Childe comes home one day to find Zhongli wearing glasses.
The Serenitea Pot is quiet, their children elsewhere for the day, and Zhongli sits underneath a large Sunsettia tree. There is a book in his lap, an ornate tea set next to him, and glasses perched on the end of his nose, oval lenses lined by a wire frame.
It is unusual, but not entirely unexpected. Zhongli is not human, but he is also not unbreakable. They've shared talks deep into the night about erosion, and what that just might look like. This though—this is cute. Childe smiles gently as he steps closer, watching Zhongli turn a page in his tome.
"Hey," he says, falling next to him in the grass.
Zhongli looks up, surprised. "Ah, Ajax. I thought you'd be home later."
"Hey, we so rarely get time to ourselves these days. Thought I'd finish work early and surprise you." Childe pauses, reaching out to tap Zhongli's nose with his finger. "These are new."
"They…are not." Zhongli hesitates. "I—Well, not entirely. But, I thought that perhaps they would bother you, so I've never—"
"Wait, you're telling me that you've kept these sexy little things hidden?"
Zhongli blinks, his mouth parting slightly. "Sexy?"
Childe hums, leaning closer, his fingers dancing across Zhongli's thigh. "I mean, you always look good, but these—" He taps the glasses gently. "They make you look so distinguished. Well-learned?"
He plucks the book from Zhongli's lap and tosses it to the side gingerly. Then, Childe moves, settling across him, curling his arms around his neck.
"I am well-learned," says Zhongli, chuckling softly, his arm looping around to sit against the small of Childe's back.
"Yes, but now you look the part. Sexy professor? I'm all about it."
"Your tastes never fail to amuse me." Zhongli's hand splays wide, slipping just underneath the hem of his shirt, tugging Childe closer.
Childe watches him with mirth. "Come on, why don't you recite some multiplication for me?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then what were you reading? Boring and dry histories?"
Zhongli hums, thumbing across Childe's hip bones. "Poetry, actually. It is a nice afternoon for it." A pause. "Really?"
Childe's half-hard in his trousers. He leans forward, laughing against Zhongli's neck. "Hm, yes. Always. Recite some of that poetry?"
"Ajax, we are outside—"
"The kiddos are with Xiangling today, off collecting dubious shit for whatever she's cooking up." Childe kisses the soft spot just below Zhongli's ear. "Come on. Indulge a little."
Zhongli has no problems indulging. They indulge frequently, all over the teapot when given a proper chance. Zhongli sighs, turning his head to inhale Childe's scent. "No self-control," he murmurs, amused.
Of course not. Childe grinds their crotches together and finds that Zhongli is equally affected. "Teasing me, were you?"
"Hm. What is it that you like to say? 'With you, always'?" Zhongli's grasp on Childe's hips tightens as he slots their legs together for better friction. His hands slide around to grip Childe's ass, fingers digging into the taut muscle. "What if I told you that I was reading romance? Words about love, underneath this tree, sipping at my tea and thinking of you?"
Zhongli's voice is quiet, breath warm against his ear. Childe's breath hitches, his fingers curling into the fine hairs at Zhongli's nape. "Oh?"
"I give you an onion—"
"Oh, terribly romantic," cuts in Childe, pressing a soft kiss to Zhongli's ear.
"It is a moon wrapped in brown paper/It promises light/like the care undressing of love."
"Fancy," says Childe. He lifts himself, pressing closer, nipping at the length of Zhongli's neck. His cock twitches as he grinds it against Zhongli's tented trousers, and they both moan. "But that's always been you—you like fancy things."
"There is more," says Zhongli with a laugh, "I give you an onion—"
"Again with the onions."
"Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,/possessive and faithful, as we are, for as long as we are."
Oh, Childe likes that one. He leans back to look at Zhongli's face, smoothing his thumb across his cheekbone. "Aren't you a sap?"
Zhongli's eyes glow golden as he leans into Childe's palm, nuzzling it. "Take it/Its platinum loops shrink into a wedding-ring,/ if you like."
"I prefer cor lapis, thank you."
"Ajax," says Zhongli, chuckling. He turns to kiss Childe's ring, that one that he stubbornly refuses to take off. Childe feels naked without the solid stone wrapped around his knuckle, without those words, etched in stone, touching that vein that leads to the heart.
"Is that all you have?"
Zhongli scoffs. "Of course not."
"You like it, don't you? This lazy sort of lounging about?"
