Chapter Text
Childe does not bring up the unsettling changes that have happened to his body. They have such a short time together, he… he doesn’t want to waste it. Not on something like this.
So, he ignores it. Stuffs the concerns he would have into the back of his mind and grasps at what normalcy he can find.
It’s the early mornings of Childe tearing through the cabin, as Zhongli calmly goes through a routine. The two of them together have burned through the last of the coffee, so Zhongli has taken to testing out different combinations of plants to make tea.
A few times it’s disastrous, and even proper, polite Zhongli doesn’t refrain from spitting it out. Mostly, though, it’s pleasant. Zhongli has a knack for bringing out flavors Childe has never tasted, and he welcomes having something to warm his body in these early dawns.
The nights, far and few between, when they manage to keep their hands to themselves. Childe enjoys these almost as much, letting himself drape across Zhongli’s lap like some oversized cat as he attempts to thumb through one of Childe’s books.
Childe makes one hell of a distraction. He can’t keep his mouth shut, and for a seemingly endless time, he just talks.
Childe opens up more about his home country. What little Zhongli knows of Snezhnaya is topical, if not clearly dated. He wonders, for a moment, what kind of literature has made its way over to the harbor. Certainly nothing from this century.
But, Archons, Childe has not talked to someone like this in ages. Even before his solitude, before the Fatui, he thinks in a moment of morbid fascination, that Zhongli might be his first friend.
And, the afternoons when their work is drawing to a close.
Childe has taken to watching Zhongli. It’s a wistful yearning he never thought himself capable of, but here he is- child of the Abyss, one ex-Fatui Harbinger- pining over an eccentric man he dug up in the woods.
Childe’s shoes dig deep in the snow. He sits on the edge of the porch, arms crossed over his knees. A pile of shiny river rocks- the kinds he knows Zhongli likes, perfectly symmetrical with delicate patterns- by his side along with his haul from the day.
There’s enough fish to salt and last the week. He’s spent the past days in a rush, trying to tie up any loose ends. Food, water, firewood. Any other necessities. There’s a storm brewing on the horizon. He can smell it in the tumultuous air.
Snezhnayan blizzards are unpredictable. They can last of few hours or days. Childe does not want to risk the latter.
Zhongli attempts to board the chickens in the coop as the weather starts to worsen. One has gotten loose in the freshly fallen snow. Despite his efforts in chasing it down, it continues to evade him for nearly ten minutes.
Childe stifles a laugh. “You almost got her that time-!”
He did not.
Zhongli groans, bent over with his hands on his knees. His head turns to Childe.
“Are you going to offer assistance?”
Childe grins. That would only ruin the fun.
“Oh no. I think you’re doing great. I would hate to interfere.”
“I beg to differ, but if you insist on being no help. I can do it myself.”
Childe watches for a while, mixed squawks and irritated huffs coming from the man, until Zhongli’s seemingly endless patience terminates. He traps the fowl between a geo construct and himself, and manages to pluck her from the ground.
Childe claps when he presents this ruffled chicken under his arm.
He relishes the sweet expression that spreads across Zhongli’s face. A rosy flush that blooms out from his nose, from the prolonged cold or from the embarrassment of Childe’s teasing, he can’t quite place.
It’s an awfully good look on him.
Zhongli catches him when he’s done. His hand snakes up to the crook of Childe’s elbow. Holding him there in the increasing snowfall. It flecks on Zhongli’s bangs, and there’s this playful glint to his eyes that makes Childe squirm. “You are such a very cruel lover to take amusement in my struggles.”
Zhongli is close enough to kiss him. In fact, for a moment, he anticipates it.
“I- uh, brought you rocks.” Childe offers when his brain stalls on him completely.
Zhongli’s eyes go round in a moment of surprise before they crinkle up with an impulsive laugh. “I see that. My thanks, Childe. They are lovely.”
Hah.
What’s this feeling that’s wormed its way inside of him? The longer they’re together the more it feels like its eating him alive.
The wind howls outside. They only managed to board up the windows a few hours earlier before the icy front became overwhelming. It’s a cruel cold. The kind that bites and pierces right through their clothes.
