Mate.

It is a thought that has weighed heavily on Zhongli's mind more often than not as of late. When he looks at Childe he doesn't just see the man he loves, he sees his future. Retirement was a means to an end. Zhongli intended to settle down and live out a quiet existence until he saw no further need to— and then, came Childe.

Yuletide has heightened these thoughts, whirling emotions of family and togetherness. It is easy to imagine little ones bearing Childe's smile and unruly red hair. Old instincts fester in his chest. There is an urge to both claim and be claimed.

"You're distracted."

"Mhm?" Zhongli is pulled back to his thoughts, turning to where Childe leans against the door frame of the porch.

"It's the middle of the night. Why are you out of bed? Are you okay?"

Oh, the concern. Zhongli didn't mean to worry him. Childe's brow is furrowed and his arms are crossed over his chest, instinctually wary. Zhongli clicks his tongue gently and holds out a hand.

Wordlessly, Childe goes to him. His fingers are calloused against Zhongli's palm. His knuckles are cold under his mouth as he kisses them.

"You would tell me if something is wrong, right?"

A soft laugh against Childe's hand. Another kiss, and then the circular motions of his thumbs as Zhongli massages warmth into his chilled skin. Liyue is littered with lingering snow. It's too cold out for Childe to not be properly wrapped up.

"Nothing is wrong," he finally says. "I am merely thinking."

"Zhongli, it's like…" Childe turns back to the bedroom to look at the wall clock. "Three in the morning. I know that you don't need sleep, but I also know that you like it."

Only because it means lazing about in the bed with Childe, plastered together, face pressed into sweat-slick skin, breathing in his scent. Those urges. Heat curls in his belly, spreading wide, and all that Zhongli can think of is how they so effortlessly belong to each other.

"This season," he says then. "I find these quiet moments thinking of what I wish for. As an Archon, I was not allowed such selfishness, but now—" Zhongli sighs softly. "It is a strange thing. I have ignored these instincts for so long it is odd to even consider entertaining them."

Childe's face scrunches up. "Instincts?"

Zhongli pulls him close. Childe trips slightly, falling against his lap, hovering over his thighs as he rests against Zhongli's shoulders. Zhongli's face finds his neck. He nuzzles the skin there, moaning softly, inhaling that beloved ocean-salt tang, and something inherently Childe.

"Ajax," he whispers, "I wonder if you realize that I cannot be without you." He feels Childe swallow thickly, his throat bobbing. Zhongli kisses the skin there, teasing it with his fangs. Sink them in. Take him.

Zhongli does not. He just suckles Childe's neck sweetly. Childe wears one of his robes, hanging off his frame like watered silk. Zhongli slips a hand in to rest against his heated waist and pulls him close until their bodies are flush.

"Zhongli, I—"

"Listen to me, Ajax, for I am about to bare my soul to you. This old dragon wants to claim you in the most ancient of ways. You speak of things like marriage and that is not enough. I want you to wear my mark so everyone else may see that you belong to me."

Zhongli pulls away then. Childe's face is pink. His mouth gapes, parted as he licks at chapped lips and tries to find words. "Even this is not enough," says Zhongli then, quiet, even in this space where there are no other ears. "I find myself wanting the same from you; for you to sink your teeth into me, for you to give me children. Ajax, my retirement has only begun and this season has me thinking of you with every waking moment.

"You are my mate, fated by the stars, or Celestia—frankly, I don't care who, but you are mine and I am yours."

Childe looks caught up in his words. He straddles Zhongli's waist, arms slung around his neck. And Zhongli just purrs against his neck, drowning in his scent.

"Anyhow, that is what I was thinking about."

"That's… Geeze, things are never half-measure with you, are they?"

Zhongli laughs, the sound muffled by Childe's nape. "Forgive me."

Childe leans back. He cups Zhongli's face between his hands, cradling it like he's precious. "Mates," he says, testing the word. "That feels… permanent. And I'm—"

Zhongli knows; the question of Childe's imminent immortality hangs on the tip of his tongue, unwilling to be voiced. "Darling," says Zhongli, covering Childe's hands with his own. "Laogong, I know."

"But—"

"My feelings for you are all-consuming. I could have eons with you and it still wouldn't be enough." Zhongli presses their foreheads together and closes his eyes to think. "I will take whatever time that I can have."

