Adrenaline thrums through Childe's veins. He lost the race, but it doesn't matter. His blood is still hot as it courses through him, pulse heavy in his neck.
It's the sort of high found in so few other places. The speed of his car and the landscape whirring by. The attention needed as he drives, hands tight on the wheel and loose on the stick. Shifting between gears and pulling his foot off the gas to drift around turns.
"Something small," said Zhongli earlier that night at the bottom of Wuwang Hill. "Just the two of us. We'll take this road for everything that it's worth."
Childe is reckless at his best and downright daredevil at his worst. There's nothing like the rumble of a V8 at breakneck speeds underneath his feet. The wind against his face and how his hair whips around with the windows rolled down.
He jitters, the high of the race still sailing through his veins. The hood of his car is up and he leans under it, pulling and prodding at the innards.
"Are you about to blame it on a faulty engine?" asks a smooth, deep voice. Zhongli leans against the frame, arms crossed over his chest.
"Doesn't hurt to check." A flimsy excuse, one that makes Zhongli laugh. He moves closer and Childe stills. Zhongli drags a hand down the length of his back, fingers tracing the subtle line of his spine through his shirt. "What are you doing?"
"Hm?" Zhongli sounds so nonchalant, as if his touch doesn't set Childe's nerves on fire. "We made a wager if I recall."
Childe swallows. Busies himself by pretending to check the wiring around the battery. "A prize was never discussed. In fact, you said—"
"To be determined later," cuts in Zhongli, reciting the earlier gamble. "A favor, perhaps? Or—" His touch is dangerous as he tugs Childe's shirt from his trousers. His palm slips underneath the fabric, squeezing Childe's hip, thumbing over the sharp jut of it.
Childe bites his lip. Tries not to lean into it. Zhongli's presence is more addictive than he'd care to admit which is probably why they've done this song and dance a few too many times. He's a rival, inconsequential, an absolute thorn in Childe's side.
And shit, his hand is warm, and fuck, that's—
Zhongli shifts, pulling Childe's back flush against him, hands around his hips as Zhongli grinds his erection against his ass. Deliciously thick. Childe knows exactly what it'll do to him.
"Zhongli—"
"This is the prize that I want, of course. But you knew that." He leans closer, chin over Childe's shoulder, his mouth near his ear. "Let me have you."
"Zhongli." Childe hisses it. "Here?" It's a terrible place. They're stopped on the side of the road and while it's a quiet spot on the mountainside, people are bound to drive by, even this late at night. He pulls the stand down and drops the hood of his car closed.
Despite his protests, Childe can't stop the way that he grinds back against Zhongli. His fingers squeeze the hood of his car tight as he arches his back, jutting his ass out for Zhongli to get a better grip.
"Ah, I knew you'd want this. You always do." Zhongli leans back, rucking Childe's shirt up, digging his thumbs into the small of his back. He looks, watches, sighs as he rolls hips. Childe groans softly, head tipping forward as his eyes slipped closed.
Zhongli's presence is oppressive but thrilling. Not unlike the rush of a good race, or taking a sharp turn too quickly. Childe can't help but be drawn to him, no matter how he tries not to be. These trysts—they're only for fun. But time slips by and he sinks deeper with every fuck. He pines for Zhongli's touch, for that dark timbre of his voice, whispering praise into Childe's ear. His stupidly thick cock and the way that Zhongli knows how to play his body like a fiddle.
It's the best sex he's ever had. Childe tells himself that's all it is, ignoring the way his heart clenches, how badly it wants. Rivals, he reminds himself. Rivals in the streets, fuck buddies in the sheets. No fuss, no muss. Until he caught feelings. He wonders if Zhongli will too.
Zhongli paws at the front of Childe's trousers. Impatient, always impatient; they never take time in their indulgence, it's always rough and quick, just how Childe likes it.
"Childe," he murmurs. He licks a stripe over Childe's neck. "What are you thinking about?"
Being wined and dined instead of their sordid fucks. Childe, struggling with chopsticks while Zhongli monologues about something that flies right over his head. Domestic, too much so, but—
"Come on, just fuck me." Childe grinds back, clearing those intrusive thoughts.
Zhongli sighs against his neck, tugging open Childe's trousers, dropping them and his underwear until they hang around his ankles. "Desperate, hm?" Teasing words that make Childe's gut curl. Zhongli's hand is searing hot when he wraps it around Childe's cock.
