The moment that he became a Harbinger, he knew that two things were certain: He would absolutely die young and reckless, and he'd never settle down.
He's still young and reckless, but he's— miraculously— still alive, and as for the latter?
Well, Childe is the kind of man that always has a surprise tucked up his sleeve— only this time it's a brand-new and glittering, gold ring that's wrapped firmly around his finger. It's a little scary, how much it weighs, how heavy it feels. So similar to the title he'd sworn to when he was a lad.
But, unlike that title, it isn't daunting. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. For the first time in his life, Childe has surprised himself by falling in love and wanting to stay there.
Zhongli moans against his skin as he smooths a hand over him, and Childe's blood burns at the touch.
It used to be the thrill of the battle that did this to him, that made lust pool in his gut and his cock harden. Now it's nothing but the palm of Zhongli's hand, the smooth leather of his gloves sliding against his skin. The swirling gold geo that sometimes glitters against darkened skin. That age-old and wisened gaze, lips quirked slightly as he looks at Childe with quiet affection.
It's pathetic, how easily it works Childe up, how eagerly he falls right into those well-weathered hands. He soaks up the touch, his head tipping back into the pillows as Zhongli ghosts his fingers across the entire length of him.
"Beautiful," murmurs Zhongli, his eyes glowing deep gold in the dim light of their bedroom. They're locked into Zhongli's Serenitea Pot, hopefully for days to come if Childe gets his wish. All the others have already been answered.
Childe thinks he's the beautiful one, of course.
"Well-honed," says Zhongli next, sliding a hand across his carefully maintained abs.
Childe wonders if he forgets the absurdity of his Statues.
These aren't new words; they're old ones that Zhongli uses often, quiet and flitting things that are usually tucked right against Childe's sweaty skin. He leans over Childe, boxing him in. Childe sinks into the feel of it, his fingers curling tightly around his biceps as Zhongli invades his entire space.
"All mine," he says, nuzzling into Childe's neck, nibbling at the skin there softly. A tease of what's surely to come because Childe knows he loves to mark him up. Zhongli moves, though, pressing a kiss to his ear instead. His breath is warm as he says, "My husband."
That's a new one, newly minted earlier that afternoon on the shores of Guyun Stone Forest. Mostly alone, only those closest to them standing by to watch.
Venti got drunk and yelled that it Took them long enough.
Oh, but the word. Childe moans at the sound of it as it settles deep in his gut, melting into pleasure. Never thought that only a word could do him in like this, but it does, Zhongli does, everything about this does.
"Hm." Zhongli sighs against his neck and Childe can feel him smiling. "Like that?"
"Zhongli—"
"Ajax," he murmurs as he leans back and watches him again, eyes narrowly slit and skin flush down to his chest. Childe lays under him, watching him back, his heart already bursting and they've barely begun.
"Think you've made a mistake, yet?" asks Childe in a soft tease. He knows that Zhongli doesn't, that they haven't, but it's still fun to poke and prod.
Zhongli cocks his head to the side as he regards him. Drags his hand down Childe's front, the way that his nails slightly catch sending tingles down Childe's spine. Delightful. "The only mistake that I've ever made was not marrying you sooner."
That isn't the expected answer. Zhongli doesn't let him respond, leaning forward to press a kiss against his chest. Nuzzles the spot right over his heart. Childe nearly dies on the spot.
"So much time, lost," says Zhongli against his skin.
"We've been together—"
"But I could have been calling you my husband." Zhongli says the word like it's a prayer, his tongue sneaking out to lick a stripe across Childe's nipple. "I could have been worshiping you as my partner."
"Baby, we are—"
"And now, there are other things that I wish to do," cuts in Zhongli, swirling his tongue around the delicate nub until Childe moans.
Zhongli is so rarely greedy like this, but he noses along Childe's skin like a man starving until he's sucking a mark into his neck instead, his teeth just barely tugging at Childe's skin. Blunted until— Childe sucks in a breath as he remembers a recent conversation, the memory brought back by the two, sharp tips he feels.
"Mate," says Zhongli, pressing a kiss right to where his pulse rages underneath his skin, and Childe is gone, he's gone. His cock fills entirely and he keens at the idea of it, of Zhongli claiming him in that most archaic way.
He's warned him, supposes Childe. Dragons are old and protective creatures, and that marriage might not be enough to satiate those deep-seated instincts. He'd also told him that a bite wasn't necessary, that he'd never force him into something like that, but—
Childe burns at the idea of it and his gut turns with nervousness, but it's the good kind that sets one's nerves alight. There is so little that he's ever wanted, but what he does is just be with Zhongli, always.
