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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[ Childe feasts like a man starved, and perhaps in a way he was. It brings to question the foreigner's claim about having whores and other pets to share his bed with, unless Childe just tended to go all in with every single one of them. It would not be the most surprising thing, given his general nature.

But no, the way he eats the brunet out is nothing short of reverent, devoted, hungry. There's an attentiveness to his motions when he pulls away, the blanket sliding down over his head and to his shoulders and granting him room to peek up at the effect he has on the foreigner. He catches the tense jaw and the tension in his thighs, eyes squeezed shut as though to ignore what it is Childe's doing to his body.

That's fine, though. If anything, perhaps that would make the foreigner feel what he was doing all the more.

Childe smiles against his skin and doubles down on the task at hand. His fingers grip into bruises over slim legs, keeping them squeezed around his head while he noses in and plunges his tongue in and out, feeling the rim stretch around the girth of it. He stabs wetly along the other's inner walls before curling his wet muscle and rolling it up along where he thinks the prostate to be, letting out a positively wrecked groan as though he's getting just as much pleasure from this as the foreigner doubtless is.

Wet, slick noises fill the room, interspersed with Childe's hungry murmurs and shuddering breaths as he continues to eat out the foreigner with more skill than one would expect from a murderous Harbinger. At some point he pulls away and runs the tip of his tongue over his rim, delving in just enough to tease along the edge of him before bobbing his head back down and shoving himself in all the way, granting his guest a sudden fullness and the sensation of wet swipes over his insides. ]

[Oh, he's good. Zhongli wasn't expecting it, somehow, despite the fervor with which the harbinger had thrown himself at his cock. And of course, he's not wrong. Being tense as he is only makes it more clear what every movement is doing to him, and in turn it's ever harder to ignore.

Fingers grip onto his bruises and he barely notices his own wince, focused on the stabbing stretch of his tongue despite every attempt to focus on anything else. It was laughably foolish to think he could ignore it, even if the man wasn't so damn good with his tongue.

And oh, the sound he makes when Childe finds his prostate. It's bitten off as best as he can, but the damage is more than done. Zhongli's legs threaten to tremble as he's eaten out, fingers curling in the sheets as his breath picks up. Almost too much, and then it's so much worse, his shoulders tensing as his back wants to arch at the tease of the tip of his tongue, pressing and twisting against his sensitive rim. Admittedly, he hadn't expected to be so hard-pressed...

And, if his cock wasn't already starting to strain at the wet scraps of fabric clinging to it, it certainly is by the time Childe shoves his tongue in. It's the last barrage, enough to make his whole body practically sink into the bed, save where his hips tremble in the harbinger's grip.

If he's honest, he may not have ever considered how this could feel. Certainly, he's never been with anyone with such a devilish tongue.]

[ The tension of the other's body in his hold doesn't go unnoticed, and Childe relishes in every single reaction wrung out of him with each curl and press of his tongue inside the beautiful foreigner. He can feel his own saliva dribbling down his chin in the process, but he doesn't care; instead of wiping at it with his hands he instead moves them around and down, gripping the swell of ass and lifting the other up into him.

Now with the brunet all but pressed into Childe's face, there's no hope of escaping, no room to pull away or wriggle free. There's only the tormenting pleasure that Childe gifts him with each swipe and plunge and roll of his tongue, like he means to bring the man to orgasm through this alone. The blankets pool off and away, gifting the foreigner the sight of the Harbinger tongue-fucking him open feverishly, head bobbing with the motions.

Perhaps the chill of the room might help him get his wits together, and it probably helps that the redhead does actually pull his tongue out of him and turns his head to kiss along the inside of one trembling thigh affectionately. ]

Will you give me your name now? [ He says, and it's practically a purr, like his lips aren't shiny with his own spit, like his tongue isn't still flicking out between them as though he wants nothing more than to go back to eating him out. ]

[For one feverish moment, he thinks it's better that he can't escape. It's torturous, every plunge and lap and roll of his tongue, like he's known Zhongli's body forever. It's extremely rude, and if he's not careful, he could forget what he's gone through at this man's insistence.

