gacharolls | >> 005 | I’m a soldier, not a plaything

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>> 005 | I’m a soldier, not a plaything

[ Liyue is burning.

It had only been a few hours since the Snezhnayan army had landed on the city’s shores and in that time the soldiers had wasted no time cutting a swath of destruction and violence throughout the safe harbor. Merchant’s stalls were tipped over, their contents ransacked and pillaged. Temples burned on hilltops, shrines to the gods splattered with blood and viscera of their most devout followers. Ornate, gilded residences once home to nobles and elite politicians crumbled by the wayside and bodies of Liyue’s former citizens bled together in red trickles of blood that flowed like rivers through the streets.

Whatever class system that had been put in place before was inconsequential. There was far too much carnage to pick out the robes of a noble from ones of a commoner, and all parties bled the same.

It was uncertain what had prompted the attack. For all extents and purposes negotiations had been fine, with some trade ships conducting business as usual between the two nations as recently as a week ago.

One of the bodies laying in the street was a small figure garbed in Liyuen clothing, clutching a Snezhnayan matryoshka doll. Childe, better known as Tartaglia to his servants and Ajax to his close family, glanced over the grim sight and murmured a soft prayer before continuing on his way through the city. The bottoms of his boots and trousers were soaked with blood, stained until the fabric changed from a dull grey to a red so deep it was practically black.

He’d been pulled from his chambers by one of his men stumbling in, clothes ripped and tattered, blood flowing from a wound in his side. He’d yelled something about a surprise Millelith ambush and how several of his comrades had already been taken out while they were ransacking the Golden House, and then promptly passed out.

As Childe made his way there he took note of the destruction of the city with something like satisfaction and elation in his dark blue eyes. Perhaps it was because of his status as a Harbinger or maybe because his upbringing was less than conventional, but this was the sort of environment that he thrived in.

Bodies of Liyuen citizens littered the ground underfoot in the walk he took to reach the doors of the Golden House, and before stepping within he noted how they were slightly ajar, small handprints of blood standing out on the wood next to larger ones slimmer than his own.

How strange. He wondered if people had tried to take sanctuary here before the Fatui found them, or if they’d been chased here and sought to make their final stand in one of Liyue’s most well-known landmarks.

He sincerely hoped no blood got on the mora. From the last time he’d visited the mint he remembered that the caretakers tended to just leave it laying around in piles.

As he steps inside Childe finds himself staring at a scene of such carnage and violence he can’t help the catch of his breath, the way his pupils dilate while something warm and hot burns under his skin.

His men lay on the floor, clothes ripped and torn with the press of a blade or a spear. It’s a pole arm, he concludes, when he lifts his eyes and catches sight of a few more of his men surrounding a man with long brown hair dipped in gold.

And gods, he thinks. This man is a vision.

He wields the pole arm effortlessly, as though it’s another part of him. Childe watches as his men go flying with the force used against them, the butt of the shaft used in connection with an open palm to force the Fatui into giving the foreigner a wide berth.

Childe thinks he recognizes the uniform as something of similar make to the Millelith, but he’s not sure. There’s too much blood staining down the man’s front to be able to tell, and Childe hopes not all of it is this beautiful foreigner’s. ]

Enough. [ He calls out, voice ringing authoritatively in the open space. His men on the floor groan in reply. Childe keeps his gaze on the man in front of him, desire thrumming through his veins. ]

You’ve given my men quite the work out, haven’t you? [ It comes out teasingly as though there isn’t a Fatui lying limp with his arm missing. ]

My name is Tartaglia, Eleventh of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers. But you can call me Childe.

[ And he smiles, the gesture so innocent it’s unfitting for the bloody scene all around them. ]

And what are you called, my lovely?

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[Zhongli would be lying to say there was no curiosity in him, watching Childe beam so. He doesn't really make any logical sense, slipping from cold and unerring, threatening in every way, to this warm, bright expression. It's something he hasn't seen, and it's enough to stump him utterly for a time.

Childe really is lucky he doesn't understand how strong his draw is. Though, in this limited space, how much could he take advantage of it...?

Then again, he's not thinking about that at all. He's thinking about the way Childe is dressing him, hands warm and close. The slip of silk over his skin is enough to make him shiver, and for a moment, he's too distracted to slap hands away from his hips.

