Why Talk About Feelings When You Can Just Fuck Instead?

Childe awakens with a crick in his neck.

The bunk is cramped, not made to fit two full-grown men. He lays on his side with Zhongli plastered against his back, a warm arm wrapped around his middle. Childe sighs softly, eyes slipping closed as he sinks back into Zhongli's soft warmth. It is a calm, quiet, and perfect sort of morning—

And then the night before comes crashing back to him: Zhongli's apparently perfect dick; Childe sucking him off because restraint has never been his strong suit; Zhongli fucking him with a far-too soft touch that made Childe's legs turn to jelly, and his heart jump to his throat.

Childe rolls over carefully, the blanket still pulled to his chin. Zhongli is still asleep, those dangerously long lashes pressed against his cheeks. He looks so relaxed in his slumber when compared to his more usual, slightly terse demeanor. That funny little crease that Zhongli gets in his brow is nowhere to be found.

Zhongli breathes steadily, and Childe just watches the rise and fall of his shoulder.

Childe swallows, his pulse pounding. Oh, he's in for it. There's no way he can go back now. He thought Zhongli would be a mild and meek thing in bed. And while he was quiet, he was anything but meek. Childe will feel the way that his dick carved its way into him forever. He's ruined for future fucks.

"Shit," he murmurs, "I'm fucked, aren't I?"

Which means there's only one solution.

Childe just wonders how hard it'll be to talk Zhongli into being roommates with benefits.

#

It turns out, not very hard.

Childe fell back asleep and woke for a second time to the smell of breakfast. He blinks blearily as he sits up, rubbing at his eyes. He reaches out to the side, only to find the bunk empty, save himself. "Mhm… Zhongli?"

He hears the scraping of a spatula as Zhongli turns to look at him. "Ah, Childe. I figured that you'd wake up hungry."

Childe is, his stomach rumbling slightly as he takes in the smell of scrambled eggs. "I didn't know you cooked." He's never seen Zhongli do more than toast a bagel, or slap together a sandwich.

"I don't think myself particularly good at it, but I've been told I'm decent with eggs. Don't expect much."

Childe thinks that he'd tuck in well on anything that Zhongli offers up, wholly desperate to enjoy whatever scrap of attention Zhongli tosses him. Pathetic, thinks Childe, mentally slapping himself. He's no better than an excitable dog. He yawns, stretching his shoulders, the blanket slipping down to his waist.

When he looks again, Zhongli is staring, eyes trained directly on his chest. Right. Still naked. Childe smirks at him, leaning back. "Wanna come back to the bunk?"

Zhongli's mouth falls open. "I… that would be unwise with the burner on. Not to mention the waste of food."

Childe bursts into laughter as he crawls from the bed. "I was only teasing anyway. You're right, I'm starving. We can fuck again after breakfast."

"Childe—"

"Is that a no?"

"No." Zhongli is red in the face, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "I—what I mean to say is that it isn't a no, not strictly, but—"

Childe laughs. "Calm down, Zhongli. Let me go get washed up and we'll have breakfast, okay?" He doesn't stick around long enough to hear Zhongli's answer, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door tight behind him.

And then he panics, just a little. "He's—he's making breakfast. I'm…"

It was easy to write it off as lust, but this time around Childe's heart isn't beating fast because Zhongli is handsome—it's because he's treating him like a partner, cooking for him. Childe's fucked around, but he's never really entertained relationships, and the idea of actually wanting more is daunting, to say the least.

Childe tells himself Zhongli would never, but then he thinks about the way that he fucked him with soft, reverent touches, and kind murmurings into his ear. Childe rubs at his face. "Gods, this is more than a crush, isn't it?"

He doesn't know if should be concerned by the fact that he doesn't hate the idea of it.

#

Childe sits across Zhongli, fresh-faced and wide awake.

The breakfast isn't much, just scrambled eggs, and some toast and jam—but it's clear that Zhongli put his heart into it from the way that he smiles gently at Childe.

