It's routine by now.

Childe works a long day at the bank ( a loosely coined thing when you're a Harbinger on the prowl), and Zhongli manages to find merriment in working with the dead (it is nice, chatting with the non-living). They come home and share dinner. Zhongli is a terrible cook, leaving Childe to pick up the slack. When Zhongli persists, though, Childe still eats whatever's put before him.

Sometimes there is a bath, where they lounge in the water with wandering hands until it has gone cold. Sometimes there is a book shared between them as they lounge underneath the open sky out on the porch, Zhongli's voice a quiet rumble as Childe gets lost in it.

It almost always ends with Childe fucking Zhongli within an inch of his life.

Well, maybe not fucking. As of late, their trysts have become more…

Love-making is the first thing that comes to Childe's mind, reeling it to a near stop. He bites at his lip as he works the idea.

So, it isn't a secret. Childe has whispered those three words time and time again into Zhongli's sweaty nape, but recently he actually means them (which is more than can be said about whatever he used to say to his one-offs with no names).

It seems so easy in the moment of it all, drenched in nothing but the feeling of Zhongli pulled flush against him, ass wrapped tightly around his cock. As he watches the way that Zhongli bucks back against him, or hears how he keens and cries out his name. It's in these other moments where it draws Childe pause—these soft domestic bits of their lives where he can't blame the heat of the moment. Not because he doesn't want it, or he's insecure in what he feels, it's more—

It is complicated. It's so, so, complicated because, for the first time in his life, Childe wants more than the thrill of the hunt. The lust for battle will never truly die in his veins, but he thinks that if Zhongli were by his side forever instead, he might not need to answer the call of it. Childe thinks that it might just fade away into a dull and wistful feeling, deep in his bones.

And that's scary because fighting is the only thing that he knows how to do well.

Childe thought about this a lot before the Jade Chamber fell. He'd cling to these fleeting feelings as he delighted in the softness of Zhongli's skin, and the way that he'd laugh. "Childe," Zhongli would say, "What is with that look?"

It was the look of a man desperate to figure himself out.

Childe has thought about it more in the aftermath of Osial's resurrection, as he tries to figure out what to do because Zhongli isn't just Zhongli anymore, he is now Rex Lapis and utterly untouchable. Unobtainable. Beyond his wildest dreams.

He always cycles back to the same answer: Archons above, I love him.

Things are back to mostly normal. Days are spent together and meals are shared. Childe buys knick-knack after knick-knack for the most scatterbrained man in his life, and willfully so. Childe stares because Zhongli is handsome in an, I've been kicked in the gut, but I like it, kind of way.

Zhongli stares back, his mouth quirked into the mildest of grins, a look that's reserved for Childe alone. They both know it. Makes Childe's heart beat a hundred times faster. His cheeks heat— and other, far worse places, particularly if they're in public.

But Childe loves it, loves him, eats it up like a man starving. He's gotten a taste of somewhat happiness, and he's determined to hang on to it for as long as possible.

So effortless and so easy. How's basically moved in without a thought.

"I can hear your thoughts," says Zhongli that night. His voice is quiet and probing, but only curious. Maybe concerned. With Zhongli, he never really knows. Childe lays with his head in Zhongli's lap, his mouth curled slightly. "Ah," amends Zhongli, "what I mean to say is not that I can hear them, but I can tell that you're—"

Childe laughs and Zhongli falls quiet, a shrewd look passing over his face as his head cocks to the side slightly.

"Sorry, I just— Zhongli, I know that you can't hear my thoughts."

Zhongli sighs softly and sets the book open against his knee. He leans over Childe, his fingers finding his hair. "What is tugging at your thoughts so fully that you can't enjoy even Rex Incognito?"

"That's the one that you like."

Zhongli huffs. "You asked for me to read it."

"I asked for you to read something. The book doesn't matter, I just want to hear your voice."

Zhongli watches him for a long moment, combing his fingers through Childe's hair. "Childe," he says softly, "Surely you are aware that you can tell me anything."