Cool air flickers over his skin and it does help, somewhat. It wicks away the excess heat he'd felt in his cheeks, but doesn't even begin to touch what's begun to pool in his belly. It's not even his cock, and still he feels more pliant and willing than if it had been, he thinks.

Then, Childe's mouth shifts and he's kissing along a thigh, speaking. He almost says it immediately, but catches himself. The chill feels worse now, as the heat he'd built up is whisked away.]

You... haaah... you want me to give it just because you're-- good with your tongue? [God. His tongue is still flicking and all Zhongli wants to think about is how it felt between his legs. He halts the thought immediately, shuddering.

Is it that bad? It would be, wouldn't it? Once he'd put weight to it...]

Why does it matter so much to you? I'm your pet, aren't I? What name I had shouldn't make a difference.

[There's less resistance to the question, this time. More... he just doesn't understand. It's just a name, doesn't anything suffice?]

Maybe I'm curious. Maybe I'd like to know what you were called, to see if it suits you. I know only snatches of Liyuen, but I should like to think it's enough to be able to pick out the meaning your parents had when they named you.

It's only a curiosity, nothing more. But if you're unwilling to give me your name, that's fine.

[ He dips his head again, and another kiss is pressed reverently against the brunet's thigh. When he speaks his voice is a low murmur from below, equal parts a promise and a threat. ]

I just hope you'll do me the favor of letting me know when you're about to cum.

[ And he doesn't go for his ass, this time, mercifully; instead, he pries apart the sheer fabric housing the brunet's unattended erection, framing the base between his fingers before closing his mouth over the head and immediately shoving down, taking as much inside to the back of his throat as he can all in one go.

The pretty foreigner will have the luxury of his neglected cock immediately housed in warm, wet heat, tongue flattening along the bottom where it forces his mouth open for it, throat working to help pull the girth into it. Childe hums in delight, eyes closing - and then immediately resumes the pace he'd set when he was eating him out, each bob of his head swallowing and releasing the warrior's cock in tight, yielding warmth. ]

... Is that really all?

[There's almost an exasperation to it, really. Somehow, he thinks he shouldn't have been surprised... before he can say anything else though, the harbinger is prying away the fabric over his growing erection, holding its length in place so that he can... dive down on it, apparently. That answers any questions about why he'd need to know when Zhongli was about to cum, at least.

For a man who talked so much about fucking Zhongli, Childe is remarkably obsessed with pleasuring him. Still, it's enough to get further reactions now that he's relaxed just a little. It's not nearly as strong as when he was eating him out, but it also doesn't need to be. His mouth is hot, and he's no less adept at this as he was before.

As such, Zhongli isn't surprised by how quickly that heat engulfs his neglected cock, nor how his tongue flattens and helps him slide further down. He'll be fully hard within a few bobs of Childe's head at this point, and his back finally does arch in response of it. Fuck... he's absolutely not going to last long against this. At this point, he doesn't mind quite so much.

His skin is cold and hot in confusing juxtaposition, but everything leans on heat now. Thinking, much as he'd like to, is barely a consideration when his cock is sliding down into the harbinger's throat. It doesn't mean he actually wants it, he reminds himself, no matter how nice it feels.

There's no sense in holding back, and he's honestly not used to it, so Childe is quick to pull him toward the edge. It's not hard to feel it coming, but he'll play nice for now. Though... honestly, he's not entirely sure it's a choice he makes consciously.]

Ah... I'm-- ah-

[ At the words Childe is quick to pull himself off with an obscene slurp - after a few more bobs of his head, of course, ensuring that the pretty foreigner became intimately acquainted with the muscles of his throat sliding and squeezing all over him - more spit and saliva dribbling down his chin in the process.

