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Perhaps Zhongli has the intention of being a little cruel.
“You always tease me,” he reminds Childe as he knots two lengths of rope together. Zhongli slips a finger underneath and pulls, testing the give. Loose—enough so that Childe can slip out. He’s only bound his arms across the forearms and wrists. The point isn’t actual restraint; it’s just to have some fun and make him sit and behave. To feel the soft pull of the ropes against his skin as Childe watches Zhongli from across the bed.
Delicious. What a truly delectable prospect—Zhongli already feels the pleasure that curls in his gut. The sight of Childe squirming in the bed, eyes bright as he just… Well. Suffers is a terrible word. Childe wouldn’t be suffering; he’d be gifted the sight of watching Zhongli work himself to completion.
“This is—”
“Are you about to say that it is different?” Zhongli’s eyes flicker up and meet Childe’s heated gaze. “You agreed to this, I’ll remind you.”
Childe’s mouth flops open. He lays there on the bed, arms tied in front of him, his cock already half hard. It takes so little. Zhongli hides a grin. “Was I not supposed to? Zhongli, you can’t come to me and suggest that we tie me up and watch you put on a show, and think that I might actually say no.”
Zhongli huffs softly, testing other spots of Childe’s binding. He knew it would be an immediate yes. Childe has a one-track mind and the idea of watching Zhongli pleasuring himself is secured right at the top of the list. “What is it that you always tell me?” asks Zhongli finally. “That horniness outweighs rational thought?”
“I’m not wrong.”
“No, you certainly aren’t.” Because even Zhongli is not unaffected. He loves the way the ropes dig into Childe’s flesh, even as little as there is. “Is this too tight?”
“No, it’s perfect.” Childe’s cheeks are already flush. “I… what is it that you have planned?”
Zhongli hums softly, trailing his fingers down the length of Childe’s side. There wasn’t a need to discuss it as it isn’t a scene in the traditional sense—just an excuse to wrap Childe up and make him sit still. “Can you settle back into the pillows?”
Childe can, wriggling across the mattress until his back is pressed against their softness. Zhongli smiles, crawling across the bed to lean over him. “Such a sweet boy.” He cups Childe’s cheek and dips down for a kiss.
“You’re avoiding the question,” breathes Childe against his mouth.
“I am not. You’re just too impatient, Ajax. There is pleasure to be had in waiting—”
“Is there? Because my dick hurts.” Zhongli’s expression turns sharp. His hand drops between them and he drags his knuckles down the length of Childe’s cock. Childe moves—and then remembers he’s tied up. “That’s worse,” he groans, head tipping back into the pillows when Zhongli pulls his hand away.
“Do you want your show or not?”
“Yes.”
Zhongli cups his cheek again, his fingers digging into Childe’s jaw just enough to sting. “Then behave.”
Childe’s throat bobs. He nods and settles back against the bed, doing his best to relax.
“And, to answer your question—” Zhongli slides back to the foot of the bed. Out of reach but close enough to react accordingly if Childe were to call a stop to the entire thing. “You love to watch me open myself up but I’ve already done that.”
Zhongli turns then, ass facing toward Childe. His hand dips back to pull an asscheek to the side, showing off his slick and loose hole. Childe grunts in annoyance, at being deprived such a wonderful sight. Zhongli’s mouth curves into a smirk, his plan of attack already set in motion. This is the part where he thinks he may be cruel but decides that it is more than worth it to see Childe crumble at the sight of him.
“I considered, instead, perhaps I should ride something other than my fingers.”
A hitch of breath.“Oh?” Childe’s face blooms pink with interest. “Is it the blue one? You like that one.”
The blue cock is nice. Commissioned by Childe and given as a gift to be used when he’s off for work, Zhongli has put it through the wringer, so to speak, and memorized the way that it bullies his insides and hits all the right spots.
“I love that one,” agrees Zhongli, “but no, not for tonight. I thought that I would indulge in something of my own making.”
Childe tilts his head, curious. Zhongli waves his hand and Geo coalesces as his fingers burn gold. It condenses into a practiced form, one that Zhongli has spent weeks trying to perfect. He traces his hand through the air, drawing out the angle and curves of his preferred toy for the night.
It is large and thick at the base, tapering into a thinner, spade-shaped tip with a large slit. Ridges notch the sides the entire length of it, perfectly etched in the stone, the color of Cor Lapis. “It isn’t prehensile like the original, but it will do.”
“That’s—” Childe croaks the word.
Zhongli finally meets his gaze with what he would describe as a shit-eating grin, something that he usually finds himself at the end of instead.
Childe swallows thickly, his throat bobbing as his gaze falls back to the fake cock carved by Zhongli’s hands. “If you wanted to get fucked by my Foul Legacy, we could’ve sparred or something—”
“But where is the fun in that?” cuts in Zhongli as he takes hold of the cock, dragging his claws down the curved length of it. “No, I want to watch you squirm as I fuck myself with this.”
Oh, he likes that. Childe breathes in sharply and his cock twitches at the thought. “I… that’s—”
“Are you still complaining? Should I gag you?” The threat is empty. He’d rather hear Childe, complaints and all, but the question does the trick—Childe’s mouth snaps shut and he shakes his head. Good. Just like that. Even with his talk, Childe is usually good for him.
Zhongli lifts the cock to his mouth. “I have missed it—this… length . We’ll revisit the idea of a spar for another time—”
“Zhongli.”
He shoots Childe a half-lidded gaze and kisses the tip. “At the same time, I value your health. You know how I worry when you wear that form for too long. However—” Zhongli’s tongue sneaks out, to trace the topmost ridges. “There is nothing quite like the feel of it.”
