Zhongli is settled into a seat at the Northland Bank, fingers clasped primly in his lap as he listens to the banker drone on about investment accounts.
"As you see, there are perks to transferring your IRA account here. Our interest rate is higher and we match—"
"At what percentage?"
The man blinks, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before he shuffles through his paperwork. "Well, with Liyue International, you have a traditional IRA with a standard interest rate of…" Another paper flip, "Seven percent." He clicks his tongue. "That's on the lower end of the scale. Here at Northland Bank, we value you—"
"Do you?" Zhongli's gaze narrows. "I am not young. I know a sales pitch when I hear it, and I came here for a reason. So," Zhongli's face tips to the nameplate on the desk. "Mr. Tartaglia. Please, sell me on it."
"Childe is fine," says the banker smoothly. "As far as selling you on moving your accounts here—I think that our options speak for themselves."
"Which are?"
Childe huffs. "With all due respect, would you let me finish?"
"With all due respect, Mr. Tartaglia, I'm a large client with little time. If you want my accounts, the clock is ticking."
Childe's mouth purses, his brow pinching right in the middle. Mild annoyance. Zhongli's mouth twitches at the corner in amusement. So young and eager. Easy to tease.
"We would switch you to a Roth IRA," continues Childe, finally handing him the pertinent information. "It will take a bit of paperwork but it would be non-taxable and you can borrow against it without penalty. Not to mention, the interest rate is ten percent and we match a higher amount."
Zhongli, of course, knows this, having done mountains of research before even stepping into the Northland Bank. Perhaps it is his older nature, but he prefers to make others work for his business, finding mild entertainment in watching them squirm a little.
You're just trolling them, said Venti once over drinks. An old dick, that's all you are.
Perhaps, but Zhongli has little pleasure in his life so he indulges.
The banker is handsome. A masculine face and pretty blue eyes that seem to have depth. Thick and unruly auburn hair curls around his forehead and neck. And oh, does he put on the charm with slow, deliberate movements that draw Zhongli's gaze right in. The brushing of his bangs away from his face; a wide, rapscallion grin; the genial and kind tone of his words, warm and inviting.
Childe has perfected customer service, it seems. And it works; Zhongli finds himself more interested than he should be. "And the paperwork," he then asks, "how is that to be settled?"
"I'll help you with it, of course. Perhaps even fill most of it out. After all, you're a busy man, as you said before, Mr. Lapis. I can't expect you to give up all of your precious spare time."
Oh. Zhongli's lips part. Childe's tone is teasing back, the undertone of it annoyed. "Do you have a distaste for men like myself?"
"What? For the obscenely rich?" Childe's gaze turns salty-sweet and he can't keep the sarcasm from his tone. "Nonsense, Mr. Lapis. Friendly banter, that's all—which you initiated, might I add. Without such high-class clients such as yourself, the Northland Bank wouldn't exist."
Zhongli watches him coolly. "So you were aware of my teasing, then."
Childe shrugs minutely. "You aren't very subtle."
"Or, perhaps, you are too interested."
"Oh, I love the overconfidence."
For a moment, Zhongli considers that, perhaps, he gauged the banker wrong. Childe is young—younger than Zhongli typically would chase after—but not young enough to be dumb and stupid. There's enough experience stocked behind that knowing gaze. As Zhongli stares him down, Childe watches him back with equal interest.
"Was I wrong in your interest? As a client, of course." Zhongli is, admittedly, rusty when it comes to casual liaisons.
Childe seems momentarily stunned by the overt bluntness of Zhongli's flirting. "I—Er." His throat bobs as he gathers himself, clearing it. "Would you like to see the vault?"
Zhongli's brows rise straight into his hairline. He checks his watch. Nearly 5 P.M. "I do believe that your facility closes in about ten minutes."
"That's enough time for me to convince you that the Northland Bank truly values our clientele."
Oh. Oh. Zhongli's gaze melts, arousal flooding through him. Perhaps this boy is exactly as cheeky as he first thought. Zhongli stands and tugs at the lapels of his coat. "I do think that perhaps a closer look would allow me to assess whether or not my assets will truly be cared for."
Childe's return grin is foxlike and eager.
#
Zhongli is a well-seasoned businessman and though incredibly dense when it comes to many social norms, he certainly knows that this isn't the sort of bank deposits that are spoken of when talking shop about IRA accounts.