He's getting complacent. How... troublesome. There isn't much he can do about it though.]

... don't be coy. We both know where this is going. You have your pet, you may as well start acting like it. Stop treating me like I have any say in the matter.

[It would be easier, he thinks, than this strange back and forth.]

And here I thought you would enjoy a little playful banter.

[ Childe's fingers find themselves tangled in the long strands of the foreigner's hair, twirling one around his hand before lifting it to his lips for a kiss. It's still somewhat damp, but it's nothing that will exacerbate the chill in the room; the scraps of cloth he's wearing do more than enough on their own.

And, really, they could barely even be considered that. With the sheerness of the fabric leaving little to the imagination - Childe thinks his cock looks nice like this, tucked away into a silky sheath like an erotic jade parcel - it's a wonder that the brunet is not curling into himself with the cold. He can only think that that his stubbornness and pride is what keeps him upright, since he's pretty sure he can see goosebumps rising along the other's skin from where he's standing.

Childe drops the wet strands of hair he's got in his grasp in favor of taking his hand and leading him over towards where the bed is. ]

I'll give you your own chambers soon enough, don't worry. For now, though, I think it's best you spend the night with me.

[ It's large and spacious enough to house at least four people which would probably be a relief - if not for the fact that Childe seems to be exceedingly touchy feely and would doubtless drape over the Liyuen native the second the opportunity presents itself. ]

Playful banter.

[Zhongli scoffs, but leaves it at that. Fingers curl around strands of his hair and he allows it - for the moment, it's relatively harmless. It certainly isn't hurting his temperature having him relatively nearby.

On the subject of heat, Childe isn't entirely wrong. It's not the coldest place to be, even still damp as he is, but it's not pleasant. Goosebumps rise on skin and the last dregs of dampness cling to him like a jealous lover, in ways the sheer fabric nearly fails to do so.

His fingers are even cold to the touch when Childe grasps his hand, and he hesitates a moment on the way to the bed.]

I imagine you will quite graciously keep me warm, if I simply accept?

[He would, of course, rather not. Childe may have kept his hands to himself before, but over the night and onward? That's harder to say. If he's honest, he wishes the harbinger would just be overt about it - not knowing when to expect it leaves his already exhausted body still on high alert.

At first, at least, he's not willing to take the offered kindness at all, simply sitting at the edge of the bed. Maybe, he thinks, he'd rather use the chaise lounge. Anywhere but near this... man. Perhaps that's a little childish, but he's exhausted enough to be petty for once.]

Naturally. What better way to warm up than skin-to-skin contact?

[ Which really says all it needs to on that matter. Seeing the brunet seat himself on the edge of the bed pulls a little laugh from the Harbinger and a shake of his head, but he'll indulge the other - for now.

As much as the Liyuen probably wishes it to be otherwise, the fact of the matter remains that Snezhnayan frost is cold enough to permeate most things, including walls. The fact that Childe's floors were made of cold, icy marble did nothing except retain that coldness, so truthfully? The bed was probably the warmest place in the room. The scraps of clothing that the other was wearing would absolutely not help matters.

But that's fine. There's something more satisfying about bring a dog to heel by its own choice rather than by force. In time he will learn.

Childe himself strips down easily, shucking the fabric of his clothing off as though offended by them. He does this out of the brunet's sight so that he'd have to crane his head around to see him, but once he's done he wastes no time in sliding under the covers and feeling his body warm quickly beneath the covers. ]

Keeping you warm is the least I'll do to you. Won't you come join me? It's much warmer in here than it is out there. Your pride won't do you any good if you freeze to death.

[He hasn't wished for his abilities so strongly in ages. This was never meant to be an easy task - letting go of his place as both guide and protector had been a reluctant necessity.

That's largely unrelated, though. He sits, stubbornly, as the cold seeps into the relative comfort of the room, sinking into fingers and toes and turning his nipples into perky little bumps in his clothes. Even the jewelry seems bent on freezing him into the snake's embrace.]

I don't need your help. The blankets alone would be enough, and this bed is large. Even if I agreed to lie there, I'm not asking for more. My pride and I will be fine. I have survived worse.

[But... ultimately, after a while, he can't deny it any more. His gaze flicks to Childe with an expression of dismay, perhaps even disgust on his face, and he rises up to lift the blankets.]

Just... stay there.