Zhongli kisses at his jaw, lips soft as they drag across the skin there. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways," he recites, his breath warm.
"I'm vain enough to be curious," says Childe, reaching up to curl his fingers into Zhongli's hair.
"I love thee to the depth and breadth and height/My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight/For the ends of being and ideal grace."
Fancy, fancy words. Childe chuckles at them, tugging Zhongli's head back to meet his gaze once more. "That's a boring one. Do better."
Zhongli smiles then, his golden eyes glinting. "Do you truly need such affirmation of my love?"
"No," says Childe, nuzzling Zhongli's cheek, "but it's nice to hear."
Zhongli catches Childe by his chin, tilting his face towards him. Childe looks, eyes raking over his face, taking in every slight imperfection that wrinkles Zhongli's face. Immortal, but not forever young, as evidenced by the glasses currently perched on the tip of his nose.
"What are you thinking?" he asks Childe then, smoothing his thumb across his bottom lip.
"I like to see changes in you. Makes you feel more real. Makes it feel like we're on the same level."
Zhongli huffs at that. "Childe, I would argue that you are a step above me at any given time."
"Yeah right, you old lizard. Tell me that again when I'm old and gray, and you still look just like this." Childe is teasing, of course, even though this is something that weighs heavily over the both of them sometimes.
Zhongli's mouth curls then, and he says, "I argue thee/That love is life—/And life hath Immortality."
Childe kisses him then, finally, pressing their mouths together. Zhongli moans against him, trying to deepen the kiss. He licks into Childe's mouth, nipping at it as they move against each other sloppily.
Carefree moments like this are usually less common with their children running about, especially when Zhongli prefers to press him into the bed when making love to him. But there's something to be said about the lazy way they press against each other here, underneath the tree, Childe seated across Zhongli's lap.
His hand slips down, knuckles brushing against Zhongli's erection, which earns him a groan.
"Careful, darling," says Zhongli, hooking his thumb between Childe's lips, and tugging his face back to him. "Don't start something that you have no intention of finishing."
"No intention?" Childe swirls his tongue around Zhongli's thumb, sucking, his teeth just barely digging into the meat of it. "Just who do you think that I am?"
Zhongli kisses him again, his tongue slipping between Childe's lips to brush against his own. "My husband," he says, sharing Childe's breaths, soaking up the feel of him. "My mate, my everything."
"Your onion?" asks Childe, harkening back to the first poem Zhongli shared.
"I said I'd give you an onion, not that you are one." Zhongli tugs Childe's shirt from his trousers fully, slipping a blazing hot hand against his skin. "Unless you'd prefer that. There are limits to my powers, but I'm willing to experiment—"
"No, no, I like my layers just as they are."
Zhongli laughs at that, kissing down the length of Childe's neck, leaving purpling marks in his wake.
"Stop that," murmurs Childe, though it's a weak protest. "Yuan will—"
"Yuan will understand one day." Zhongli sucks another mark at the juncture where Childe's neck meets his jaw, tugging his collar to the side. "Besides, I love the way that you wear them."
Childe moans, reaching up to curl his fingers into Zhongli's hair. "That's—oh." One of Zhongli's hands has slipped lower, fingers slipping into the waistband of his trousers, squeezing at his ass. Childe's cock twitches, aching from the lack of attention. He whines, pushing himself flush against Zhongli's crotch, groaning as he rubs against his equally hard length.
"Ajax," says Zhongli softly, chasing his mouth again. This kiss is slower, sweeter, languid and lazy as Childe opens up to him. They grind against each other, their cocks caught behind the stiff fabric of their clothing.
"Off," murmurs Childe, pawing at Zhongli's clothing.
It takes no effort and little time to free themselves. Childe hisses when the cold air hits his dick—and then again when Zhongli takes it into his hand. "Already like this," he says, amusedly, thumbing across the slit, spreading the precome.
"That's…stop looking so smug. The glasses make it worse."
They do. Zhongli watches him back through those dangerous wire-framed lenses, gaze half-lidded and golden eyes glinting. A dangerous look, one that leaves Childe's mouth watering.
"Gods, just do something already," begs Childe, rutting against his hand, seeking out whatever friction he can find.
"Like this, then," says Zhongli quietly. He lets go of Childe's cock to reposition him, tugging him closer until—
"Shit." Zhongli's cock nudges against his, dragging across the heated skin of his own. Childe feels his nerves alight. "Oh, that's—Zhongli."
