"You were reckless out there." The words are sharp, curt, and they sting almost as much as the tug on the wires in his arm.
"Ouch!" Childe jerks. "Watch it, will you? Just because they're just wires doesn't mean I can't feel it. You forgot to disconnect my nerves—"
"A minor punishment," says Zhongli, but he does tug at Childe's wiring with more gentleness. Childe frowns. Of course, Zhongli didn't actually forget. "Consider it payment for worrying me."
Childe scoffs. "Misplaced, by the way. I always come home."
Zhongli looks at him with narrowed eyes. "Yes, but I often wonder—is this the day that you come home in pieces?"
"Even if I did, you could still patch me up." He shoots Zhongli a wily grin, but it doesn't work. Zhongli levels him with an unimpressed glance, pushes his glasses up his nose, and sets back to work.
Childe sighs, feeling guilty. He rubs at his face, and says, "Look, I know that you're worried, but it's my job. And this is your job." Childe is a Harbinger, one of the most enhanced cyborgs on the planet. Zhongli is only an engineer, but he's remained in the Tasritsa's good graces despite his past war crimes.
"Useful," said the Tsaritsa, what feels like eons ago. "One day you'll learn, my youngest, that keeping your enemies close is the right thing to do. Especially with the knowledge that he keeps locked away in that brain of his."
It was the reason he approached Zhongli with kindness in the beginning. Zhongli's past is secretive, but his wartime exploits and prowess are not. He nearly ascended to Celestia, just as the Tsaritsa did—she just got there first. And Childe knows that he shouldn't be so fond, but it's been years at this point, and they do not hide their feelings well. Zhongli wears his openly on his sleeve, just as he does now while prodding at Childe's wiring.
"Sit still," says Zhongli, gazing down the bridge of his nose, eyes squinting. When Childe does not, his hand flashes out, grabbing him by the chin. "Still, I said."
Childe stills, embarrassingly obedient and quick to please. Zhongli huffs, but his face relaxes as he drags his thumb across Childe's bottom lip. He leans forward, just for a moment, pressing a short and sweet kiss to Childe's mouth. And then— "Good boy," he says quietly, which leaves Childe groaning into his palm.
"That's—Zhongli, we aren't alone."
"Hm."
The eastern end of Zapolyarny Palace is the main hub for the Fatui ranks. Childe sits there behind a thin sheet that does nothing to hide either of them, Zhongli leaning over his arm. Zhongli only does things with purpose, and the small smooch was a sort of claiming.
"Are you done with your teasing?" asks Childe.
"Never." Zhongli smiles then, just a soft upturn of his mouth. "I'll disable your nerves, though."
"It's the little things, I guess," says Childe under his breath. Zhongli disconnects a wire and all feeling in his forearm goes dead. Childe heaves a sigh of relief.
Zhongli tinkers in his arm, pulling and tugging at the workings. "You know that it is mostly teasing," he says finally, "but you need to be careful for the good of Snezhnaya, and the Tsartitsa herself." He hides the sarcastic bite to his tone.
Childe doesn't meet his face. He knows that Zhongli doesn't mean it, that his words are picked very carefully. He's technically a prisoner of war, wasting away in this frozen wasteland because his engineering skills are prime. No one else knows exactly who he is.
Even he isn't supposed to know, but it's hard to not share things when you catch feelings. "Hey, be careful there," says Childe quietly. "Don't want you to get into trouble."
Zhongli meets his gaze, those golden eyes twinkling as he snorts. "Ah, I forgot. One must choose their words carefully around here. Blessed be her name," he adds for exaggerated effect.
"What's the damage?" asks Childe, turning back to his arm. Zhongli has the synthetic skin of his arm peeled back and his innards look a mess. More so than usual.
"Reckless," says Zhongli, "but nothing that I cannot fix." And then quietly he adds, "But Childe, I am asking you to take more care. I can only fix so much. Eventually, you will run out of parts to replace."
