Chapter Text
Childe wanted to kill him.
With narrowed, angry eyes, he glared hatefully at Pantalone as he gestured dramatically in the air.
“After the disaster in Liyue, I don’t think we can afford to risk more outrageous displays of animosity. We must conserve our resources. Besides,” Pantalone’s voice lowered to a low growl. With a slow, climatic turn, he glanced back at Childe and offered him a sharp, predatory smile, “We have several debutantes scheduled. Having our youngest attend would certainly give us an advantage in drawing more resources from the Snezynayan nobility. I have also gone through the trouble of inviting several other foreign ministers who are willing to work with us, and it would be good to have some more entertainment.”
Childe snarled, “Entertainment? Your delusions should be enough of a show for them.”
“Tartaglia,” Pulcinella quieted him. Beneath the table, his fingers sharply pinched Childe’s legs through the fabric of his pants. He shook his head as he met Childe’s gaze, silently ordering him to remain quiet as Pantalone grinned and clicked his teeth.
“Now, is that any way to speak to your superior?”
Childe bit his tongue to keep himself from swearing. Instead, he reached out and downed the contents of the canteen in front of him. Pulcinella eyed cautiously – eyebrows scrunched together as he frowned. Silently, Childe mouthed the word water . Then, he unclasped the cover and relished the way the liquid burned as it traveled down his throat. It wasn’t the strongest variety of fire-water available, but Childe doubted there was any brand strong enough to ease the ache of Pantalone’s voice against his ears.
“Our youngest’s display of immaturity aside, I believe it would be more fitting to have our dearest Rosalyne and Balladeer continue with their plan. We should aim to take care of the affairs in Inazuma as quietly as possible. Wouldn’t you agree, Captain?”
“Perhaps.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the Harbingers at his words. Slinking back against the chair, Childe glanced at Capitano and scowled. Of course, he doesn’t think I’m capable – months later and he still intends to hold it against me. A bitter taste filled his mouth. Childe’s mind flickered back to their conversations at the docks. Since then, Capitano had ordered Childe to be placed on training duty. He made it a point to force Childe to remain in Snezhnaya. In the absence of something to do, the memories haunted Childe.
His fingers twitched.
He took another drink, desperate to drown the thoughts away.
“But it could prove useful to have him there managing the requisitions. He could be good to have in case something goes awry with the plan.”
Wait, what?
Childe looked up. Though Capitano’s eyes were hidden and there was no way to be sure of it, Childe felt his gaze settle on him. He’s letting me go?
“I agree,” Pulcinella quipped, his pen flying across the papers as he hurriedly scribbled away, “It would be better to ensure Rosalyne has all the resources she needs. The Shogun is a hostile entity – we must ensure that we have enough entities to trade hostility back if something goes wrong.”
Childe’s heart fluttered.
He gave Pulcinella a subtle, sly smile of appreciation. More than anything, Childe needed a distraction – something other than drinking to keep him busy. Each night, he woke up to nightmares, endless dreams of warm bodies and intertwined tongues, taunting him. The memories of another man pushing deep inside him made him sick. Disgusted.
Zhongli’s touch – his words and his promises reminded Childe of how pathetically he had given in to the sick temptation. He hated it.
Hated himself.
The months since his return to Snezhnaya had been filled with training, alcohol, and women. Sometimes men when the urge for something different was too much to ignore and Childe wanted to be rougher – crueler and more unkind than he felt comfortable doing to the pretty girls that landed in his bed. Always, he remained above them – fucking everyone to burn away any lingering memories of how good it felt to be beneath someone.
It didn’t help much.
He took another drink.
The mention of Liyue had soured his mood. Even though he had a chance to be dispatched elsewhere, the brief feeling of happiness faded quickly. A deep, uncomfortable sickness returned. His heart felt heavy in his chest. His hand twitched around the flask. He raised it, but only a brief sip remained.
There was nothing left.
“Well, we host a variety of opinions, but we aren’t the ones handling this task. Rosalyne, you can decide,” Pantalone’s voice was lazy, happy, and carefree as though he knew he had already won the argument.
Shit.
Childe resisted the urge to groan and throw himself out of the window – to see how easily his body could splatter itself against the frostbitten pavement of the streets below. Like that bitch will ever let me –
“He can come, but he stays out of my way. Our youngest can focus on managing the grunts, so I can do what needs to be done. As long as he stays out of my way, I don’t care if he comes; it’ll lessen my work.”