It shouldn't be this easy, thinks Childe. It should be like all the other men he's brought back. Satisfying at the moment and then fucking awkward the next day. But he feels at ease, sitting beside Zhongli, their too-long legs barely fitting underneath the table as they knock knees.

"Zhongli," starts Childe. Then he stops, trying to find his words. "I… this is good," he finally settles on, jabbing at his eggs with a fork.

Zhongli laughs, eyes crinkling with mirth. "It's terrible, but I appreciate the praise nonetheless."

It's far from terrible, but it certainly isn't anything to write home about. Childe relishes the food, though, the hard work of Zhongli's hands.

Zhongli eats quietly, watching Childe as he picks at his food with his chopsticks. Finally, he says, "Childe, about last night—"

"I don't want it to end." Childe doesn't mean to blurt those words. He feels the way that his face burns red in embarrassment. "I—shit, what I mean to say—"

"That's a relief," says Zhongli kindly.

That's a what now? Childe tilts his head to the side and swallows. "I'm…er, what?"

Zhongli sets his chopsticks onto his plate gently with care and says, "I enjoyed myself." A pause as he thumbs at his chin. "And I assumed that you did as well, so it is natural to want to… want to do it again?"

Childe is almost sure that he looks like a tomato, unused to Zhongli casually talking about sex, and the logistics of it. "Yeah, I—I mean, shit I've thought about it for a little too long, you know? I just didn't think…"

"Didn't think what?" Zhongli rests his chin in his hand as he watches Childe back.

"I mean, you've never brought men home? You never go out? You've never seemed the type to—" Childe gestures vaguely between the two of them.

Zhongli chuckles at that, lightheartedly. "Ah, I see. That is more because I'm picky, I think. Very few catch my interest. I would venture to say that I've been enamored with you for just as long."

Oh. Oh, Childe doesn't need to hear that. It'll only make the pining worse. "I…see."

Zhongli reaches out underneath the table, pressing his hand against Childe's knee, squeezing it. It's a known touch, one that Zhongli has indulged in more and more in the last few weeks ever since Childe said that he didn't mind. It's pathetic how quickly Childe's dick rouses to a half-chub.

"Friends with benefits, right?" asks Childe. "I mean, that would be the logical choice, yeah? Just two guys having fun, letting off some steam to combat the stress of school?" Childe wants to cringe the moment he says it.

Zhongli goes quiet as he thinks, thumbing across the inside of Childe's knee. "That…is amenable, I would think." He doesn't sound hesitant, but perhaps, a tad disappointed. Childe's brow furrows. What could Zhongli possibly be disappointed about?

"Did you mean it earlier?" asks Childe, setting his fork down.

"Hm?"

"When you said that you weren't against another round after breakfast."

Zhongli hides a smirk behind his palm, a dangerous curve of his mouth. Turns out that he doesn't need much coaxing at all.

#

They fall into a new sort of routine.

They share their meals and study together, Zhongli pouring over his own books, and occasionally helping Childe with his struggling subjects. They maintain their (totally) not-coffee dates, and Xiao still sneers at them, though the look on his face has turned suspicious—and a little too knowing for Childe's liking.

And, at night, when they're feeling in the mood, they fuck each other silly. They've made their way around the dorm room by this point, shameless in just how quickly they've fallen for each other.

Against the kitchen counter, Childe's face pressed into the fake granite, Zhongli's hand firm against the space between his shoulder blades to hold him there as he fucks him from behind with measured thrusts, and a bruising grip on his hipbone.

Or on the actual kitchen table, Childe's head cracking against it as he arches against Zhongli, thighs pressed to his chest for the best angle. Zhongli watches him this time with a half-lidded gaze, sweat pouring down his brow as he strokes Childe's cock in time.

In the shower, Zhongli returns that damning blow job with a sloppy one of his own, kneeling on smarting knees, struggling to swallow Childe's cock down. This is where Childe learns he's new to this, that Zhongli hasn't actually been with another man before him—and that there's an ex-girlfriend that whom he's on friendly terms with.

