Chapter Text
“Mr. Zhongli,” Childe hummed, leaning across the desk buried in contracts. His hands slid over the parchment Zhongli was working on, deliberately invasive. Golden eyes flicked up, narrowing at him. Childe only grinned wider. “I’d like to have a word. Now.”
“What is it, Ajax?” Zhongli asked coolly, setting his gloved hands beside Childe’s in quiet defiance. Their fingers nearly touched.
“Ah-ah, not that name,” Childe said, voice lilting but edged like a blade. “This word’s about the Traveler. You’ve noticed, haven’t you? They’re unraveling. Agitated. Frustrated. Bound to break.”
Zhongli’s sigh was low, heavy, but his gaze lingered on the closeness between their hands before meeting Childe’s again. “I have. They rage because every promise made to them was broken — mine among them. They want only their sibling, yet learned that sibling walks with the Abyss. A bitter truth to endure.”
Childe scoffed, leaning in close enough that his breath ghosted Zhongli’s jaw. “Bitter? Don’t diminish it. That’s agony. You wouldn’t understand — you slaughtered your siblings, didn’t you? That makes us the same, old man. Killers.”
The words landed, Zhongli’s composure fracturing for a heartbeat. His eyes hardened into slits, voice dropping like stone. “Watch your tongue, Ajax. You think yourself powerful because of your ties — but do not mistake me for something lesser.” His lips curved, faint, dangerous. “Connections? I am the former Archon of Liyue. My influence runs deeper than you could begin to grasp.”
Childe’s grin sharpened, wicked. He leaned closer, so close his nose nearly brushed Zhongli’s. “And yet,” he murmured, “I’m the one helping the Traveler. I’m the one with the Fatui’s might, with the Tsaritsa’s blessing. Tell me, Morax…” His voice dropped to a whisper, almost reverent. “Whose hand is stronger?”
Their eyes locked, golden against ocean blue, pride colliding with something far hungrier. For a long, taut moment, neither moved.
Then Zhongli’s hand fisted in Childe’s collar, dragging him across the desk, lips crashing against his. The kiss was furious, teeth and heat, Childe’s answering laugh swallowed by Zhongli’s mouth. Papers scattered, ink smeared as Childe shoved back, pressing closer, matching the violence with equal fervor.
When they finally tore apart, breaths ragged, Childe’s grin was all sharp edges and flushed cheeks. “Careful, old man,” he whispered, voice rough. “You’re starting to sound like you want me.”
Zhongli’s golden eyes burned, his thumb brushing the corner of Childe’s mouth where blood — or maybe ink — smeared. His voice was low, steady, but threaded with fire. “And if I do?”
Childe’s mocking reply never came — Zhongli seized his wrists, slamming them against the desk above his head as his mouth crashed down again. Childe’s startled laugh broke into a muffled gasp, swallowed whole.
He writhed beneath the weight holding him down, boots scraping the desk edge, legs curling instinctively around Zhongli’s waist. The harder he struggled, the tighter Zhongli’s grip became — immovable, unshakable. That only made Childe laugh harder into the kiss, bratty even as he let himself be consumed by it.
“Mm— heavy-handed,” he gasped when Zhongli’s teeth caught his lip, drawing a sharp hiss. His grin flashed through the pain. “Gonna lecture me later for disrespect?”
Zhongli’s only response was to grind him into the desk, lips trailing down his jaw to the line of his throat. Childe shivered, head tipping back, breath stuttering as teeth grazed the skin there.
“Careful,” he whispered, voice rough, eyes fluttering shut. “Leave a mark and people might start talking.”
“Let them,” Zhongli growled, biting down hard enough to draw a strangled gasp.
Childe bucked against him, wrists twisting uselessly in that iron grip, his cocky laugh breaking into something ragged. “Fuck— you’re enjoying this way too much.”
Zhongli finally pulled back, lips flushed, thumb brushing over Childe’s mouth where blood from a bitten lip glistened. “You’re the one trembling beneath me, Ajax. Tell me again who’s in control.”
Childe, panting, smirked up at him — bratty to the last. “Heh. Still me. You’ll see.”
Zhongli silenced him with another bruising kiss, deeper, hungrier, until the only sound was the ragged scrape of desk legs against stone.
When they finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, both panting, Childe’s grin was crooked, lips slick, voice hoarse but still cocky. “Tch— guess the old man still has some fire left. Not bad.”
Zhongli didn’t answer immediately, just studied him in silence, thumb dragging over his bitten mouth. Finally, in a low rumble, he said, “You mistake fury for weakness, Ajax. Remember this—” His grip on Childe’s wrists tightened. “I only allow you to test me.”
The words struck deeper than the bruises. For once, Childe’s laugh faltered, though his smirk returned, softer now, tinted with something else. “Heh. You talk big, but you’ll break first. Mark my words.”
Zhongli leaned down one last time, claiming his mouth in a kiss so deep it stole even that cocky whisper away.
When he pulled back, leaving Childe flushed and breathless across the wreckage of his desk, his golden eyes softened just a fraction. “We’ll see.”
The room was quiet but for their ragged breaths and the flutter of papers drifting down around them, ink-smeared and forgotten.
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