And there isn’t. The Foul Legacy is a beast of its own, almost too long and thick, and prone to wriggling about. A mind of its own, quick to dive into Zhongli’s tight heat. The fake version is a weak imitation but good enough to draw out the expected reaction.
Childe writhes. His nostrils flare as he shifts in the sheets, trying to relieve the pressure of his aching cock. Zhongli won’t stop him—if Childe were to turn around and rut against the mattress it would be a sight to see. But Childe also knows that he should behave, and so he does, floundering in the sheets as he looses a whine.
Zhongli’s mouth seals around the tip of the fake cock to suckle at it for a moment. When he pulls off it’s glistening, catching the reflection of the candles in the room. Childe’s attention is rapt as Zhongli slicks it more with the oil they keep handy. He cannot stop watching as Zhongli lies across the bed, legs spread and soft rim on display.
That’s the look Zhongli craves—the one where Childe wants to devour him. It sears through Zhongli’s being. It settles in his nerves and makes his dick twitch. “Darling,” he says then, pressing the tip of the cock to his hole. “Watch.”
Childe stares as Zhongli sinks the cock inside. Now it’s Zhongli’s turn to toss about in the sheets, the breath punched from his lungs as the fullness comes to a head. He moans, head tipping back as he drives the cock deeper. Each ridge pulls at his rim, causing delicious friction.
His ass is greedy, swallowing the thick length right to its flared base. Zhongli pauses, relishing how full he is, how it's almost as if he can feel the cock in his throat. He shows off his hole, spreading his cheeks, delighted by the raw, heady expression that covers Childe’s face.
He wants him. Not that it’s ever been a question, but there’s something about seeing it so plainly. Childe licks his lips, eyes trained on Zhongli’s ass where it’s split open by the cock. He’s thinking—thinking about the times he’s fucked Zhongli like this, the tight grab of his hole, and the way he keens underneath him when giving in.
“Feels good.” Zhongli shudders as he pulls the cock out to the tip, slower than he’d like. “Gods, it—” This time the cock slides back in neater, easier, carving through his insides in one slick thrust. “Yes.”
Childe strains against his bindings. He could easily pull out of them but he doesn’t. Good, good boy. He just whines again, shifting, tensing. His cock is red at the tip, leaking all over his belly, desperate to be touched. Zhongli wants a taste—but he also wants to fuck himself, so that’s what he does.
The wet squelch of the fake cock is loud in the room. He groans at the feel of those damned ridges, how they catch on his rim, how his insides mold around them. And the tip—he tilts the cock, thrusting it against his prostate. Zhongli jerks, crying out, his thighs tense and his toes curling.
“Zhongli.”
Zhongli almost gives in. The sound of his name nearly has him crawling across the space and into Childe’s lap. Instead, he just fucks himself, testing his stone-like resolve as he focuses on teasing him instead. “It pales in comparison,” he says. Which it does. There is nothing like the thickness of Childe’s cock when in his Foul Legacy form, or the way it wriggles when settled deep. “But it’s still—”
“I’m—”
“—good. Gods. So good, so full. Ajax.”
“Zhongli, can I—”
“Should I come untouched?” He knows that Childe was about to ask for release from his binds, wants to take hold of the cock and fuck him with it fast and hard. Not yet. Not yet. Zhongli’s gut burns with need, so close to the edge. He wants Childe to watch him come on the cock alone. “I can,” he mutters. “I— Ajax, I’m—”
Zhongli shifts, rolling onto his front until his back is bent, chest flush with the blankets. This angle— Oh. Zhongli gasps as he thrusts the cock into himself, hard. Childe looks feral with wide eyes and blown pupils. And Zhongli knows he must be a sight, his rim stretched smooth around the thick length, his thighs shaking as he drills it right to the base. His cock leaks all over the bedspread, hot and stiff below him. He moans Childe’s name, a delirious sound that is caught against the blanket as Zhongli fucks that cock in and out.
Childe whimpers, hips bucking. It must hurt. He must be so pained with his want. Zhongli watches him back through a half-lidded gaze, imagining all sorts of sordid things as he drives himself to an end.
He comes with little fanfare—just a soft groan and the wet slap of the dildo against his asscheeks. He spills onto the bed, white-hot and blinding. Zhongli gives himself a moment before tugging it from his hole. Empty. So, so empty. Zhongli both hates and loves the way that his rim clenches around nothing.
“I’m officially begging you,” says Childe from the far end of the bed. “Zhongli, please.”
Zhongli chuckles, tossing the cock to the side. He’ll find it later for a proper clean-up. For now, his mate waits for him after being so patient. He drags himself across the bed on aching limbs, falling between Childe’s thighs.
“Wait, I—”
“Didn’t you just beg for my attention?”
“The ropes—”
“I didn’t say that our game is over. What if I want to see you writhe in the bed with my mouth around your cock?”
Childe groans, biting at his lip. “You’re so— Hah, that’s—”
Zhongli’s tongue swirls around the tip of Childe’s dick, lapping at the precome that dribbles from the tip. “Such a mess,” he teases, his hand joining in for a quick stroke.
“Fuck,” hisses Childe.
“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” Though, Childe crying out his name might even be better. Yes, Zhongli misses Childe yanking at his hair as he fucks his mouth, but there’s a draw to this too—Childe is so handsome as he just gives himself up, cracked open and bare for Zhongli alone.
They can make love properly later. For now, Zhongli gives him one last smirk before swallowing his cock down.