That's a sinful sight, seared into Childe's brain forever; Zhongli's mouth stretched wide around his cock, face dripping with water from the shower stream, and the way that he moaned around his length.

Childe isn't sure that he can keep up the ruse of just friends fucking around. As the weeks pass by, his heart falls deeper and deeper until he trips up at just the mere sight of Zhongli. Even something as small as him sitting there, drinking his tea, pressing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

He doesn't deserve this. Childe isn't that great of a person, he's got a lot of fucked up personal shit that Zhongli knows nothing about, and he ran away to Liyue instead of trying to sort it out.

And yet, Zhongli regards him with warmth every time that they lock eyes.

That night, they risk it in Childe's bunk despite it being a terrible idea. They lay on their sides in the cramped space, Zhongli pressed against the long length of Childe's back. Childe moans, lifting his hips to meet Zhongli as he presses his cock in slowly with care.

There was a time that Childe preferred a more frantic fucking, enjoying a rougher-handed touch at the hands of those he barely remembers the faces of. Zhongli prefers to take care of him with lingering touches and languid thrusts. His breath is warm against Childe's neck as he kisses him there, and while the words he whispers are surprisingly dirty for such a studious man, Childe craves the romance and praise almost more than he craves Zhongli's dick.

"Don't move around too much," says Zhongli when Childe bucks back against him.

"I can't help it," hisses Childe when Zhongli grinds against him, his cock dragging across his prostate with burning pressure. "Oh, gods—there."

Zhongli laughs against his neck, nuzzling the fine baby hairs at the top of his spine. "So tight," he murmurs, biting at the skin there, his teeth just barely digging in. "Feels good."

"Yes, I—Zhongli."

The soft words, the way he strokes Childe's dick with teasing fingers. Childe is always left an overstimulated mess, begging for more no matter the framing.

With Zhongli, it doesn't feel like fucking, it feels like making love. That's what Childe always thinks when he tips over the edge, coming far sooner than he means to.

#

"You fucked him."

Zhongli pulls away from his textbook, looking up just in time to see Xiao plop into the cafe armchair beside him. Childe isn't there that day, offering him a rare moment of alone time. Zhongli is thankful for it, but also misses him.

"I—"

Xiao puts a hand up. "I can tell. You're just… the both of you. Different. The same thing happened when you and Guizhong finally—"

"Xiao."

It's not an off-topic subject by any means, but it isn't something that Zhongli wants to think about when he'd rather wet his dick with Childe—that's not what he should be thinking about in person.

"Look, I'm not—" Xiao sighs, rubbing at his face. "I was concerned because he's got a reputation."

"I know that, Xiao."

Xiao hesitates then, chewing at his lip. "Are you dating, then?"

Zhongli sits up straight. "No," he says. Regrettably not, he thinks. Zhongli is decent enough at reading people, but he never knows what is going on in Childe's head. "We are… having fun, I suppose. No strings attached."

"Zhongli, that's a terrible idea. For you, especially." A pause. "For him too, I think."

"It's what he prefers, and I'll take whatever I can get."

Xiao's face scrunches, confused. "I don't think that he prefers that. Have you seen the way that he looks at you? He follows you around like a damned puppy. If you told him to sit, he probably would."

Zhongli rubs at his face, hiding a smile. Childe likely would, judging by how he responds to the praise Zhongli showers him with on the regular.

Xiao catches his smirk and cringes. "Ugh, that's—I shouldn't have said anything." The silence stretches between them for a moment before he speaks again. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but are you okay with this? The way that things are going? I know what you're like, Zhongli. You don't just… indulge for the sake of it."

"I am…" He is a lot of things, once he thinks about it. "It would be a lie to say that there isn't a sort of uncertainty to the arrangement. But it satisfies me."

"And what about him?"

"I never know what Childe is thinking."

Xiao thumbs his mouth. "Gods, the two of you are idiots. And no, don't give me that look. If you have to ask, then you've got some thinking to do. Figure out what you want, Zhongli, and then tell him. Not me." Xiao stands then and ties his apron before going back to work.