Childe has sunk back into the growing heat of the cabin. The stove has been stoked with fresh tinder some time ago, and its burning fills the room in a comfortable sheet of warmth. Whatever Zhongli has been working on for the past few hours smells delicious.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
He says with muted wonder. Childe steals a spoonful of stew and shoves it in his mouth. His face lights up at the taste on his tongue. It’s so good. Reminds him of the stuff he used to eat back in the fancy restaurants of the capital.
“It’s herbs, Childe, with a stock cooked down from various aromatics.” Childe crowds him to leer over the pot, not unlike an actual child trying to grab a fresh cookie from the oven. “I am in no way a chef. It is only that- ah, please excuse my bluntness- that your cooking skills lack in complexity.”
“Do you think I’d take insult to that when I have a free meal right here?”
Zhongli shivers at the hands that wrestle underneath the hem of his shirt. Childe hooks his chin over his shoulder, and the man relaxes back against him. His eyes shut for a prolonged pause with a deep inhale.
Childe’s hands grow more adventurous, and Zhongli forces them apart.
“Later, Childe. You should eat. You’re still not back to yourself yet.”
Childe backs down. So, even he’s noticed. Damn.
Dinner with Zhongli is always pleasant. The man can keep an entire conversation going just by himself, and after so many nights alone, Childe finds it something he appreciates. Honestly, he could listen to Zhongli talk all night. About literally anything. Plants, rocks, the history of his country. The nuance of woven fabrics. For a man who recalls so little about himself, his knowledge of history and so-called ‘quaint trivia’ is boundless
Archons. He’s got it bad.
Is this the kind of feeling they write about in those cheesy romance novels? Where he can simply sit across from another person, doing things as mundane as eating and explaining Liyue’s culinary attractions, and have his heart feel so full?
Childe has made a mess of his life. This is no different, like a precarious house of cards ready to tumble. What is he going to do-
What is he going to do when Zhongli inevitably leaves?
Zhongli gestures to him. He’s always so eager when talking about his homeland. It makes Childe wish-
Ah, a different time. A different life.
If only he could-
Zhongli’s voice is so smooth. Something that has grown into such a comfort even now with Childe’s nerves starting to fray.
“Liyue has two distinct cooking styles. Li and Yue. Both are steeped in long tradition. It would be worthwhile for you to try them. I will give you the tour when we go together. I know the perfect restaurants to encapsulate the experience. I believe you would quite enjoy it…” Zhongli admits almost sheepishly. “And with you, as would I.”
Childe’s heart stops.
If only he could follow.
His hand trembles with the cutlery, and he finds himself, in Zhongli’s presence, to be weak.
“I-“
Where has his voice gone? Looking at Zhongli, suddenly, it only causes him pain, and he doesn’t even know. Zhongli’s head cocks curiously at the sudden shift in Childe’s mood. Childe swallows thick. His hands claw at the edge of the table, threatening to splinter through the wood.
“Zhongli, I have to tell you something.”
He muscles up the courage with a desperate breath drawn from his lungs. He can’t bear to look at him the moment it leaves his mouth.
“I can’t go with you.”
The room falls silent, except for the wind outside buffeting against the walls of the cabin. Zhongli stiffens. He sets his cup down with such formality, and his hands go back to smooth out the folds in his clothes.
“Oh.” He punctuates.
There’s nothing for Childe to read in it. Zhongli is effectively blank.
“Please, don’t think it’s because I don’t want to. I do. Archons, fuck, I do. But-“ He shouldn’t say this. Childe needs to shut up before he lets go of something that never should have been on the table in the first place.
“But what, Childe? I did not realize your words were but empty promises.”
Oh, he’s mad.
Childe has never seen this man exhibit any anger. Frustration, sure. But anger-? Zhongli has always been kind, serene. Yet the silence from the man in front of him is oppressive; his even stare pins Childe in place.
Zhongli raises the cup back to his mouth, as if challenging Childe for an answer in the silence.
And when his glassy eyes blink and suddenly avert from Childe’s own, he understands. Just as Childe sought to cling to the normalcy of their shared moments, Zhongli clung to the normalcy of a perceived future together.
“Dammit.” Childe curses. His hands tear into his hair. If only he hadn’t felt so honest.
In a move contrary to every sense of self-preservation he has left, Childe decides to be reckless.
“Zhongli,” His hands hit the table. It catches Zhongli’s attention, and when Childe asks, “What do you know of the Fatui?”, he is completely out of breath.
Zhongli takes pause. His brow forms a furrow.