Pantalone’s mouth twitched, and the corners of his lips drew thin in the beginnings of a sneer, but he caught himself as Capitano nodded. He gave the Harbingers a small bow and walked towards his chair. As his shoes clicked against the marble floor, he caught Childe’s gaze and his eyes were vibrant with fiery anger.
He mouthed a silent warning: ‘Don’t fuck up, love.’
Childe smirked. His left hand lifted above the table, and he discreetly raised his middle finger as he tapped it against the side of his head. Go fuck yourself, asshole. Pantalone’s eyes narrowed, his gloved hand clenching into a tight fist. As he took his seat, he cleared his throat and coughed, “Well, I don’t see a problem. Just make sure our youngest remembers to keep his cock in his pants.”
Dottore chuckled. Signora chuckled.
Even Scaramouche scoffed and Sandrone glanced up curiously as Pulcinella jumped from his chair and scurried towards the top of the room, oblivious to the tight frown stretched across Childe’s face. In the absence of alcohol, Childe dragged his nails against his hand, clawing at the skin beneath his glove until deep scratches were etched along the outline of his veins. He needed a drink.
The rain fell in torrential, fat drops that seemed endless. As their forms splattered and exploded against the rooves, a quiet pattering sound echoed through the empty building. The owners had long since been evacuated, ushered from their hostel to avoid the tidal waves that had crashed against the edge of Liyue Habour. Childe stood in the empty room, quiet and motionless. Above him, cracks in the ceiling – gaps between jagged points of wood – permitted the moonlight to illuminate the water-scorned room. The bed was soaked – the furniture ruined and scattered in broken bits across the floor.
It seemed like ages had been since Childe had been pressed against the wall, Morax’s hands wrapped around his cock as Childe’s nails scratched faint grooves in the wood.
He winced at the thought.
Childe carded through the memories – desperate to find some sign. How did he miss it? He had noticed the detachment to the world, but Childe had never imagined he would wake up to find he had been sleeping with an Archon. His hair stuck to his head, wet from the rain that steadily covered him.
What was the point of this?
He replayed the final confrontation in his head – the sound of Rosalyne’s harsh laughter taunted him in the back of his mind. Everyone had known except Childe. He had wanted to believe that Zhongli was a simple, uncanny man. When everything was over, Childe wanted to speak with him.
To plan for the future that would never come now.
God, he was stupid.
He replayed their nights together, imagined himself pressed against the mattress and begging. Pleading. The shame curled tight inside his stomach, warring with exhaustion and a pain that Childe pointedly ignored. His scarred fingers wrapped around the bottle he held in his hand. Tightening his grip, he brought it up to his busted lip and drained the last of the contents. His vision swarmed, blurring for a moment. Even as he stood still, Childe felt dizzy, disoriented, and distant. Over and over again, he replayed the Morax’s reveal and their last night together in his head.
Stupid.
He felt so impossibly stupid and disgusted with himself. Childe could barely see himself in the memories. Had he really allowed another man to take him? He had even begged . His stomach churned. Nausea scratched at his inside, clawing and biting as his stomach as his intestines burned. God – what’s wrong with me?
Childe threw the bottle against the wall, dropped to his knees, and screamed.
“Fuck!”
His hands tore through his hair, gripping and tearing at the strands as the shame turned his blood to a boil. A Harbinger had given himself to a foreign God – begged to be taken and fucked into the mattress. Childe had given himself to another man, allowing him to paint his insides white with seed.
“Fuck!”
Like a broken record, he cursed and swore until his throat turned raw – the words becoming a garbled mess as his tongue grew lazy in his mouth. Fuck. His whole mind was consumed by it. The thought. The word. The actions. Fuck. Fuck him.
Fuck me.
Childe had pleaded. He had wanted to be fucked – over and over again. He had spent his life fucking other people, but the pleasure had never felt as good as it did to be fucked. Childe liked it when Morax had fucked him. But, there were no words to accurately describe the pain ripping through his flesh and across his limbs as he thought of how he had been fucked over.
“Childe.”
Fuck.
Childe froze. His mouth slowly closed and his eyes opened to stare at the shadows cast by the moonlight. The wind howled. For a moment, Childe was sure he had hallucinated the sound, but his fingers still flexed and summoned his vision to his fingertips.
“You’re covered in blood. What happened to you?”
The click of a shoe against the floor rumbled in time with the growl of thunder overhead. Childe flinched at the feeling of water against his burnt palms. He glanced down at the sickly flesh, red and discolored. Droplets of blood dripped from places where the hot metal had ruptured the skin, and it mixed with the rain as it ran down his bruised arms.