"Oh, look at you." The safe deposit box room is tiny with barely enough room for them to move around the way they need to. Childe has Zhongli pressed against the table. The perfect height to lean over and grasp as Childe spreads his legs wide.
"There are cameras," murmurs Zhongli. He does nothing to protest, instead, falling victim to Childe's roaming hands wholly and willingly.
"I'm the bank manager with security access. I'll delete the footage."
"Will you?" Zhongli isn't so prone to making such dumb choices but he's more desperate to get fucked than he originally thought, need coursing through him.
"If you switch your accounts to us." A tease.
But Zhongli is a man of repute. He should be playing it safe, not… whatever this is. Childe pauses, sensing Zhongli's hesitation. Zhongli's already half pulled apart, his shirt and jacket loose, trousers undone at the front. Childe's hands are searing hot against his skin and Zhongli's gut curls, wanting more.
His voice falls quieter. "I'm a man of my word. I promise. Besides—" He squeezes the meat of Zhongli's ass, fingers digging into plush muscle. "I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize getting my hands on this. I've heard the rumors of you hiding assets, but—"
Zhongli snorts, laughing. "Ah, so you like the tabloids, then?"
"They're a guilty pleasure. Stop changing the subject. Didn't you want to see how we handle your assets?"
"I'd rather you manhandle them at this point." The words slip out before Zhongli can stop them.
Childe bends closer, plastering himself over Zhongli's back. "Who knew that you had such a filthy mouth?"
Zhongli shoots him a look over his shoulder. "Didn't you say that you only needed ten minutes? The clock is ticking and I fully intend on submitting a review of your services."
The lighthearted bickering spurs them on. Childe's touch is blazing, fingers smoothing over every inch that he can find before pulling Zhongli's trousers past the swell of his waist. He pulls an asscheek to the side, staring at Zhongli's hole which clenches in anticipation.
"Wow, so…" Childe tests the give of his rim by pressing his thumb against it.
Zhongli jerks, hips bucking. "It's been—"
"Needy thing, aren't you?"
No, thinks Zhongli. Childe licks at his thumb before pressing it back to his hole again, more insistent with his touch, slipping into the first knuckle. Childe is gentle at least, tugging at his rim carefully. Zhongli whines when Childe pulls away again.
The click of a lube bottle has Zhongli huffing. "Prepared, hm?"
"Lucky for you I jack off sometimes during my lunches. Now shut up and let me take care of you."
Zhongli bites his lip to keep from crying out as Childe slips a finger in, the lube cold and sticky. And then a second, a little too quickly. Zhongli cannot complain, bucking against his hand. He asked for it, teasing about the time. He looks at his watch again. "Seven minutes."
"Probably less than that," says Childe, wriggling a third finger in beside the first two. He spreads them, tugging Zhongli's hole wide, stretching it.
"I'm willing to give an extra moment or two if it means stellar service—Oh, that's—" Zhongli keens, fingers digging into the table he leans against, gasping when Childe's fingers brush his prostate.
"Ah, found it." Childe's mouth is near his ear, warm and wet. His fingers are relentless as he opens Zhongli up, sinking in deep, sweeping over that bundle of nerves over and over. Quickly. Efficiently. His cock hangs heavy underneath him, twitching. Precome drips to the tiled floor in thick globs.
"Mr. Tartaglia," hisses Zhongli, clenching around his fingers as he grinds against him.
"Childe," is the curt correction, punctuated by a punishing drive of his fingers that leaves Zhongli's breath hitched. "I'd like to think we're partners in this business, not just a client and some middling service."
What a boastful man, pride leaking from his pores as Zhongli falls apart on only his fingers. There's an attractiveness to it though, the sure way that Childe speaks and his talented, deft fingers that know exactly what they're doing. Zhongli wants more.
"I think we should skip to the more involved parts of hashing out a contract. I'm—ah, fuck, that's—"
"You do deserve special treatment, I suppose."
"Five minutes, Mr. Tartaglia," says Zhongi, peeking at his watch again. "You still haven't given me a thorough run-down of what exactly the Northland Bank's rates are—"
"I'd rather fuck you," says Childe, kissing the shell of Zhongli's ear, his words tumbling from his mouth, filthy.