"Please," says Childe, and he swears that Zhongli pauses, that his eyes dilate, that he hears that soft purring that sometimes rises from his throat. And Zhongli does— purrs— Childe feels it as he breathes against his neck, trying to gather himself.
"Later," he says instead, moving to slide back to Childe's chest to bite at his collarbone. "I meant it when I said that I want to worship you. You're—"
"Your husband, yeah, yeah," says Childe with humor, his fingers threading through Zhongli's hair.
"The husband of a God. The oldest being in this realms. Perhaps all realms."
Oh. Oh. Childe's never quite realized that, even if Zhongli isn't a God anymore, but—
"I like the sound of that," he says, his mouth curving into a dangerous little grin, and Childe can feel the way that Zhongli smiles against him as he licks the length of his collarbone. Lapping at the skin there, teasing it with his teeth.
The fangs haven't gone away. Childe can feel the soft swirl of Geo in the room. "This whole husbands thing must really get to you, huh?" he says, insufferably cheeky.
Zhongli hums against him, nuzzling his sternum. His fingers dance across the smooth skin of Childe's sides. Down his waist and to his hips, pressing against scar after scar, leftover wounds from battles that he doesn't have to fight anymore.
Zhongli reveres them, whispers words of praise and prayers against them: So handsome; the stories these marks tell. How I love to think of your strength.
Childe could drown in the way that Zhongli talks about him. Very nearly does, his cock hard and aching by his thigh. "Please," he murmurs, bucking his hips.
"I'll take care of you," says Zhongli, and Childe knows that he will. Zhongli pecks kisses across the hard ridge of his abdomen. His tongue dips into his navel as it passes by. He settles between Childe's legs, hands spreading them. Childe floats about in the hazy pleasure.
And then, Zhongli bites his groin, where his cock meets the crease, and the sharpness of it tugs Childe back to reality. "Pay attention," says Zhongli, sucking a mark there, doing his best to leave Childe's skin reddened and stinging.
When Childe looks down, Zhongli looks back up. His hand finds Childe's cock and he pumps along his length. Childe bucks into the pressure, and Zhongli tightens his fingers. He leans forward, nuzzling the base of his dick and the coarse hair there.
And then he says, "I only do this for you, no one else."
"Zhongli— Oh, Archons."
Zhongli swallows him in one swoop, sucking around his cock with perfected ease. He always does so well with this, but Childe doesn't think he's ever seen him so needy, so sinfully eager.
He can't help the way his hands slip down to cradle Zhongli's face, thumbs smoothing over the high bones of his cheeks. Or how he presses deeper into his mouth, his hips stuttering as he tries to pull back. Zhongli moans around him, the vibration of it ruining, and the lust in Childe's gut starts coiling dangerously.
He's already so close, dangerously wavering right at the edge—
Zhongli pulls off of him with a chuckle. Kisses the sharp jut of Childe's hip bone, his tongue lapping at a rather nasty, jagged scar there.
"Fuck, I was—"
"I know," says Zhongli, sounding proud of himself, "Not yet, not till you're inside me properly."
Childe's head falls back into the pillows, eyes shut tight at just the thought of it. "Gods," he sighs, threading his fingers into Zhongli's hair.
Zhongli waits a bit, letting his cock rest back down to a simmer, and then wraps his mouth around it again. Childe moans, scratching against his scalp, pulling at his locks. Guides his mouth to take him deeper and Zhongli just lets it happen. Down and down until Childe's settled in the entire way, the tip of his dick kissing his throat.
"Oh, oh—" His voice is punched and nearly pained. Zhongli's mouth is warm and wet, and his tongue is dangerous as it slides across the underside of him. So snug— and the way that Zhongli keens, his throat shaking just slightly around him.
Childe nearly—
Zhongli is gone, pinching the base of his cock cruelly, and Childe lets out a pitiful whimper. "I'm dying here," he says, his voice cracked, "I'm—"
"I expected you to last a little longer," muses Zhongli leaning back and dragging a finger along his length.
"That's unfair." Childe swallows thickly, trying to ignore everything that's rolling through his mind. Zhongli, wrapped around his cock. The way that he venerates him. That word, repeated: husband, husband, husband.
