The room is hot, but not as hot as Childe's scorching mouth, which is wrapped tightly around his cock.
Zhongli looses a breath. He knows his cheeks are pink and rosy, and his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose. He digs a finger into the knot of his tie, tugging at it, pulling the silk free. The collar of his shirt falls open, and the air of the room is cool against his sweaty skin.
"Zhongli?"
Right, he's on a call, Venti's voice worming his ear. "Sorry," murmurs Zhongli, turning towards the mouthpiece as he tries to find his words. "Apologies, my mind was elsewhere for a moment."
Venti scoffs. "When is it not? Your head's always in the clouds, not that I'm one to talk. I get it, really. The sooner we discuss this, the sooner you can get back to it."
And oh, wouldn't Zhongli love that, to lose himself entirely at the mere touch of the man between his legs. Childe kneels before him, pliant and willing, his mouth silken and soft. His tongue is flat against the underside of his length, and his lips are stretched obscenely wide, swollen and pink, and slick with spit and drool.
What a sight.
Venti prods him again and Zhongli remembers to speak. "Would it be more prudent to speak about the merger in person? I feel as though a phone conversation is hardly the place."
"I'd agree. I know that I'm not known to be a hands-on man when it comes to Barbatos Industries, but this is something I'd rather discuss face-to-face."
"Hands-on," repeats Zhongli, his gaze narrowing on Childe's flush face. He doesn't move, doesn't even blink, his eyes half-lidded with lust; he just warms his cock with fervent attention, fingers curled tightly into the stiff fabric of Zhongli's trouser legs.
Zongli presses his hand to Childe's head, petting through his hair there, tugging gently at the strands. Childe stirs, pulling from his haze, moaning softly at the contact. What a good boy.
It is a pity he'll have to tell him such, later.
"Yes, yes," he remembers to say, "Hands-on. Face-to-face; these are things that we can schedule. It is only a matter of getting with Miss Ganyu and settling a sate."
"I know you to be a reasonable man. I do not think my demands are too much"
"Of course not, Mr. Barbatos. Considering what you gain in return, I feel as though you are asking for far too little."
"Oh? So I should renegotiate?"
Zhongli chuckles. He takes Childe's chin into his hand, thumbing across those dangerously high cheekbones. And then, across his lips, smoothing over the swell of them. Childe moans again, this time a little louder, a little more wanton. Zhongli tugs at him, just ever so slightly, a gentle warning.
Childe's eyes clear, and that devilish mouth wrapped around his cock smirks instead. Zhongli knows that look, the one where Childe grins like a cat caught with cream.
Suddenly, Childe's mouth moves, sucking around Zhongli's dick, and oh, he's going to be the death of him—
"Mr. Zhongli, are you alright?"
Zhongli realizes, belatedly, and with supreme mortification, that he's made an untoward sort of sound. "I—walked into something. Likely bruised a hip."
"Hah, being an old man will do that to you, I suppose."
Zhongli grunts. "We aren't far off in age, old friend." He and Venti, while cordial in their business, are reluctant comrades of an age past, even if Zhongli would rather forget it.
"Oh, pulling out the 'old friend', eh? You must be distracted. You aren't quite retired yet, we still have to sign the deal."
Distracted doesn't begin to describe what Zhongli is at the moment. Childe moves over him, his tongue lathing across the underside of his cock, lapping at it. He breaths around him, mouth hot as he sucks him down and works at his length.
Zhongli's fingers tighten in his auburn curls, pulling, and the sound that Childe moans is dangerous. Makes pleasure pool in Zhongli's gut, makes him want to toss the phone away, flip Childe over right then and there, and spread his hole wide.
He doesn't. His fingers maintain a shaky grasp on his phone. "Working from home," he says tersely, "It can be. Distracting, I mean."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
Zhongli will not, all of his attention on Childe as he cups his balls, and thumbs down the seam between them. "Dammit," hisses Zhongli.
There is a pause, the accusatory sort as Venti thinks on the other end of the line. And then: "Please tell me that Childe is not in your office."
"I—I am not in the office—" Zhongli nearly yelps as Childe takes his cock down to the root suddenly, his nose ghosting the fine dusting of hair at his groin. The hand in Childe's hair tightens, and Zhongli squeezes his eyes shut, tight. "I'm, I'm—" The tight, slick heat of his mouth, and the way that the tip of his dick hits the back of Childe's throat isn't just distracting, it's nearly undoing. Zhongli resists the urge to fuck in deep, to ruin Childe entirely.
"Oh, Celestia above, Zhongli—"
"Venti, I will call you back later."
Zhongli hangs up and tosses his phone to the edge of the couch without a second thought. His hands find Childe's face, thumbs sweeping over his cheeks. "You are a menace. Are you proud of yourself?"
Childe moans around his cock, incredibly so. He pulls back to suckle the tip, his hand grasping at the part his lips don't touch. One jerk, and then two, and Zhongli's head falls back against the couch.
"A little bit," says Childe, kissing the crown. His tongue sweeps around the head, lapping up the precome that dribbles about. He sighs softly, contently, eyes shining as he watches Zhongli closely.