He knows that. Childe swallows thickly as he watches him back. Zhongli is so handsome like this, so utterly relaxed with soft crinkles around his eyes. Childe reaches up and draws his fingers down the fine bridge of Zhongli's nose. "You know that I love you, right?" He asks it so softly that he barely hears himself.

Zhongli isn't human, though, and his hearing is as impeccable as his taste in fine teas. His lips part, and Childe smooths a thumb across the bottom one, lingering there. Zhongli kisses it gently and says, "Should I have been worried about empty words this entire time?"

"No, that isn't—" Childe stops, steeling himself. He sits up, pulling himself up, half leaning over Zhongli's lap. "You don't… you don't get it."

"Childe—"

"It used to be easy before I came here." A pause, as Childe's mind whirs. "Okay, not easy, but I had a plan, you know? Keep my nose up and fight my way to the top. Beat others bloody. Become a god. And then I met you, and everything just—"

Childe drags a hand through his hair and grunts, frustrated that words are not coming easily to him. "My loyalty to the Tsaritsa was everything. I never realized just what I was missing until you opened your mouth, and all I could do was hear you, and see you. The lunches, the dinners, the fucking tea. Your dumb stories, and the smooth way that you would tell them with a damn twinkle in your eye."

Zhongli sits there, watching him patiently, unblinking as his eyes glow golden in the lamplight, and Childe wonders how he could have ever thought that this man was human. His throat dries up as he waffles.

"And now I sit here," he continues, his voice cracking ever so slightly, "and all I can think about is how I never want to go back home because this is where I should be. But it isn't Liyue, it's you—it's always been you, and I worry that I'm too far gone for it to even matter—"

"Oh, Ajax," says Zhongli gently.

Childe stops. He sits there, still half-strewn across Zhongli's lap. Zhongli tugs Childe's hand to his mouth, nuzzling the knuckles there before kissing each one.

"The Abyss—" starts Childe.

"I know." Zhongli noses along Childe's palm and presses it flat to his cheek. "I smelled it on you the moment that we met. The Tsaritsa promised chaos, but I didn't think it would come in a tainted package that smelled like death and The Beyond."

"That's—a little rude—"

"And so, I got to know you." Zhongli ignores his protests, kissing his palm next. "The rapscallion boy who spoke so much, and yet, gave nothing away. You know that I love puzzles, and you are the best one to have ever fallen into my lap."

Childe sighs. "Is that all that I am?"

Zhongli's brow furrows at that. "Of course, not. What was once interest and curiosity grew into much more. Perhaps I am not good at expressing such feelings, but—"

"This isn't about you," mutters Childe.

"It is," says Zhongli. "It is about you, which means that it is also about me. You are my everything, you know. I am no longer an Archon and I am barely a God. I am merely a man, retired, who lives only for his darling."

Oh. Childe shouldn't be choked up, he should be, but—

At least he doesn't cry.

Zhongli moves, then, reaching out to grasp Childe by the face, dragging his thumb across his bottom lip. "There are many things that I have dreamt of in my long, long, life, Ajax. Find another to share the remainder of it was not one of them."

Childe kisses him. He surges forward and kisses Zhongli like the world might end if he doesn't, curling his hand around Zhongli's nape. Zhongli responds so readily, mouth opening, his tongue slipping in as he moans against Childe's lips.

Hands wander and fingers drag across smooth skin as Childe's fingers slip underneath Zhongli's shirt, relieved that he decided to dress down for the night in. "You," he says against his mouth, the word coming short and breathless, "Zhongli, I—"

Zhongli presses a hand against Childe's chest and pushes, and Childe falls flat against the couch. The book is tossed to the side in a rare moment of uncaring. Zhongli moves then, settling over Childe's thighs, pressing down against him, and—

Oh, gods. Childe whines as he feels Zhongli's cock, half-hard in his trousers as he grinds against him.

Zhongli drags a hand down his chest, nails digging into the soft cotton of his shirt. "You should wear less when we're alone in our home." He means to tease, judging from the quirk on his lips, but all the words settle deep in Childe's gut, and he whimpers softly at the thought of it.

"You—gods, what about you? Always dressed to the nines up to your neck."

