Trigger Warnings: This chapter contains brief but intense depiction of sexual assault and sexual violence.
Chapter Five: Savagery.
With most of the staff home for the festivities and the funeral parlor operating with a skeletal crew, Zhongli is relieved to conclude his workday without his colleagues fussing and speculating about the wealthy bookworm's visit. He bumps into Paimon and Aether as he is returning to his apartment and takes them up on their offer to treat him to dinner. They approach the first stall and order grilled tigerfish before settling down to eat it on a nearby bench.
"I take it spectacles like this are not customary in your homeland?" Zhongli observes as he notices the sheen of amazement in the Outlander's golden eyes.
"Yeah," he admits with a rueful smile. "This really is something. I just wish my sister could see it."
"Something tells Paimon that you two will be together again quite soon," the jovial fairy assures him with a broad smile.
"So, what have you both been up to these past couple of days?" Zhongli asks as he finishes his meal.
"Well, mostly we've just been running errands here and there," Aether shrugs.
"Although, we did get to help Xiao cleanse some possessed hilichurls," Paimon notes excitedly.
"Ah, I see you've met the vigilant Yaksha himself, huh?" Zhongli sighs deeply. "I have some medicine here for him." As he speaks, he conjures up a vial of amber liquid which he promptly hands to the intrigued traveler.
"Oooo! What's it for?" Paimon wonders tilting her head slightly.
"They're painkillers. I hear he's been in a considerable amount of pain for quite some time now. That should help him until I can make more. Please give that to him when next you see him."
"Of course," Aether assures him before gently securing it in his travel satchel.
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Zhongli," Paimon smiles.
"It's the least I can do after all he's endured on my account," Zhongli sighs sadly.
"Paimon feels like if Xiao opened up more and relied on others he wouldn't have such a heavy burden," the fairy shrugs.
"Perhaps," Zhongli frowns. "But karmic bonds are not something to be trifled with so I can understand his reluctance to involve others."
"Well, we're not just talking about anyone here," Paimon presses. "We're talking about Aether here who's a pretty good fighter."
"I know but," Zhongli pauses closing his eyes as if to block the memory of something painful. "Sometimes…witnessing or experiencing the excruciating anguish corruption can inflict on another is incentive enough to hold others at bay. For their safety."
"Huh, corruption?"
"Corrupted?" Guizhong had asked turning to fix him with a perplexed look. "Alatus?"
"I noticed it during our last battle," Morax had nodded grimly.
"And you decided to ignore it until now?! That was over a month ago!" The Goddess of Dust had scolded him with a firm scowl.
"I just thought the issue would resolve itself," he had shrugged.
"Where is he? I must examine him and see what should be done."
"Mr. Zhongli? Mr. Zhongli?" the sound of Aether and Paimon calling him cut through his reverie, sparing him from reflecting on yet another moment of deep regret.
I don't understand. Why am I remembering that now? He wonders.
"Teyvat to Mr. Zhongli. Are you with us?"
"Sorry, little one," he says with a forced chuckle. "Our conversation reminded me of something in the past. Anyways, thank you for the meal. I'll be off now."
The traveling companions wave him goodbye before resuming their tour of the various food vendors.
Zhongli walks a short distance as if in a daze until he senses the gaze of another trailing him through the crowded streets. Unable to detect their location, he picks up the pace and turns into an alleyway, listening intently for any sign of his pursuer.
"Mr. Zhongli!" A voice calls above the bustle of the marketplace. When he turns, he is surprised to find the young Commerce Guild scion waving at him from the back of a rickshaw.
"Good evening young master Xingqui," Zhongli greets somewhat apprehensively as he remembers the note the youth had left him earlier that day. He blinks as he notices a second youth with bright blue hair and striking blue eyes sitting in the rickshaw beside Xingqui eating a bright blue popsicle.
What a curious aura. The Prime Adeptus notes of the blue-haired youth as he approaches them. I imagine most demons find his very presence impossibly agonizing to bear.
"I stopped by the funeral parlor to check in with you, but they said that you'd already left," Xingqui smiles. When he notices Zhongli's gaze lingering on his companion, he chuckles and introduces him. "This is my closest friend in all the world Chongyun."
"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Zhongli," the blue-haired youth bows. "I've heard a great deal about you." They briefly exchange pleasantries before Xingqui invites him to join them at the opera.
"Forgive me but I cannot make it tonight. I have some pressing matters to attend to," Zhongli lies with an apologetic bow.
