"Look at you," croons Kaeya from above him.

He sits in an old leather armchair, creased from the years, as though he's a king. His chin rests on his knuckles, that lone eye glittering in the low candlelight of the room. He is naked from the waist up, sweat beading down his sternum, dripping into the thick linen of his trousers.

"Are you close?" he asks, voice curling, teasing. One leg bent, his ankle resting on the opposite knee. He still wears his shoes, thick-soled boots that click across the tile.

"No—" Childe hisses it, the word trailing before it cuts off with a moan. He's spread out on the floor, boiling hot despite his half-nakedness. He sucks in a breath, nostrils flaring, and grounds himself. Ignores the pleasure that curls in his gut. "No, I'm—fuck, would you—"

Kaeya's boot is pressed against his erection, digging in. "Would I what?" asks Kaeya. Cock-sure and amused. He presses that boot down firmly, dragging it over the length of Childe's hardened dick. And oh, how he aches, teetering on the edge of orgasm.

It's not enough, though, it never is. Pure-hot pleasure rages like flash fire through his veins—but it always falls short. Childe whines, hips arching from the floor as he seeks out more.

"Uh-uh." Kaeya pulls his boot away. He leans forward slightly to sweep his gaze across Childe's prone form. "I do believe that I said you were at my whims this time around."

"Please—"

"Hm, I love it when you beg for me so well, but not yet." Kaeya clicks his tongue then, nudging the inside of Childe's thigh instead, the toe of his boot dragging from groin to knee in a sensuous slide. "I'm having too much fun watching."

He is. Childe can see that Kaeya's cock is hard, tenting his trousers as he shuffles around. He's barely touched himself, just a gentle press of his palm for weight. Kaeya's attention has been solely on him instead.

"Too cruel," says Childe, mouth melting into the rapscallion grin. "You're always—"

"Am I? You love it though, so desperate for the touch." The flat of his sole finds Childe's erection again, sweeping over the tip. Childe's breath hitches. A soft moan tumbles from his mouth. Kaeya is beyond pleased, he preens at the reaction. "See? So good for me."

"Gods, you're—" Childe pretends that the praise does nothing but he's easily read. Kaeya knows him inside and out. Every minute little detail of how he moves and reacts. Childe can't hide the subtle tics of arousal. His head tips back slightly as the praise sinks deep into his gut. "I need more. Give me more."

He expects the weight of Kaeya's shoe to fall against him heavier. He does not expect Kaeya to squeeze at his own cock before opening his trousers. His length is revealed, pink at the tip, dribbling precome everywhere. Kaeya licks his hand before stroking himself.

"That's—oh, you're—"

"You can complain later." Kaeya grunts softly, squeezing himself tightly just under the crown of his dick. "For now, keep being good for me."

"More, then," begs Childe. He's been good, he's been more than good, unbound and not touching himself. Getting off on only Kaeya's shoe, his arms tense but by his sides. His fingers dig into the flush carpet he leans on, legs spread and on display.

Kaeya considers his request, head tipped at his jerks himself. Childe watches every movement like a hand. Kaeya's long fingers, curled around his length, slick with his spit, dragging over reddened, aching skin. The subtle arch of his hips with every downward stroke, the tightness in his thighs as he works himself closer to his end.

Handsome. Childe licks his lips, watching, trying his best to not rut against Kaeya's boot. His cock hurts, the gentle pressure that lays over it pleasing but not enough to truly get off. So close, and yet—

Childe groans in frustration, hips bucking despite his best behavior.

Kaeya smirks. His eye glints, amused, head tipping back as he bites his lip. "Go on," he says, flicking his thumb into the slit of his own dick. "Fuck yourself against my boot."

Childe doesn't need to be told twice. He leans forward for a better angle, thighs spread. His hands find purchase Kaeya's calf and Childe uses the leverage to move, grinding himself against the thick sole. "Shit," he murmurs, finally getting the friction he sought out. "Fuck, Kaeya—"

"Mhm, yes, just like that." Kaeya's face is ruddy, pink with arousal. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, taking in the sight of Childe humping his boot.

Childe's breath hitches when the weight on his cock drops, forcing more friction into the grind of his hips. He whimpers, his movements stuttering as he clings to Kaeya's calf, nails biting into the meat of it. His cock twitches in his trousers. He can feel the tacky wetness that floods his underwear.

All the while Kaeya sits there, like a king, stroking his own cock to the sight of Childe rutting against his foot. Childe's hole clenches, feeling empty. His mouth is dry, wishing he was sucking Kaeya off instead. He whimpers, a pitiful sound that bleeds from the arousal in the pit of his gut.

"Such a good boy." Kaeya keens a soft moan, eye fluttering closed as he strokes himself faster. And then it opens again, half-lidded, lost in a haze as he fucks his hand to completion, spilling over his fingers. He hisses Childe's name, his hand drenched in his come.

And Childe watches—the way that Kaeya keeps his hand there, soft fluttering touches that ease him through his orgasm; the punched sound that looses from his throat and the breathy way he sighs Childe's name; the way his eye flutters closed, lashes damp with his sweat.

"Are you close?" asks Kaeya, biting off a groan. "Be good and come for me."

Childe's hips lurch, rolling against Kaeya's boot feverishly to the rhythm of his words. Kaeya presses against his dock hard, heel coming down over the swollen front of his trousers where his balls sit. Childe cries out, pleasure-pain bleeding through his being. He whines, whimpers, moans as he thrusts and thrusts.

He comes quickly when he sees Kaeya lick the come off his fingers, tongue diving between the knuckles. Childe spends himself in his trousers, wet and sticky. Gone and lost. He slumps against Kaeya's leg as he tries to catch a breath.

Kaeya tuts. "You've gone and made a mess of yourself." He doesn't say it unkindly. He pets Childe's hair with a gentle hand, guiding his cheek to rest against his thigh. "There you go. Rest. We'll clean up later."

Childe, spent and tired, too gone to do much more than sink into his comforting touch, nods. And Kaeya hums, stroking his hair as Childe tumbles into the lulling haze that comes after sex.

Romance, thinks Childe, knowing this is love.