Zhongli looks at himself. "This is your shirt," he says, finger at the buttons. "I—" He stops. "You're teasing."

Childe chuckles, curling his fingers into the front of his shirt. "Looks good on you. Meant to say that earlier, but I was too distracted."

"Oh?" Zhongli lifts an eyebrow as he grins.

"Yeah, always."

They kiss again, this time slower and softer. Zhongli leans over him, their hips and chests flush. Childe's arms circle around the small of his back and rest there gently. The languid press of their lips, the softness of their tongues—Childe moans gently when Zhongli wriggles against him, their hardened cocks brushing against each other.

"That's—oh."

Zhongli unbuttons the shirt and slips it from his shoulders without another word. It winds up in a heap on the floor. Childe's hands are on him again, fingers dragging over the smooth expanse of his chest. "Gorgeous," he says as he thumbs across ribs.

"Hm, you next," says Zhongli, head cocked to the side, eyes warm with mirth.

And that is how it goes for the remainder of their clothing; dragging movements as they slowly peel off garments, followed by teasing words and kisses. They fit together so perfectly. It isn't the first time that Childe has thought it, felt it, or dreamt it.

"That look again," says Zhongli, his head tipped down, hair undone. It pools over his bare shoulder like an obsidian waterfall. "What are you thinking about?"

A million things. Childe's mind is flooded with so much to say, and yet he cannot find the words.

Zhongli notices. Zhongli always notices, privy to the subtleties of Childe's body language. He must see the hesitation that is etched into his face. "You think too much," says Zhongli, cupping his cheek with a warm palm. "Particularly so with me settled over you like this."

"That's part of the problem, you know."

Zhongli laughs. "Distracting?" he asks.

"Always," says Childe, just like he did earlier. The tension has eased slightly, though, and Childe relaxes against the sofa. They just watch each other for a long moment, and then he says, "I mean it, you know. There's so much that I worry about. Things that I don't even know or grasp."

"If this is about the Abyss—"

"It's about more than that."

Zhongli's brow furrows slightly. "Ajax, I will be by your side, whatever the case." He pauses. "And, I have my own worries too."

"Like?"

"Erosion."

Zhongli has mentioned it once. He was drunk at the time, a rare moment of imbibing that Childe hasn't seen since. Zhongli wanted to try firewater and underestimated his ability to hold his alcohol in his current form. Childe grasps the bare concept of it. Something about how even those long-lived eventually break down. Aside from that, though, Zhongli is relatively tight-lipped about it.

He is about to ask when Zhongli presses a finger to his mouth. "Later," he says sweetly, "That is a conversation for later. For now—" He takes Childe's hand and drags it to where his cock lays, leaking precome. He wraps Childe's fingers around it, groaning at the touch. "This, please."

"So proper," teases Childe, squeezing his dick, jerking it gently as his slides his palm along the length. Zhongli's breath hitches and he bucks against his hand, looking every bit delicious as he holds himself overtop. "I love it when you say please, though—"

"So, then—please." Zhongli moves, reaching down to bat Childe's hand away. He presses his cock next to Childe's, taking them both into his hand.

"Gods," murmurs Childe. The tight grip of his hand, the friction of Zhongli's dick against his own—Childe moans, his head tipping back and hitting the arm of the couch. "We should move to the bed—"

"No." Zhongli's tone is strangely firm, eyes golden as they glow with Geo. He drags a hand down Childe's front, his skin already darkening into black, glimmering lines snaking across the length of them. "Right here, Ajax. I will not wait."

"I'm okay with that," says Childe, his words choked. "I'm more than okay with that, but—"

"You seem to worry about where we stand," says Zhongli, his voice soft. He looks at him fondly, but also with a teasing grin. "'I love you', you said, as if I don't know that. And then, you said that I do not understand."

"Zhongli, it isn't a competition—Hngh."

Zhongli slicks his hand with the oil that they keep stashed in the couchside table for moments just like this. The glide of his hand is smoother now, wet and sloppy as Zhongli ruts into his palm, cock dragging against Childe's.

"There are different types of retirement, you know. I've chosen the one where I get to spend the rest of what I have with you, and that is not a decision that I have made lightly."