Zhongli moves, settling back over his hips. Childe looks and sees that he's hard and aching too, his cock angry looking and dripping precome everywhere. He wants to lick it up, wants to suck it down; but Childe has entered impatience and he can't wait much longer.
"I already told you," says Zhongli, "Not until you're deep inside—"
"Please don't."
Zhongli laughs, a soft chuckle. "All right," he says, finally taking pity on him. He fingers several scars across his skin, taking them in. "So many." It's a soft murmur, one that Zhongli often gives. He always marvels at the trials that Childe's gone through in his short life. "Each with a story."
"Stories that aren't worth telling," says Childe, the foggy haze that coats him lifting slightly.
"Always worth telling," says Zhongli instead. He brings Childe's hand to his mouth and kisses his wedding ring. Nuzzles it too for good measure. "Unless you think this one isn't worth it either."
Childe sighs, pulling him down. Takes Zhongli's face between his fingers and kisses him stupid. It's a sweet thing, full of love, and Zhongli eagerly responds. Their tongues dance together, lips slotted at a wonderful angle.
"I love you," says Childe against him, the words slipped right into Zhongli's mouth, "Archons, I love you and that's the only thing that matters anymore."
Zhongli sits back, straddling him properly. His eyes are half-slit and cat-like, his pupils blown wide until there's only a small gold ring left around them. Devious and devilish, like the dragon that Childe knows lurks beneath his skin. Already the pressure around them is changing.
It's always a sight to see, how Zhongli can slip right away, drunk on his lust. Childe loves his blackened arms and fingers tipped yellow as though dipped into molten gold. He watches Childe like a predator, and Childe loves the feral regard, craves it.
But, if he were honest, it's the horns, always the damn horns that do him in. The air swirls with glittering Geo as they manifest, curled like fuzzed antlers and standing proud from the crown of his head. Childe is weak for it, touching them, worrying his fingers over the soft fuzz of their length.
Zhongli always purrs in response, a deep rumble from his throat, and Childe just sinks into it.
And now, he has this forever.
Childe can tell that Zhongli is impatient with the way that he tips too much oil into his calloused hand. He tugs Childe's fingers behind him, his want so painfully clear. In more ways than one. When he leans forward, Zhongli's cock is tucked against Childe's stomach, sliding across his skin, hard and slick.
He parts Zhongli's ass cheeks with his fingers and settles his cock into the cleft of his ass. Bucks against him just slightly as his finger rubs across Zhongli's hole. Tight, but pliant and oh-so willing; when Childe presses in, his finger sinks straight to the last knuckle, and Zhongli chokes on a moan.
"Fuck," he murmurs, settling his fingers against Childe's chest. Claws, not nails, dig in with tiny prick points— not enough to hurt, but enough to leave raised little pink marks. And fuck, if Childe doesn't love this, watching Zhongli lose himself so utterly to the passion of their lovemaking.
One finger becomes two, slipping in deep and spreading wide. Childe marvels at the way that Zhongli's ass grips them tight, sucking them in; at the way that he cries out above him and fucks against his hand.
"Husband," says Childe, testing out the word, immediately feeling the appeal. The pleasure of it starts to coil again, tight in his gut as Zhongli rolls his hips back and forth against his hand.
When his fingers are replaced with his cock, Zhongli sinks down immediately, taking Childe deep in one fell movement.
"Oh, oh— fuck." Childe isn't expecting it, the tight and soft give of his insides, the tight clamp of his hole around the base of his cock. It shouldn't feel different, but it does, and it's mostly because—
"Mine," says Zhongli, raking his fingers down Childe's chest as he rides him. Fucks against him harsh and fast, taking Childe for everything that he has.
"Zhongli," Childe tries to warn, because he feels the tell-tale churning in his core, the way that his insides curl tighter and together. Oh, he isn't going to last long; not with the way Zhongli looks above him, or how he speaks.
Especially the way that he watches him, hunger painted onto his face as he just fucks and fucks against Childe's hips. Childe grasps him, guiding his movements, helping Zhongli rise and fall with gravity. And then he thrusts up into him, meeting every motion, every terrible downstroke that threatens to suck his cock dry.
Zhongli's dick bobs with the movement, leaking precome everywhere, but when Childe goes for it, Zhongli slaps his hand away. "No," he murmurs, "No—"
So it's that kind of night, thinks Childe; the kind where Zhongli wants to fuck him into oblivion and come only from the pressure of his cock. Childe plants his feet against the mattress and finds Zhongli's prostate. Fucks into it harshly with the tip of his cock.