His deep blue eyes rake over the brunet's form, taking in the sight of his arched back and trembling chest, the way the pretty foreigner looks as though he's a step away from cumming -

- and then he abruptly squeezes around the base of his erection, tight, too tight, staving off that orgasm for the time being.

Perhaps his next request is to be expected, since Childe had placed such unnecessary importance on it before. The innocent, charming smile only makes it all the more insulting. ]

Your name, please.

[ At the very least, he's stopped with any kind of friction on the other's straining cock, but perhaps that could be even more maddening. ]

[He's losing his mind. He's sure he is, as Childe pulls himself off to watch him in this terrible, vulnerable position. Everything is too perfect, and he's sure he'll see just why, but maybe...

Maybe nothing. The harbinger squeezes his cock and everything stalls, a sharp, half-whined noise on his lips. Fuck, fuck, what's he--]

... You bastard.

[His voice is thin and thready, and he shudders as Childe smiles at him. All this, and he's still obsessed with it. The warrior gives a frustrated noise, weight shifting.

He absolutely doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve his name at all, even a little bit.]

Zhongli.

[A sturdy, steady name, one that's a little bit melancholy and strange, if you really look at it. Earth, departure, neutrality. Not a common name, to be sure. He leaves it there, with no other context, not failing to glare fiercely at Childe in turn. Any positive points the harbinger had earned are surely gone, after this little manipulation.]

Zhongli. [ He breathes, reverently. It's not quite as fitting as Zolotse, but it suits him, this beautiful, fierce warrior in his bed. It's a strong name, he thinks, graceful and unyielding.

He'll let him keep it, for now. ]

It's a pleasure to meet you, Zhongli. [ And then he has the gall to wink. For a moment he deliberates giving the man his own, real name, but given that Zhongli has yet to use his handles at all he doubts that it would matter.

So instead he turns his attentions to other things and immediately swallows Zhongli's cock down to the root, removing his hand from around the base of his cock and flattening it against the foreigner's stomach to hold him down. ]

If you say so.

[It's about all he can offer, in this moment. He's not sure what he thinks about hearing it on Childe's lips, but what choice does he have?

Whatever choice, he doesn't have time to think on it - the harbinger swallows down his cock and Zhongli exhales a breathy word in Liyuen, fingers curled tight in the sheets. Fuck, that's even more cruel, even if it's more than enough to bring him to orgasm.

The hand against his stomach holds him just fine, on top of the fact that the warrior is quite steady despite how close he was to the edge. He's... perhaps a little pent up, so hopefully Childe is as hungry as he seems, or ready to move once his mouth is too full of cum.]

[ It's beautiful, the way Zhongli unravels under him, inside his mouth. Childe's eyes struggle to watch every moment of the foreigner's undoing, from the way he arches his back to the way his fingers grip into the sheets as though it would help ground himself in the middle of his orgasm.

But then his mouth is quite soon filled with throbbing pulses of warmth, and the salty tang of another man's cum floods his tongue. Childe drinks it all greedily, keeping himself firmly in place while Zhongli finishes and pulling away only after the last throb has subsided.

Only then does he lift his head up, saliva pooling with what cum he couldn't swallow in a filthy mixture that dribbles down over the foreigner's cock and down between his legs. Childe watches it with barely contained satisfaction and sits back up on his knees, his own cock standing stiffly from his lap.

There's a little oozing down his chin and he swiftly wipes it away with a finger before popping that into his own mouth with a content sigh. ]

I hope that will be enough to help you rest. [ He says, like he's doing Zhongli a favor. ]

[In the aftermath, the ache of everything slowly starts to filter back in. His bruises throb and Zhongli tries to settle himself and relax his muscles. It's probably impressive, the way Childe takes him, but for Zhongli it's still all just frustration.

In fact, the other's shifting and then there's a line of saliva and cum dripping down his cock and between his legs, and he shivers at the feeling. It's not the most unpleasant feeling, but he wouldn't call it pleasant, either.]