“I’ll kill you.”
A tense silence followed. Shoes halted in their steps – the figure behind Childe stunned into silence as lightning struck against the ground and the building shook beneath them. In the back of his mind, Childe was distantly aware that it could collapse at any moment and bury them in the rubble.
He almost wished for it.
Slowly, Childe rose to his feet. His head hung low as he stared at the scarred floor. He imagined the Geo Archon spread beneath him, bloodied and bruised. There were unspeakable things Childe could do to him. His fingers twitched furiously, the rush of blood through his veins egging him to show the Heavens how horrible he could be.
“Childe –”
“I’ll kill you and I’ll burn every inch of this place to the ground. If you think I’ll let you go, you’re wrong. I don’t care what happens, I’ll kill every last single person and burn them in front of your fucking statue!”
Childe turned and lunged, but his movement was cut short. Chains, spectral and glowing, burst through the wooden floor, shacking around his wrists and pulling him down to his knees as his blades fell from his hands. A sharp, knife-like points bit into his skin, drawing blood. Their brown, stone chains were engraved with groves of molten gold, their lines pulsated with a bright aura. With each pulse, Childe felt the energy draining from his body.
“Let go of me, dammit! I’ll kill you, you bastard!”
“Stop struggling or you will hurt yourself,” Zhongli spoke calmly. In the darkness, his eyes were luminescent. The tattoos along his arms peaked from his shirt and Childe could see them glowing faintly. A sign of power – their pulsated with the same rhythm as the chains wrapped around Childe’s arms.
He gnashed his teeth together, snarling like a wild animal as his legs bent. With every ounce of energy he had left, Childe fought the pull of the chains and tried to edge closer.
“Don’t fucking speak to me like this – I’ll crack your fucking skull open,” Childe’s voice was raw and it cracked, “Do you think you can speak to me like this after everything you’ve done? Bastard! I’ll kill –”
A fist cracked against his skull.
Childe reeled. He stumbled back, then shook his head and lunged again, “Mother fucker, I’ll choke you on a fucking spike!”
The air left his lungs.
A foot slammed against his chest and the force sent him flying back. His back hit the wall. Childe’s vision blurred and he cried out as he felt a fist slammed into his stomach. The sound of breaking wood gave Childe a second warning before a stone collar formed around his neck and a chain shackled him to the wall. Choking, he gasped for air as blood dripped from his mouth.
“Fuck – you broke my fucking rib,” Childe screamed as he fought the urge to vomit on the ground. Bile rose in the back of his throat, and he swallowed it as his wrists yanked at the chains. The shackles refused to give.
“You attempted to destroy the entire Capital of my nation and failed. Do you believe you’re worthy to speak to me like this?”
Childe looked up. Though he looked the same, Zhongli spoke to him coldly – a sudden ruthlessness in his voice that Childe had never heard before. He tugged pitifully, jostling the chains again, and coughed, “Kill yourself, old man. You needed to rely on someone else to fix your fucking mess! You’re weak. Morax, the God of Lies? You’re the God of Cowards –”
Zhongli slapped him.
The strike of his burned across Childe’s face. It throbbed beneath the skin, adding to the pain of the bruise that had already been there.
“You will not speak to me like this Childe – after everything you’ve done, you do not get to be this angry or call me a coward. Look at me and drop the act.”
Pointedly, Childe kept his gaze fixated on the chains. He saw the place where the geo construct had penetrated his skin, embedding itself into the flesh and drawing blood. Each time he pulled at them, a small rivet of blood leaked down his wrist, falling to the ground.
A hand seized his jaw.
“Look at me.”
Childe snarled, and he spit on Zhongli’s shoes, “You and that dead bitch are gonna have a lot to talk about it when I'm done burying you beneath your statue.”
Zhongli released his jaw. He took a step back and sighed, “You really don’t know when to stop fighting, do you?”
Before Childe could respond, a shoe fell, stomping on the precious space between his legs. His vision went white, disappearing as his own scream deafened his ears. Childe doesn’t know when stopped screaming, or how much time passed before his vision returned. But, when it does, Zhongli’s fingers are in his hair, pulling his head back and forcing him to look up.
“Childe, I don’t want to hurt you, but this is the last chance I will give you. Let’s talk as adults .”
Let’s talk as adults.