"Zhongli—"

Zhongli grabs Childe's wrist, kissing the bone there. Then he says, dragging it back down where their cocks are, "Here. Keep at it."

"I'm—okay, but—" Childe watches as Zhongli slicks up his fingers again before reaching behind himself. "Oh, you're—"

"Impatient." Zhongli's breath catches, and Childe just knows that he's slipped a finger into himself to the knuckle. Gods, Childe wishes that he could see. He loves to be the one to open Zhongli up, stretching him gently with every finger that he adds. But he loves watching Zhongli do it to himself even more so. The way he flushes pink to the chest, and those soft, breathy moans he looses as he slips his fingers in deep. Childe is being robbed of the sight.

"Unfair," he says.

"You've stopped," says Zhongli.

Oh. His hand, the one wrapped around their cocks. Childe has forgotten all about his task while lost in his thoughts. "Sorry, sorry, I just—"

Zhongli moans, long and drawn out. He's slipped a second finger in, maybe even a third. Zhongli's fingers dig into the soft skin of Childe's stomach, finding purchase there.

"Fuck," says Childe, as he squeezes their fingers tight, jerking their cocks together. "You…"

He can imagine it, the way that Zhongli's rim is spread wide by his fingers. The way that the muscles slowly give way with every press of them. Zhongli would tug at his hole, delighting in the angle of his fingers even though they just barely misses the mark.

"Ajax." Zhongli watches him through a narrowed, flushed gaze.

"Tell me what you want," says Childe. "Or, better yet, just take it. Zhongli, take what you want."

Zhongli does. He shifts and Childe lets go of their cocks. Zhongli spreads oil across Childe's length, slicking it up, pressing the tip against his loose and puffy rim. Then he takes the entire thing, right to the root with a wet squelch.

Childe moans, assaulted by the tight and hot heat. His fingers tighten around Zhongli's waist as he bucks up and grinds into him.

"Ajax," hisses Zhongli, scrabbling against Childe's front. "Gods—"

"Archons, you're perfect. Look at you."

Zhongli leans back and it's as if the whole world melts away. All that Childe can think of is how he looks over him, ethereal like the God that he used to be. The tight grip of his ass, and the slick slide as Zhongli rides him with well-practiced his. Childe holds him tight as he meets every roll of Zhongli's hips with a thrust of his own.

"No," says Zhongli, "Look at you. So handsome below me, filling me so well. In all my years, I've never felt this."

"Is my dick that good?" He means it as a tease, and can't help but laugh.

But, Zhongli is caught up in the moment. "You," he says, "The entirety of you—your heat, your cock, the way that I can feel all of you everywhere." He rolls his hips, taking Childe's cock deep, and sitting there, relishing in the thick press of it, the perfect angle as it presses against his prostate. "Fuck," he curses. It's so rare for Zhongli to lose his composure like this, from the way that he just climbed on top and took matters into his own hands, to the way that he's shed his prim and proper exterior.

Childe sits up slightly, hands slipping behind Zhongli to grab him by the ass cheeks. "Zhongli," he says, pulling at him slightly, guiding him up and down his cock. Zhongli moves with him, moaning with every punch of Childe's dick.

It's nearly too much. The heat, and the way that his cock drags against Zhongli's insides. How his hole squeezes him tight, but the rest of him is soft and inviting.

Zhongli leans over, brushing Childe's bangs back, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead. And then to his cheek, and his nose, and then his mouth. Lips linger and Childe chases them, his tongue slipping in for a sweet taste. All the way, Zhongli dances over him, hips rolling smoothly in a perfect rhythm.

"Mine," he says, holding Childe by the chin, nipping his mouth. "I know your fears, and I've heard of them. But here me now—no one will take you from me, and that is a contract that I am willing to make."

They are not empty words. Zhongli never says things that he doesn't mean, and his eyes turn burnished gold as the weight of what he says settles into place. "I chose you, Ajax," he says, his mouth warm near his ear, "Never forget that. I do not let others take that which belongs to me."