[As if he's not the one being ordered around here.]

[ Childe can be patient. He's sat for hours with a line in the frigid Snezhnayan waters, waiting for a bite. He can lay here as long as it takes for the foreigner to break, and then some.

After all, he wasn't lying when he said it was warm and cozy beneath the blankets. His Zolotse is the only one putting himself through unnecessary suffering, all for the sake of his pride.

Childe understands, of course. To say that he himself hadn't been put through unneeded conflicts for the sake of his own stubbornness would be hypocrisy. Doubtless the Liyuen native will see for himself in the coming months the extent of the Harbinger's proud nature.

For now, he only smiles in that innocuous way of his and rubs a palm over the silken sheets. They're cool to the touch but warming up quickly beneath his skin. ]

I can warm you up much faster if you come into my arms, you know.

[He'd forgotten how fragile human bodies are. Even beneath the covers, his body settles itself into a notable, frustrating shiver. It's fine, he tells himself, the feeling will start coming back and the shuddering will subside.

Childe speaks and his gaze slides to the Snezhnayan, a gruff little exhale as his eyes close.]

You're still acting like I have a choice. If you decide you want something, that is your right as the victor, isn't it?

[He could probably stand to give Childe a small victory, but... ah. He doesn't want to. Not yet. The Harbinger has already proven that if he really wants, his hands will do as they like, regardless of Zhongli's thoughts on the matter.]

I ache. If that's all, I would like to rest.

[As he speaks, ignoring the chill of the blankets even against his skin, he turns away from Childe to settle himself in the space. He wasn't lying - he certainly aches, both from the cold and from the injuries (which, he suspects, will feel worse in the morning thanks to said cold on the myriad of bruises).]

[ Childe will allow the man to have his rest; for a little while, at least. The minutes pass to the tune of the winds howling angrily outside, rattling the loose embellishments on the palace itself while the sky dims with every passing moment. The heavy, draped furs and luxurious blankets provide a nice cocoon of warmth for the pair of them, the mattress beneath like sinking into a cloud. It's apparent no expense was spared to make the bed as comfortable as it could possibly be.

It's also apparent, from the way that a callused hand slides up the brunet's side to rest on his hip, that Childe has no intention of letting him rest any time soon.

The bed shifts and creaks beneath them when the Harbinger slides ever closer, and the way he fits his body along the length of the foreigner's own is equal parts a means to warm his chilled body and also to indulge in a bit of friction against his unattended cock - which quickly hardens at an almost alarming rate, nestling itself against the backs of the Liyuen's warriors thighs.

The hand on a his hips lifts to correct that little oversight, sliding down to take a slim leg and pull it up so he can slide his cock in between them with a content sigh. At least it's warm. ]

I hope you don't mind. [ He says when he sets the foreigner's leg down. ] I just sleep better this way.

[For one minute, two even, he thinks maybe he'll be able to rest. The heavy furs and soft mattress are almost enough to doze off in. It's a luxury he's really not used to.

... And then, there's the sound of movement over the howling of the winds and noise of the palace shifting in its anger. Sound turns to heat, and against his aching and cold body, it's almost, almost a salve. If it weren't the very man who advocated his current predicament, the gesture could almost be sweet.

Perhaps a bit less sweet, with how fast Childe's cock hardens between them, hot and thick against his skin for a moment before the harbinger slides down to lift his leg up. With little recourse, he just... allows it, not quite freezing and perhaps gritting his teeth as he speaks.]

... Ah. You have other pets you accost? Whores, perhaps, unable to refuse your whims? At least I won't be alone in this discomfort, then.

[His tone is cold, but he's much too worn for anything more than that. At least it's just that, for now.]

If you're concerned about the level of attention I'll be able to give to you, Zolotse, have no fear. You are my only bedmate right now.

[ Lips press to the other's neck as though in reassurance, and the pleased hum he lets out thrums through his chest and vibrates against the foreigner's scantily-clad back. Despite the wanton position he had shifted them into, Childe remains as well-behaved as before. He does not move or jostle about, does not thrust between his new pet's legs as though content to just... lay there, warming him with the heat of his body.

There are a number of ways it could change, of course, but the Harbinger does not seem too keen on doing so just yet and as a matter of fact his breathing is even starting to even out. Perhaps he really would just sleep like this, as strange a position as it was. ]

I'm sure our trip over has not been kind to you. Please rest. [ Comes the low murmur, and Childe turns his head to suck a mark into the foreigner's neck. ]

If you find you can't, I can while away the time telling you everything I'd like to do to you.