"Figure out what I want," says Zhongli to himself.

He knows exactly what he wants, but admitting it is the hard part. How does he go about telling Childe that he's in love with him, and has been for quite some time?

#

It might be easier than Zhongli expects, the words nearly slipping out accidentally. Automatically. Without a thought. Zhongli finds himself at ease in Childe's presence, relaxing in his presence. The last time he felt like this seems an eon ago, but even with Guizhong, it wasn't this easy or carefree.

A puzzling thing.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Hm?" Zhongli is pulled from his thoughts to a worried expression on Childe's face.

"You just spaced out. Not typical of you."

Zhongli leans over the back of the shitty futon they use as a couch, his hand dragging across Childe's shoulder before giving it a squeeze. "Sorry, I was just thinking. Nothing of importance."

"School?" guesses Childe, sighing as his head falls forward, allowing Zhongli better access.

"Yes," he lies, digging his thumb gently into the spot just below the top of Childe's spine. "You're tense."

Childe groans, rubbing at his face. "Practice was rough. Coach is killing us out there. Not to mention my brain is fried from Calculus. I can't even focus on trashy TV."

"A shame," says Zhongli then, pressing his other hand against Childe's shoulders for a proper neck rub. These are the sorts of things he delights in, making Childe feel better with something so simple. Zhongli has always been a man who speaks through his actions, rather terrible with his words.

Zhongli winds up sitting on the couch after that, Childe's legs thrown over his thighs as he idly rubs his feet. If it's odd, neither note it, both too busy enjoying the company and the terrible reality show that's on the television. Childe groans softly as Zhongli's fingers dig into the arch of his foot, his ankle, his calf—

"If you keep going I might ask for more."

"Oh?"

Childe moves then, climbing across the couch to straddle Zhongli's lap. Zhongli's hands find his waist, thumbing across the ridge of his hip bone. "I thought that you were tired," he says, teasing.

"Never too tired for this." Childe leans close, wrapping his arms around Zhongli's neck.

Zhongli kisses his forehead then, a sweet and lingering touch. Then his nose, cradling Childe's cheeks between his hands. When he pulls back, Childe is watching him back, wide-eyed as he thinks.

"I…" starts Childe, but whatever his thought is tapers right off.

Zhongli smooths a hand across his shoulder and then down his front before slipping under his shirt. Childe's skin is warm underneath his fingers as Zhongli drags his nails across his waist. "How should I take care of you, then?" He watches Childe's throat bob as he swallows, and kisses there next.

"From behind," says Childe then, finding his voice. "Just… fuck me face-first into the couch. That's what I'm craving today."

Zhongli isn't—he'd rather see Childe's face, but he'll take what he can. There's a carnal sort of neediness to it that appeals to him despite his wishes, and Zhongli's cock twitches at the thought. He catches Childe's chin, thumb slipping past his lips to tug him closer.

The kiss is quick and feverish, Childe's tongue immediately slipping into his mouth, and then Zhongli is gone.

It is a blur after that. Their clothing comes off, dropping to the floor in rumpled piles. Childe grinds their hips today as they kiss, licking into Zhongli's mouth as he moans against him. Zhongli's hands roam his skin, pulling at it, committing the feel of his body to memory, mapping the territory of Childe's form.

Zhongli wonders what he'd think of that.

It isn't until Childe is face first against the couch, back arched and hips high, two of his fingers spreading his rim wide that Zhongli thinks it again—that he loves him. Childe moans, his face turned to the side, eyes squeezed shut as he fucks back against his hand.

Zhongli smooths his free hand over his asscheek, pulling it to the side for a better view. He can watch Childe like this, and dream, even if only for a moment. And that's what he does when his cock finally slides home, settled deep in Childe's guts. Zhongli groans, gripping him tight by the hips, trying to brace himself against the too-soft couch.

"Fuck," murmurs Childe, his face muffled by the cushions. "Oh, gods," he hisses when Zhongli pulls out to the tip, only to press right back in.