"Venti will never let me forget this."
Childe hums, mouthing at his length, lavishing it with kisses as he nips at the skin gently. "Wouldn't be the first." Which honestly, is the worst part of this entire thing; the moment Zhongli was lost in his thoughts, his colleague fucking knew. "Certainly won't be the last. I'm determined to have my way with you."
"Oh?"
Childe pulls back, eyelashes fluttering, his lips swollen and spit-slick. Zhongli could die right then and there, at such a sight, and it'd be a happy death. He thumbs at the seam of Childe's mouth, dipping the digit in. Childe's tongue sucks at it happily.
"And what if I want to have my way with you?"
Oh, Childe likes the idea of it. His eyes half-lid, and he groans softly. "I'll take what I get," is what he says, teasing him with the rapscallion grin, hands back on Zhongli's cock, keeping his erection from flagging. As if it would. All Zhongli has to do is think about the tight heat that Childe offers, and he's rock hard and ready.
Needy, even. Zhongli has never craved a man so much in his life as he has Childe, woefully smitten, all hope lost. And it isn't just the way that Childe works him, or how well he takes his cock; it's everything beyond that and in between. Zhongli loves this man, powerfully and hungrily. He is no longer himself, without Childe by his side.
"Open up, then," he says, slipping a thumb back into Childe's mouth and tugging it open. Childe complies, opening wide. Zhongli's cock slips in easily, sitting on Childe's tongue thickly. He makes a show of moaning around him, eyes hazy. Zhongli wants to wreck him, wants to paint his face white with his spend like he's a blank canvas.
"Easy does it." Zhongli's voice is low and smooth as he fucks into Childe's mouth gently with rolling motions. "Just like that."
Childe sighs around him, mouth wide and accepting as he sucks around him. His fingers paw at Zhongli's thighs, nails digging into the wool of his trousers. Zhongli's gaze dips lower, seeing just how tented Childe's own are, just how much he wants this.
Not that he doubted, of course. Zhongli was settled onto the couch with a stack of work documents when Childe came home, weary and exhausted from his job. He'd made himself at home right between his legs, pawing at the opening to his trousers, freeing his cock without a thought.
Childe doubles his efforts, bobbing along his length. Zhongli moans, guiding his head, brushing back his bangs to watch just how wide his mouth stretches. And then he fucks in deeper, heavier, filling his throat to the brim and he settles there. Childe whines around him, a pitiful sounding thing. His hand drops to his lap, palming at himself.
"Darling, look at you," says Zhongli, overcome with affection. Childe's eyes water, leaking tears at the corner. Spit bubbles around his cock, drooling from his mouth. It only makes Zhongli rut into his throat more, taking him for what he's worth.
Childe moans and moans, accepting it, meeting every thrust with a swirl of his tongue. Zhongli's foot slips forward, pressing against his erection, his socked toes digging in against the hard line of it.
He sputters around him, a delightful choking sound that makes the heat in Zhongli's gut spread like wildfire. "Gods," he whispers, grasping Childe's cheeks as he rolls his hips into his mouth, over and over. "You are perfect— so, so perfect for me. Fuck."
Childe preens at the praise, lifting his hips against Zhongli's foot, rutting against it. The sounds he looses are devastating. Zhongli feels pulled to the edge, teetering on the precipice as he just sinks into the tight heat of Childe's mouth, over and over again.
He just barely hangs on, Childe coming first, his cock twitching as a wet spread spreads across the front of his trousers. He groans as he goes lax against Zhongli, leaning into him, overstimulated and blissed out.
"Beautiful," says Zhongli, wiping away the tears in his eyes. But he can make him even more so, he thinks. He feels the pleasure that rages through him, and just how close he is to slipping—and pulls out just in time to come all over Childe's face and mouth.
"Fuck." Childe's voice is hoarse as he rasps, scrambling against him, "Fuck, Zhongli."
"So good for me," says Zhongli, scooping up his come and pressing it into Childe's mouth. He swallows it down dutifully, sighing contently.
The couch blanket suffers their clean-up. t's stifling in the room, the tacky scent of sex hanging in the air. "Better?" asks Zhongli quietly, petting through Childe's hair again as he presses his glasses back up the sweaty bridge of his nose.
Childe hums placidly, resting his cheek against his thigh. "Shitty day at the bank. Infinitely better now."
Zhongli chuckles, scratching at his scalp lightly. "Do you want more?"
"Hm? No, just—" Childe shifts, lifting from the ground and settling into the couch. He sprawls across the leather, uncaring of all the paperwork strewn about, pressing his head into Zhongli's lap. "A moment like this, please."
If Childe wants comfort, then comfort he'll get. Zhongli strokes across his cheeks and down the fine arch of his nose. Childe turns to kiss his palm, just at the right moment. "Thank you," he says quietly.
"Whatever for?"
A thousand things, Zhongli already knows. But Childe is too tired to think much about it, his eyes tugging closed for a quick doze. "Darling," says Zhongli, likely his favorite word. A quick kiss to the ridge of Childe's knuckles. "Rest."
Childe does, and Zhongli is content.