Childe should've known that Zhongli would chase him.

He doesn't know why he assumed he wouldn't. Zhongli has worn his affection on his sleeve from the moment they shared that first lunch. But, even with that reassurance, Childe still defaults to insecurity. Spending time in Liyue has done wonders for him but he still barely likes himself—let alone thinks that someone else might.

"Childe!" Zhongli's voice carries through the air.

Childe pushes himself harder, forcing his legs faster until his thighs burn with the strain. Just like riding my back. Keep at it.

Zhongli curses behind him, tripping, and falling a little behind. Childe breathes in relief, looking around. I'm at First and Forty-Fourth, he thinks. He's ridden through here enough times on deliveries that he knows the streets like the back of his hand. There should be an alleyway right...there!

He turns the corner—only to find himself at a dead end. Shit. He thought this was the one that cut over to Second Street, but—

"Childe!" Zhongli turns the corner blindly, nearly tripping again as he tries to cut off his momentum. He sucks in breaths, leaning against the wall with a hand. "Wait, don't—"

Childe does. He was about to sneak out past him but Zhongli's plea stops him dead, unable to say no to that voice. "Zhongli, I—"

"Just a minute," cuts in Zhongli, standing straight, eyes locked on his face with such intensity that it makes guilt curdle in Childe's gut. "Please, just give me a moment."

"There's nothing to explain—"

"I don't need an explanation!" Zhongli's voice tips high in a grunt, both aggravated and annoyed. "Not in the way that you think. I just need a second to figure out what's going on."

"Figure it out?" Childe snorts, his laughter mocking. He kicks the ground with his shoe. "Didn't you hear my father in there? I'm a fuck up, Zhongli. That's why I left home. That's why I came here—to get away from it all."

"Childe—"

"No, shut up." Zhongli's mouth snaps closed, surprised by the aggressive tone that Childe's taken. He's never spoken to him in such a way. "Gods, there are so many reasons why. The shitty, the shitty hours. Brown-nosing every client I had just to keep their accounts. I hate who I was because that isn't me.

"So one day I woke up and said screw it. I packed a couple of bags, I took the first train south that I could, and I found myself in Liyue a few days later. I used enough money from my accounts to rent my shitty apartment and buy a bike, then I swore I'd never touch those funds again. The next day I downloaded the delivery app."

Zhongli lets him go on, blabbering about those early days in the Harbor. Childe's pulse pounds in his neck. His chest burns from running. And the way that Zhongli looks at him, expression slightly creased, but so full of—

Childe knows it's love. It's been glaringly obvious for a while—the way Zhongli's face relaxes at the sight of him and those soft words he likes to whisper into his ear late at night. Childe doesn't know when he stopped expecting sex and started just enjoying the closeness.

It's unfair. It's so, so unfair, and Childe feels his lip wavering before he can stop it.

Zhongli notices immediately, hyperaware. "Hey," he says, crossing the space between them. "Childe—"

"A week into my new job is when I first delivered to you. I almost canceled your order. I stood outside Archon Industries Tower for about fifteen minutes, afraid of stepping too close to all that crap I left behind. And I should've told you—I should've, just..."

Childe rubs his face, hating the way he chokes on his spit. "It's been so good these last few years. I never thought I'd have to turn back, I never thought I'd even come close to it, but then you and I—Which I don't regret. Fuck, Zhongli, you need to know that. I don't want to fuck this up but I have. I always fuck shit up."

Zhongli pulls him close. "Oh, darling," he says softly, wrapping his arms around Childe's shoulders. One hand around his waist, holding him there. The other curled into his hair, petting it.

And Childe sinks against him, hiding his face in Zhongli's neck. His scent calms Childe, that sage and sandalwood cologne that cloaks Zhongli's being. "Fuck, this isn't about you, it's about me. It's been about me for over a month. I should've known my father would—he's always talked about expanding south. Not surprised at the things he's said—"

"All of which is untrue."

"You're biased."

"Yes." Zhongli is entirely unapologetic.

Childe falls quiet. "It wasn't that I couldn't trust you. I don't want you to be angry."

