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my name in these moments

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Childe doesn’t submit and go down easily. He never does, it’s just not in him. No matter how badly he wants it, how badly he knows he needs it, he can’t help but struggle every time. Like now, for example. He’s back from a lengthy and stressful mission that lasted far too long and provided exactly zero opportunities for combat and exactly three annoyingly patronizing interactions with Signora. Their ship has barely docked in Liyue Harbor before he’s moving quickly through familiar streets. He bursts through Zhongli’s front door to find the man drinking tea while flipping mindlessly through a book. Zhongli looks up at him and he can feel the man cataloging his wide eyes and his manic smile. Understanding dawns on his face and Childe darts forward with a wordless shout, pushing Zhongli’s chair away from the table just enough so that he can climb into his lap.


Zhongli lets him have this, lets him tangle his fingers into the hair at the back of his head to pull him into a desperate kiss. Childe is ferocious, desperate, needy as he plunges his tongue into Zhongli’s mouth. He dominates their kiss, pulling Zhongli’s hair and grinding his steadily-hardening cock into Zhongli’s lap. It’s bliss, pleasure, relief. And then, like the tide, Zhongli’s control begins to rise over him.


It always escapes him at first because he’s usually so distracted by this point. Zhongli pulls Childe’s hips into his own like he’s looking for friction but then his strong hands are trapping him there, restricting his movement. His tongue chases Childe’s own back into his mouth and suddenly he’s the one matching Zhongli instead of setting the pace. The realization slowly begins to dawn and he finds himself aware but unconcerned.


Zhongli brings a hand to the back of his neck and presses two of his nails sharply along the top of his spine. It sends a jolt through Childe and he blinks. The motion is so familiar now that he doesn’t have to think. Childe goes back to scrabbling at Zhongli’s chest and bites at his tongue and Zhongli presses another nail down. There’s three, now. If Childe wants to stop, all he has to do is freeze, or reach up and pull Zhongli’s hand away. But he doesn’t want to stop now, he wants more, he needs more . He groans and surges against Zhongli’s chest, nearly hard enough to tip them both over and out of the chair. Zhongli presses his fourth nail against the skin stretched thinly over bone, slowly but firmly, giving him one last chance. Childe yanks at his hair and that’s it.


Zhongli moves his legs to unbalance Childe in his lap and uses his hold on the nape of his neck to shove him down to the floor on his knees. Childe, despite having just agreed to Zhongli’s assumption of control, immediately bares his teeth and moves to get up, trying to get back to where he wants to be. He might’ve been a gentle breeze against a mountain for all the good it does him; Zhongli puts a single hand on his shoulder and he can’t move. He still tries, of course, not yet ready to stop struggling, and Zhongli pulls him forward until his face is smothered in the crotch of the man’s fine pants. He gasps against the warm bulge pressed to his cheek and turns his head to mouth at it without thinking, his body temporarily falling still under Zhongli’s hands. 


“Yes, dearest,” Zhongli breathes. Childe can see him tipping his head back slightly while his eyes stay on Childe’s face. “Is this not exactly where you belong? On your knees at my feet, ready to serve me as I bid you?” Childe renews his wriggling with an angry hiss even as the words send heat coiling and throbbing low in his belly.


“I want–” His words are halted when Zhongli presses two fingers against his tongue and uses his thumb to press up under his chin, preventing him from speaking.


“Ah, but this is not about what you want, is it?” The man says, golden eyes gaining a subtle glow. “It is about what I am going to give you.” Zhongli’s fingers press forward a little deeper into his mouth and his eyes flutter as he gags on them. He slumps back down to his knees, distracted by the way they slip over his tongue, slowly thrusting in and out. “I am certain you will be good and take it.”


This time, the flash of defiance that sears through him is weak in comparison to the steadily rising desire to obey, but he can’t resist. He bites at the fingers between his lips, harshly enough to hurt. The way Zhongli’s eyes narrow sends a thrill through him. Zhongli runs one hand to the back of his head, pulling tightly at the hair there and making Childe moan. His other hand he uses to undo the clasp of his pants and pull himself free. He drags the leaking head of his erection across Childe’s cheek but when Childe opens his mouth and leans forward, Zhongli plants his foot on his folded legs and shoves him back. He’s balanced only with the help of the other man’s hold in his hair, torso stretched along the length of Zhongli’s leg and crotch inches from Zhongli’s foot. He presses his face into Zhongli’s knees, the closest he can now get to his cock, and pretends the sound that comes out of him isn’t a whine.


“I can see that you don't want my help. As you wish. You will open yourself for me, then, while I watch you.” I want that anyway , Childe thinks, which is always what he thinks before he drops down. Might as well . He struggles out of his pants, a task made more difficult by the fact that Zhongli does not release his hold on his hair or allow him to move his body closer. Before he tosses them to the side, he digs out the little bottle of oil and pops the cork, spilling lube over his fingers. He reaches one hand back to tease at his hole, fingertips slipping over sensitive skin, before he runs out of patience. He slides one finger, then rather shortly two, into himself and lets out a long, low sound of satisfaction. The feeling of them thrusting inside him is good, but not as good as it could be. He crooks them at different angles as he stretches himself but he can’t find the spot that makes his bones feel like liquid. He huffs and brings his free hand to curl around his own erection instead.