Zhongli would rather that, too. He needs it, as far as he's concerned. Childe's fingers are good but they are not enough and it's been too long since Zhongli last indulged in something so licentious. His pleasure is close to peaking, nearly undone with so little effort. It would take nothing to tip over the edge and he'd far prefer it with Childe's cock inside him instead.
Childe grinds against him, his erection thick and heavy in his trousers. Zhongli's mouth waters as he looks back, eyes honing in on the sizeable bulge. Childe catches his gaze and smirks. Takes Zhongli's chin between his fingers, turning his face. "I bet you beg so prettily."
Probably. Zhongli knows he's pink-faced, eyes dancing with lust and arousal. Childe thumbs over Zhongli's bite-swollen lip leans close to peck it. A sweet kiss. It doesn't linger, doesn't ask for more—but he does. "Come on, beg for it."
Zhongli refuses to give in so easily. "Fuck me," he demands instead.
"Insistent." Childe nips at his jaw, teeth digging in. "I should've expected that from Mr. Rex Lapis, though. CEOs certainly come with high tastes."
"Zhongli," he corrects. "Only businessmen call me Mister."
Childe laughs, leaning back to pull his fingers out. Zhongli hates the emptiness at their loss and the way that his loose hole clenches around nothing. Childe spreads his asscheeks to watch, smoothing his thumb over his swollen rim. "I'm a little jealous. There's something to be said about the time they spend with you. And there's a draw to the title." Childe hums against his neck. "Mister."
"I don't let them fuck me." A pause. Another glance at his wrist, the hand of his watch tick-ticking with every second that passes by. "Five minutes, it seems."
Childe fusses with his trousers, unzipping them with haste. Slicks his cock with the lube. Takes a deep breath as he presses the tip to Zhongli's hole, thrusting in hard, right to the root. His thighs slap against Zhongli's ass, the sound echoing in the quietness of the room.
"Gods, I knew it." Childe moans as he slides deep, Zhongli's ass flush against. "You're so tight, so, so—"
Childe's dick is perfect. Zhongli whimpers as Childe fucks him, hard and fast. His cock drags against his insides, filling him to the point where he can feel Childe in his throat. "Fuck," hisses Zhongli. Minutely embarrassed, so used to speaking properly. He loses himself in his lust, fucking back against Childe to pull his cock deeper. "More," he begs, finally giving in fully. "More."
Zhongli drowns, overcome by the sensation of it all. He grabs at his own cock and strokes himself, moaning with every punch of Childe's length. Pleasure burns through Zhongli like liquid fire as Childe rolls his hips against him. It won't take long; Zhongli was already close before but now he threatens to come with every pointed strike of Childe's dick.
"Fuck, you feel good." Childe's movements are sharp. He holds Zhongli's hips in a bruising grip that will surely leave marks.
How sordid. Zhongli's thighs shake as he tries to hold himself up. His toes curl inside his fine leather wingtips, scrabbling against the table as he's pushed across it. He moans, cheek squished into the cold wood that's polished to a shine. "Hah—Mhmm—"
"And the way that you sound. Gods, just—" Childe curses again, tugging Zhongli's hips back against him.
Zhongli cries out, garbling Childe's name. His fingers dig into the table, sliding over it as Childe fucks into him over and over. Short thrusts that punch out the filthiest sounds. Zhongli writhes underneath him as he meets every thrust.
Childe loses his rhythm. "I'm—Zhongli, I'm—"
Zhongli glances at his watch. Two minutes. He smirks, amused—but then bites off a moan at a particularly rough thrust. "Are you close?" Then, a dangerous but delicious thought as Zhongli looks back at Childe's ruddy face. "Inside me. Come on, inside me."
Childe stutters, his grip tightening. "Shit," he murmurs. "Fuck, you're—okay. Okay."
It takes only a few more thrusts before Childe comes, filling Zhongli up with ropes of white spend. Zhongli groans, gripping his own cock, fucking his fist as Childe grinding into him. And then Childe pulls out, unexpectedly, Zhongli whining at the loss of fullness.
"No, why, I'm—" So very nearly there. Zhongli looses a frustrated sound, hips chasing Childe's dick.
"So desperate," says Childe, spreading Zhongli's asscheeks to watch the way his semen drips from his hole. Embarassing, delightful, horrifically debauched; Zhongli is as desperate as Childe claims. "Do you want to come?"