Childe pulls him closer, nuzzling at Zhongli's neck. He smells like rich earth, and sandalwood, and Childe wants to get lost in it. He fucks into Zhongli harder, his thrusts long and dragging.

Zhongli keens, crying out, pressing back against his every move. "Please," he begs, his voice raspy with the choked word. "Please. I'm—"

Childe reaches between them and wraps his hand around Zhongli's cock, tugging at it in time with every thrust of his hips.

"Yes. Yes, yes—"

It doesn't take long for Zhongli to come all over his hand, cock twitching as he spills between them. He moans what sounds like Childe's name, hole squeezing tight as overstimulation washes over him. Childe slows his thrusts—only for Zhongli to protest it. "No, don't stop, keep going, keep—"

Childe pulls out to the tip and fucks back in as deep as he can reach. Zhongli presses his nose into his neck and nips at the skin there. "Gods," he whispers, sounding drunk on his lust. His face is a mess, he looks so, so beautiful.

"Perfect," says Childe, fucking him earnestly again, fingers pulling at Zhongli's asscheeks, slipping into the cleft to feel where they are joined. "Divine, even. Fuck, I just—" He moans, the heat in his belly spreading wider and wider.

Zhongli squeezes his cock like a vice, and Childe can feel his dick twitch pathetically every time that he slips back in. His orgasm sneaks up on him as he grinds in deep, painting Zhongli's insides with thick come. Zhongli pulls at his hair and kisses his ear. Whispers things that no others will ever hear, that Childe will dream of, and will make his dick half-hard again with little thought.

They float there like that, pressed together in a sweaty pile, chests flush together.

"Celestia above," hisses Childe as he pulls his cock out, "That was—"

Zhongli brushes through his bangs again, kissing him, cutting off his words. Lingering and languid, that's what they do for longer than they should until the sweaty sheen of their skin is cold and uncomfortable.

"You're very touchy-feely tonight," says Childe. He isn't bothered. He smooths his thumb across the rise of Zhongli's cheek bone, and Zhongli nuzzles his palm.

"Not every confession is the same. I hear you Ajax—you must know that. I've heard every word that you have said."

Childe could cry, but he won't. He just pecks Zhongli's lips again with a quick kiss, and then guides him off his lap.

They wash up and slip into their bed. Zhongli immediately plasters himself to Childe's side, resting his head against his heartbeat. Childe can feel the soft purr of his chest, decidedly inhuman.

And then Childe wonders just how human he himself still is.

"Earlier," says Childe, trailing a finger down the length of Zhongli's arm, "You said there were different types of retirement. What did you mean?"

Zhongli is quiet for a little too long. And then he says, his voice muffled by Childe's skin, "There comes a time where an adeptus can choose to leave their life with dignity. I considered it, as many others do. I am old, Ajax, and I am tired. But then I met you, and things changed."

Childe knows that feeling of desperation that Zhongli talks about. He used to feel it on his darkest days. In the Fatui barracks, before he was a Harbinger, wondering exactly what he'd turned into. Before that, in the Abyss, drowning in the dark, wondering if that's what it was like to be buried alive.

"I love you," he says, kissing Zhongli's brow. "Like, I love you."

"Yes," says Zhongli. There is that quiet again as Zhongli thinks, listening to the steady beat of Childe's heart in his chest. Childe lets him, combing his fingers through his hair.

Zhongli then moves. Groans softly as his joints creak, but then he's leaning over Childe again, the world hidden by the fall of his hair. "If I were to say that you are my reason for living, most would think it an exaggeration."

It isn't though. Childe can see it, plain as day in the way that Zhongli looks at him, wholly enraptured. "Yeah," says Childe, a little choked up.

"You are, though." Zhongli leans forward to nose along the length of his neck. "My darling mate. Tell me, are you tired?"

"I can pretend not to be."

Heat blooms in Childe's gut again as Zhongli pulls back and regards him with an amused look. "Prepare yourself, then," he says, dragging his hand down the length of his chest, "For the wrath of the rock."

Silly words that are only full of love. Childe relaxes, laughing as he rolls the both of them over, losing himself in Zhongli all over again.