For him, fucking another person is like a fight.
It doesn't take much; Childe's dick hardens at the barest hint of a tussle. Grappling is little different from groping, hands sliding over heated skin, fingertips sinking into supple flesh. Aether responds so easily, so readily, a soft groan tumbling from his lips as Childe tackles him around the waist.
They look forward to Mondays. The Golden House is a second home by now, oppressive to most, but beloved to them. What happens within these gold-encrusted walls stays within these gold-encrusted walls.
"You're toying with me today," snaps Childe, gaze narrow and heady as he watches Aether from across their makeshift ring.
"You're tired," says Aether. Maybe a little smug. Definitely a little annoyed. There's a twinge to his words, lips pulled into a subtle frown. Childe resists the urge to send him a rude gesture.
"Oh shove off it—"
"And you're pushing yourself too hard. I can tell by your sloppy movements." And there it is, just a hint of a smile on Aether's face, the ghost of a grin. He's teasing him.
Childe is quick to fight and easy to goad; the moment Aether's tongue lashes out Childe is gone, flying across the arena, Hydro blades out. It's a dance. Give and take as they move around each other, well-practiced. Childe knows all of Aether's steps, has memorized the way his blade arcs through the air.
"What's next?" asks Aether, ducking and barely slipping from Childe's reach. They part, standing opposite each other, chests heaving as they catch their breaths. "The Foul Legacy?" He tuts, expecting it.
Not today, thinks Childe. While it's true his Abyssal taint pulls him undertow more times than not, Childe hungers for something different today. He moves once more, dropping his blades and opting for his fists instead.
Aether barely catches them, his blade disappearing into the ether. He grunts, bracing himself as he digs his heels into the ground. He's shorter and more lithe but packs a punch, deceptively powerful despite such a tiny body. Childe's dick twitches in his trousers, tight with arousal. He chokes off a moan as Aether's hand slides across his middle.
They grapple at each other, swinging around as they each try to topple the other. Childe's bulkier but Aether is quicker. He manages to slip his elbow in and push. Childe teeters on his feet, threatening to slip. He turns on his ankle, swiping at Aether, just barely missing his shoulder.
Another round, another sweeping of feet and arms. Aether dodges deftly but is just a little too slow. Childe swoops in and hooks him around the waist, tipping him into the ground. Aether falls like a sandbag, sprawled out on his back.
"Pinned you," says Childe, settling over him. "Give in."
Aether's gaze shifts then, half-lidded and teasing. "What do I win if I do?" he asks, playing right into Childe's hand.
"Nothing. You lost, so—"
"A punishment, then? Mhm."
Oh. Oh. Childe swallows around the thick, dry lump in his throat, heart pounding in his chest as Aether stares back up at him like he's a cat caught in the cream. "Go on then." A pause and a soft nod of Aether's head as he drags a hand down his front.
They'd done this enough times for Childe to know exactly what Aether wants and needs. He tips down and kisses him, heated mouths meeting, tongues licking through lips. Doesn't stay there long. He kisses Aether's neck, his collarbone, nuzzles down the line of his sweat-soaked top. Kisses the soft skin of Aether's stomach, nipping at the gentle curve of his waist.
Aether sighs as his trousers are undone and Childe pulls out his already half-hard cock for a quick stroke. "This—hah—" His head thunks against the ground when Childe licks a stripe along his length, from balls to tip, tasting the salty precome. "This doesn't feel like a punshish—ment." The syllable comes out as a squawk as Childe wraps his mouth around the head of his cock.
He tastes like salt and sweat, the headiness of their fight soaked right into his skin. Childe loves it; the smell, the brine, the way that Aether's hips arch up from the ground, forcing his cock deeper into Childe's mouth. He sucks, dragging his tongue across the underside of Aether's length, sinking and sinking until his nose meets the coarse hair that just peeks out of his clothing.
"Oh fuck," curses Aether, hands dropping to pull Childe's hair. "Oh, fuck." A wheezing plea.
Aether knows he's allowed to thrust, so he does, pressing in deep, stealing Childe's breath away with every roll of his hips. Childe takes it for all it's worth, humming around his dick as the tip nudges the back of his throat. He suckles, spit leaking out the corners of his mouth, messy and wet, drooling and dripping everywhere.
Childe moans, and maybe Aether's right, it isn't really a punishment. Before he meant to tease, intending to squeeze around the base of his cock, staying his pleasure—but Aether is too tempting in the way that he responds. Childe wants him to spill down his throat instead.
"Gods," hisses Aether, keening, whining as he fucks Childe's mouth in earnest. Childe's scalp burns with how hair Aether tugs his air. He chokes around his cock, red in the face, tears leaking from his eyes as he meets every thrust with the bob of his head.
Aether squirms underneath him, thighs tense. He bucks up, pulling Childe's head down, forcing his dick so deep that Childe sputters, his throat tight. "Childe," murmurs, Aether, "Childe. Childe—"
He's close, Childe can taste it, salty precome leaking all over his tongue. He frees Aether's balls from his trousers, rolling them in his hand. Childe squeezes at them and Aether's thighs tremble. "Don't—don't stop. I'm so, so—"
Aether's balls tighten as Childe's thumb draws down the seam. Childe speeds up, bobbling over his dick, delighting in the way the Aether jerks beneath him. He groans, lips swollen and stretched as he just gobbles his length up, the salty tang of his skin staining his tongue. Childe's own cock aches, pressed tight against the front of his trousers, straining—later, he thinks. He can wait.
"I'm, I'm—" Aether shudders as he comes, pulling Childe's hair sharply as he holds his head there and spills down his throat. He moans, a low, drawn-out sound that lifts from his throat.
Childe swallows all of it—the sweat-slick tang of his skin; Aether's thick come, sliding down his throat. He moans, palming at his tented erection, grinding his palm against the front of his trousers.
"Delicious," he murmurs. Not that it really is, it's more the experience, but Childe will eat it up if it's the last thing he gets to do. Childe pulls back, kissing the tip, earning him one last twitch of Aether's spent cock.
"Gods," murmurs Aether, limp as he lays there on the ground. "Were you trying to suck my soul from my dick?"
Childe wipes at his mouth and laughs. "That was your punishment." Aether looks as though he's run a marathon. He accepts Childe's help when he stands, struggling to his feet on loose and wobbling limbs. Childe then tugs Aether close. "Hey," he says quietly, leaning in for a quick kiss.
Should've known the night wasn't over as Aether's hand drops, catching against his hard dig. Childe moans, head tilting forward. "At least wait—"
"Until what?" Aether is quick, dropping to his knees. He nuzzles Childe's clothed cock, smirking back at him. "Think you can take it as you stand there?"
"Yes," he says immediately, though there's a little doubt. His legs are already trembling as Aether's hands ghost over his trousers.
Only one way to find out.
