Zhongli wakes to a cold bed, a crick in his neck, and the lingering smell of Childe.
He isn't far; Zhongli hears movement in the kitchen, Childe milling about. The clink of pans and the hiss of steam. He must be cooking.
Zhongli moves, stretching the kinks out in his spine, feeling his age. This is a newer thing, the exhaustion that tugs at his weary and sharpened edges, settling deep into his bones. He used to sleep for pleasure, and while it still isn't a necessity, the loss of his gnosis has left his body lopsided and odd.
There is a learning curve. He's still figuring it out.
Zhongli sits up slowly, sighing as he rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes. It has been so long since he's self-indulged that it almost feels foreign. This is his life now; his people, Liyue, the future of it all—it's in their hands, not his.
And then, there's Childe, and these fluttering feelings that churn in his heart. He finds himself smiling at the mere thought of it.
Zhongli stands and wraps himself in a robe, the soft silk cold against his naked body. He sighs, content, as he tugs his fingers through his hair, detangling the strands, and slips his feet into soft slippers.
"A lazy morning, I think," he says, his voice soft. "What a wonder."
There is so little that surprises him in these years. He loves it. Among other things.
#
He finds Childe in his kitchen, brewing a pot of tea. Zhongli leans against the wall frame, arms crossed over his chest as he watches fondly.
Childe wears nothing but Zhongli's shirt from the night before, the cotton rumpled. The buttons are done up all wrong from lack of care. It falls to mid-thigh, just barely covering the swell of his ass, and when he lifts his arms, the fabric rises to show soft, creamy skin, and the bite marks that mar it.
Zhongli has never been so fond of someone, he thinks. Not even Guizhong with her quiet voice, and whimsical idioms, or Retuo with his devout friendship and loyalty. Childe is like a wildfire instead; he's blown through Zhongli's life and set it ablaze. Zhongli thought his retirement would be simple. Zhongli was wrong.
"Oh," breathes Childe, turning around to find him standing there. His cheeks flush pink, and he tugs at the collar of the shirt. He's at ease, just surprised, and he grins brightly at Zhongli. The kettle on the stove sets off, piercing the air shrilly. "I've made tea."
"Mhm." Zhongli steps closer as Childe turns back to the whistling pot, turning the fire to low. Zhongli curls around Childe, wrapping his hands around his waist, pressing his nose into the nape of his neck. Zhongli inhales the scent of the ocean and sand, and whatever tea leaves he had his fingers in.
Childe pauses, relaxing against him. "You should've stayed in bed, you old lizard."
Zhongli nips at his neck lightly, dragging his teeth across the skin there. Childe's skin pebbles and he shudders, fingers gripping the kitchen counter tightly. "Missed you," he murmurs.
Childe chuckles. "I'm right here."
"Yes, but I like to wake up wrapped around you. Your hair tickles my nose, and you make adorable noises in your sleep; but mostly, it's just the feel of it. The peace. Makes me content."
Zhongli has done a lot of thinking, as of late, and has determined that his happiness is hopelessly tied to this man before him. He kisses Childe's shoulder, just at the juncture of his neck, where the collar of the shirt hangs loosely. And there his lips linger.
His cock stirs, unable to ignore the intimate moment. Childe feels it immediately, twitching against his backside. "Is that all that you like?" he asks, turning to look at Zhongli, a smirk wide across his face.
Of course not. Childe's ass is soft and plush, perfect to rut into lazily when he first wakes up. And the space between his thighs—perfect to tuck his cock into, snug and warm. Zhongli finds his mornings perfect, most of the time because Childe between his arms is a balm across his being. Healing in a way that he wasn't aware he needed.
"There is, of course, an added benefit," says Zhongli near his ear. He presses a kiss there as his hand snakes around Childe's front, fingers splaying wide across his groin. His nails scratch through the coarse hair there, petting.
"Oh?"
Zhongli is not disappointed to find Childe's cock half-hard against his thigh. It's warm in his hand as he tugs at it gently, and Childe moans, hips bucking right into the first touch. "I get to wake up to you, like this. Always a pleasure. Always a treat."
"Zhongli."
He nips at Childe's neck again, this time with a little more force, skin giving underneath his teeth. It'll leave a mark, and Zhongli preens at the idea, satisfaction settling in his chest at the idea that Childe allows himself to be marked up so willingly. He pumps Childe's cock, swiping his fingers through the precome that beads at the tip, spreading it around.
Childe moans, head hanging, fingers white-knuckled against the countertop. Zhongli chuckles, licking a stripe along his neck. "We've barely begun," he says sweetly.
"I don't need—look, you can just—Please."
Zhongli kisses the shell of his ear, and then his jawline. The highest knob at the back of his neck, nose nuzzling the soft baby hairs there. Along the nape of his neck, tugging the shirt aside, to access more skin.
Childe whines, bucking back against him, rutting his ass against Zhongli's cock. "Come on," he breathes, "Don't make me beg."
Zhongli's hand pauses, fingers loose around the crown of Childe's dick. "You beg so nicely, though." A little teasing never hurts. Childe's pinched, embarrassed expression is worth it. "No worries," he continues, letting go of his length to grab at his backside instead.
He leans back, spreading his cheeks, thumbing over Childe's hole. Still loose and puffy from the night before. A little slick with leftover oil and come, delightfully pink as Zhongli presses his thumb just past the rim.