"What does it entail? You said something about wearing your mark, so…" Childe likely knows. Zhongli's obsession with marking his skin is no secret, so the assumption should come second nature.

Zhongli's fingers curl into the wispy baby hairs at the back of Childe's neck. "Typically a bite here. I'd latch on while taking you. However—" He sweeps his hand across Childe's throat, tracing the soft spot under his jaw with a thumb. "I'd rather lay underneath you and bite here as you claim me."

They are unconventional, and so, Zhongli wishes for something different.

"So lots of biting?"

"Hmm, yes."

Childe laughs, his breath welling warm between them. "Okay. Let's—"

"Ajax."

"Now."

"Ajax."

"Do you not want to?" His question comes soft and genuine. Childe pulls back and waits for Zhongli's answer not with nervous hesitation, but with ageless comfort.

Zhongli clears his throat. "I had considered there would be a little more ceremony to the entire thing—"

"And if I want you now? If the picture that you paint makes me greedy, if I don't want to wait?" Childe's grin is cocksure. He whispers these words into Zhongli's ear as he drags a hand across the line of his shoulder before flicking at the skin there.

Zhongli's gaze turns. His skin is charcoal at the joint, lines of Geo bleeding across his arms. Childe laughs then and says, "You didn't realize it, did you?" A kiss to Zhongli's brow, his fluttering eyelids, the arch of each cheek. "You can't propose like that and make me wait."

The last time Zhongli's heart lurched like this was in pain. Guizhong crumbled to dust in his hands and rage filled him in the aftermath. This time, though, his heart bursts, filling his throat. He kisses Childe, pressing a hand to his back to force him closer. It is a searing and passionate thing, full of teasing tongues, and wandering hands, and lofty moans into each others' mouths.

Childe laughs into his mouth and pulls him to his feet. They stumble into the bedroom, unable to pull away from each other. The bed is soft against his back. Childe hangs over him and sighs, dragging a hand down his chest, and says, "Gods, I love you."

He takes his time ravishing him. Gentle, sweeping strokes as Childe opens Zhongli up on his fingers. And when he sinks in, when Zhongli finally feels that fullness he craved, it's with shuddering thighs and shaking arms as Childe holds himself up.

Zhongli clings to him. Meets every thrust with the roll of his hips, forcing Childe's cock deeper. He keens underneath him. Whines until Childe kisses his ear, his neck, the line of his jaw, and then, finally, his mouth. Fingers are clasped together. Toes curl as their entire beings are threaded together so tightly that they can't be unwoven.

Everything is languid and liquid. Zhongli's veins burn with a low-stoked fire that sears through him. Childe is cruel with his fluid motions, how sweetly he fucks him, praise dripping from his mouth like ambrosia. He needs more. It isn't enough. The room swirls with Geo as Zhongli loses and loses and loses his grip.

"Zhongli," says Childe into his ear. A kiss there. His tongue teases the shell of it. "Zhongli," he moans as his next thrust buries his cock deep.

It is one of those moments where instincts take over. Zhongli wants to crawl into his skin and never leave. "Ajax, I—I need—" Zhongli grips the back of his head and forces it to the side. He shoves his face into Childe's neck, inhaling that spice of his arousal. A soft moan as he drags his teeth over the skin there.

Childe pauses, hips flush with Zhongli's ass. "Do it," he says. "Go on."

Zhongli's fingers curl into his hair and pull as he sinks his teeth in, latching into the soft tissue and muscle.

Childe hisses, tensing. He shudders, a broken cry slipping from his mouth as he ruts his hips into a rolling grind. "Fuck," he snaps, voice raspy. "Fuck, fuck—"

Zhongli comes at the sound of it; at the fullness in his ass, the taste of Childe's blood as he licks it away. Childe moans, hitching his legs higher, fucking him harder and deeper. Zhongli refuses to let go. He scrabbles against him, overstimulated, still lapping at Childe's neck. His cock twitches with interest again, half-hard as it lays against his stomach, wet with his spend.

"Ajax," he says. "Ajax, Ajax, Ajax—" He feels complete with the tang of blood on his tongue, and the smell of Childe's arousal peaking.

Mine, he thinks. Mine, mine, mine, mine, he chants, as they slip over and over through the night.