Perhaps it's that fact that concerns me.

[The press of Childe's lips raises goosebumps on Zhongli's skin, his fingers curling in some attempt to stay still and steady. Honestly, the temptation to elbow him is extremely strong. Just the heat of warmth against his nearly-bare skin keeps him still and steady.

And if the harbinger does stay like this? Well, perhaps this isn't the worst thing in the world. Strange, not terribly comfortable, but-- Childe leans in, mouth pressed to his neck to suck, and Zhongli flinches.]

Don't-- [Everywhere already aches, and the dull throb that rises when he's finished seems to oscillate between unbearable and completely unnoticed. It does have a slight reaction in him, though, a tiny hitch of breath he tries to hide. Is he blushing? He can't tell, his cheeks have felt warm since before he climbed under the covers. His cock, thankfully, barely moves from the attack on an erogenous zone he scarcely realised he had.

Great. Wonderful. He needs to rein that in immediately.]

... Stop that. I have enough to heal from, you are correct. Adding to that and the discomfort of trying to sleep in jewelry is unhelpful. Are you really so impatient you can't wait even a little while?

[Every argument he can bring up, he does. It's not a skill he often uses, much less needs, but at this sharp a disadvantage, it's his only real recourse short of giving in.]

[ As much as the foreigner wants to dissuade him against continuing his attentions, the moment Childe had heard the breathy hitch of breath from his lips pressing against the brunet's throat, he knew he was done for.

He is a patient man in some regards, except when it comes to something he knows he can reach out and take. And for the pretty foreigner he's brought back with him... he knows that he can take, and take, and break, and that that man will fight him every step of the way but ultimately submit to what he wants.

Honestly, it's Childe's goal that he angers him enough to strike him again, but he'll take what he can get. ]

You've already kept me waiting long enough. If you would really like to rest, I'll take your name as payment... but if not, then please excuse me. [ And he's pulling his dick out from between his legs and pressing the brunet down against the mattress. With nothing more than a provocative wink and a lick of his lips, Childe pulls the blankets over himself and disappears, his path marked by a moving lump and hands roving over the other's stomach and slinking steadily downward. ]

Perhaps you should have cautioned your men to be more careful then.

[If they had been any gentler on him, Zhongli probably wouldn't be here. He grunts when weight presses him down into the soft mattress, scowling at the lump shifting where Childe disappeared beneath the blankets.]

A single night's rest isn't worth my name. You have no reason to even want it anyway.

[hands rove over his stomach and Zhongli finally moves to snatch them by the wrists, heartbeat picking up.]

Stop. You're sorely mistaken if you think I won't risk freezing because you won't keep your hands to yourself.

[This threat would hit harder if just holding the harbinger's hands away from his skin didn't leave him basically completely defenseless. It would be trivial to push him onto his stomach or back fully, and the best he could do would be to try to elbow or kick the harbinger.

Which, at this point, is admittedly tempting.]

[ Admittedly tempting, but given that Childe's movement is hardly restricted by the grip on his wrists - he has long arms - it probably wouldn't do much. Lifting his legs would put the foreigner exactly where the Harbinger wants him, and he'll probably become aware of that fact when there's a hot breath ghosting over the his inner thigh and a tongue laving along the material housing his neglected cock.

And suddenly the reasoning for the sheer fabric becomes clear; while it's enough to cover him, it's most definitely not enough to keep the brunet from feeling wetness and heat over the shameless bulge of his dick, which is what happens when Childe covers the whole thing with his mouth and flattens his tongue against him.

The fabric works in tandem to also absorb the liquid, spreading throughout the entirety of the foreigner's crotch and making it feel as though there was literally nothing separating his skin from Childe's hot mouth.

He doesn't answer, for obvious reasons. But the answering thrum in reply is far more amused than it has any right to be. ]

[The wetness is itself a twofold problem, of course. If he were to flee the covers now, it would freeze him all that much faster. Admittedly, he thinks he probably should have realised before an entire tongue has flattened over his dick. Fingers let go of a hand in order to grab the redhead by the hair and shove.]

I-- said-- Stop!