Zhongli sighs, long and drawn-out. "I'm not angry." A pause. "Well, perhaps angry for you. I'm hoping that it was the champagne that loosened your father's tongue because that was a level of unprofessionalism I don't think I've ever quite seen."

He laughs. Childe can't help it, bursting into hiccuping half-sobs as Zhongli launches into a lengthy monologue about all his father's offenses during those several moments.

Zhongli pulls back, brushing Childe's bangs back from his forehead, affection clear as the dark sky on his face.

Childe finds that he can't look away from that gaze, mapping out every soft crease around his eyes and mouth. "I don't want to go back to dinner," he says.

"Come home with me," replies Zhongli. "Which is an invitation long overdue," he finishes, cheeks pink at his sheepish words.

It's always been late nights cramped in Childe's shitty twin bed that's only feet from the kitchen. Zhongli has always said that it's just him, which is why he likes it there so much.

Childe could kiss him but he doesn't. Not yet. He just says yes.

"It's a bit of a mess," says Zhongli as he drags the keycard over a fancy hi-tech lock.

Childe can't imagine Zhongli's home as anything more than prim and sterile but the moment he steps in, he's proven wrong. Tons of shelves and piles of books litter every surface. Trinkets, baubles, and knick-knacks are displayed everywhere. The faint scent of tea and incense.

It's well-lived in a different sort of way, and Childe thinks for as much as he loves Zhongli, there's so much left to learn about him. A good thing. He hopes there are years ahead, plenty of time to recognize every strange little quirk.

"It's wonderful."

"It's not. I gave the housekeeper the month off because she kept reorganizing the work I brought home which helped no one—Mhmph."

Childe doesn't care. The moment the door clicks shut behind them, he presses Zhongli against it and kisses him. Searing hot. Aggressive. Childe channels all that earlier anger into this instead, nipping at Zhongli's lip. Zhongli moans, melting against him.

And then he pulls away, gripping Childe's chin tight enough that his nails dig into the skin. "Slow down."

"I want—"

"I know what you want. So desperate to make this quick." Zhongli drags his thumb across Childe's lip, considering it. "I want to take this slow."

Childe whines. "Earlier tonight—I want to forget about it. I want to think about you, only you."

Zhongli hums softly, his expression relaxing as he sighs. "Come on, open up," he says and Childe's mouth falls open obediently. Zhongli slips his thumb in, pressing it against the flat of his tongue. "I'd do anything for you, but this time we're doing it on my terms, yes?"

Oh. Oh. Childe doesn't know why but those words sink into his gut as Zhongli slides the pad of his thumb around, dragging a moan deep from Childe's throat. At this point, he'd rather just sink to his knees and suck him off, choking on Zhongli's thick cock until he can't breathe.

But there's something to the way that Zhongli holds him firmly but gently. The soft words he kisses against his forehead before nuzzling the soft skin there. "I want to take care of you," says Zhongli.

"I want you to fuck me." Too vulgar for the moment but Childe's timing has never been good. "Finally," he adds for good measure. "If you want to take care of me, that's—"

Zhongli's smile is absolutely feral. He clicks his tongue, pulling back to watch Childe through a half-lidded gaze. Sweeps that thumb across his lip once more, dragging the moment out intentionally. Too slow. Childe's dick is already half-hard in his trousers, a slow-burning ache settling into his nerves.

"Bedroom, then. Just through that door at the end."

Childe kicks off his shoes and scampers off so quickly that he nearly slips on a rug, hearing Zhongli chuckle as he follows him slowly.

The bedroom is too large for a single person. It's packed full of junk like the rest of Zhongli's home, filled to the brim with strange curios that are better off in museums. Childe plucks a book from the pillow and drops it to the bedside table before stretching out over the mattress.

Zhongli steps into the room fleet-footed but quiet. He shrugs off his suit jacket, folds it neatly, and then rests it over a reading chair in the corner. He pulls at his tie next, throat bobbing as he undoes the knot, watching Childe roll around on the bed, trying to get comfy. It's the least sexy thing to watch, he's sure—but Zhongli devours the sight up regardless, eyes hooded, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

It's too slow—too slow. Childe groans, head tipping back into the pillow. Soft. Perfect. Ridiculously expensive. Probably Sumerian Cotton with an absurd thread count. They faintly smell like Zhongli but the scent dwindles because he spends more time in Childe's tiny flat than here.