“Enough from their meddling in international affairs. But I would assume less than a Snezhnayan native.”
Is he really doing this? He’s lived in this place, in moderate security, for years. Because he kept his secret and he didn’t make connections. Here he is with Zhongli throwing them both out the window.
He wants to. Childe eagerly wants to throw himself out on this limb for the man. Lest he regret it in the future, having hurt Zhongli so deep and never letting him know the truth.
“Zhongli, I can’t go to Liyue with you because I was Fatui. I’m sure you can understand- the Fatui does not have ex-members. Traitors like me aren’t tolerated. I’m a dead man. If I went with you, I’d only put us both in danger.”
Zhongli’s mouth pulls grim.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know who you were, why you were here. I thought you might be sent to kill me.”
That earns him a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t anymore, obviously. Unless, this is some long-term plot of yours.” He jokes but it falls flat. Childe clears his throat. “And I worried that you might think different of me if you knew. I’ve fucked up enough. I didn’t want to fuck up the little time I had left with you.”
“I wish you would have told me sooner.”
“I’m sorry-“ Once it starts Childe can’t stop. There’s been so much he’s kept bottled. Saddling himself with a miserable life of guilt and loneliness in some perverse form of self-flagellation for his past. “I’ve hurt everyone that’s ever genuinely cared for me. Zhongli, you’re the first in so long. You don’t know how much I’ve craved this-“
He hates how he sounds so pathetic.
Zhongli frowns.
“You haven’t fucked anything up, of that I can assure you.”
Childe laughs mirthlessly.
“There are so many bodies at my feet. Not only the people I’ve killed. My parents died because of me. I don’t even know what happened to the rest of my family.” The butt of his palm digs into his forehead. His vision grows blurry. “I don’t want to add you to them. I can’t go.”
The chair across from him scoots back. He sees Zhongli’s feet on the floor next to him. He cups Childe’s wrist in a gentle touch, as if he’s some quick to frighten animal, and pulls it away to reveal his face.
“Don’t you think different of me? I’m no saint. Not even a decent person. I’ve killed people. I’ve hurt and ruined lives in service of my Archon.”
Zhongli’s eyes are steeled on him.
“I don’t know this member of the Fatui you speak of. I know the man who saved me. The man who I have lived with for these months. It is the Childe who exists today that is the one to have captured my heart.”
His chest seizes completely, and Childe sputters into a fit of coughs.
Zhongli holds him through it.
It’s completely embarrassing, and Childe’s eyes are suspiciously, annoyingly wet.
Zhongli whispers against him. “Thank you for telling me.” As he brushes careful fingers through Childe’s messy hair. The tips hook underneath Childe’s chin to jut it upwards, facing Zhongli with such brutal honesty wrought across his own face.
Zhongli is quiet. He says nothing of the tears that threaten to roll down his cheeks. His thumb brushes over Childe’s lips.
He bites back a gasp.
Zhongli’s knee hits the edge of the chair. His other arm braces against the back.
“I don’t need a pity fuck.” Childe mutters.
It strikes a shocking irritation in the man above him.
“Do not demean my desires as pity.”
Zhongli leans in and kisses him deeply. His tongue slides inside, and Childe finds himself overcome.
“Let me take care of you. I want to do this tonight.”
Childe can hardly say no.
Zhongli’s lips are slick, shiny with the saliva that clings to his cock. That fervent want on his face, and the flush that crawls and splotches up to his cheeks, it’s gorgeous. Zhongli still wants him. After all Childe had said, albeit with one huge omission, Zhongli still desires him. His feelings, as far as Childe can tell, remain unchanged.
Childe could certainly laugh. Zhongli is a different breed of human, that’s for sure.
He kisses up the shaft in a trail of kittenish licks. Childe’s cock cradled in his hand and pressed to his cheek. And when he takes him down to the base, Childe actually shudders. The back of Zhongli’s throat constricts around the tip. His nose nestles beneath his navel, mouth totally full.
Childe hunches over him with a wrenched sigh.
“Zhongli, ah-“ He bites his lip with a tremble. His hand hovers over Zhongli’s hair unsure of how he’d act if he buried them in it.
Zhongli swallows him down in that sweltering heat. So lewd. Childe thinks, listening to the obscene, wet sound of him slurping over his cock. His tongue presses flat to the shaft. It catches each time on the edge of the crown when Zhongli nearly pulls off only to plunge himself back on.