I had been perfectly able to rest before. Don't act like you're some sort of benevolent creature when you just wanted to toy with me.

[He's not convinced that it's over, either. Not with how hard Childe is, looming over him where the harbinger settles on his knees. Zhongli's gaze stays anywhere but his cock, as though ignoring it will give him some advantage on maybe being left to sleep soon.]

You know, you're going to look back at how mean you were to me and you're going to kick yourself over it. [ He doesn't even sound remotely sorry, and really this projected scenario is more laughable than anything.

He looks at the way Zhongli tries hard not to look at his dicks and he deliberates for a moment over whether or not to keep going. The foreigner looks exquisite like this, after all, and Childe is still left hard and wanting.

But, perhaps surprisingly, he doesn't indulge. Instead, he slides his palm up the inside of one trembling thigh and gives it a quick pat before settling on his back beside Zhongli, hard dick and all. He's got his name. He'll leave him be for the rest of the night. ]

Good night, Zhongli. Sleep tight.

There are few things in my life that I regret, and I suspect the only regret I might have from this is giving in at all.

[He's not really worried about it, in any case. The fact remains that Childe spirited him away from his home under the explicit intent of making him into a "pet," so he doesn't exactly think he's in the wrong here. Things will be strange enough when a cycle change happens, he knows. At least that's not just now.

And at least Childe is letting him be, in the wake of getting what he wanted. That leaves just the drying mess between his cheeks, and there's not much he can do about it without bringing attention to it.]

... mm. I suppose I will try.

[Honestly, he's pretty exhausted. Freed from Childe's grip, he can turn onto one side and let his aching body rest, finally. Perhaps not for long, but it's something.]

[ Surprisingly enough, Childe left Zhongli to his own devices throughout the night. This pattern would continue in the days and weeks that followed after, with their overall schedule being something to this effect:

In the morning Childe would wake up and indulge on his Liyuen captive, leaving Zhongli to wake up to the Harbinger's mouth around his dick or with his tongue curling against his insides, laving him with pleasure and attention until the foreigner eventually spasmed in orgasm around him.

Once that was done Childe would dress himself in a thick, fur-lined robe and make his way to the door, where he'd make the order for Zhongli's morning meal. Depending on how exuberantly he ate his own "breakfast", he would do this with traces of Zhongli's spend on his chin and lips so that the servant waiting outside would know exactly what he'd been up to.

He'd return and draw his prize a warm bath filled with oils and remedies to help soothe away the soreness of his muscles and help tend to his healing bruises, and while Zhongli soaked Childe would dress himself for the day and retrieve a fresh change of the "outfit" he'd picked out for the foreigner. It was essentially the same thing, but cleaner since the Harbinger had yet to soil it.

After exchanging the dirty clothes with the servant who brought them their meal, he'd wheel the whole cart over to the nearby sitting table and set it for breakfast. Snezhnayan meals consisted of a majority of filling, hot foods, so it was not an uncommon sight to see bowls of porridge laid out with the various fluffy pastries and thin, fruit-topped pancakes Childe set out for them to eat along with a pot of hot coffee and a small kettle of tea.

Once breakfast was finished he would blow Zhongli a kiss before tossing on his Harbinger uniform and departing the room for the day. While Childe's chambers were huge, there was only so much one could pace before they lost their mind, so throughout the day Zhongli would be delivered various books on Snezhnayan culture and little trinkets to play with; things like puzzle boxes, small handheld instruments, precious stones to adorn himself in. Lunch would be delivered promptly at around noon, and it usually consisted of open sandwiches and slices of choice meats of different animals native to the region, with an assortment of fruit for Zhongli to indulge in at his leisure. A pot of tea was always provided, too, to ensure that the Liyuen native had something warm in him at all times.

The people who delivered these items were all recognizable as the elite vanguard that had forcefully taken the foreigner from the Golden House, and any attempts at communication would be met with a blank stare and an empty, hollow grunt before they departed with a slam of the door behind them.

