.”

“Please,” Childe begs. He lays his head on Zhongli’s thigh, rubs his cheek against the soft fabric of his slacks. “Want you.”

Zhongli thumbs at Childe’s chin. “All right, kitten. I’ll stop teasing.”

“I’ll suck you off,” Childe offers. “Or eat you out. Anything.”

“No, no, none of that,” Zhongli says. “You wanted me to give you attention. Remember?”

Childe hums. As long as Zhongli is looking at him—and only him—he’ll be satisfied.

“Come here,” Zhongli says.

The two of them end up on the couch once more, Childe between Zhongli’s legs. The warmth from Zhongli’s chest seeps through the back of Childe’s shirt as Childe relaxes against him.

An arm snakes around his middle, holds him securely in place as Zhongli’s lips find his jaw, his cheek, his ear.

“I’ll give you more attention than you can stand,” Zhongli promises.

Childe squirms. “Fuck, please.”

Zhongli chuckles. He grabs Childe’s thighs, and his fingers dig into the soft flesh. “You’re cute when you beg.” His hands slide up and down, and his thumbs drag against Childe’s inner thighs. “Adorable, even.”

“‘M always cute,” Childe objects.

Zhongli’s grip tightens, and the flesh of Childe’s thighs depresses under his fingertips, squishes between white knuckles. “I suppose that’s true.” Teeth prick at Childe’s ear, and Zhongli’s breath ghosts over his neck. “But you’ll beg harder anyway, won’t you? For me?”

Childe groans. “Yes. I’ll beg as hard as you want.”

“That’s a good kitten.” Zhongli’s thumbs slip beneath the edges of Childe’s panties and tug against his skin, peel his lips apart. Air kisses coolly against his exposed entrance. Fingers brush over his groin and along his outer folds. “So soft,” Zhongli says. “Smooth.”

“I shaved today,” Childe admits.

Zhongli hums, and his fingers toy with Childe’s lips, pet along the delicate ridges. “You wanted me to play with you. Didn’t you, kitten?”

Saliva pools on Childe’s tongue. “Yes.”

“Needy boy.”

Zhongli pinches and prods, but his fingers never stray beyond Childe’s outer lips. Then, disappointingly, his hands retreat to Childe’s thighs. He kneads the swells of flesh with indelicate fingers, squishes and squeezes.

Childe’s legs bump against Zhongli’s as he widens them. “No, please. Touch me. Please, daddy, I’m already so wet for you.”

“Oh? Are you?” One of Zhongli’s hands drifts back between Childe’s legs over his underwear. He rubs his fingers up and down, presses Childe’s panties into the wet mess between his lips. “You are. So very wet.”

“Want you so bad.”

Zhongli tugs the fabric up, and it peels slowly away from Childe’s body. “So wet for me.” He smooths the panties back into place and circles his fingers over Childe’s clit. “I’m going to make you come over and over, kitten, until you’re crying and begging me to stop.”

Childe shivers. “Please.”

Zhongli rubs more firmly. “Please?”

“Please, daddy. Please make me come.”

“All right, kitten.” Zhongli hitches Childe’s leg over his. “Legs as wide as you can. That’s it.” His hand slips down the front of Childe’s panties, and his palm anchors against the swell of flesh above Childe’s lips. Two fingers spread Childe’s folds while a third finds Childe’s clit, rubs directly against the sensitive nub.

“Yes.” Childe rolls his hips against Zhongli’s hand. “Feels good.”

Each swirl of Zhongli’s finger sends pleasurable pulses through his core, and his arousal builds steadily. It’s hard to stay still, but he keeps his thighs spread open, tenses the muscles in his legs.

“Close?” Zhongli asks. His free hand tugs at Childe’s thigh, and the stretch in his groin goes straight to his clit.

Childe nods. “Fuck, daddy.” He clutches at Zhongli’s arm. “I’m gonna come.”

“Go ahead, kitten,” Zhongli says. “Come when you’re ready.”

Childe sucks in an uneven breath as he lets go. His body jerks in Zhongli’s hold, and pleasure lances through him, continues to spark as Zhongli’s finger keeps moving against him.

Zhongli gives him no reprieve. “You can come again, can’t you?”

Childe curls his toes against the mounting pleasure. He’s already hit a plateau, but now Zhongli is urging him even higher. He arches into the feeling, his head tipping back against Zhongli’s shoulder.

“Holy shit,” Childe says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His legs flail outward as he comes again, and his knee pops. When he tries to sit up, Zhongli stops him with a hand. He falls sideways against the couch cushions, but he can’t escape Zhongli’s touch, his fingers still at work between Childe’s legs.