[Childe's mouth was so hot though, tempered by the surrounding wetness against his skin. He doesn't freeze this time when the instinct kicks in. He needs to put distance between them and get Childe away from him.

It's a tall order when the room alone is trying to kill him. Still, at least he's trying something this time, shifting to try and sit up and scoot away.]

[ Freeing the hand was something of a mistake, because Childe will take the opportunity presented and curl it around a slim leg to yank over his shoulders, keeping them close in the process. The blanket falls away enough that the brunet can see the utterly smug expression on his face, the shameless desire and hunger that's visible even in the quickly fading light.

As much as the fingers in his hair pain him, as much as he feels a few strands pull out with the foreigner's hold - he doesn't stop. Fingers tighten over the grip on the brunet's thigh and keep him there, and he strains to lower his head and get back to what he was doing. ]

Will you give me your name, then? If not, I'm inclined to keep going.

[ It's not a particularly hard bargain he's driving, but somehow he feels as though the man will continue to fight him every step of the way. But that's fine. He wouldn't have expected anything less. ]

[All this over his name? Zhongli certainly thinks not. Childe isn't hiding his lust, bright in otherwise fathomlessly dark eyes, and that doesn't give him much confidence. His grip remains firm, even as it aches in his muscles to do so.]

I don't believe you would stop even if I gave my name. You have yet to follow through with a single thing you've said, save for bringing me here.

[After he gives his name, then what? All of it is just an excuse for Childe to take what he wants anyway, isn't it? He has something to call him, it doesn't even seem offensive. Zhongli just wants rest, and he's sure he'll get none now. Rest, and then lips on his neck. Stay like this, and then he's pressed into the bed.

What kind of fool would he be to believe a man like this?]

[ Childe lets the words hang in the air between them for several long moments, the silence broken only by the continued howling of the wind outside. At first his expression morphs into one of surprise, wonder - but soon enough that telling smile is quick to slide back onto his face again and he chuckles, the sound almost sinister in the space between them. ]

I can only offer you my word. Perhaps you should learn to trust people more, Zolotse. It would keep you from greying prematurely.

[ As though Childe hasn't done a single bad thing, ever, in the time that they'd known each other. But he'll let it settle for now and, after locking deep blue eyes with fiery golden ones, he dips his head even with the pull to his hair and laves his tongue over the fabric yet again.

This time, there's the threatening press of teeth, and the sheer material does nothing to dull the sharpness of the action. Childe's gaze remains riveted on the brunet's face, watching every little shift, greedily drinking in every reaction offered up, unwilling though it might be. ]

[Truly, this man is the worst. Perhaps not from an influential standpoint - yet - but certainly from the perspective of one man just trying to rest after being beaten to exhaustion, a long boat ride, the frigid cold, and everything else that's come between their meeting and now.]

Perhaps if I thought there was anything trustworthy about you--

[His words stop as Childe fights against his grip again, tongue dragging over fabric with the addition of teeth. The noise he makes isn't entirely displeased - mostly, but there's a tiny, tiny thread of arousal that sneaks in. It's hard to hear, hard to even see when it twitches on his scowling face.

Maybe he's glad his body hasn't started wholesale reacting yet. This is humiliating enough as it is, and Zhongli considers for a moment. What would be the best course of action...? Ultimately, it's hard to say. He doesn't really want Childe down there, but...]

... What will you do, if you do receive my name?

[His grip loosens on Childe's hair, because frankly, he doesn't have the strength to keep it up. He's too ill-fed, too sore, too tired. It might just be easier to endure whatever the harbinger wants to do to him, right now.]

[ The question makes him pause, for what it's worth; Childe behaves enough to pull his tongue back into his mouth, turning his head to close his eyes and press his lips against a slim leg. The gesture is remarkably affectionate for their situation, and he hums thoughtfully, like he's trying to think of the best way to go about this. ]

Maybe I'll stop. [ His tone is anything but reassuring. Another kiss gets pressed a little lower, as though he's casually making his way back down to continue where he'd left off. ] Or maybe I'll keep going. Perhaps you'll simply have to give me your name and see.

[ Is he lying? Is he telling the truth? It's hard to tell. Up until now Childe has only ever been unpredictable and yet deadset on taking what he wants. Who's to say he wouldn't just take the brunet anyway, break him open on his cock like he'd said he would, earlier? It's a gamble. ]

Would you trust me? Perhaps I'll take your name and continue anyway. What better way to find rest than after your body has been sated? I'm only helping.