"Are you going to make me sign paperwork for it?" snaps Zhongli, strangely testy. He's usually so calm and composed, even in his most vulnerable moments.
Childe smiles against his neck, nuzzling the skin there. Kiss after kiss against Zhongli's sweaty skin, his tongue darting out to taste it. "Normally, yes." The worst sort of tease. Zhongli wriggles his hips, begging for friction, for fingers, for anything.
Zhongli is turned around until the table bites his lower back, spine smarting in pain. Childe drops immediately, falling to his knees, prostrating before him. "So beautiful," he says, pulling Zhongli's trousers down to his ankles, freeing milky thighs and everything else.
"Your time is up, you know."
Childe looks up at him from between his thighs. "I'm willing to put in extra work off the clock."
Zhongli's gaze melts into something a little too fond. His hand curls into Childe's hair, fingers scratching his scalp before he tugs his mouth close. "I think you need to remind me of the interest rates again."
"Ten percent." He kisses the tip of Zhongli's cock, tongue sliding across the underside, tracing the thick vein. "But I'm willing to negotiate for higher if it means more meetings."
"Quiet liaisons in the vaults, I assume."
"Or my office, late at night."
Zhongli drags a thumb over Childe's mouth, considering him. Then he tugs his lips open and says, "Go on, then. Show me how desperate for my patronage you are."
And Childe does, swallowing down Zhongli's cock as though he might die if he doesn't. His mouth is wet and warm. Zhongli groans when the tip hits the back of Childe's throat, and Childe hums around him. "What a sight." Zhongli brushes back Childe's bangs. "So good for me."
It takes nothing for him to come; a few good sucks around the crown of Zhongli's cock, and Childe's fingers pressing into his loose hole to tease his prostate. Zhongli cries out and Childe sputters around him, choking on his come, spittle dripping from his mouth.
He coughs, pulling back—but shoves whatever falls from his mouth right back in. Zhongli watches him like a hawk, half-lidded, and they hang there for a long moment as they soak up just what really happened.
"I—"
"Don't usually do this, right?" Childe laughs, wiping his mouth. "Yeah, I don't make a habit of it either. Actually, I don't think I've ever pulled a client down here." A pause as he stands. "Oh, yeah, I… Look, I didn't do this to get an account with you."
Of course, not. Zhongli isn't a fool. He laughs as he re-dresses, making himself decent. "Perhaps I was just…" He clears his throat. "The only explanation is that you are handsome and receptive."
Once they leave the safe-deposit room, still a little wobbly, Zhongli stops Childe just at the front door. "It's quiet in here."
"I typically close up. That's why I…" He trails off, waving vaguely.
Zhongli pulls out his card holder and a pen, scratching words over the thick cardstock before handing it to Childe. "This might be a little forward, but…" It has been years since Zhongli last dated and he fears that he might come off a little more awkward than intended.
Childe stares at the business card, a separate phone number handwritten on the back in curling penmanship. "Should I consider this a tip, then? For services rendered?"
"I would think that you'd want me to call the office for work-related calls."
Zhongli shrugs on his coat, straightening the lapels. He huffs. "Of course. That's my personal number for—"
"House calls? Just what kind of banker do you think I am?"
"I would not be opposed to a proper dinner."
Childe's eyes light up at that, not unlike an eager puppy. "I've never been wine-and-dined before."
"Doubtful." Surely, Childe has been the one to wine and dine others.
"Well, okay, I've never been treated by someone I actually like." Childe pockets the card into his suit jacket. "Right then, I'll… er… We should get you out of here."
Zhongli slips through the unlocked front door. Pauses, hesitating, thinking that he should say more. He isn't so quick to forget the feel of Childe inside him, or the slick mess that still leaks from his ass. I'm gone, I'm—
"I will call you," says Childe, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his shoulders. "If you're worried. I can't be the only one that…" He scratches his neck. "Compatible," he finishes. "I had fun and I want to again."
"Fun," he muses, tasting the word. "I suppose you enjoyed yourself considering you dragged it past the allotted appointment time." Zhongli isn't sure that he'll be able to keep up but he's willing to try. "Until the next, then, Mr. Tartaglia."
Childe nods, hiding a smirk. "Mr. Lapis."
