Childe begs for Zhongli to call him a good boy because he's had a few shitty weeks.

CW: Smut

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There is something to be said about the way that Childe can lose himself in Zhongli's touch.

It has been a rough time lately. Childe has been stretched thin by work with early mornings that bleed into abysmally late nights. He is exhausted, tired of pushing papers and answering missives that he has no answers for. He belongs in the field but Pantalone insists that he stay behind a desk, so Childe ticks the hours away until his vision is blurred by numbers and names.

He can't do this. Childe is beyond the point of exhaustion. He isn't an accountant, he cracks heads for a living, and he fears just why he's been pulled out of the field. Months of file after file and Katya peeking through the door with exasperated expressions—and lately, worry. Childe wonders just what he's done to be benched.

His one solace is Zhongli who soothes away these intrusive thoughts with every drag of his hand. Soft, fluttering touches down Childe's side as he leans close, kissing the curve of his collarbone. "Ajax," he murmurs, the call of his name warm like his embrace as he trails his mouth down the length of him.

Childe gets lost in it, the sea of sensation, floating as Zhongli pulls him under to drown in the feel of it. Zhongli treats him so well, calling him baobei, saying he's as precious as the Mora he's supposed to be counting at work.

Long, soft fingers pluck at Childe's tightly-coiled strings. The heat of Zhongli's palms and the drag of too-long nails that are a little more like claws. Words whispered against him, tattooed into his skin, Zhongli's praise settling in Childe's gut as he flounders about.

Childe lets loose. He sinks until there's nothing left but this man that he loves, and the heady arousal that coils in his core. Veins on fire. Zhongli nuzzles his sternum as his hands dip low to spread Childe's thighs. He moves, kissing down the length of him, licking and nipping, sucking marks into Childe's skin that'll last for days.

"Beautiful," murmurs Zhongli, biting the inside of his thigh and raising gooseflesh. Childe keens, hips raising, cock twitching as it fills out to the timbre of his voice. "All mine," he continues, those teeth sinking deeper, pricking at his skin before lapping at the welts left in their wake.

"Zhongli—"

"Shh, lay back." Zhongli coaxes him to relax, rubbing circles into his skin as he kisses Childe all over, tracing every freckle and scar that he can find. "Let me take of you."

Childe does as he asks, eyes flitting closed, head tilting back. He melts into the sheets as Zhongli works him over. A mouth on his cock as Zhongli licks across the length of it. A hand cradling his balls, squeezing them, rolling them, running a thumb down the seam in the middle.

Zhongli presses Childe's thighs back and spreads him. Dips forward to nibble at an asscheek and massage a thumb over his hole. Childe is so relaxed it takes little to open him up, the first press of Zhongli's finger sinking right into the last knuckle. And then another and another until Childe's writhing in the sheets, crying out Zhongli's name. Begging for more, to be dragged under, to be fucked full until his only thoughts left are this god between his thighs.

This is what he loves; it isn't just sex, it's an entire melding of their beings. Zhongli is gentle when he presses in, his cock slicked with oil and thick in Childe's ass. Childe feels complete, like whatever he was missing has been found. When Zhongli's hips meet his ass they both groan.

Zhongli stills, rubbing circles into Childe's hipbones, savoring the way that his heat clenches around his cock. He moans, burying his face into the nape of Childe's neck, thrusting into him slowly, languidly, inhaling his scent and breathing his name.

Childe keens, arching against him, rising up to meet every stroke of Zhongli's cock. Zhongli leans back, hiking Childe's legs over his waist, changing the angle, the tip of his length nailing his prostate—then Childe sees stars. He chokes on his spit as he whines and moans, fingers pulling at the sheets as he's lost in the throes of passion.

He forgets about his days, his worries, every dark little thought that loiters in the corners of his mind. The threat of the Abyss is a small little thing now, hunched over in Zhongli's shadow as Childe is picked and pulled apart. Zhongli will put him back together, molding him anew with old hands that used to carve out stone monoliths. Childe is no different than any other rough-hewn mountain that Zhongli rose from the ground when he was still known as Morax.

"Ajax," whispers Zhongli. He has Childe's thighs in a tight grip, claws digging into soft, supple flesh. He fucks into him with measure thrusts, the thickness of his cock forcing a gasp from Childe's throat. His eyes—Zhongli watches him with a ruddy, half-gone gaze, irises dark golden as they glitter with want and need. "So good for me," he purrs.

Something about the praise hits differently this day. Childe's breath hitches and he jerks. "Yes, yes, such a good boy," continues Zhongli, the words washing over Childe. Zhongli's eyes squeeze shut as he grinds into him, nudging the deepest parts of Chide's insides.

A whimper tumbles from Childe's mouth, unbidden. Tears prick at his eyes and his lip wobbles, another hiccupping gasp that looses from his throat. A sob, a choked sound that immediately calls to Zhongli's attention. He stops what he's doing.

