"Horny old dragon," huffs Childe, as if he isn't the one spread out against the table before him like a feast.
Zhongli snorts. He smooths a hand down the length of Childe's spine, rucking up his shirt until scarred and freckled skin is on display. Then, down, sweeping over the smoothness of his ass cheeks, swelling over his trousers where they hang around his thighs.
A sight to behold. Childe is so handsome in every way but there's something about this that appeals the most. Laid out, spread open, ready to be feasted on until he's writhing underneath him.
Zhongli leans forward and plasters himself against Childe's back. "You know why," he says, nipping at his ear with a hum and grinding his aching cock against the cleft of Childe's asscheeks.
Mating Season. Zhongli has never quite given it thought because he's never needed to. These sorts of instincts are easy to ignore as a lonely old bastard with only his hand for a friend. But with Childe it is different. Zhongli buries his nose into Childe's nape and inhales. The ocean and salt. That terrible soap that smells like oranges—too pungent. Like Ajax, Ajax, Ajax—
His cock twitches. Celestia above, he has a need. Zhongli's hands slide down Childe's side, annoyed by the fabric there. "You had to grab one of my shirts, hmm?" What a day to wear something normal, something that doesn't show off his taut belly.
"You don't like it? Me, smelling like you? I thought perhaps it'd appeal to those old sentimentalities of yours." Zhongli watches as Childe's face curls in amusement. "Besides, I think it looks good on me."
He looks divine. Zhongli could eat him up—and he will. Later. For now, he's too hot and bothered to take his time, which is why Childe's thrown across the table, food shoved to the side.
Childe knows the look on his face. He grins coyly, and says, "Impatient, big boy?"
Zhongli scoffs. "I hate it when you call me that. I'd much rather—"
"Laogong," says Childe instead, and it's like Zhongli's brain entirely short-circuits.
He sighs into his neck, kissing it sweetly. "Hearing you say that—what it does to me." It's clear by the thick erection currently tenting his trousers. Oh, he needs him.
"Go on, then. Fuck me."
Zhongli purrs at the request, leaning back to spread Childe's asscheeks. His hole is slick. Still loose from earlier that morning when Zhongli fucked him lazily in bed. He tugs at Childe's rim, delighted by how easily his thumb slips in. Primed. Ready. What a perfect mate.
Mate, mate, mate—
Zhongli grunts as he undoes his trousers and pulls out his cock. He spits into his hand, slicks his length, and presses the tip right to Childe's hole. He slides in swiftly, sinking to the hilt, and it's Childe that moans at the feel of it. Loudly. He lifts his hips immediately to grind back against him, shoving Zhongli's cock deeper.
"Ajax." Zhongli's voice is pinched. He rests his forehead against the back of Childe's neck, hissing at the tight heat around his cock. His instincts run wild. His mind begs for him to take Childe, to breed him full to the brim. Mate, he thinks, a quiet, neverending mantra that pounds in his head. Mate, mate, mate.
His fingers dig into the soft skin of Childe's waist, notching against his hips. Zhongli drives into Childe suddenly.
"Oh, oh Gods." The words are punched from Childe's chest, even though he expected it.
Zhongli sets a punishing pace, fucking him with long and deep strokes. He pulls Childe into every thrust and relishes the whines that tumble from his mouth before clipping off as he bites his lip. "Fuck," hisses Childe. "Fuck, Zhongli, I'm—"
Childe clings to the table to keep from sliding across it. His legs already tremble and his cock is already hard. He whines in pleasure as their balls slap together. The tip of Zhongli's cock nails his prostate and Childe's arm jerks, knocking a plate to the ground.
"There—there, there, there—"
Childe's insides are hot and slick with his come from earlier. And oh, what the thought of that does to him. Zhongli wants to see Childe's ass struggle to close with pink insides painted white instead. He wants to taste, lick at him until Childe comes again, just from his tongue.
He's been so good for him, either taking Zhongli's cock, or fucking Zhongli until he's lost all thought and can't speak anymore. His sweet little mortal can keep up with him. Zhongli has picked the right person.
Zhongli leans against his back. His breath is hot against Childe's neck. He drags his teeth over the skin there, points teasing. Bite him, his instincts rage. Mate, mate—
He shouldn't. Not yet. They should talk about this. But a man can dream, no? Zhongli nibbles at the flesh there, imagining the mark he could leave. He'd kiss the spot, constantly touch it every time that Childe leaned close. The most ancient of claims.
Childe would let him too—Zhongli knows it. But isn't the sort of decision to be made in the heat of a rut with Zhongli's brain addled and his body begging to come.
"Ajax," he says. "Ajax, Ajax. My Darling. So good for me. You feel so, so good."
He slips out suddenly, watching the way that Childe's hole flutters, failing to clench. Childe moans, face pressed into an arm. Zhongli coaxes him to roll over until Childe's laying on his back, cock resting against his stomach. Hard, aching, a trail of precome dribbling from the tip.
The season has Zhongli battling his instincts, whether it's to breed Childe full, or let Childe fuck him until it takes—it's the only thing that he can think of. Every moment; in the morning, whilst making dinner, even in his dreams when he's asleep.
Right now, as he sinks his cock deep inside his mate. Zhongli moans against his skin. His teeth gnaw at Childe's throat, sucking a darkening mark into his nape, fangs just barely pricking his skin.
Childe hisses—but then the sound levels out as he bares his neck for more.