"Gods—"
"Already so hard," muses Zhongli, spreading around the precome that leaks from the tip. He squeezes tighter, jerking Childe's length with quick, rough strokes. "Thinking of me?"
"You wish."
Zhongli chuckles against him, kissing the soft skin just underneath his ear. "Come on now, no need to be shy. I know you love this."
"On with it," snaps Childe. Zhongli huffs, letting go of his cock. He presses right between Childe's shoulder blades, coaxing Childe forward. Childe leans against his car, raising his hips, groaning as Zhongli spreads his ass cheeks and just stares. A thumb sweeps over his twitching rim, a ghosting touch.
Zhongli shifts, pulling a bottle of lube from his pocket.
"Figures," murmurs Childe, cheek pressed to the hood, still hot from their run.
"I always win, so I came prepared." The lube is cold against his hole as Zhongli dribbles it. "When there's something that I want, I make sure of it." His thumb presses against Childe's rim firmly.
"You want me, eh?" Childe can't help but smirk back at him.
Zhongli pauses, looking back, his gaze half-lidded, pupils blown wide. "Is that a question?" he asks quietly. "Why is that a question? Look at you, Childe—look at how you're spread before me. So willing, so compliant."
"Shut up and get on with it." Childe isn't in the mood to get caught with his trousers down. Literally. There's already been a car that whizzed by but thankfully didn't care enough to stop.
The prep is quick, stinging, caught between pleasure and pain. Childe moans, cradling his cheek with a forearm. Zhongli fucks him with two fingers, pulling and prodding at his rim, spreading it wide enough to take his cock. Childe whines as Zhongli strokes his insides, intentionally missing that sweet, sweet spot.
"Zhongli, that's— come on."
Zhongli tuts, ignoring him. Focuses only on opening Childe up enough to slide his cock in. He's hard, erection pressed against the back of Childe's thigh, twitching in his jeans. "I could do this all day if you gave me the chance."
What? Zhongli's never said anything like that and certainly not with such an affectionate tone.
"What, fucking me?" Because Childe isn't wholly against the idea.
"No, I—" Zhongli doesn't finish his thought. He pulls his fingers out and spreads Childe's asscheeks wide, watching the way his hole clenches around nothing. Childe must be red in the face. Embarrassed. He groans into the crook of his arm, unable to look at him. "Damn it," Zhongli curses, smoothing his thumb around his loosened hole.
"Don't make me beg," says Childe, wriggling his hips.
"Perhaps that'll be the next prize I claim." Zhongli seems amused by the idea of it. "I'll take you home and pull you apart slowly until you're pleading for me to fuck you."
Childe hates the way his cock twitches at the thought. Zhongli pulls out his own dick and slicks it up, dragging the length through the cleft of Childe's ass. Childe's cock aches at the thought of giving in and taking whatever Zhongli gives him. He'd beg—really, he would, and that's what he keeps thinking about as the tip of Zhongli's cock catches in his rim.
The slide of his dick isn't slow. Zhongli presses in quickly, knowing that he can handle it. Childe loves how his body just opens up around him, sucking Zhongli in and pulling him deep. The glide is slick. Lube dribbles down his ass and between his thighs. He keens when Zhongli bottoms out, thighs meeting his skin in a wet smack.
"Fuck," curses Childe. "Fuck, fuck—"
Zhongli wastes no time, pulling back out until only the tip is left. He thrusts back in heavy and hard, intending on ending this quickly. Childe moans. He Scrabbles against his car, trying to hold on, chest flat against the hood as he slides across it.
"So tight," hisses Zhongli. "Gods, you're always so— Childe."
"More, harder, I'm—" Already close. He slips a hand down to grasp his own cock, stroking himself in time with every punch of Zhongli's cock.
Zhongli pulls him by the waist, tugging Childe back to meet his thrusts. Childe swears that he can feel every vein on Zhongli's length. It's obscenely thick as it drags through his insides, sinking in so deep he can feel it in his throat.
Childe lets Zhongli manhandle him, hiking his hips up, and coaxing his ass back. The angle changes and Childe howls, trying to drown it out in the fabric of his sweatshirt sleeve.
"Listen to the sounds you make. So good for me." Zhongli's hand is warm against his ass, fingers digging into the muscle as he watches his cock slip in, over and over.