"Ajax?" He is a little panicked. Concerned where most might not be. Zhongli knows Childe inside and out, he can tell when something is off.

"No, no, don't stop," begs Childe.

"Ajax." Zhongli's voice is gentle but firm. He leans forward, his cock still nestled deep, sliding through Childe's insides as he shifts. Zhongli's knuckles find Childe's cheek to brush away the wetness there. "Darling, what's wrong?"

Nothing and everything. Childe cannot begin to explain the darkness that fills his being. How insecurity floods his core, burning through him, tingling in his nerves, and dragging him down. "I—you—"

"Use your words." A kiss to Childe's ear. A nose that nuzzles the shell of it, inhaling deeply, taking in the acrid scent of his frustration. "Please tell me what I've done—"

"Fuck, not you," hisses Childe. "Gods, never you, never—no, just—" Another soft whimper that has Zhongli pulling back to stare into his eyes, watching carefully. "Work's been...I've been. Everything's off. I feel like I'm nothing, that I—" Childe sucks in a breath, trying to steady his thready heartbeat. "Can you say it again? Tell me that I'm good, that I'm not a waste, that I'm not—"

Zhongli's expression softens. He brushes Childe's bangs back and kisses his forehead. "Beloved," he says sweetly, "how could you ever be a waste? No, Ajax, you're everything that I need. You're so good to me."

And oh, those words. Soft, gentle love drips from Zhongli's lips right into Childe's sweat-slicked skin. The depth of his voice folds warm praise right into Childe's being. Childe relaxes, seeped with affection as Zhongli tends to his request.

"Again," begs Childe, raising his hips, forcing Zhongli's cock deeper as he tightens his legs around Zhongli's waist. "Zhongli, again."

Praise spills from his mouth, a cascade of devotion as Zhongli thoroughly worships him. "So perfect for me," he mutters into his ear. "Just like that. Mhm, yes, what a good, sweet boy. My darling, darling baobei." All the while, he fucks him with rolling, languid thrusts, Zhongli's cock punctuating every syllable.

Childe burns in lust and love, falling victim to Zhongli's voice as pleasure coils in his chest. His cock twitches, leaking freely, wetting his groin with precome. His ass clenches, insides squirming around Zhongli's dick. Zhongli moans, his breath hot against Childe's neck. "Fuck," he curses, thrusting deeply, bullying Childe's prostate with every slick glide. "Fuck, you feel good. So hot, so tight, so, so—"

Zhongli comes unexpectedly, grunting as his cock swells, spilling into Childe, painting his guts white with his thick spend.

"Oh gods." Childe's voice is pinched as Zhongli still fucks him with a slow grind that makes his come slosh around. He feels it, the wet warmth that pools inside and how Zhongli's cock flags, his hole loose around it. Childe clings to Zhongli, pulling him close, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"I love you," says Zhongli, curling a hand around Childe's aching cock, so hard that it hurts, begging for release. He strokes it loosely, squeezing around the tip, thumb ghosting the slit, and soon, Childe is tumbling too, giving into the pleasure that sparks in his gut. He comes all over Zhongli's hand, semen thick and viscous. "What a good boy," is Zhongli's gentle acclaim as he licks the come from his fingers, moaning at the taste.

Zhongli lets Childe float there for as long as he needs, in that middling, haze post-orgasm. He keeps whispering to him, words melding together until all Childe hears is the timbre of his deep voice. All he feels is Zhongli's warm breath, kisses to his forehead and face, and his hands smoothing over every inch of Childe's skin.

Later, when Childe comes back to the living, when his mind has cleared and his chest feels lighter than it has in months, Zhongli asks, "Do you feel better?"

Childe has been cleaned, wiped down by Zhongli, and tucked back into the bed with the sheets draped over both of them, fluttering and light. He sighs, humming softly, eyes slipping closed as he curls against Zhongli's chest. "Yeah." A pause. "I think."

They share a pillow. Zhongli tips Childe's face up with his forefinger and thumbs across his bottom lip. Then he kisses Childe, slow and sweet. Searching. A gentle tangling of tongues meant to be sweet-tempered and lingering. Zhongli pets his hair, nails scratching over his scalp deliciously.

"You are good to me," says Zhongli. It sounds like a confession, the sort said only in bed where there is no one else to overhear. "The best thing to have ever happened, that I could have ever asked for. Whatever is bothering you, we will weather it together."

"Zhongli—"

"Not tonight." A firm, but kind demand. Another kiss to Childe's lips, then his nose, then his forehead. "For right now, just us. Just you and I."

Childe presses his palm to Zhongli's chest, thumbing at the scar where his gnosis used to be, a thick spiderwebbing over the left side that stretches above his nipple. There's a beat there, strong and steady underneath Childe's hand. Zhongli has a heart to love him with.

Zhongli starts to hum an old Liyuen lullaby that has ancient words lost on Childe. He doesn't sing often, or even particularly well, but at that moment, it's magic to Childe's ears.