Childe squirms. His face is so hot, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the man between his legs.
Zhongli pulls off once completely. His hot breath ghosts over Childe’s leaking cock. The myriad of spit and Childe’s precum pools across his lips and drips down his chin. And yet, he looks so pleased with himself.
Childe moans.
“You’re already releasing so much.” Zhongli thumbs through the mess of precum that drips from his slit. His tongue swipes over the liquid collected on his finger, much like Childe often does to him. It’s payback, isn’t it? Making Childe watch him eat his cum?
It’d be embarrassing, if it didn’t turn him on so much.
Arousal already curls hot in Childe’s gut, plucked ever closer by Zhongli’s ministrations. Zhongli flicks him with his finger to watch Childe’s cock bounce back. Childe chokes. It twitches like it’s threatening to cum right there.
“Please,” Childe groans. “If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.”
“It is the idea.”
Is he teasing? Childe only huffs.
“I want to be in you.”
Zhongli’s amusement softens. Childe thinks he likes the way Zhongli looks at him. The way it feels, as if the man is picking him apart piece by piece with an errant stare. Zhongli hums something quietly.
“I think I would like that, as well.” He crawls onto Childe’s lap, slowly urging him backwards. Their cocks brush briefly, and Zhongli swipes a hand over them both. He coos against the shell of Childe’s ear. “Will you kiss me, Childe, even after that?”
“Yes.” Childe reacts enthusiastically. He grabs Zhongli by the shoulders. Their mouths slot together easily. It’s messy, slick, and Childe does not care that he can taste himself on Zhongli’s tongue. “Yes-!”
Zhongli lets out one of those light laughs that makes his stomach flip.
“Thank you. If you would please lay back, I said I wanted to be in service of you tonight.”
Zhongli did not lie, and nor does he disappoint.
Zhongli’s weight settles overtop his thighs. His chest rises in these beautiful, punched breaths, as he takes Childe in his hand and impales himself down on his cock.
Childe arches up with an instinctive groan. He bucks beneath the man, unable to control it when he’s fully sheathed in this tight heat. Zhongli constricts around him. His insides massage his cock in a way that has him biting out such base noises into his forearms.
The gasp that comes from on top of him is totally broken. Zhongli’s eyes roll, his lashes flutter with rapid blinks, his face gone bright red at the sheer intensity of taking him full too quickly.
He sits still on Childe for some time. His hand ghosts over his stomach and down to his swollen cock. Eventually, he edges himself with a slow rocking.
Childe hisses.
There’s something about watching this man fuck himself deliberately on his dick that sends him. How eagerly he thrusts down, his hole taking Childe’s length completely. How it makes him writhe and moan with these pretty breaths and the heady call of his name on Zhongli’s lips.
The more time that passes, the more enthusiastic Zhongli grows. Childe’s dick almost slides out completely. The tip just catches on the rim before Zhongli slams himself back down, riding his dick with these arduous, heavy strokes. His hand splays out against Childe’s stomach, clawing at him for balance, as his cock bounces wildly.
“You look so good like this.”
Zhongli looks down at him. His gaze so lusty, adoring, but also lost.
Zhongli may have taken the reigns this time, but its obvious its as much for him as it is for Childe.
Childe’s hands scramble overtop of him, digging into his hips and pulling him down to meet each thrust. Zhongli cries out. His hair splays over his shoulder, and the first dribble of precum spurts from his cock.
“Please-!” His head cocks to the side. The slap of skin is visceral, and the sweat which clings to his body plasters his bangs to his forehead. Zhongli moans. His own hand strokes over his cock. He falls forward when Childe’s thrust hits deep. Deep enough that he notices the slight distension of Zhongli’s stomach from it.
Fuuuck.
Zhongli only just catches himself with a hand against his chest. Childe’s wide eyes meet his.
“Childe- I- mmph.” Zhongli’s breath ghosts across his lips. Close enough to kiss. “My Childe,” He croons.
The heat of his words drips like thick molasses. But it is not warmth it makes him feel. Instead, it’s a chilling cold. It’s nothing, Childe convinces himself, when Zhongli beckons him to his lips. With a kiss, Childe can almost forget who he sounded like.