The words fell over him, washing cooly across every inch of his body. Then, it burned. Ajax heard it repeating, again and again, reminding him of a different time. A memory from a lifetime ago fluttered by – reminding him of how awful it was to trust someone and feel their hands on your skin after they hurt you. He choked on it. Memories. Too many – they flooded his mind. He could feel hands on his skin, touching and exploring places that should have been left alone. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. He mixed the memory of Zhongli inside with the distant, creeping pain of a man much older. Crueller, too.
A voice reminding him not to cry – weakness was a sin.
Sin.
The concept drove Ajax insane. He bit his tongue to silence his own screaming thoughts. Then, he tasted the blood and tried to gather himself.
“I bet you liked to hit her too, didn’t you? You must have loved rubbing one out when Guizhong died. I bet that made you real happy, you sick fuck –”
A fist cracked against his head. Zhongli stuck Childe’s temple, and the Harbinger yelped from the pain. The words had left his mouth before he could stop himself, but there was no time to pull them back. The chains broke, crumbling into dust, and Childe fell to the floor. The fingers returned to his hair and they yanked him onto his feet, pulling, as his feet clumsily stumbled forward.
Zhongli dragged him to the desk against the wall — one of the few remaining pieces of furniture still intact. Bending Childe over it, Zhongli snatched his wrists and held them against the wall. A new chain forms, shackling Childe’s wrist to the wall, and reality washed over him.
Dumbly, Childe looked up at the new chain and snarled, “Let go of me, asshole! Fight me like a fucking man!”
The hand in his hair twisted the ginger strands until Childe winced in pain, then it pulled his head up and slammed it against the wood. Once. Twice. A sickening crack rang in Childe’s ears. Blood trickled from his nose. He tasted it on his lips and watched the droplets splatter against the wood.
His heart skipped a beat – anxious.
It froze as the sound of a belt coming undone filled the silence.
“Wait – what are you doing?”
Childe glanced back. He saw the brief glint of a metal clasp – glittering as the moonlight glinted off the shiny surface. In the darkness, Zhongli was shrouded by shadows. His face was dark. Unnaturally serious. When he caught Childe’s gaze, his amber eyes were incandescent.
He placed the belt on the furthest edge of the bed.
“You’re drunk. In less than a day, you have tried to bring ruin to my nation and drown an unnamed number of people in the name of your Tsaritsa. Though the conflict has ended, you’ve threatened me and dishonored the people I love,” Zhongli listed his crimes sternly – the same unflinching coldness in his voice as if he were reciting a list of groceries, “I will not tolerate this behavior nor will I encourage, and it seems sex is the only language your brain can understand.”
Childe’s fingers clenched, “You can’t be serious. This – this isn’t right!”
“Trying to kill an untold number of people simply to summon the attention of God isn’t right – it’s fanatical. You’ve been left undisciplined for far too long.”
For the first time in years, Ajax felt afraid.
His stomach clenched – tightening dangerously until it felt like it would burst as he felt legs brush against his own. The heat off Zhongli’s body was warm, and Ajax shuddered as he tried to move away. Dexterous fingers worked at his pants, undoing the buttons. With ease, the fabric fell and bunched around Childe’s ankles as his underwear joined it. No – he wouldn’t. This is crazy. The thoughts swarmed his head. His heart pounded beneath his chest, and Childe flinched as he felt the cold air brush against his naked ass and fingers lightly prod at his cock.
When the smooth satin rubbed against the bruises forming on his balls, Childe bit his lip to stifle a pained cry.
“Stop this at once!”
The belt slipped from view.
Choking down his anxiety, Childe glanced over his shoulder and he watched with wide eyes as Zhongli wrapped the belt in half, holding the metal clasp tightly in his hand. Then, he took a step back and raised his hand. Something deep inside Childe shifted – a sudden awareness and fear intermixed with guilt as he saw the stony look on Zhongli’s face.
Only a day ago, he had looked at Childe with such radiant warmth.
“Wait – hold on –”
The belt came down, striking across the upper part of his ass. Childe’s body seized, tensing up as he jumped from the sharp sting of pain. His teeth clenched together, the muscles in his jaw tightening despite the aching bruises scattered across the skin. Fingers curling, Childe held tightly to the chains.
“Morax – stop this! Enough –”
Childe stammered as he attempted to turn backward to glance at him.
Zhongli remained silent. Pointedly, he ignored the Harbinger’s cries. Instead, he raised the belt and brought his palm down harshly again, striking the leather across the lower part of Childe’s ass. Then, after taking a moment to appreciate the weak yelp and panicked cry it drew, he began to slam the leather against the pale freckled ass in rapid succession.
“Stop it now!”