"He won't be there," Xingqui announces with a slight frown. "Mr. Kreideprinz was called away on urgent business."
"I see. Well, be sure to extend my warmest regards when next you see him," Zhongli states. "I truly enjoyed his company."
"It's a little hard to tell given your last letter," Xingqui quips dryly. It takes the older man several moments to discern the meaning behind his words.
"You read it?" He asks coolly, pulling out the sealed envelope the clerk had delivered earlier.
"Yes," Xingqui returns without offering an explanation. "I see you received my note."
"I have," Zhongli nods. "Since you're here would you be willing to summarize its contents?"
"Pardon the interrupt, young master," the rickshaw attendant chimes in. "But I believe the theatre will be closing its doors soon. The Guild Manager will be upset if we show up late."
"Very well," Xingqui sighs as he alights from the rickshaw. "Take Chongyun with you. I will be over in a moment."
"But young master!"
"Can't you resume this some other time?" Chongyun wonders watching the pair of them in bemusement.
"This is important, Chongyun," Xingqui explains with an apologetic smile. "I promise I shan't be long."
The rickshaw attendant sighs deeply before departing to do as his young master had instructed. Xingqui watches the rickshaw pull away and turns to face Zhongli when he is sure that they are well out of earshot.
"Is everything alright?" he asks furrowing his brows in concern. "You looked a little lost when I first saw you back there."
"Thank you for your concern but I was simply remembering a long-departed friend."
"Speaking of old friends—"
"You must be quite close with the Chief Alchemist if he allows you to read his letters," the Lord of War notes bluntly.
"Not quite," Xingqui confesses with an impish smile. "When I heard that the letter was from you I thought it might have been urgent and decided to read it to confirm if I needed to pass it along."
"Why would you pass it along if Mr. Albedo has been called away on urgent business?" Zhongli wonders.
"Because unlike most I believe it is crucial to encourage romance with continuous attention and affection."
Zhongli's jaw slackens as he watches the younger man, not daring to believe that he had heard him correctly.
"I beg your p—"
"Forgive my impertinence but anyone with eyes and an ounce of common sense can see how deeply you adore each other, Mr. Zhongli," Xingqui explains with a mischievous smile.
"I'm not sure what you're insinuating young master Xingqui," Zhongli blinks blankly.
"It is only natural to be apprehensive after sharing so much of yourself with a relative stranger," Xingqui states. "But I can assure you the Kreideprinz has a good heart."
"Forgive me but I must take my leave," Zhongli says firmly before turning away.
"He wanted you to have this," Xingqui calls stopping the Funeral Parlor Consultant in his tracks. The taller man turns to see the impish scion holding out a yellowed scroll.
He receives it cautiously and slowly unravels it revealing a lush painting of Zhongli standing beneath a vibrant wisteria tree and looking over his shoulder. A rush of air escapes him as he marvels at the sumptuous hues and delicate brushstrokes.
"H-he m-made this?" He asks quietly.
"Yes," Xingqui replies softly. "After your first night together."
"I can't accept this," Zhongli says extending the scroll abruptly. "I don't—I'm not—as flattering as it is I'm afraid I do not share the same sentiment."
"And what sentiment might that be?" A familiar voice asks cheerily. They turn to find Tartaglia watching them from a nearby balcony. "Good evening, comrades. Out for a little stroll?"
Zhongli deftly wraps the scroll and reties it, thanking Xingqui and excusing himself before the younger man can react or protest.
"Hey, hold on a minute!" Childe calls after the Archon as he follows. Zhongli ignores him and continues walking not daring to stop or slow down, intent on reaching the sanctuary of his apartment. He doesn't make it very far before the Harbinger catches up to him and extends his hand, grasping the Lord of Commerce by his arm.
The God of War turns to fix the younger man with a murderous glare before catching a glimpse of Xingqui watching them in the distance. A thought suddenly occurs to him and he grabs the orange-haired Fatui by the arm and pulls him forward. The Harbinger loses his balance and stumbles forward falling flatly into Zhongli's arms. When he opens his mouth to protest, the Archon leans forward to silence him with a deep kiss.
A few passersby notice the pair of them kissing in the street and avert their gazes bashfully, a couple of inebriated revelers clap and cheer loudly as they stumble past. Childe's eyes are still closed when Zhongli finally releases him, intently savoring their kiss. Zhongli turns and is pleased when he spots the Commerce Guild heir hastily walking away.