Childe responds so well, so eager to please. Zhongli can't help but touch every scar and freckle that dots his back, wondering and wishing that this was just more than a fuck. Xiao told him to figure out what he wants and to just talk about it, but Zhongli is no fool, and Childe was clear in his wishes.

If it's only a distraction that he wants, then it's a distraction that he'll get.

But, for Zhongli, he can imagine when Childe is like this, pressed head first against the couch. Zhongli can take his time watching as his cock spreads his rim wide, slick with oil and spit. It's addicting, just like the sounds he makes, the breathy moans of his name, and other curses that comes to his mind.

"Zhongli," cries out Childe, his fingers wrapping around the edge of the cushion to hold it tight. "Please, just—fuck me."

He does, sliding into Childe's heat over and over again until his cock is throbbing and aching. Pleasure burns in Zhongli's gut, brighter with ever grind against Childe's insides. He leans forward, kissing his shoulder blades, then the juncture of his neck, and where his hair meets his neck.

Zhongli drapes across him, pressing his forehead there as he wraps an arm around Childe, pulling him close. Like this, they feel like lovers, not fuck buddies, not something that's only a means to an end. And then, Zhongli wonders if he's the one who's distracted, fucking into Childe as he pretends that he's a boyfriend, and not something less.

"Shit, shit. Zhongli, that's—" Childe arches against him, moaning as Zhongli drills his cock into his prostate. He cries out, his voice already hoarse which only causes Zhongli's dick to twitch, already so close to coming. Childe's cock hangs below them, brushing against the couch with cruel friction. When Childe shifts to grab at it, Zhongli grabs his wrist dragging it back up.

"No," he says, "not like that."

"Zhongli—"

"I want you to come from my cock."

"Zhongli," he tries again, his voice cracked as he begs.

"Childe," says Zhongli, nuzzling the back of his neck, inhaling that sweaty smell that smells like grass and Childe. "Please. Be a good boy for me. Just from the feel of me, deep inside."

The keening sound that Childe looses is the stuff of dreams. Zhongli fucks into him harder, his cock bullying his prostate at just the right angle. Childe gasps, fingers clenching against the couch, pulling at the cushion. He bites at his lip until it's red and swollen, hiding his cries as Zhongli's thrusting loses its rhythm.

Childe comes first, clenching around his cock so tight that Zhongli sees stars. "So good for me," he says, fucking him through his orgasm, holding him by the hip with a bruising grasp.

"Yes, yes, yes—"

Zhongli comes then, filling him up, painting Childe's fluttering insides white with his spend. Childe moans, arching against him, unwilling to let Zhongli pull away, preferring his cock to remain settled deep until it's soft. Zhongli rests his weight against him, stroking his fingers through Childe's sweaty hair, relishing the soft moment in the afterglow of it all.

Eventually, they break apart and clean up. Childe stands on wobbly feet, stretching out his shoulders. Zhongli watches, entirely beat from the workout, and his cock having been put through the wringer.

"Your glasses," says Childe, bending over to pluck them up from the carpet. "Don't want to break those." As he holds them out, Zhongli grabs his wrist, pulling it to his mouth for a kiss. The romance is worth the risk to see Childe's face turn red in response. "I don't… deserve that."

He deserves the world, and maybe one day Zhongli will tell him that.

Their night progresses as normal. They share a quick dinner and do a little bit of homework. When Zhongli tucks into his bunk, Childe stands there, awkwardly watching him, a question on his lip. But he doesn't ask, he just slips into the covers when Zhongli scoots to the side, his back against the wall.

"Thanks for earlier," says Childe as he settles against him. "I'm… I mean—yeah, just… thanks. I guess."

Zhongli hums against him, far too awake to sleep, his mind whirring as he thinks.

It was lovemaking, whether Zhongli wants to call it that or not. As Zhongli holds him close and kisses the base of his skull, hair tickling his nose, he wonders if Childe will ever recognize it.