"You're killing me here," says Childe, watching Zhongli strip at a snail's pace.

"Good things come to those who are patient."

"I'm always good, I'll have you know. I usually text when the delivery is going to be late." Zhongli snorts, hiding a laugh behind his hand. The tension in the room is broken as they slip back into something more familiar. "Sorry," continues Childe. "Not that I dislike that debonair Zhongli thing, I just—You don't need to make it fancy. I just want to be here with you."

"Fucking you, preferably."

"Preferably," agrees Childe.

Zhongli undoes the top of his dress shirt, letting it hang open. Pulls it out of his trousers, letting his belt fall to the floor with a clunk. The mattress dips under his weight as he crawls over Childe until he's hanging above him. "Childe," he says, eyes crinkling as though amused. "I've thought about this more times than I'd care to admit."

"Fucking me?"

"You in my bed." A pause as he drags his hand down Childe's side, slipping under the hem of his shirt. Zhongli's palm is hot against his skin, searing to the touch. "And of course—" He dips lower, mouth close to Childe's ear. "Fucking you."

That's all it takes. Childe moans as Zhongli drips praise into his skin, words of affirmation, love, and affection. Clothing comes off in pieces, dropped to the ground where they lay forgotten. The sheets are rucked, pushed and pulled at by errant hands as Zhongli worships every inch of his body.

Nips against Childe's collarbone. Kisses down his sternum. The swirl of Zhongli's tongue around a sensitive nipple until it's stiff in the cold room.

I want to take care of you, he'd said. Childe could drown like this, pulled under by every whisper against his body. Zhongli sucks at his freckles. Kisses each scar. Down and down and down until he's taking Childe's cock into his mouth.

Every thought in Childe's head is gone. Zhongli speaks but it's all mush, Childe lost in the white-hot heat of the mouth sealed around his dick. He moans as he scrapes his fingers through Zhongli's hair, trying to ground himself. But Zhongli is too good with that wicked tongue that slides around his length.

"I'm, oh, Gods, I'm going to—" He bucks against him, his cock sliding deeper. Zhongli grunts but takes it in stride, easing down Childe's dick until the tip is lodged against the back of his throat.

And then he's gone, pulled away and wiping at his mouth.

"Oh, thank Celestia," mutters Childe. "Not like that. I didn't want to—oh."

Zhongli shifts, trailing a tongue across his balls before sucking one into his mouth. His thumb drags down the sensitive skin of his perineum, sparks erupting in Childe's gut. Then further, dragging through his crack, ghosting over his hole.

Childe spreads his legs eagerly. Impatiently, even. "Come on," he says, tugging at Zhongli's hair.

Zhongli does not. He kisses the insides of Childe's thighs sweetly before sinking his teeth in, intent on leaving marks. A little possessive but Childe loves it, seeing the purpling spots in the days after. Zhongli suckles his skin like it's a fine delicacy. Moans against him as he inhales, drinking up whatever Childe offers.

"Be good for me," he says, and oh, Childe will. He definitely, definitely will.

Childe is patient despite how he whines. Zhongli moves with intent, dragging his fingertips over every inch, watching the gooseflesh that rises in their wake. The lube he procures from the bedside table drawer smells like silk flowers. Too expensive, too fancy for someone as rough as Childe, but his mind blanks the moment Zhongli presses a finger in.

It's been forever since Childe was last properly fucked. Long enough that he can't quite remember. Zhongli goes slowly, slipping knuckle after knuckle in. He wriggles it, pressing against his insides. "So tight. Relax for me, Childe," he coaxes.