Childe is a lucky one; of the Harbingers, he's the one that's still the most human. The others are mostly husks, shells of the flesh that they once were. Childe picks at the threads of trousers with his free hand. He doesn't make promises, but— "Yeah, alright," he says softly.
Zhongli is the exception.
They both fall into a comfortable quiet as Zhongli finishes whatever he's doing. Childe doesn't pretend to understand—he just knows what's mechanical and the bare minimum of how to field dress it. Zhongli is the brains, and why his inhuman parts are higher quality than the others.
"Childe," says Zhongli when he's done tinkering, "are you ready?"
Childe grimaces but nods and Zhongli reconnects his nerves. Sharpness spreads through his arm and Childe hisses, then he groans. He'll never get used to it. Zhongli doesn't let go of his arm, thumbing over his wrist. Childe knows that he wants to press a kiss there, a soft apology for the temporary harm. But there are too many eyes and not enough privacy to risk another, so he just lets his touch linger instead.
"Will I see you tonight?" asks Childe.
All that Zhongli does is smile.
#
They meet in the shadows of Zhongli's tiny apartment in the slums.
It is not smart. Childe knows that eyes watch the both of them, and that the Tsaritsa is well aware of the sort of companionship that they share. It can go sour at just about any moment she wills it so, but they don't care, they don't—
Because love is like that.
Zhongli deserves better because he isn't just an engineer, he's one of the most brilliant minds to have ever lived. He belongs back in Liyue where he once ruled with kindess, his inventions helping the people, not conquerors. But here he is instead, a prisoner of war. Bound by servitude to a Goddess that isn't his because death is the alternative. She holds perverse pleasure in keeping another ruler under her thumb, not that anyone else knows.
Just Childe, only Childe, because these are the sorts of things that they share in these moments.
"Stop thinking of other things." Zhongli's voice is quiet in the darkness of the room.
"I'm not," says Childe, dragging his fingers down the length of his arm. He sees the way that Zhongli frowns as he hangs over him, barely lit by the broken and flickering LED lamp beside his bed.
"You are," says Zhongli, "which means that I am not doing an adequate job of distracting you."
Childe smirks. "Oh? Show me then." Zhongli shifts then, still straddling Childe's waist as he leans back and pulls off his shirt. "Good start," says Childe.
Zhongli leans forward then, filling Childe's space. He cups his cheek with a hand, thumbing across the arch of his cheekbone. "Isn't it easier to just think of us, right now?"
Back to the wishing, supposes Childe. He's willing to indulge. His hands find Zhongli's backside, pulling his hips forward, grinding their growing erections together with a soft little whine. "Isn't that what I'm doing? You called it a distraction."
Zhongli's gaze is heated as he watches him back. He hesitates, the moment comfortable. And then he plucks at Childe's shirt and says, "Off."
Childe stills. Zhongli stills as well, fingers ghosting the edge of Childe's flimsy linen shirt. They do not fuck with him entirely naked. Childe hates it, the way that he looks, how his skin is gnarled and mangled with scars and circuitry.
Zhongli has seen him, of course. He's the one that has done most of Childe's life-saving work over the years, but he knows that this is a solid boundary between the two of them. "You don't have to," says Zhongli quietly.
Childe swallows thickly and then moves to pull off his shirt. And just like that, things shift between them, all those mostly-unspoken feelings seemingly falling right into place. Childe is no fool; Zhongli is wholly aware, and returns them even.
They act upon it in the soft quiet of the night, pressed together in heaping, sweaty messes—but this feels like more. Like he's baring himself entirely. Which Childe is willing to do.
Zhongli stares, fingers ghosting over Childe's skin lightly, dragging across rugged cracks and creases, and the burn scars where metal meets flesh. Childe's shoulder hurts eternally at the joint, but at least his arm below the bicep looks real now. Zhongli's work, of course.
"Are you just going to stare?"
"Yes," he says immediately. "You always come and go so quickly. I so rarely get the chance."
Because it isn't safe. At first, it was just to answer a need, to fill some sort of void in his being. Zhongli was beautiful and willing. But then those touches turned softer and started to linger. Zhongli watches him like a hawk, but his golden eyes are filled with warmth.