Finally, Zhongli lets up. His hand dips lower and his fingers probe at Childe’s swollen lips, spread his juices around.

Childe shifts his weight and collapses back against Zhongli’s shoulder. He nuzzles into Zhongli’s neck, breathes in the fading scent of his cologne and the undertones of sweat.

Zhongli’s attention flits back to Childe’s clit. His finger taps against the abused nub with wet little plaps.

“You’re sensitive today,” Zhongli says.

Childe chews on his lip. “Ah, yeah. That time of the month, I guess.”

Zhongli flicks over his clit, circles around it. “All the more reason to tease you terribly.”

“Is it?”

Zhongli’s laughter tickles his ear. His finger caresses the head of Childe’s clit with the tiniest of movements. Pleasure pools deep inside of Childe, dull and throbbing. It doesn’t build, just bubbles, simmers. Low-grade but frustratingly intense. He fidgets, flaps his knees helplessly.

“Zhongliii. Feels weird.”

“Weird?”

He’s up against an invisible wall—so close to the edge but with no hope of reaching it. He rolls his hips, desperate for relief from the almost painful coil of pleasure throbbing in his core, but Zhongli’s hand moves with him. He groans. “Rub harder or something.”

“I don’t think so, kitten.” Zhongli’s torture continues. “I’m rather enjoying this.”

Childe whines. “Please. Not gonna come like this.”

“You will,” Zhongli says. “Focus on my finger, kitten. You feel it, don’t you? Rubbing your sweet little clit and making you feel so good.”

Heat travels along Childe’s legs, and he flexes his muscles, fails to capture the fleeting currents of pleasure. “Please,” he begs. “It’s not enough.”

“It is.” Zhongli’s insistence grips him like a vise. “Don’t think of anything, kitten. Let the feeling take you.”

The dull feeling sharpens. Childe’s legs quake, and a pressing need-to-pee feeling clouds his mind. He can’t decide if it’s good, but it’s something.

“That’s it,” Zhongli says. “That’s my good boy.”

White-hot hands of pleasure shove him bodily against that invisible wall. It’s too much, too much, but he can’t retreat, can’t escape that about-to-boil-over tension.

“Wait,” Childe says. “Wait, wait, wait.”

Zhongli does not wait.

Childe’s body shakes, then contracts in on itself. The violent swirl of pleasure draws everything inward like an unrelenting maelstrom. His legs snap closed around Zhongli’s hand, and he shivers his way through a silent orgasm.

“Good boy,” Zhongli says again. His fingers circle lazily around Childe’s clit, tease him through the aftershocks of his climax. “Oh, kitten, you’re perfect.”

Childe’s ears ring, and the sound of his own breath is muffled. His cheeks burn with heat. Sweat drips down his back, gathers at his throat and beneath his breasts.

Zhongli’s hand withdraws fully, and the band of Childe’s panties snaps against his skin. Zhongli toys with the elastic. “Let’s take these off,” he says.

Childe nods, but his limbs are leaden, and he’s yet to catch his breath.

Zhongli tuts. He gathers Childe’s legs together, hooks an arm under his knees, and hoists his hips. Childe whines at the show of force, and he clutches at Zhongli’s thighs for support as Zhongli strips him.

“That’s better,” Zhongli says. His hand returns to pet between Childe’s legs. “Still good, kitten?”

“Y-yes.”

Zhongli’s fingers nudge between Childe’s lips. “You’re all puffy and swollen,” he says. “But you want more, don’t you?” The tip of one finger breaches his entrance. “May I?”

Childe licks his lips. “Please.”

“Please what, kitten?”

“Make me come on your fingers. Please, daddy. Want your fingers.”

“Better.”

The stretch is uncomfortable at first as Childe’s walls constrict around the finger Zhongli feeds inside. Zhongli is gentle, but the poking and prodding still feels less than pleasant. Childe wiggles his hips as he adjusts to the intrusion.

“Good?” Zhongli asks. His other hand rubs circles on Childe’s stomach, and his lips find Childe’s cheek.

“Fine,” Childe says. He winces as Zhongli adds a second finger. “Ah, it’s…it’s getting there.”

Zhongli kisses him. “I can go slower,” he offers.

“Don’t you dare,” Childe says.

Zhongli nose-exhales. “Kitten has claws.” He crooks his fingers, massages Childe’s inner walls. “Such a brat.”

Childe’s breath hitches. “Fuck, right there.”

Zhongli increases the pressure of his fingers, and Childe whimpers softly. Shit, it’s even better than he remembered.

“Don’t be shy,” Zhongli says. “Make some noise for me.” His hand slides downward over Childe’s stomach, presses against his pelvis.