The bitter humiliation burned him, spreading the scorching pain from his ass across every inch of his limbs. Childe squirmed and wiggled, desperately trying to find some way to escape the onslaught of harsh smacks. He hissed with each strike, bouncing and squirming as the pain coursed through his body. There was no escape, each stroke was followed by another within seconds. Zhongli was relentless and determined, calculating each stroke to deal the same damage as before. The belt fell in quick succession, each hit controlled. Each one gave Childe neither a break nor beat him in a frenzy. Instead, they were cold and ruthless - a punishment, rather than an act of malice or a simple deterrent. Childe gasped and shouted with each hit, his legs shaking violently as he tried to accustom himself to the sharp pain. Each hit sent him bucking forward, desperate to escape the relentless assault.
Childe’s vision blurred, his sight obscured by tears.
In the corner of his vision, he saw the bed where they had laid earlier – wrapped in each other’s arms and basked in the afterglow of their mutual orgasm. Why? Childe felt his shame scratched across his heart, and it warred with the guilt that crushed him as he remembered how nice it had been to have Zhongli’s arms wrap around him.
He missed it.
“Zhongli –”
Childe sobbed his name, whimpering as he tried to control himself. He arched his head to look back, eyes batting away the tears that formed. Behind him, Zhongli stood relaxed. His face was impassive, deaf to Childe’s shouts and cries. They remained locked in that position for some time. Childe’s demands fell on deaf ears until eventually, they stopped, replaced by quiet whimpers and yelps.
He gave up.
The bitter sting of defeat ate away at his lingering pride. Childe slumped across the desk and clung to the chains, desperately trying to hold himself steady as he felt something crack inside him. Tears dripped down his face, mixing with the small pool of blood from his nose. Eyes fluttering close, Childe let each strike shake him. He mouthed silent prayers against the wood.
A palm pressed against his skin.
With a sudden, familiar kindness, the hand touched and felt the intense heat radiating off the marks. Instantly, the muscle clenched and twitched, shivers of anticipation coursing through Childe as his quiet breaths hitched.
He waited for a strike that never came.
Instead, Zhongli sighed and rubbed a gentle circle against Childe’s back. He pressed the pad of his thumb down, expertly finding the tight knots beneath the skin. Pushing down, he dragged his finger in a circular motion.
Childe hiccuped, desperately trying to blink away the tears that had formed in his eyes. Though the touch was soft, he couldn’t help but shudder each time Zhongli’s hands touched him.
Why is he suddenly being kind?
Cautiously, Childe took a shaky breath and raised his head. Against his better judgment, he turned and peaked at Zhongli. Their eyes locked. Childe’s heart stopped.
“As I said, I never wanted to hurt you.”
Reaching out, Zhongli pushed back a wet lock of hair that had fallen in front of Childe’s face. Childe flinched at the touch. It sickened him. Too gentle. Too kind. Too intimate. Childe felt sick of himself – tired of the way he wanted to lean into the touch. But, he wanted it.
Even if it made him a fool, for a moment, Ajax wanted to pretend like they could make this work.
He buried his head back in his arm and took in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry –”
Zhongli went quiet for a moment. His hand stilled, spread across a bruise that ached beneath his touch. In the silence, the only sound remaining was the light patter of rain against the dilapidated hostel and the sound of Ajax’s shuddering gasps for air.
The sound was obnoxious in Ajax’s ears.
“I’m sorry – I –”
Ajax’s voice shook. Deep and gravelly, the sound was barely above a hoarse whisper. He tried to find the words to describe the ache in his chest, but they escaped him. What could say – what did he want to say? Locked away behind the bars of ribs, Ajax’s heart fought a desperate battle between pride and exhaustion. The endless war drove him mad. His mind shifted between a desire to scream and a desire to cry.
In the bottom of his soul, a lonely, fragile piece of Ajax felt aroused.
Horny.
God, what the fuck is wrong with me?
Ajax squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away the heavy weight of his erection. He was all too aware of the way his body shuddered – a byproduct of the cold and a longing. A part of him missed the pain of the belt. His cock ached, twitching and bobbing as pleasure coursed through his veins.
The sight did not go unnoticed.
“You’re hard.”
Zhongli’s hand traveled down, stroking Ajax’s back as it went, and brushed against his balls. His fingers gently cupped the bruised organs and fondled them, rolling them gently as Ajax gasped. His body involuntarily bucked, pushing back against the warm hand as his mind struggled to piece itself together.
“Do you want me to hurt you?”
