He is unused to being on the other end of this.
Childe's fingers pet through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. It is lazy. Over and over, without thought. Childe does his work, pouring over bank documents and loan agreements with Zhongli nestled between his lap on smarting knees.
He wriggles slightly. His legs ache with the tension of kneeling for so long.
Childe's hand pauses. He peers down. "Are you okay?"
Zhongli's answer is immediate. "Yes."
A soft hum as Childe pets his hair again, brushing Zhongli's bangs back with his knuckles. He drops his pen onto his desk and takes hold of Zhongli's chin with his other hand. A thumb traces the arch of Zhongli's cheek before the grip sharpens—not too tight, but enough to make a point.
Zhongli's face is tilted upward. Childe's gaze is narrowed. Quiet. Calculating. Searching Zhongli's face for signs of discomfort inadequately expressed. He then asks softly, "Color?"
An out. Childe always gives him an out, whether Zhongli asks for one or not. That's the whole point of this, isn't it? Years of being a dom have made Zhongli wholly unused to the submissive end of things, and yet, with Childe, it is almost effortless. And Childe too with his near decade of bending over for others—my how the tables have turned. Zhongli doesn't think he would trust another with this indulgent reversal.
Yes, his knees ache. Yes, his thighs burn with the strain, but his cock is also half-hard in his trousers, and he loves that soft, caring look on Childe's face. It is not just pleasure that churns in his gut, but deep-seated satisfaction for pleasing this man.
It makes him feel good. Childe makes him feel good and always takes care of him, but mostly he—
Zhongli swallows the thought and says, "Green."
The grip on his chin loosens and he smooths his thumb across Zhongli's bottom lip sweetly. "Good boy," murmurs Childe, face crinkled with genuine affection.
It isn't supposed to be this way. A means to an end, yes. Zhongli approached Childe with a contract to explore the opposite of what he's accustomed to because of their shared acquaintance over the years. Childe did not laugh or balk at the request, just as Zhongli knew he wouldn't, and he wasn't against the idea of taking the dominant role.
A string of ill-suited partners for both of them has led to something more than just… mutual companionship, however. Zhongli settles between Childe's lap not because he's been asked to but because he wants to. Because letting loose and just… existing for the moment is something that Childe has coaxed into his being not with a firm hand, but with handsomely said Good boy's, and aftercare that gives even Zhongli a run for his money.
"What are you thinking about?"
Zhongli blinks slowly before nuzzling Childe's warm palm. And then he remembers himself, stilling. "I—" Words are thick in his throat. If Childe was thrown off by the soft-handed affection thrown his way, he shows nothing of it, his gaze relatively neutral. "That I like this."
Childe's mouth quirks slightly at one corner. "Being between my knees? I already knew that, Zhongli. With all our play isn't that where you often end up?"
The soft tease makes Zhongli snort. Childe slides his fingers into his hair once more and pulls, just enough to pull his scalp taut. His gaze turns into something darker, sharper. "You look good there, of course. Like you belong. All mine."
Scene talk. It's all scene talk.
But it's easy to think it's more than just that. Not for the first time Zhongli has considered altering their contract, broaching the idea that feelings have clearly been caught. He licks his lips. A thought for later. For now—
He groans as the grip on his hair slackens. Childe's fingers sink through the strands, mussing them. "Alright, I've teased you enough. Color?"
"Still green, I assure you."
Childe huffs. "Rest."
"Childe—"
Gentle pressure against the back of his head forces Zhongli's face into Childe's lap. His cheek rests against his left thigh, tantalizingly close to Childe's cock. The intent this time isn't to get off—for either of them—just for Zhongli to sink between his thighs and stay there, and for Childe to enjoy his presence. But there is the tell-tale swell of interest tenting Childe's trousers and Zhongli has been half-hard since the moment he sank to his knees.
Zhongli shifts closer only to be tugged back by Childe's fingers curled into his hair again. Zhongli hisses softly at the mild sting. Childe huffs. "I said rest."
"But you—"
"Trust me, I know exactly what's going on down there." Zhongli's eyes flutter up and they lock gazes. Childe sighs, humming softly. He cups Zhongli's face again, his thumb pressing against his lips. Zhongli opens up eagerly to swallow around the digit. "Imagine what the others would think if they saw you like this. Gods, Zhongli, you're—"
Zhongli moans quietly. Childe tamps his tongue down with his thumb. "Would you rather suck me off here? Katya is right outside you know. That door isn't locked and while she may not blink an eye at you between my thighs, I don't think she'd appreciate walking in on you with my cock down your throat."
Oh, he throbs. Heat curls throughout Zhongli's being, deep-seated and needy. His cock aches. He'd take anything, even Childe's foot against it, the weight of his boot just enough to rut against. Childe's expression is appraising. Zhongli knows he must look like a pink-faced, aroused mess.
"What is the alternative?" asks Zhongli. He has permission to speak. Childe encourages it, even, in moments like this when they try out new things. Communication is not only key, it is necessary.
"Hm?"
Zhongli swallows thickly. "You asked if I'd rather suck you off here—what is the other option?"
Childe's grin widens into something feral. "I take you home and pull you apart there." And then it softens. "And it doesn't have to be a scene. We can just fuck—" A pause. Childe rubs his face as if he's been caught. "I mean. I just—" He waves vaguely. "However you wish for it to be. The offer still stands for something more…casual."
Casual. They both know there is nothing casual about this, not anymore. Childe doesn't just fuck people randomly. Zhongli's cock twitches at the thought of sharing something tamer, quieter, sweeter.
"Later," he says. "We'll have dinner and then we can… fuck."
Childe laughs. "That sounds like a date, Mr. Zhongli."
"And if it were?"
Childe falls quiet and tilts his head. A beat passes. "Color?" he then asks, so quietly that Zhongli barely hears.
"Green," replies Zhongli. "Very green. The most—"
"Okay, I get it. A date then." Childe slips back into his role effortlessly once all of that is settled. "Does it ache? Are you hard?"
"I—"
"Oh, you are."
Zhongli feels Childe nudge the inside of his thigh with the tip of his boot, avoiding his erection entirely. A soft whimper bubbles from Zhongli's mouth as he tries to press closer to no avail. Childe forces his face back against his lap, and this time he doesn't pull Zhongli away from his own hardness.
"I meant it—rest. I'll be fine."
"I want to—" Zhongli nuzzles the rigid line of Childe's cock through his trousers.
Childe sighs, slightly broken, a crack in that dominant facade. "You can. Just—that's it. No more. Just sit there and be a good boy."
Zhongli does. He sits there between Childe's legs with an aching erection, his cheek nestled against Childe's length. He inhales, the subtle musk of his arousal suffocating him. Throbbing arousal. A soft whine.
But Zhongli still does nothing, just sits there as he's asked.
Childe's hand is a welcome weight against his head, stroking through his hair, lulling Zhongli into a hazy doze. "Good boy," he mutters, petting and petting and petting.
Yes, yes, a good boy, thinks Zhongli. That's what he's always told others, isn't it? It's nice to be called that for once.