"I don't want this to end," says Childe.
"It won't," says Zhongli.
Childe moves, sitting up against the bedframe, pulling Zhongli against him. He curls his fingers against Zhongli's cheek and kisses him. Zhongli responds eagerly, angling their mouths together to slip his tongue in. Childe moans, rolling his hips, grinding his cock against Zhongli's generous backside.
Zhongli presses back against him. He pulls at Childe's hair and nips at his mouth. They fall so easily into the routine. Soft touches as they explore each other's bodies; warm breath against Zhongli's ear as Childe whispers against it; how they cling to each other, like they might lose time.
Childe brushes his hands over smooth and pale skin. Zhongli has his own scars that tell a story, and one day Childe will ask. For now, he strokes Zhongli's cock instead, earning a soft moan that dissolves into a whimper. "Childe," murmurs Zhongli, leaning forward, burying his face into Childe's nape.
A bottle clicks. Fingers are slick. One digit sinks in a little too easily, and Childe thinks of how Zhongli might touch himself when they're apart. He asks him just that, a heated whisper into the night. Zhongli cries out at the second and third fingers, nails biting into the meat of Childe's shoulders.
Or, what's left of them.
"Yes," says Zhongli, dropping a hand between them. His calloused hands are like heaven on Childe's length as he gropes at the twitching erection. "Yes, I fuck myself on my fingers because you don't have the decency to just stay the night and never leave."
Dangerous words that punch the air from Childe's chest. They kiss again, heated and hungry. Zhongli bites at his lip and strokes Childe's cock. Childe whines into his mouth as he bucks against him, relishing in the drag of their sweaty skin. The slick squelching of his fingers as they pull at Zhongli's rim seems so loud in the dark room.
"Ajax," says Zhongli. An old and forgotten name, one gifted to this man alone. Childe's dick twitches in his hand at the sound of it.
"Again," he whispers against the column of Zhongli's neck, kissing it.
Zhongli moves and Childe's fingers slip from his ass. "Ajax," he repeats, pressing the tip of Childe's cock to his hole, just barely breaching the rim. Childe sighs, holding him by the hips, nuzzling the soft skin of Zhongli's jaw.
When Zhongli sinks down onto him, he takes Childe's cock right to the root. "Shit," says Childe, loosing a moan, fingers digging into the softness of Zhongli's backside.
Zhongli chuckles then, soft and breathy. He wraps his arms around Childe's neck to gain better leverage. When he moves, Childe sees stars. He helps him, guiding his hips, grinding back up against Zhongli as rides Childe with the intent to ring him dry. He's hot and tight, slick with oil. Zhongli rides him expertly, rolling his hips, taking Childe's cock as deep as it can go. Childe loses himself in the way that his insides flutter around his dick.
"Look at you," says Zhongli into his ear. He brushes Childe's bangs back sweetly and watches his sweaty face. He drags a thumb across his bottom lip, just barely pressing in. "You fill me so well. So perfect for me. What a good boy."
They're just words, but Childe thinks back to earlier that day, the praise sinking right to his gut and stoking the burning pressure that builds. "Zhongli—"
"Should I thank the gods?" A pause as Zhongli slowly drags his hips back up until only the tip of Childe's cock is left. Zhongli slows himself then, sliding back down with an infuriating pace, one that leaves Childe's toes curling. "No, no, it's blessed be her name, instead, isn't it?"
"Gods, don't mention her here—"
Zhongli laughs and kisses his forehead. "I tease," he says softly. "The only thing on my mind is you."
"This isn't a distraction," says Childe. It can't be, not with the feelings that tighten his chest, and the way that he never wants to leave.
Zhongli stops entirely, his ass flush against Childe's thighs. His gaze softens and he sighs, reaching out to tip Childe's chin up with his fingers. "No," he says. "This hasn't been just a distraction for a long time."
"Zhongli, I—"
Zhongli presses fingers against his lips. "Quiet," he says in a whisper. And then, "I know."