Wrong. The name is wrong, ringing in his ears. Now that Zhongli knows everything, there isn't a need to keep up the pretense but Childe finds words hard, his tongue fat in his mouth. "Oh, oh—"

The click of the lube bottle. Cold wetness poured against his hole. A second finger joins the first with a slow drag until it's settled deep. Wonderful, thinks Childe. So good, so—

Zhongli's cock will be better. But his fingers still do wonders as Zhongli fucks Childe with them lazily. In and out, spreading them slightly, watching Childe's hole loosen. Three long, dexterous fingers are what nearly do Childe in. Zhongli hooks them expertly, digging around for that damned spot, and suddenly Childe's taut in the bed, yelping in pleasure.

He fucks back against his hands, trying to force those fingers deeper, squeezing tightly around them as he drives them right into his prostate. All the while, Zhongli watches, pressing a thigh back with his free hand, eyes honed in on where Childe's hole is split open. "Perfect," he says over the wet and sloppy sounds of his fingers as he scissors them, stretching his rim wide. "Childe—"

"Ajax," he blurts. Zhongli pauses and Childe can feel how red his face is. His cock aches, dripping all over his stomach. And fuck, that look on Zhongli's face from between his thighs. Half-lidded, debauched, face ruddy with arousal. His fingers are gone all too soon.

When Zhongli slots himself between Childe's legs, he belongs there. There is no doubt. No other man will ever find his home there with Childe so woefully in love with this mostly retired CEO. Zhongli's arms shake slightly as he holds himself up over Childe. He dips low, kissing the shell of his ear, lips lingering as he whispers, "Ajax."

Too much. Not enough. Childe whimpers, arching against him, legs wrapped around the high rise of Zhongli's waist to box him in. More lube. Zhongli hisses as he coats his cock with it, slicking his length liberally. He's still leaning close, peppering kisses all over Childe's face, his neck, and down his collarbone.

And then—

"I love you," he says, right against Childe's raging pulse. He nips at the skin, claiming it as he sucks a mark with his tongue and teeth. "Ajax, from the moment I saw you, I've loved you."

Love at first delivery, Zhongli once joked, but it's true. The moment Childe saw those golden eyes he was a goner, wholly endeared by this strange man who never had his wallet and tipped way too much.

The tip of Zhongli's cock feels too large as it presses in. Childe hisses at the sting. "Easy does it," says Zhongli, thumbing circles against his hip bone. He rocks into Childe slowly, middling thrusts that slowly let his cock carve right into him.

"I want—"

"Easy does it," repeats Zhongli, his voice a little strained as he tries to maintain his steady pace. "I thought you were going to be good for me?"

"I am, I am!"

Zhongli moans as he bottoms out, groin flush to Childe's ass. His restraint is worn thin because he wastes no time moving, fucking Childe with slow and gentle thrusts.

Childe is going to die from his perfect dick. He's going to melt into the sheets until there's nothing left because all he can feel is Zhongli's thick length and how it drags through his insides perfectly. His toes curl. His back arches. Childe wriggles in the sheets, lifting his hips to meet every thrust.

Zhongli looks heavenly, one hand on Childe's thigh, pressing it back to his chest. Back straight as he fucks him eagerly. Sweat beads on his brow, dripping down his temple. And oh, that look. How he watches Childe as if he's the only thing in the world.

This will not last long. They're too punch drunk on the thought of each other to make anything last. Zhongli quickens, hiking Childe's legs higher until they're resting over his shoulders. The new angle forces Zhongli's cock right into his prostate on every slick slide, the tip bullying those nerves relentlessly.

"Oh fuck," groans Childe. "Oh, fuck. Zhongli—"

Childe's dick is so hard it's painful, slapping against his stomach with the force of Zhongli's hips. "Mhm, Ajax." Another thrust, one so hard that Childe slides across the sheets. Zhongli grabs him by the hips and pulls him back, forcing him into every rolling rut.

"I'm—Shit." Childe is seeing stars. Heat pinches his gut and fire spreads through his veins. He can feel Zhongli's cock in his throat, lodged deep with every dirty grind. He knew this would be perfect but he didn't think it'd be a religious experience.

It is, Zhongli hanging over him, fucking him with uneven thrusts. The soft sounds that spill from his mouth and the way that he hisses his name—his real name—fingers digging crescents into the thick muscle of Childe's thighs.

