[truthfully, he doesn't know if he thinks Childe would have stopped for a second even if he'd said no. in spite of what he's become, he still recalls where they began, the first moment he'd realised that - at least as he is now - he's more or less in a position of only being able to accept what he's given.
perhaps it's better, then, that he's begun to enjoy himself. Childe's fondness for him helps no small amount, even if that attraction has met him in a slow, fervid aching in the warrior. is he still a warrior, after all this time? surely, being so filled and so used, Zhongli hasn't had the same amount of time for training and honing his skills. even so... he's still certain he could take care of himself, if he needed to.
which is, in the end, neither here nor there. it's irrelevant as fingers grip around his thigh and hoist it higher, so much that if he looks down, he can see the other's cum-covered cock squishing and churning the mess left inside him. Zhongli's fingers curl in the sheets as he endures the onslaught (endures, he thinks, isn't quite the right term. he's losing his mind with the pleasure of it, little by little) alongside the way his body molds and clings to its thick weight.
beneath him, his own cock twitches and throbs with the ruthless fucking, drawn closer with every heartbeat. he need only wait, he knows, for the Snezhnayan to give in to his truest self... and wait he does, for the short time he has to.
hips hasten their plunging pace and as it turns frenzied, wanton and harsh enough to thump the bed into the wall, he struggles to remember what life was like without it. surely, it hadn't been that long... and yet. Childe's voice rises just behind him and he shudders.]
Nngh-- ah... go-- go on. [his hole, pounded into shape as it is, provides no resistance to being taken; all of it is in the way his body clings, as though the other's cock provides him with the only thing he needs.] Fill me up again... [his lips curl at the thought of it, a vague wonder in mind if perhaps, just perhaps, it will gush in and fill him more, or if it won't find any tiny space to squelch and slosh against his legs, his thighs, the poor ruined bedsheet beneath them. his backside aches from its abuse, back arching as he leans his shoulders back into Childe's chest. ah, he's so close...]
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perhaps it's better, then, that he's begun to enjoy himself. Childe's fondness for him helps no small amount, even if that attraction has met him in a slow, fervid aching in the warrior. is he still a warrior, after all this time? surely, being so filled and so used, Zhongli hasn't had the same amount of time for training and honing his skills. even so... he's still certain he could take care of himself, if he needed to.
which is, in the end, neither here nor there. it's irrelevant as fingers grip around his thigh and hoist it higher, so much that if he looks down, he can see the other's cum-covered cock squishing and churning the mess left inside him. Zhongli's fingers curl in the sheets as he endures the onslaught (endures, he thinks, isn't quite the right term. he's losing his mind with the pleasure of it, little by little) alongside the way his body molds and clings to its thick weight.
beneath him, his own cock twitches and throbs with the ruthless fucking, drawn closer with every heartbeat. he need only wait, he knows, for the Snezhnayan to give in to his truest self... and wait he does, for the short time he has to.
hips hasten their plunging pace and as it turns frenzied, wanton and harsh enough to thump the bed into the wall, he struggles to remember what life was like without it. surely, it hadn't been that long... and yet. Childe's voice rises just behind him and he shudders.]
Nngh-- ah... go-- go on. [his hole, pounded into shape as it is, provides no resistance to being taken; all of it is in the way his body clings, as though the other's cock provides him with the only thing he needs.] Fill me up again... [his lips curl at the thought of it, a vague wonder in mind if perhaps, just perhaps, it will gush in and fill him more, or if it won't find any tiny space to squelch and slosh against his legs, his thighs, the poor ruined bedsheet beneath them. his backside aches from its abuse, back arching as he leans his shoulders back into Childe's chest. ah, he's so close...]