Childe jolts the moment Zhongli pulls back with a trail of spit. His tongue flits across his lips, and he continues to fuck himself, only this time he’s grown so messy, sloppy as if close to the brink. Childe feels it too. Every time the cold kisses his slick length, only for it to be encased back in the wet heat of Zhongli’s body.
He starts to tremble. The hand on Childe’s chest claws deeper. It moves, shifting over to the left. Surely, Zhongli can feel it. How hard it beats for him? Zhongli should know by now, just as he said himself, that Childe’s own heart is taken too.
His nails bite. They’re sharper somehow, and something pulses.
Childe chokes. He spits a gasp and thrashes, which Zhongli doesn’t take notice to.
It burns.
There’s that glow. The same one he saw out by the river, only this time its brighter. More formed. He can barely make out the etching in his flesh from beneath Zhongli’s palm. It spreads. The lines cross over into the man above him, filling his veins with a liquid gold.
Zhongli shudders.
He’s out of it. Still consumed by the pleasure that wracks his body.
Its so… suffocating. As if Zhongli, himself, has his hand wrapped around Childe’s throat.
“Ah, ah-“ Zhongli’s eyes shoot wide open. They radiate with this bright flicker not unlike the imported cor lapis that used to come into Zapolyarny. His head lolls back. The tips of his hair, they glow? “Ajax. Oh, Ajax, I-“ Zhongli draws blood. His own teeth puncture his lip when he’s taken by his own orgasm.
Zhongli cums with a low whine. He rides it out with such a desperation, that Childe thinks it’s going to rub his dick raw.
But, its this moment, when Childe is just on the edge, light-headed and almost entirely focused on Zhongli’s silky insides spasming around him, that he knows something has gone terribly wrong.
Childe’s is ripped out of him with an intensity he’s not felt before. It leaves him twisting, writhing underneath the man above him as he spills hot inside. Zhongli still strokes over his cock, desperately milking himself of every last drop across Childe’s navel.
What had he-?
Childe takes a breath. He can feel his stomach sinking with each passing second.
There’s a silence between them while Zhongli’s pants start to mellow out. His hand drops from himself immediately, and Zhongli takes this shuddering, wretched gasp.
“Zhongli-“ Childe finally has the courage to say. Only to face those eyes he adores snap to him with an unknown, almost unfamiliar, intensity.
There’s a flicker of emotion that burns behind them like a flash fire when Zhongli looks at him.
And what Childe sees-
It’s absolute horror.
He doesn’t know what to say.
It’s so quick when Zhongli removes himself from Childe’s body, from Childe’s bed. His cum drips down the man’s thighs when he attempts to stand, only for his legs to tremble and collapse down.
Childe reaches out, but his words are nothing.
Zhongli does not move to get back up. He just sits there.
The silence speaks volumes.
Ajax. Zhongli had called him Ajax. Few outside his family, and only some in the higher ranks of the Fatui ever knew the name given to him as a child. It wasn’t information he shared, and since that day- to Childe, Ajax was as good as dead. He is certain he has never told Zhongli his name. That means Zhongli, he-
Zhongli doesn’t move for a while. It’s like they’re stuck in time, this agonizing moment lasting for ages.
He is tucked at the edge of the bed. Childe can only see the top of his head, and how his hand drags down his face to cup over his mouth. Zhongli shakes with a muffled sound, or is it more of a sob?
Childe starts to pick himself up in the confusion. Just as fast, Zhongli is dragging himself to his feet. Back still turned to Childe, he pulls on his clothes like some one-night stand eager to rid himself of Childe’s presence.
But there is nowhere for him to go. The storm rages outside, and Zhongli is effectively stuck.
Childe follows suit beneath the weight of the heavy tension. He sits at the edge of the bed, half buttoning up his shirt. He looks down at his chest. It had been there. That sigil. He’s positive this time; it was no trick of the light. He saw the way it reacted, how it connected them both. It still feels strange, as if his body is left charged.
Zhongli won’t look at him. He won’t say anything. He’s leaned over the counter, head hung low, refusing to even acknowledge him.
Its awful. Childe’s tongue is heavy in his mouth. The words he wants to say, the questions he wants to ask, they are all so jumbled in his head.
But one sticks out at the forefront of his mind. One that fills him with dread.
“Zhongli,” Childe broaches with a nauseating hesitation. “How do you know my name?”