Zhongli wraps his hand around the both of them, tugging once. The effect is immediate. Childe's thighs are tense as he falls forward, draping across him.
"Do me a favor and slick up my hand?" Childe does just that, calling Hydro to condense in Zhongli's palm, thick and viscous to ease the slide of his fingers over their lengths. "So good for me," says Zhongli, directly into his ear. The words send shivers down Childe's spine.
Ridiculous, how he can still feel like this, like he's still young and stupidly in love. Not as husbands, but as boys in love, necking underneath a tree until that can't help but get handsy.
Especially with Zhongli looking so handsome and distinguished in those damnable glasses. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," says Childe, wrapping an arm around him, burying his nose into the crook of Zhongli's neck. He breathes in that grounding scent of sandalwood, sage, and dirt as old as time, pleasure curling in his gut.
Zhongli's hand is tight as he jerks them off with a slick and wet glide. It squelches, the sound cause Childe's cheeks to pink, but it feels good, too good, like he's about to break out of his skin. He fucks into that tight grip, his cock dragging along the silken steel of Zhongli's dick with a heated grind.
"Ajax," Zhongli whispers against him, his tone punched. His hand moves faster, curling around the tips of their cocks, squeezing them together.
"Faster," urges Childe, reaching down to cover Zhongli's hand with his own. "Tighter—please."
Zhongli complies, stroking their cocks with the sort of pace that feels desperate. He moans, his own hips wriggling slightly as they fuck their cocks against each other.
Childe scratches at his scalp, tugging at the base of Zhongli's ponytail. He ruts into Zhongli's hand and against his dick, feeling every slickened, delicious inch of it. "I'm—Zhongli, I'm going to—"
He's so close he can taste it, his gut curling tightly with every pump of Zhongli's hand. Childe's cock twitches, and he moans, a debauched sound lost in Zhongli's neck.
"That's it," says Zhongli, the words warm comfort against his ear. A kiss is pressed there gently, lips lingering as Zhongli continues on. "Just like this, yes?"
Childe tugs at Zhongli's hand, coaxing him to move quicker. He rolls his hips, fucking against his palm on every downstroke. They're sweaty, debauched messes. Zhongli's glasses are askew, but all they can focus on is the feel of each other, and the way that Zhongli gropes at their dicks.
Zhongli nuzzles his temple and nips at Childe's ear. "And the sunlight clasps the earth," he starts again, reciting verse into the smooth expanse of Childe's collarbone. "And the moonbeams kiss the sea:/What is all this sweet work worth—"
"Gods, just—Fuck, I'm—" Childe cries out as he tips over the edges, coming into Zhongli's hand.
Zhongli doesn't stop moving, stroking him through his orgasm, groaning as Childe's spend slicks his hand further and makes a mess. Before long, he's coming too, following Childe right into that delicious, hazy plateau of pleasure. Sweat beads along his brow, his glasses half-fallen, barely clinging to his nose.
Perhaps a little bit bent.
Oops.
Zhongli heaves a sigh, and rubs his hand clean on the hem of his shirt. He plucks his glasses from his face, frowning slightly at their sorry sight, having been maimed during their lovemaking.
"Unfortunate," he says with a soft chuckle.
Childe presses his hand against Zhongli's cheek, dragging his thumb across the bone there. "As much as I liked them, I prefer you like this. I can see you. I love your eyes."
"I love you," says Zhongli, turning to kiss his palm softly.
Childe's chest floods with warmth, the perfect distraction from the tacky stickiness that congeals between them. "We should—"
"Clean up, yes."
She shuffled about, wiping themselves down the best they can and tucking their cocks away. When they stand, Zhongli tugs Childe closer, bringing his wrist to his mouth for a quick kiss.
"What are you thinking?" asks Childe, an echo of Zhongli's earlier question.
"We may not have too many years before/One disappears to the eternal yonder/And I can't hug or touch you anymore./Yes, of course that knowledge makes us fonder./Would I want to change things, if I could/And make us both immortal?" Zhongli smiles then, wide like the sunset. "Love, I would."
A kiss to Childe's wedding ring, then.
Childe smiles. Forever is long enough, he supposes.
Footnotes: Poems used- 'Valentine' by Carol Ann Duffy; 'How do I love Thee' by Elizabeth Barrett Browning; 'That I Did Always Love' by Emily Dickinson; 'Love's Philosophy' by Percy Bysshe Shelley; 'To My Husband' by Wendy Cope