Ajax cursed himself – his body, his heart, and the way his soul melted when he heard the words. Desperate longing coursed through his veins, electrifying every inch of his skin. He wanted it. Nauseating. Pleasing. His hands shook as Zhongli’s hand wrapped around his cock and stroked him, pumping him slowly as pre-cum dripped steadily from the tip.
Through gritted teeth, Ajax wheezed a quiet, shaky reply, “Yes, please. I want you.”
“But do you want me to hurt you?”
Goddamit.
Ajax’s nails scratched against the chains. I don’t want this – I don’t want to beg. The hand on his cock squeezed, a thumb pressing ever-so-slightly against the leaking slit, and Ajax keened. He whined loudly, “Yes. Hurt me, please. Zhongli, I want you to hurt me.”
The chains vanished, dissipating in a small cloud of light-golden dust. Ajax collapsed onto the desk and he breathed a heavy sigh as he felt the comforting, cool touch of the wood against his cheek.
“Good boy, Ajax.”
Zhongli’s hand slapped across his thighs, striking harshly and brushing against Ajax’s balls. Ajax gave a quiet sob. His fingers curled against the wood, scratching lightly, and his hips bucked – fucking the hand that held him tightly. Why does it feel so good? His mind felt heavy. When Zhongli’s hand abandoned his cock, Ajax felt his world crumbling around him and he sobbed. He quickly picked himself up off the desk, reaching behind to grab Zhongli’s shirt. The fabric was wet and slippery between his fingers, but he tugged it incessantly. He needed him. More than anything, Ajax needed to feel Zhongli’s hands on his skin and prick.
“Zhongli, please –”
A hand slapped directly across his balls. Yelping, Ajax winced and grunted as he was pushed back down onto the table. Fingers scratched down across his back, painting long red lines across the mismatched pools of freckles painted across his skin.
“Quiet. I’ll give you what you want in a moment – not a second sooner,” Zhongli hushed him. He took a step back. His hands quickly worked his cock free of his pants. Ajax watched him stroke himself, mesmerized by the sight of the long, aching cock. The veins stood proudly beneath the skin, which glistened as Zhongli’s long fingers spread pre-cum over himself with every slow pump.
He looked up – meeting Ajax’s gaze, then brought his hand down harshly across his ass.
Ajax yelped.
His fingers clawed across the wood, tearing through the wet polish and smearing blood across the surface. Eyes wrenching shut, he gasped as he felt a hand grab his ass. Rough, unkind fingers groped and pulled the muscle, squeezing it tightly. Ajax whined, shuddering from the pain. He buried his head in his arm, biting his own skin as Zhongli’s hand grabbed the other side of his ass and repeated the treatment.
God, he’s never been like this.
Ajax pushed back, offering himself to the hands. His legs trembled as he waited, and his breaths came out in quiet, little pants as he fought to keep himself steady. It occurred to him how wrong it was – to feel this way and to let himself be so willingly abused. Ajax had always known something was different about him. Even before the Abyss had swallowed him whole, his psyche was damaged.
Maybe he was born fucked up.
Hands tangled in his hair and yanked him up, lifting him off the desk as an arm wrapped around his neck. His fingers scratched and tore at the wet skin, though the effort was stuttered and lazy. Zhongli brought his fingers up and pushed them against the Harbinger’s lips. When Ajax opened his mouth and eagerly lapped at them, Zhongli grunted in quiet approval. He pushed the fingers back, further and further until Ajax choked. Lazily, he thrusted them in and out, grinding his cock against Ajax’s naked backside as he fingerfucked his mouth.
Zhongli groaned into his ear, teeth scraping against the skin as he rolled his hips, “Good boy – you’re much more tolerable like this than when you’re running your mouth.”
“Mmnf –”
Ajax’s eyes watered. He felt the wetness smearing across his skin, and he moaned loudly as Zhongli’s cock brushed against his own. His hand lightly smacked against the desk – desperately trying to release the building frustration.
I want him to just fuck me already.
Like a prayer answered, the fingers retreated from his mouth. His tongue followed them, offering a last coy lick as he broke the string of saliva connecting them. When Zhongli pressed them against his entrance, Ajax felt his soul leaving his body.
“Gods – please –”
“So eager,” Zhongli chided him. He teased the wet tips of his fingers against the tight ring, teasing it. Each time Zhongli drew a circle across it, the muscle twitched and fluttered. “Does the Tsaritsa not train you to control yourself, or does she always encourage such reckless behavior?”
Ajax frowned.