Childe rolls them over and the bed creaks. Zhongli settles into the roughspun sheets, looking like a vision below him. "Always so gorgeous," he says, dragging a hand down Zhongli's front. Then that hand dips lower and tilts Zhongli's hips, giving Childe a sinful view. "Fuck," he mutters, thumbing gently around Zhongli's rim, massaging where they're connected. Zhongli's cock is hard, leaking precome all over his stomach, twitching pathetically as Childe just stares.
Then he moves, pulling out and fucking back in. Zhongli moans, his head tipping back, eyes fluttering closed as he melts against him, legs locked around Childe's waist to hold him close.
"Addicting," says Childe, "the way that you take me. The way that I can just sink right in, and how good you always feel." Childe shifts his angle and Zhongli jerks, arching against the bed, crying out his name.
"There, there—" Childe thrusts into him, aiming for that spot, the head of his cock dragging against Zhongli's swollen prostate. "Gods."
Childe watches as he fucks into him, delighting in the way that Zhongli's swollen, pink rim invites him in. Zhongli meets every thrust with a roll of his hips. "Ajax," he hisses, legs trembling, "Ajax, I'm—close. Please, please—" He comes then, untouched, Childe's dick as deep as it can be. Zhongli cries out his name as he goes taut, painting his chest white with his spend.
"Fuck," says Childe with a grunt. His thrusts lose their rhythm as he chases his own high. Zhongli's insides clamp tight, trembling around him. Zhongli shudders underneath him, face looking like a blissed-out mess. "So good for me, so—Gods, Zhongli."
Zhongli's face is red and ruddy. He reaches out and pulls Childe close, kissing him again, dragging their lips together. Childe moans against his mouth, their breaths mingling.
"Ajax," says Zhongli, his palm warm against Childe's face, nipping at his mouth affectionately. "Ajax, come for me."
Childe feels pleasure curl through his gut, coiling tighter and tighter. Though bits and parts of him are machine, he's still mostly a man. The tightness that he feels wrapped around his cock, and the warmth of Zhongli, cradled in his grasp—these things are real, not manufactured by wiring.
Just like the feelings that cling to his heart.
"Zhongli," he hisses, tipping over the precipice and coming deep into Zhongli's guts.
When he moves to pull away, Zhongli refuses to let him, legs locked stubbornly around Childe's waist. "No," he says, "Not yet. I want to feel you, I want to savor this."
"Savor it," says Childe with a chuckle. He kisses along the length of Zhongli's neck.
"Before you leave me."
Childe pauses. His heart skips a beat. And then, quietly, he says, "I shouldn't stay." Which is why he never has, not after all these years, no matter how much he's wanted to.
"No, you shouldn't."
Another moment. "But I want to."
Zhongli's fingers comb through his hair. "I know that Harbingers are not built to be happy. I am doing what I can to make sure that you are."
Childe could cry, he thinks, his face buried into the crook of Zhongli's neck. He is a Harbinger, trained and modified for one purpose only—to carry out the Tsaritsa's will. They are machines, constantly reworked to her specifications.
"I've always pushed the boundaries of what's known, haven't I?" he says, smiling against Zhongli's sweaty skin.
Childe doesn't tell Zhongli that he loves him, but he doesn't think that he needs to. When he was a kid, he remembers those soft and longing gazes shared between his parents. It's as clear as day, just how he feels.
Zhongli rolls them back over, Childe's cock slipping out of his ass. And as he sits astride him, he watches Childe back, golden eyes narrowed in affection."I know," he said earlier, so that Childe wouldn't have to. "You looked compromised," says Zhongli now, nails raking across Childe's front. Childe wishes he could get a better look at his hole, loose and puffy, his come dripping out. His cock twitches at the thought, filling half-full.
"Sounds like you need to run some more diagnostics, then. The Tsaritsa won't mind. I've always been her favorite."
Zhongli laughs before taking Childe's cock into his hand again, and they lose themselves in each other once more.