No, no, no. He's good. Zhongli lets himself have this moment, tonguing over the bite instead, merely imagining something more permanent. Childe teases him, rolling his head to the side. Zhongli can feel his pulse, hear how fast his heart beats, how Childe groans with every slick thrust of his cock.
And then those words, the ones that do Zhongli in— "Breed me."
Zhongli's nostrils flare. He loses himself, drowning in Childe's arousal. He smells sweet, tangy. Perfectly breedable. Zhongli leans back and pushes Childe's thighs to his chest. Childe holds his legs there, arms hooked underneath the bend of his knees.
"Good boy," murmurs Zhongli as he watches, eyes grazing the entirety of Childe's form. Red-faced. Biting at his lip. Chest heaving with every breath he takes. Zhongli palms his ass, spreading his cheeks. He watches as he thrusts in faster, his length stretching Childe's hole wide. Zhongli eyes the bulge of his cock just underneath his navel before pressing his palm against it.
So perfect. So, so, so perfect. Ripe for the taking.
Zhongli comes first with a hard grind into his hot insides. He imagines the swell of Childe's gut, his seed taking root. It's enough to calm those raging insides, at least for a moment.
"Don't—Zhongli, I'm—"
Right, right. Childe's back arches as Zhongli takes hold of his cock. Zhongli leans forward, his cock still buried in his ass. "Ajax," he mutters into his ear as he strokes his cock. Childe's insides writhe around his dick, squeezing it. "Ajax," he says again in a delirious purr, still riding the high of his pleasure.
"So full. Fuck, you're—" Childe groans, his head slamming back against the table as Zhongli wrings his cock dry with his fingers. His fingers dig into Zhongli's shirt, dragging down his back. "Please, please—"
Zhongli's palm curls around the tip of Childe's cock, thumb sliding through the slit, and then Childe is coming, spilling himself all over Zhongli's hand.
He stares at it. A waste, his ancient lizard brain thinks, his tongue snaking out to trace his lips. Childe should've spent himself inside. What a waste. It isn't too late, Zhongli can fuck himself open on his fingers, and shove Childe's spend right inside—
"Zhongli, what's with that look?"
It is then that Zhongli realizes he's staring. He blinks and brings his hand to his mouth to lick it clean. "Thinking about this," he says as Childe watches the way Zhongli's tongue traces his fingers, unwilling to spare a single drop. "And how it was wasted."
Childe's mouth falls open. "I'm—you—Gods, you're going to be the death of me."
Zhongli laughs. He leans over and with a kiss to Childe's forehead, he says, "Never. With you dead, where would that leave me?" It is a joke, of course. Zhongli kisses Childe's pulse, right underneath his chin. "At least breed me first."
Childe whines as Zhongli pulls his cock out slowly. A rush of come follows, dripping down his thighs and all over the table. Childe cringes. "Is that—"
Zhongli is already scooping it up and pressing it back in, watching Childe's hole swallow his fingers greedily. The rim flutters, puffy and slick, parting around Zhongli's knuckles. Childe moans softly as his fingers prod around lazily. "Don't—don't—Mmnh, never mind, you can keep doing that. Feels good."
"Darling," says Zhongli, kissing the inside of his knee. "We should clean up before—"
"You get all horny again?"
Zhongli is in a perpetual state as such, not that Childe can begin to comprehend. He inhales his scent once more, trying to clear his mind and ground himself. It works. A little. Takes the edge off enough for him to pull away and grab a—
"Not the kitchen towel—Zhongli."
Zhongli has already wiped his fingers off and moves to wipe Childe down as well.
Childe frowns. "That towel is now banished to the bedroom."
"Wouldn't be the first, nor the last." There's a hamper's worth that has piled up in the corner by the bookshelf, excommunicated by Childe. "Unless you want me to stop fucking you in the kitchen. I'll admit… that is not an idea I'm fond of. I so enjoy spreading you out on the table like a feast. I'm afraid that my heart couldn't take it if I can't have you when and where I want."
"Well, we can't have that now, can we?" Then he slaps Zhongli's wrist. "But really, let's clean up. I think we broke a plate." As he sits up, he grimaces slightly. "I… might not be able to stand straight."
Zhongli regards him with a half-slitted gaze. "I could carry you to the bedroom."
Childe meets his gaze. "What? So you can ravish me again?"
"Of course," replies Zhongli.
"I—" Childe's cheeks pink. "Focus!"
Zhongli grumbles slightly, but does as he's asked, moving to clear what's left on the table. Childe moves slower but helps. Once the worst of the mess is cleaned, he reaches out and pulls Zhongli close, boxing him against the counter.
"Hey."
"You told me to focus." Zhongli's nose falls immediately into Childe's neck. "Which I'm finding very hard to do with you distracting me."
"Pot, meet kettle. I was setting the table earlier when you turned me around and said you needed me." Which Zhongli did. He always does, which is why he laughs against Childe's skin. "How long is the season, by the way? Do I need to put in some vacation time with Katya?"
Zhongli pulls back at the thought. "Can you?"
"I was joking, but…" He pauses. "Should I?"
Yes, yes you should.
Zhongli cups his cheeks and presses their foreheads together. "The thought of it," he whispers. "The two of us sequestered in the teapot for several weeks. Alone. Only eating, sleeping, and making love. Breeding you full, being bred—Ajax, do not tease me."
When Childe smiles back it's a wicked thing.