"Gods," whispers Childe, leaning forward.
"The kettle," says Zhongli.
"What?"
"The fire is still on."
"Gods, you can't be serious—oh my gods."
Two fingers slip in easily, eased with spit and a gentle touch. Zhongli coaxes his hole open, spreading his fingers as he probes around. And then, a third, a little too soon—but Childe loves it like this, a little bite to the tenderness of their lovemaking. Judging by the way he keens, Zhongli made the right call.
He pulls his fingers out and slicks his cock with the kitchen oil. Childe lifts his hips the moment the tip of Zhongli's cock presses against his hole. He yields to him instantly, Zhongli sheathing himself in one, easy stroke.
They both moan. Zhongli holds Childe tightly by the hips, tugging him closer. He noses at the back of his neck, taking a moment to center himself, lest he tip right over the edge. Never takes long, with Childe; not with his hot and inviting insides, and the way that Childe wriggles against him, trying to take his cock deeper.
"Please, Zhongli," he says quietly.
Zhongli moves, pulling out to the tip before fucking right back in. He picks a slower pace, a simple rolling of his hips as he ruts in deep. Each grind leaves Childe gasping, pressing back against him, trying to take in more and more.
He watches as his cock slides in, the way that Childe's rim parts so easily, slick and pink, tight perfect. Zhongli moans, thumbing across the connection—and Childe collapses against the counter, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.
"Archons—"
"Look at you, ready for me, even so early. This is what I dream of, you know. Waking up to you, just ready to be taken again."
"I'm—"
"Would you like that?" asks Zhongli, his cock carving its way into him with a steady beat. One hand holds Childe's hip, and the other lay flat against the dip of his back. "Waking you up with my cock buried deep—"
"Yes." Childe moans, his legs trembling. His cock twitches, hanging heavy against his thighs. He shifts, wrapping his head around it, jerking himself in time with Zhongli's languid strokes. "Yes, yes—fuck, that's—Mhm."
Zhongli tugs him back by the hips and Childe cries out a filthy, filthy curse. "There—oh, oh, there—"
He holds the angle, fucking into Childe's prostate. Zhongli grunts, pleasure curling in his gut. Childe is so tight around him, hot and slick, delicious in the way that he keens and wails, and begs for more. He looks so handsome wearing his clothes and smells divine. drenched in Zhongli's scent.
And then, of course, there's the domesticity of it all. Zhongli awoke to Childe preparing him tea, a small and kindly act that makes his instincts practically roar.
"Ajax, I'm close," he warns, already nearing the edge, his orgasm sneaking up on him. His thrusts stagger and his rhythm loses its cadence. His thighs burn with the strain as he struggles to fuck Childe deep, just the way that he likes.
Childe palms himself faster, moaning into his arm. He looks back at Zhongli, pink-faced, eyes slick with tears, a debauched mess. Zhongli groans, coming first, settling his cock deep in Childe's ass as his come paints his guts. "Ajax," he murmurs, leaning close, pressing against Childe's back again, seeking out closeness and warmth.
"Fuck." Childe is still pumping his cock, fingers squeezed tight around it as he tries and tries. "It's not—" He lets out a frustrated sound.
"Shh," says Zhongli, trying to soothe him. He reaches around his front, fingers curling around Childe's length, and immediately there is a difference. It twitches in his hand, responding to his touch, and Childe's ass tightens around Zhongli's half-hard cock.
"Better, so, so much better. Gods, you're always—yes."
Zhongli wonders why. His fingers are soft and supple, so unlike Childe's calloused ones. He presses a kiss near his ear, mouth lingering there. "Darling," he says, his voice deep and husky, "Won't you come for me?"
"Yes, yes, yes."
Childe does just that, spilling all over his hand, moaning wantonly as he scrabbles against the counter. Zhongli praises him, his hand still loose around his cock. He pets through his hair with the other, scratching at his scalp lightly. The orgasm seems to last forever, Childe an oversensitive mess.
Eventually, they regain themselves. Zhongli slips out of Childe's ass gently, pulling an asscheek to the side, watching his come dribble out and down his inner thighs. Childe moans again, a soft thing.
He turns, leaning back against the counter, reaching forward to tug Zhongli closer by the silk robe that hangs open. Zhongli goes, pressing in close, bracketing him against the cabinetry.
"Better?" asks Childe. "You seemed needy." He isn't teasing. He regards Zhongli earnestly.
Zhongli reaches up to cup his cheek. He kisses his forehead, the tip of his nose, and then his mouth, lingering there as he licks across his lips. Then, Zhongli pulls back. "Mhm, I already told you that I like to wake up wrapped around you."
Now one else sees this fond expression that Childe gets. It's something reserved for Zhongli alone, and he loves it, he loves that.
"The tea is ruined."
"The tea was already ruined. I could tell you brewed it too long."
Childe pouts, making a face. "It isn't my fault that you're picky." A pause, and then a sly smile. "Actually, show me, and I might not screw it up."
Zhongli will drink whatever tea Childe brews, even the most bitter and pungent. But, he doesn't tell him that, he just takes his hand and brings it to his mouth. Zhongli kisses each knuckle, one by one.
Childe's expression warms, his posture relaxing.
It is a nice morning spent learning how to properly brew oolong.