Now that I've gotten my point across, I need to deal with this pest.
"Master Z-Zhongli what was that f-for?" the Harbinger stutters flushing uncharacteristically.
"It is what you wanted isn't it?" He growls yanking a fistful of the younger man's ginger locks with all his might. The force dislodges his mask sending it crashing to the floor behind them.
"I'm not—" Tartaglia begins to protest once more flushing deeper still.
"Don't play dumb," the Archon sneers suddenly vicious. "Following me around like a bitch in heat, practically gasping for it."
"I don't—hng!" The Harbinger grimaces as his grip tightens.
Zhongli's sneer widens as he notices the bulge forming in the younger man's trousers. He reaches between them and grabs it, stroking it harshly through the fabric of his clothes.
"How shameful. I wonder what your subordinates would think if they saw you like this?" The Lord of War taunts, a cruel smile twisting his features as a savage solution begins to take root.
"Ngh! Don't—!"
"But isn't this what you wanted?!" He snarls shoving the younger man into the nearest wall. The Harbinger is so relieved to be free of the Lord of Contracts that he does not register the pain of impact at first. Zhongli closes the distance between them quickly and grabs him again, forcing his knees between the Snezhnayan's thighs to keep them parted as he resumes his lascivious ministrations.
"S-stop! P-please!" Tartaglia pleads as the sheen of lust clouds his once-piercing blue eyes. But the Archon ignores his pleas and continues working his strained manhood mercilessly until an intense shudder of pleasure convulses the younger man's body.
"Typical," Zhongli scoffs as he watches the youth panting beneath him. "You Fatui fodder are all swagger and not much else."
"…not…fodder," Childe protests incoherently.
Zhongli cackles harshly as he steps back. As the Harbinger watches, he unbuttons his trousers and lowers them until his erect manhood springs free. Tartaglia's eyes widen at the sight of the engorged organ and he turns to glance around them suddenly self-conscious.
Although the street was temporarily deserted, it would not remain that way for long. Most of the revelers were still wandering the shops in the market square beyond, and a few stragglers would surely pass by the street every so often on their way home. Zhongli senses the younger man's horror at being discovered in such a public venue and begins to pump himself.
"Come," he commands simply.
"I-I c-can't. Not here. Not like this." But the younger man's protests fall on deaf ears as Zhongli seizes him and forces him to his knees.
"Suck," he instructs once the Harbinger is level with his now-twitching organ. When he doesn't obey, the Lord of War leans forward and pinches the youth's nose forcing his lips apart before plunging himself deep inside.
Tartaglia chokes around his girth, moaning and grimacing as he begins to rock into his open mouth. At first his rhythm is slow as he savors the intense suction of the youth's moist cavern. As his release nears, his hips settle into a manic rhythm, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on the younger man's hair as he thrusts with reckless abandon.
"M-master Tartaglia?!" A Fatui agent calls out in dismay. The Harbinger tries to escape him at the moment of discovery prompting Zhongli to tighten his already vicelike grip and slam his head forward, burying his member deep inside his mouth as it finally erupts.
The agent's horrified gasp rips through the street as Zhongli finally releases the ginger trailing seed and spittle between his now-flaccid sex and the Harbinger's mouth. The sound and stench of retching fills the air as the Fatui Harbinger and his subordinate empty the contents of their stomachs unto the pavement.
Zhongli straightens his clothes and turns briefly to survey the aftermath of their encounter. Tartaglia is splayed on all fours, coughing and wheezing into a growing pool of his most recent meal and the Geo Archon's seed. Shudders of pain and shock rack through his tall slender frame as he desperately tries to regain his footing. At first his efforts seemingly pay off and he is almost to his feet when his knees betray him and buckle dangerously sending him crashing back into the foul mixture below.
The Harbinger's subordinate notices him struggling and rushes immediately to his aid.
"Cruelty cheapens power," the Goddess of Dust had once informed him disapprovingly as she dressed his wounds from a particularly vicious battle.
"Compassion is a luxury some enemies do not afford us," he had barked back defensively.
"Your actions reflect badly on our people, Morax," she had protested. "Your savagery inspires nothing bitterness and resentment in their neighbors. It is gods like you that prolong this senseless fighting."
"Peace! Leave me!" he had snarled dismissively. "I will not be lectured by a weakling who leeches on others!"
Forgive me Guizhong. It seems cruelty is all I know.