Zhongli's head falls forward, their foreheads together and slick with sweat. Childe pounds into him, over and over again, and Zhongli meets him in the middle with grinding rolls of his hips.
"Ajax, Ajax—" Zhongli cries out, voice cracked and gone. Face debauched. Cheeks ruddy and the red of his liner smeared under his lids. Childe could come from the sight alone, but he doesn't, he doesn't—
He holds on like a good husband.
Zhongli tells him that as they continue the dance, holding Childe's face like he's a precious treasure. His hair falls around them in soft and silken waves. "So good for me," he murmurs into Childe's ear, broken whispers and barely formed words.
Childe's mind is hazy as the pleasure in his core pulls taut and thin. He thinks he can hear the blood rushing in his ears.
"So good," says Zhongli, rubbing a thumb over his bottom lip. Down the line of his jaw and sweeping across the side of his throat. And then Zhongli looks at his shoulder, the pristine juncture where his neck meets. "So good for me, my darling husband."
Childe's gut clenches and he hisses. "I'm— oh, gods—"
He fucks into Zhongli's tight warmth, reaching around to press his fingers to where they're connected. Feels Zhongli's rim, stretched wide around him, puffy and oh—
It's emotional. Things well up in the back of Childe's throat as he swallows thickly. Listens to what Zhongli whispers into his ear. "Mate," he says, "Not just my husband, but my partner in everything, my precious, precious mate—"
"Please, just— Oh, gods do it already—"
Zhongli doesn't give him time to think, he just bites into the meat of his shoulder, fangs sinking in deep. Childe thought it'd hurt more, but it's more like a stinging crack that bleeds into pleasure. Childe is overwhelmed, overstimulated, his brain empty and his dick thick and full.
It makes him come, earlier than he thought, with staggering and stuttered movements. Nearly slips right out of Zhongli's ass in surprise, but he manages to sink in deep and hold there. Fills Zhongli up until he's a dry and empty husk.
His brain is fogged, drunk on the feel of it— the way his neck burns, and how Zhongli licks at the wound; his how hole grips him so tight that Childe thinks his dick might fall off; the way that Zhongli came too, entirely untouched as he bit him.
"Shh," says Zhongli, kissing the side of his face.
Childe's cheeks feel wet, and he realizes they're tears. He's never been ridden so hard that he was left crying. He's a blubbering, blubbering mess. "I—"
"I know." Zhongli kisses all over his face, pressing his fingers into Childe's auburn curls. He strokes through them as he guides Childe through the tides of his orgasm, scratching at his scalp, pulling at the tresses, kissing and kissing and kissing him.
"Oh my gods," manages Childe, finally, "Zhongli, I love you."
"Yes, yes," says Zhongli, his voice deep and grounding as he wipes away Childe's tears with his thumbs.
"Mate," says Childe, a little dumbly but the word feels right the moment it leaves his mouth.
Zhongli smiles at him proudly. Childe's cock twitches at the sight, at the feel, at the way that it seems like everything's just been put into a new perspective. He blinks slowly. "I love you," he says again, most anything else entirely gone from his mind.
Zhongli hums, smoothing his hair back as he leans over him. He rolls his hips again and Childe hisses, overcome and—
His cock fills again, half-hard as it sits snuggly in Zhongli's ass, slick with come. Zhongli smiles wide and genuine. Not a rare thing around Childe, but it kills him nearly every time. Zhongli sits back and takes his cock fully without ever pulling off. Childe swallows at the slight swell of Zhongli's belly where he can see just truly how fast his dick has fully recovered.
Well, that's new; this short refractory period.
"Ajax," says Zhongli, his voice low and husky. He pulls off of Childe, leaving his cock aching for his warmth again. But then he turns over in the mattress, his ass on display. Childe watches in silence, his cock throbbing. Uncaring about the stinging of his shoulder, where his fresh mark is on display.
Zhongli settles a hand against his ass and parts his cheeks, showing off his loosed, puffy rim, and where Childe's come trickles out. And just like that, Childe is done, he's done— deceased and gone from this planet, his throat dry and brain so empty that he can't find words.
"Husband," says Zhongli, and Childe feels it in his dick, he can hear the trailing plead in his tone. Childe reaches out to squeeze at his ass, sliding his thumb into his slick and wet hole. When he meets Zhongli's gaze once more, Zhongli looks at him, mildly amused, his face smashed into the pillow.
And then: "It's your turn."
Childe doesn't need to be told twice.