Childe must be a mess, splayed out over his car, his hole greedily swallowing every thrust. He whimpers, trying to fuck back and get more friction. He's close, so close, he can feel it coiling in his core. "Please," he whimpers. "Zhongli, please, I'm—"
Zhongli plasters himself against Childe's back. He wraps his hand around Childe's, forcing him to stroke himself quicker, squeezing his grip tighter. Childe moans. He moans and moans and moans, back arching as he barrels closer to the edge.
"Childe," says Zhongli in his ear. "I'm not as good as you out there. I don't drive that way that you do."
"Zhongli—"
"You lost on purpose, didn't you?" He punctuates the question with a heavy grind of his hips. He moans, enjoying the way he sits deep and how Childe tightens around him. "You— you, oh gods. Mhm—" Zhongli looses a shaky breath, planting his free hand against the hood of the car for better leverage. "You always lose on purpose—why?"
He's never asked this, never brought it up—but he's right. Zhongli is good, but Childe is better, running on instinct and the way the stick shift feels underneath his fingers. If he doesn't lose, though, he doesn't get this, these fleeting moments where he can pretend that Zhongli wants more.
"Yes." His voice is pinched in his throat. "I want, I always want—" He drowns in the pleasure, in the heat of it all, coming all over their hands.
Zhongli fucks Childe through his orgasm, cruelly pulling him into overstimulation. He groans against Childe's neck, holding him close. He's relentless, his cock carving its way into Childe's fluttering insides. In the way he whispers praise in Childe's ear— So good for me; Childe, Childe, Childe; just like that, always like that.
He comes soon after, spilling himself inside. Childe bites his lip at the warmth that fills him. Zhongli holds him firm, refusing to let him pull away. Noses at the back of Childe's neck, inhaling deeply, pressing a kiss to the sweaty skin.
It's too sweet for a quick fuck. They are not lovers, even if Childe wants that because Zhongli was right—he always loses on purpose. Always lets Zhongli pull ahead and cross that finish line to victory because fucking him is always the requested prize.
Zhongli pulls out gingerly, watching his come drip from Childe's ass and onto the ground. His stare lingers just a little too long, but Childe lets it.
They dress silently. Childe ignores the stickiness between his asscheeks, too tired to clean himself up. Zhongli looks as put together as he always does, his dress shirt buttoned to the neck as he straightens his tie. No one would think this man races cars on the street when he's away from the office.
This is where they part until the next time. Except, this time, they both linger.
"Wait," says Childe, reaching out to curl a finger into Zhongli's waistband. Zhongli waits, head tilted to the side. "Uh…"
They are so different. Zhongli is older, a well-established businessman who spends his days pushing papers. Polished and pristine, worth millions more than Childe's grubby, oil-stained fingers. He's just a mechanic. He wears sweatshirts and his cheeks are always smudged with grease. His back aches from bending over and his calluses are thick enough that he can barely feel anything through them.
"Childe?"
"When's the next time?" He doesn't usually ask this. It's always when Childe gets a text, Zhongli saying that he needs to clear his head from work. Childe licks his lips nervously and Zhongli stares at his mouth.
The moment is charged but not awkward. Zhongli is the one who leans forward to kiss him, crossing a line that's been carefully avoided.
And Childe kisses him back, tongue slipping out to slide against Zhongl's lips. It lasts only a moment, but it's a moment they are lost in each other, licking and tasting, tongues sweeping around heatedly. When Zhongli pulls back, Childe chases him.
"That's enough of that." Zhongli presses his fingers against Childe's mouth.
"Come on," says Childe, nipping at them. "Kiss me again."
"The next race. If you win, that'll be your prize."
"And if I lose?" Childe wants to think that Zhongli would kiss him again but he already knows the answer. When Childe loses, Zhongli will bend him right over his car and take him again.
Zhongli twitches into the barest hint of a grin. He presses his thumb into Childe's mouth, tamping his tongue down. Then, he leans forward to whisper into Childe's ear, "I'll take you home and do as I said earlier. I'll pull you apart on my fingers until you can't think anymore, begging to come."
Zhongli pulls out his thumb, dragging it over his bottom lip, considering him. Then, one more kiss, a quick peck, too sweet for their casual relationship.
When he pulls away, Childe is red in the face. "I—um, right. Okay, yeah, that's—just, uh, text me?"
Zhongli chuckles, stepping to the side. "You are the only one I'd ever entertain." He straightens his tie once more, looking effortlessly calm. A wild contrast to Childe's rapidly beating heart, like the thrum of an engine speeding down a straightway.
Childe watches as Zhongli climbs into his car. The engine flares to life and as he drives away, he takes Childe's heart with him.