"I love you," says Childe, finally. "Gods, I love you. I—I—"

Zhongli dips to kiss him again. This is more passionate, lacking the slow-growing heat from earlier. Teeth clash. They nip at each other's lips and tongues, breath mingling until they're basically one. Childe moans against him and Zhongli swallows it down, praising him with dirty, dirty words that Childe will dream about for decades.

"So good for me," he says. "So tight, so perfect. Look at how you take me so well. Fuck."

The rare curse tumbling from Zhongli's mouth is what does Childe in. He jerks his own cock twice before he's spilling into his hand and Zhongli just fucks him through it until he's crying in the sheets. Pulled in all directions. White-heat searing through his body until his joints and bones are nothing but liquid.

It's so good that it hurts, being fucked into overstimulation. Zhongli kisses his tears away and tells him that he loves him, whispering it against Childe's temple with every hard-driving thrust of his cock.

Zhongli comes shortly after, crying out Childe's name into his neck. Soft, aborted little thrusts as he grinds in, painting Childe's insides with his thick, hot spend. A total mess, everything drenched in sweat, lube, and come.

Childe is limbless in the sheets when Zhongli drops his legs. When he pulls out, Childe feels empty, his hole trying and failing to clench. Zhongli spreads his cheeks, sweeping a thumb over his swollen, abused rim. Must be a sight. Zhongli can't stop looking, prodding with care as he watches his come leak out of Childe's ass.

"Gods, stop staring."

"No, I—Apologies." Zhongli doesn't sound remotely sorry, instead scooping up his dripping come and forcing it back into Childe's hole. Childe groans, squirming, and Zhongli laughs. "Alright, I'll stop."

The comedown is slow and peaceful. They lay on their sides, uncaring of the mess, Zhongli's half-hard and spent cock nestled between Childe's thighs. Childe sighs as Zhongli strokes his face, petting his hair, kissing that spot on the back of his neck where the baby hairs rise.

"Was it really love at first sight?"

Zhongli does not hesitate when he says, "Yes."

"Oh, good. Me too."

More laughter and another kiss. Childe thinks that this might be the perfect night.

Later, once Zhongli makes love to him again and Childe is wasting about in the hazy afterglow of being fucked raw and sore, they nestle into fresh sheets post a shower with too many wandering hands.

Even now, Zhongli can't stop touching him, fingers sliding down the curve of his side before resting his palm flat against his stomach. He thumbs circles into the skin there before plastering himself close, burying his nose into Childe's nape.

"Will you go back home?" he asks. A dreaded question, one that's plagued Childe since his unfortunate run-in with his father.

"I don't want to." And Childe doesn't need to but now that Pyotr knows where he is, he won't make it easy. Childe is still the heir to Harbinger Holdings, whether he ran away or not. "I want to stay here. I just want... peace."

Which he has in every moment spent with Zhongli.

Zhongli is quiet as he thinks, no doubt the sorts of thoughts that are probably hard to parse through. He's good with words but not his feelings, floundering about awkwardly when something profound struggles to loose from his mouth.

Childe is dozing when he finally speaks. "I would like to spend my retirement with you." A pause. "The rest of it, of course. All of it."

"Is that a proposal?"

Kind of. Sounds a little like one. Zhongli huffs but doesn't answer, instead hiding his face. And then: "Your home is whatever you make of it. I'd prefer to think that you find it with me."

Childe does. It's painfully obvious, which is why he laughs, reaching around to smack at Zhongli. "Idiot," he says. "Idiot."

Zhongli laughs silently, body jerking as he chuckles. They fall quiet again. It's wonderful, lazing about in Zhongli's arms. Childe didn't think he was worth this or that he'd ever find it. But here Zhongli is, petting his skin idly. Kissing the back of his neck and nuzzling the downy hair there.

It's perfect, this life they've built.

"Retirement is a long time," says Childe.

"I've been waiting for you longer," is Zhongli's smooth reply.

Childe hides his face in the pillow, much to Zhongli's amusement.