[Maybe. Perhaps. There's nothing at all in what he says or does that makes Zhongli think Childe would do anything less than keep taking.]

My body has no need for satiation, you should be able to tell.

[His heartbeat is picking up, but he's still more frustrated than anything. It helps, somehow. And he just... lays back, exhaling a beleaguered breath.]

If there's a risk you'll continue, I may as well just endure it now, then. Go on, then.

[Will he be able to get out of this without a sharp reaction or anything he doesn't want to give? Probably not, but he's evidently going to try. If Childe doesn't care what he wants, maybe he'll care that he's doing nothing.]

[ Like before, Childe allows the words to hang in the silence between them, exhaling a soft sigh against the foreigner's leg. But perhaps unexpectedly, he doesn't continue. The grip on his leg loosens, setting it back down on the bed as the Harbinger slides up with a rustle of cloth, hair sticking up in lumps from both the blankets and the grip of the other's fingers in his hair.

There's a number of different ways he can take this, he's sure, but somehow knowing that the warrior has all but given up doesn't give him as much satisfaction as he would have liked. For a long moment he stares at the other's face, watching, waiting to see if he'll crack, and when he doesn't the Harbinger exhales a sigh and props himself on his chin over the foreigner's body. ]

You'd rather let me fuck you instead of giving me your name? Even with the possibility I might stop? Are you some kind of masochist or something?

[It's a small reprieve, at least. The foreigner glances down at him with a soft hum, his expression blank and bland. All of it is intentional, of course. It's his best guess at how to halt this - if Childe keeps going despite his words, then there's no point in fighting with them. It's better to fight with apathy in that case, he thinks.]

I told you, didn't I? You are undeserving of it. Am I supposed to simply fall upon my knees and prostrate myself in thanks that you didn't simply kill me, and miraculously believe that you are a man of good intentions? You've made it abundantly clear that nothing matters but what you want, so take it and be done.

I don't need to be a masochist to find the prospect of enduring your whims more appealing than giving you something with the slimmest chance that I won't still have to endure said whims.

[ Something flickers in Childe's gaze as the foreigner goes on, admiration and disbelief warring with each other on his face. In the end, Childe settles with admiration, finger curling against his own cheek while he regards the man under him with something fond in his eyes.

It's not as though he's lost. Getting the foreigner to Snezhnayan shores makes his options for escape limited. Even if he hates him in the end, that's fine; in the end, Childe will make sure he knows who he belongs to. He'll carve it into his skin if he has to.

Even he doesn't understand the magnitude of his obsession, but doubtless there will be many chances to find out in the coming months. ]

As you wish, then. [ Is all he says to the matter, right before he pulls the blankets back over his head and goes sliding back down between the brunet's legs. Without hands holding him up he's free to move as he wishes, and he does - both hands lift thighs up to his shoulders to drape, palms sliding down to cup generous handfuls of ass and thumbs spreading him wide. It takes a bit of blind adjusting, but Childe's able to maneuver well enough in the dark.

He doesn't go for his cock this time, of course. Instead, the foreigner will feel a warm, wet tongue swipe over his rim, lathering it generously with spit before it points and delves as deep as it can go all at once. ]

[Briefly, that sharpness returns to Zhongli's gaze. Childe's already realised it, no doubt, but this isn't over. Even as he stares, the harbinger's expression softens into some sort of admiration, and he knows it's only half-worked at best.

The blankets flutter again and his head disappears, leaving the brunet with just enough time to take a breath and close his eyes. Archons help him, except that would be foolish. Expecting that... his jaw tenses as palms cup his ass and thumbs spread his cheeks apart. Maybe it should be more surprising, but honestly with how hungry Childe's been acting for his body?

He still flinches when the harbinger's tongue swipes over his rim, inhaling sharply despite his attempts at preparation. Though he doesn't openly squirm, with his thighs pressed against Childe's shoulders the other will struggle not to feel how they tense. This is, after all, what he accepted.

But... ah. It's been a long time, hasn't it? This, this is a little harder to just ignore, and he has to bite his tongue when Childe's tongue shifts to dive into him. Despite that, it doesn't completely mitigate the way his breath hitches. Fuck.]

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