“I did not say to touch your cock,” Zhongli chides, and both Childe’s hands stop as he looks up at Zhongli. The man is slowly fisting himself, head tilted back against the chair and golden eyes watching Childe. Childe is enraptured by the sight for a long moment and it isn’t until he feels the fingers of his free hand press into his own mouth, much like Zhongli’s had just before, that he realizes that he’s fingering his ass and his mouth with his same rhythm. It’s hypnotic in a way, and the world narrows down to this moment, this space. The manic energy that consumed him before, the desperation and jittery need, begins to dissipate. 


As his greater awareness fades, he relaxes into what’s happening. His hands move only when Zhongli’s hand moves. His wide eyes have become half-lidded as his breathing slows. There is still pleasure, of course there is, but it seems a bit farther away from him now. At the moment, the words Zhongli is whispering between them have much more of his attention. 


“Look at you, baobei, with your fingers stuffed inside you. Exactly as I said, perfect. You’re doing so well,” Zhongli says, and the praise makes him whine around his own fingers. Zhongli speeds up the rhythm for a minute, testing Childe, but when he returns to an almost painfully slow pace, Childe follows without hesitation or complaint. Zhongli’s grip on his hair loosens for a moment but he doesn’t move. The man smiles down at him. “Come here.”


Childe blinks for a moment before freeing his hands and crawling forward to kneel in the space between Zhongli’s thighs the man opens for him. Childe’s mouth is empty and that seems wrong, but before he can press his fingers between his lips once more, Zhongli pulls him forward enough to slot the head of his cock inside instead. His eyes flutter as Zhongli works him up and down his cock, his fingers in Childe’s hair once more as he guides him with that same slow pace. Childe moves only to get a hand behind himself to keep stretching his hole, but his free hand rests on his thigh, unmoving, waiting for Zhongli’s next instruction. Zhongli murmurs praise and endearments and Childe loses his sense of time entirely.


Zhongli pulls out but Childe doesn’t protest or whine as his own movements inside himself stop as well. He rests his head on Zhongli’s knee as the man traces a light finger over his brow and thumbs over his cheek. He brushes against Childe’s swollen lips and sighs in contentment. “There you are, my good boy. My Ajax.” Childe shivers in response to the name. He can only really handle hearing it when he’s fully dropped into a submissive haze, but when he does, it makes his whole body thrum with pleasure. Every other time, the name is too tied up in his struggle with his identity and purpose and pains him to hear. But now, hearing it reminds him that he’s with someone who has seen all of him, every part, and is still here caring for him. It’s intimate and sensual in a way nothing else is.


Zhongli easily hauls him up into his lap once more in a show of strength that would be completely surprising if one didn’t know his true identity. He pulls Childe’s hips forward and tilts them just slightly so that his tip slots in Childe’s stretched hole. A far-off desire to slam himself down and make himself full, to chase his own pleasure, forms in his mind, but it’s easy to let go. Zhongli will tell him what to do, will give him what he needs. He doesn’t need to worry about it.


Ajax ,” Zhongli breathes into his ear as he slowly pulls Childe’s hips down to meet his own. Childe moans unreservedly, hands coming to rest on Zhongli’s shoulders as he’s steadily filled. When their hips finally meet and Childe is fully seated, Zhongli pets a hand down his still-clothed back and presses kisses to his face and neck. His hand comes up to the nape of his neck and he drags his nails over the marked skin there, checking in, and Childe turns his head to kiss him more fully. When they pull apart, Zhongli cups his cheek gently and smiles at him. 


“You know how I want it, good boy.” Childe nods and lifts himself slowly before dropping down slightly faster but with much more force. Zhongli groans loudly and grips his thighs tightly enough that Childe knows there will be bruises for him to admire later. He keeps going, maintaining the same pace from earlier, allowing the pleasure to build for the both of them. When Zhongli’s breaths have turned to soft pants, he changes the angle slightly and curls his hand around Childe’s cock. Zhongli grinds against Childe’s prostate and he whimpers, the sound growing to a shout as his achingly hard erection finally receives some attention. Zhongli fists him slightly faster and Childe matches his pace once more, taking Zhongli as deeply as he can and clenching around him to make him shudder and breathe his name. 


“Ajax, oh, Ajax , that’s it, that’s perfect! Ah , yes, you’re taking me so well.” The both of them are getting louder now, Zhongli’s praises growing in volume and Childe’s wordless sounds of pleasure echoing around them. The sound of their coupling is obscene as it becomes more frantic and it turns Childe on even further. Zhongli bites at the shell of his ear and whispers, “good, Ajax, you’re so good.” Childe is shaking in his arms, gasping for breath, teetering on the edge. Zhongli slams him down firmly and groans, filling him with heat, rubbing his thumb under the head of Childe’s cock, and Childe is gone.

It’s not unusual for him to forget this part, but he knows it happens. Zhongli does it every time, without fail, and sometime during the process Childe will come back to awareness. Sometimes he blinks his eyes open to find Zhongli softly running a damp cloth between his sticky thighs, sometimes it’s to Zhongli coaxing him into taking small sips of water. Most often, though, he comes to at this part, where Zhongli is laying him in their bed and pulling him up onto his chest, petting a gentle hand down his naked spine and speaking to him.


“-couldn’t get her to stop hunting and eating flowers, which wasn’t truly a problem until– ah, are you with me, baobei?” Childe nods sleepily into Zhongli’s shoulder and the man huffs a laugh. “Can you tell me, dearest? I want to hear you.”


“I‘m here, ‘m tired, ‘m fine,” he mumbles. “Let me sleep, you old dragon.” He tucks his face into Zhongli’s neck and sighs in satisfaction as the man runs a gentle fingertip over the crescent-shaped marks he knows line the top of his spine.


“Of course,” he says, and they relax into sleep.