Childe threads a hand into his own hair for something to grab onto. “Fuck. Feels good. Holy shit, daddy. Don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zhongli’s chin hooks over his shoulder. “I won’t stop until you’re mewling on my fingers, kitten.”

“I don’t mewl.”

Zhongli hums. “We’ll see about that.”

Childe shuffles his legs. His body is already wound taut—ready to unravel.

As Zhongli’s fingers thrust and squelch inside of him, the heel of Zhongli’s hand presses over his clit. Delicious twinges of pleasure shoot through Childe’s core and down his legs with each movement, and a few choice moans slip from his parted lips.

“Are you going to come for me, kitten?” Zhongli asks.

Childe whines, the sound embarrassingly needy. “So close. I’m almost—” His breath catches as his arousal swells dangerously.

“Go on,” Zhongli encourages. “Show me how good you can be.”

Childe’s hips jump, and he yanks at his hair, tugs on his roots. “Fuck.” His body seizes around Zhongli’s fingers, clamps tight, pulses.

“Good boy,” Zhongli says. His free hand joins the chaos, his fingers flicking back and forth across Childe’s clit.

Childe squirms against the barrage of pleasure. A humiliating litany of noises fall from his mouth.

He does admittedly mewl.

“Oh, kitten,” Zhongli purrs. “You’re doing so well.” His fingers wiggle inside of Childe, stroke his still-fluttering walls. “You’re being so good for me.”

Childe moans, his thoughts too incoherent for words.

Slowly, Zhongli eases his fingers out. He drags his hand through Childe’s juices then slaps against his parted folds, makes the wettest of sounds.

“Should we try for one more? Two?”

Childe drops his head onto Zhongli’s shoulder. “More?” he asks weakly.

“We can’t very well end with four, can we?” He circles over Childe’s clit. “And I don’t hear you begging me to stop.”

Childe shivers at the stimulation on his oversensitive clit. “Okay.”

“You can handle another one, can’t you, kitten?”

He nods.

“I want to hear you,” Zhongli says. His hands stop teasing. “Still good?”

“Yes,” Childe says. “I’m good. I can handle it.”

Zhongli scoops Childe’s legs up again. “Hold these for me, kitten.”

Childe wraps his hands around his thighs, lets them slide into the hollows behind his knees. His muscles complain at the new position, and his feet kick restlessly as they dangle in the air.

Zhongli’s hands reach around beneath Childe’s thighs and play with his lips. His fingers smear slick along the outer edges with teasing touches, tug at his entrance and spread him open.

“Your needy pussy would look so perfect overflowing with come,” he says.

Childe groans. “Fuck, yes. You should come inside of me, daddy.”

Zhongli sighs. “I would if I could, my sweet kitten.” His fingers drum lightly against him, and the vibrations make him squirm. “Ah, if only.”

“Want you to fuck me,” Childe says.

“Not tonight.”

“I could fuck you.”

Zhongli’s hand snakes over the top of Childe’s thigh and pinches his clit. “You’ve run your mouth quite enough tonight, brat. You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Childe huffs. “Yes, daddy. Thank you, daddy.”

“You could at least try to sound grateful.”

“I am,” he insists. His sweaty hands slip against his skin, and he readjusts their positions. “I’m very grateful for your attention.”

“Better,” Zhongli says, “though you still leave something to be desired.” He toys with Childe’s clit, rolls it between his fingers. “Two more it is.”

“But—”

“Three, then.”

Childe presses his lips together.

“Good boy,” Zhongli says. “You’re learning.”

Zhongli’s fingers swirl, tease, and torture. They dance circles around Childe’s clit and work him into a frenzy.

Childe digs his nails into his thighs. “Fuck, just…just a little more.”

Zhongli pauses cruelly, and Childe whines as his pleasure ebbs.

“No, please.” Childe’s tongue catches on his chapped lips.

“Too much. Not enough. Make up your mind, kitten.” His voice lilts with lighthearted mockery. “Less. More. How am I to keep up with your capricious demands?”

“Please, I want to come.”

Zhongli’s hands settle on Childe’s upper arms, skate down towards his wrists. He covers Childe’s hands with his own. “Maybe you’d like to show me how it’s done?”

“Show you…?”

Zhongli pries Childe’s fingers up. He knocks Childe’s legs farther apart as he guides Childe’s hands to the junction of his thighs.

“Show me how you touch yourself, kitten,” he says. “Get yourself off.”

Childe wriggles. His legs drop low enough that his heels bump into Zhongli’s thighs. “And it’ll count?” he asks. “Towards the three?”

“I’ll allow it.”