The mention of his Queen brought back the guilt, but the feeling was fleeting. It dissipated entirely when he felt Zhongli’s teeth suddenly bite down on his shoulder and break through the skin. A free hand – one not occupied with playing with his entrance – gripped Ajax’s hips to hold him still. The fingers retreated from his entrance and Ajax felt his heart skip a beat as he waited for them to return.
“Tell me, what would your Queen say if she saw how desperate her rabid little dog was acting?”
“I’m not –”
Zhongli’s cock buried itself inside him – splitting Ajax open and burying itself to the hilt. Ajax screamed. He coughed, air punched from his lungs as he felt his insides burning. Tears dripped from his clenched eyes. Deeper, the intruding member sunk further into him – forcing its way through his unwilling body. It split him apart. With every inch he took, Ajax could feel himself tearing. Warm blood leaked down his quivering thighs. His stomach churned and bit into his sides, gnashing its teeth as his organs shifted.
His cock throbbed in excitement.
“Gods, please, don’t stop,” Ajax cried. He slapped at the desk, hands pathetically twitching as he tried to ease the burning ache. “Zhongli, fuck me – it feels so good.”
Zhongli slammed his head back down to the desk. His hands formed shackles around Ajax’s neck and hip, ruthlessly holding him still. They lay there for a moment, Zhongli’s cock submerged in Ajax. Draping himself across Ajax’s back, he licked at the sweat forming on his shoulder and the small droplets of blood leaking from his bite.
He offered Ajax a last, sweet kiss on the cheek, “If only the other Harbingers were trained to act like a bitch in heat, the Tsaritsa might find more allies in her endeavors.”
“Don’t say that –”
Ajax sobbed, voice shaking as they smacked together. Whimpering, Ajax bit down on his lip, grunting in pain as Zhongli set a particularly punishing pace. The slap of their wet skin echoed loudly in his head. He focused on breathing, trying to instruct his lungs to take in and hold in the air properly. In and out – Gods, he’s going to kill me. Ajax clung desperately to the desk as it rocked beneath them. His voice was a chorus of hoarse grunts and quiet wheezing. In and out. But, the air felt finite, and the effort became useless. For every breath Ajax was able to swallow, a rough thrust punched it from his lungs. Pleasure and pain bled into one, combined with the elusiveness of oxygen, to melt his mind from his body. It felt good. Even though the humiliation of Zhongli’s words made him want to scream, every hard press of Zhongli’s cock against his prostate sent him spiraling downwards. He willfully met each thrust or tried to at least. Pleasure churned and tightened in his stomach. A warmth quickly built, though the electrifying pleasure that fueled it spasmed through his limbs. The hands on his hips prevented him from doing much else except lying and taking Zhongli’s cock.
“Shit!”
Ajax flinched as Zhongli’s palm released his hip and stuck across his ass, bringing forwards a harsh sound and a cruel burn. The sting of pain brought fresh tears to streak down his cheeks and Ajax’s cock throbbed in response. Beneath him, the head bobbed angrily as it wept – pre-cum steadily dripping and collecting in a small puddle beneath him.
“Such a good boy – taking me so deep like this. You should have asked me to be rough with you from the start, we get along much better like this.” Zhongli grunted, growling quietly as he pressed a kiss to Ajax’s neck.
There was something heartbreaking about his words.
Even as Ajax moaned freely and his eyes rolled back in momentary blinding ecstasy, his chest ached. The bruises on his ribs were nothing compared to the weight of his heart. Tears born from pleasure streaked down Ajax’s face bitterly – released as he tried to drown the sound of Zhongli’s words from his head.
We get along much better like this.
Enemies.
Unkind lovers – ones days away from boarding a ship and leaving forever. Maybe they should have been more honest with each other, but Ajax couldn’t help the way he craved the warmth. In his mind, he could rebuild the moment into something more kind. The warmth of a fire, the comfort of soft sheets, the faint smell of lavender – Ajax held the precious memory of the room in his heart. Unscathed. Unbroken. It felt like an impossible dream as he clawed at the rain-ruined desk.
Passion tore him apart – ripping his insides as blood lubricated the vicious slide of Zhongli’s cock. And while Ajax loved it, a part of him desperately missed the comfort of kindness. When the ache for it built – equally consuming as the pleasure electrifying his nerves, Ajax reached down to stroke himself.
Just a little more.
“I’m so closed, please don’t stop –”
He pleaded with a broken voice. Syllables, roughened and slurred from drunken pleasure, mixed. Ajax sounded like a wreck. Zhongli’s tongue lapped over his rain-soaked skin, lavishing it with attention. His teeth continued branding deep marks into Ajax's skin. For each time he drew blood, Zhongli rewarded Ajax with a rough punch against his prostate. Still, there was a sudden unexpected kindness in the way Zhongli held him.
Possessive.
Fingertips dug bruises into Ajax’s hip as they helped him move, yanking him into each thrust as he shuddered. The inconsistency of it drove him insane. Careful. A gentle brush – lips against the length of his tense neck. Loving. A tongue reached out and licked at the sweat, teasing the vein heavy with a heartbeat beneath Ajax’s skin.
Yet, Zhongli fucked him like he wanted to kill him.
Head pushed down, Ajax sobbed and stared ahead at the blurry outlines of the room. Spit dripped from the corners of his mouth. Each thrust rocked through him, jostling him and unseating his brain. The pleasure became distant, and the pain equally so. As he felt the distant curl of his toes and his cock swelling beneath him, Ajax’s fingers drew mindless shapes across the desk.
“You take my cock so well –”
The words were lost on him.
Ajax felt himself leaving his body. From somewhere in the darkened ethereal plane, he watched himself arch his back and scream Zhongli’s name. With wide, hopeless eyes, Ajax stroked himself. The sight of it was bizarre. A part of him wondered if he had died – silently struck down by Celestia for his crimes, or as an act of mercy.
But, the distant concept dissolved.
“Come for me, Childe – be a good boy.”
The command transported Ajax back into his body as his cock splurted cum across the desk. Suddenly, the pain flooded his senses and he felt his vision go white. He lost control of himself – the hurried press of Zhongli’s cock was the only thing keeping him awake. It was only when Zhongli buried himself deep inside Ajax and came deep inside him that Ajax finally let his eyes flutter shut. He felt the warm seed staining him, and the way it leaked as Zhongli slowly pulled himself from Ajax’s body. For a moment, the world melted around him.
When it finally returned, Ajax could hear the shuffle of clothes and the click of Zhongli’s shoes as he walked away in complete silence.
“Hey, are you alright?”
Childe ran a hand through his hair. Quickly, he wiped away the stray tears that fell down his face. His breaths were quick and frenzied. Looking around, Childe blinked wearily and tried to see through the blanket of darkness that had cloaked the room.
Where am I?
He rubbed at his eyes – forcing the exhaustion to dissipate. In his head, he took stock of the furniture and banners. Wardrobe. Blue and white banners.
“What’s wrong, cutie? You’re freaking me out a bit.”
A soft hand touched his chest. Slim, gentle fingers rubbed his skin, coaxing it comforting with slow, irritating motions. But, the discomfort was comforting. Childe sighed in relief as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. Chuckling, he snatched the hand and pinned it down, climbing on top of the person beside him.
She smiled at him, blue eyes twinkling mischievously in the dark, “Bad dream?”
You don’t even know the half of it, girlie.
Childe raised her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist. He beamed down at her with a playful grin, “Oh yeah, the worst.”
“What was it?”
Breathlessly, she giggled as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her chest. With chaste quick kisses, Childe kissed her collarbone and inhaled the smell of rosemary and soap. He hated it. When she ran her fingers down the side of his neck and over the dark, scarred mark on his shoulder, Childe fought the urge to run from the room. In the back of his mind, he heard Pantalone’s voice mocking him.
Just because you’re being deployed doesn’t mean you get to skip on my other mission for you, darling. The Duchess asked for you specifically. Be a good boy and play nice – if I hear you were being bad, I’ll have no choice but to punish you and I’m not in the mood to be kind anymore.
“Well, come on, tell me!”
Childe threw the blanket off them. Taking the long slender legs in his hands, he gently placed them on his shoulder and spread them as he settled between her thighs. A quiet gasp and an eager pull of his hair encouraged him to get closer, and he obliged as he offered the woman a coy grin, “I woke up and you weren’t here – waiting to have another round with me.”
He hated every word he spoke.
Every motion of his tongue and mouth as a stranger screamed his name. A fake name – a fake persona. He thought about the Captain. The hand on his shoulder. You should rest. Was there any amount of rest that could ease the weight? Even in his sleep, Childe’s memories ate away at him. The moment he closed his eyes, he heard the words replaying in the back of his mind.
We get along much better like this.
The worst part of it all was that Childe agreed – they were never meant to be lovers. But, for a moment, he believed that maybe someone could love him in a way that wouldn’t hurt him.