Childe’s sex is swollen with arousal—slippery-smooth and rubbery-soft. He collects lubricant on his fingertips as he explores the familiar curves. His folds glisten, all sleek and glossy and dyed a kiss-bitten red.

He pulls his skin taut with two fingers, studies the jut of his clit. Even proud and erect, it’s a small thing—button-cute as it begs for attention. He nudges it with the pad of his middle finger, adjusts his hand for the best angle.

“Now who’s taking his time?” Zhongli asks. He massages Childe’s inner thighs, and his thumbs drag teasingly along the hollows of Childe’s groin. “What happened to your desperation, my dear?”

“I—”

“You don’t have to answer, kitten. I know how wonderfully touchable you are. It’s easy to get distracted.”

Even so, Childe does want to come.

He puts his finger to work, rubs with intention. Pleasure blossoms in his core as heat rises in his cheeks and sweat beads on his brow. As long as he keeps the stimulation going…

His finger chafes against his clit. Frustrated, he stops to gather more wetness.

“There’s no rush,” Zhongli says. He nips at Childe’s ear. “I’m rather enjoying this.”

Childe centers himself with a deep breath. Then sooner he comes, the sooner he can relinquish his body into Zhongli’s care. Zhongli’s attentions might be torturesome, but Childe is addicted all the same.

All right. Time to buckle down.

His breath puffs quietly as he works himself up. Like a sprinter aiming for a first-place finish, he focuses on the destination and funnels all his effort and determination into his actions. Just a bit more. Don’t stop. Don’t lose it. Just—

He comes with a muted cry. His legs kick out, and his hips buck. Warm fluid wells at his entrance.

“Gorgeous,” Zhongli says. He nudges Childe’s hand away and immediately continues where Childe left off. “Now do it again.”

Pangs of painful pleasure rip through him as Zhongli’s fingers stroke him towards another crest. He’s too dazed to do anything but accept the overwhelming rush of sensations, and he comes hard.

His chest heaves. Fuck, he’s a mess. He can feel the sweat collecting in his hair and gluing his shirt to the curves of his body. He’s disgusting and gross and—

Zhongli’s finger tickles the tip of his clit, pinpoints the most sensitive spot with deadly accuracy. Childe finds himself on the edge almost at once, hot spills of pleasure dripping down his insides and pooling in his innermost parts. Holy shit, it’s too much too fast.

“Fuck, shit, fuck,” he swears. “Too much. I can’t.”

“Last one,” Zhongli reminds him. “You can take it.”

Childe whines pitifully. His mouth and throat are dry. There’s a pounding in his head. And the maddening tickle of Zhongli’s finger gives no relief—all pleasure, no release.

Needy pleas slip from Childe’s cracked lips. He claws at Zhongli’s arm. His hips squirm and jerk. All to no avail.

"Please, please, please."

Then, mercy.

Zhongli’s fingers swirl over the bud of his clit with kinder motions. “You’ve done well, kitten,” he praises. “Take your reward.”

His fingers flick back and forth with splishes and sploshes until Childe shakes with need.

“Please,” he begs. “Let me come, let me come.”

“No one is stopping you,” Zhongli says. “You can come any time, kitten. Come for me.”

Childe’s climax rips through him violently, steals his breath, deafens him. He shatters and falls to pieces. He reaches enlightenment.

Zhongli’s mouth finds his, showers him with sticky kisses that sear his lips.

Childe shivers as fingers trace around his clit. “No, s-stop, enough. I did it. I came. Please.”

Zhongli relents at once, kisses him again—softer this time.

“I’m proud of you,” Zhongli says. “You did so very well for me, Childe.”

Childe hums at the praise. He relaxes against Zhongli, melts into him.

Hands wander tenderly over Childe’s body, caress his stomach, hips, thighs as gentle lips press fleeting kisses everywhere from temple to shoulder.

Childe yawns. “Sleepy.”

“After all that? I imagine so.” Zhongli’s fingers ease between Childe’s legs and brush lightly over his still-swollen lips. “Was it too much?”

“Maybe,” Childe says, “but I liked it.”

Zhongli laughs. “Of course you did, you selfish brat.”

“Hey, I offered to do you.” He nuzzles against Zhongli’s jaw. “I’ll suck you off right now, if you want.”

“And have you falling asleep between my legs?” Zhongli snorts. “Not tonight, I think.”

“Your loss.” Childe yawns again. “I mean, come on. Soft, sleepy head?”

“The only sleepyhead here is you.” Zhongli ruffles his hair. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed, hmm?”

Childe pouts, mrrps disagreeably.

“Don’t worry,” Zhongli assures him. “I’ll give you plenty of attention tomorrow, too.” He kisses Childe’s forehead. “And that’s a promise.”