Zhongli could try and escape out the window, but given that the sheer drop was enough to shatter both of one's legs it was highly advised against. That wasn't even to mention the unending blizzard and the cold, biting winds that would immediately sweep into the room every time the window was opened.

Childe would inevitably return when the skies started to darken, gaze hard and cold but eventually thawing once he caught sight of Zhongli. Their supper would be wheeled to them a few minutes after he'd stepped in, and after dining with Zhongli at their shared little table Childe would peel himself out of his clothes and head to the baths.

Once his bath was done he would make his way back to the bed and indulge in his pet a little longer; on some nights this would consist of his tongue and his mouth, on others his tongue and his fingers. But after going for so long unfulfilled Childe began to up the ante, quickly graduating from grinding his cock between the foreigner's thighs to slipping the tip inside and fucking against his abused rim just for the friction on the tip of his dick. Never deeper than that, not even a few inches under the head of his erection.

He'd never finish inside him, stopping when Zhongli could feel him throbbing against his rim and pulling out to finish on his thighs, or stomach, or chest so it could be washed off in the morning.

And so, life goes on... ]

[He's not one to forget the passage of time, but it's quickly difficult to really care. Zhongli has never needed someone to tell him what to do, but with everything happening like clockwork? He sure he's losing his mind.

Really, being left in a room all day was bad enough, wasn't it? Childe tries to mitigate the boredom and frustration, but it's to mixed results. Zhongli is content to read where he can, and there's always something to do, technically... but it all leaves him restless and frustrated.

It doesn't help that Childe can't seem to keep his hands (or his tongue, or his dick...) to himself when he's home. Zhongli has never been so sexually sated in his life. It's like his whole life is revolving around it, and he's not exactly pleased with the fact.

As wounds heal at least, he can start to work in a little proper exercise. He's a warrior, after all, with every intent to go back to that one day. Days and weeks pass in a fog of reluctantly accepted sex and little appeasements, filtered with short conversations where Zhongli still talks at length and strongly about his opinions.

Eventually, he's healed enough that there's no more limp or favoring of one side or the other. He's made little and less progress on escaping this, and is starting to think that even he might yet lose his mind. The morning is much like every other, and Childe has been gone long enough that he suspects the man will return soon. That's fine, at this point.

Absently, Zhongli looks over the many precious stones brought to him - none of which he's ever worn off his own volition, of course. They're beautiful, and beautiful on him, but it's not really his style.

Of course, neither are the absurd scraps of cloth he's still stuck wearing. Often, given the chill of the room, Zhongli has rummaged to find a robe or blanket, anything to keep him from being too uncomfortable during his time alone. This time, settled on the chaise lounge, he finds himself dozing off, hand holding a book on Snezhnayan culture slipping down to hang off of it somewhat. Childe will be back soon, he thinks, so he tries not to, but... well, there's only so much point in staying awake when he's alone and stuck in one room.

It could be worse, he supposes as he starts from the nth instance of dozing off. At least the worst he wakes up with is another bout of sexually harassment.

... that's probably a bad mindset to have, especially at this point.]

[ This is normally about the time that Childe returns from his tasks, and if Zhongli is coherent enough he will doubtless hear the noise of footsteps stopping in front of the door.

When it opens, however, it's not to the sight of the weary, haggard form of the Harbinger stripping himself out of his gloves. Instead, it's to let in one of the Fatui vanguards, eye glowing brightly underneath their mask as they wheel in a cart full of what can only be assumed is supper.

Perhaps Childe is late. Maybe his work is running over. In a place like this it's hard to tell the time, even moreso with the Snezhnayan light dim at all hours of the day. But given the fact that his arrivals up till now have been like clockwork, the man arriving minutes before their meal, it's not hard to assume that Childe is tardy in seeing to his pet.

Whether or not Zhongli finds this a relief or a concern is up to him. If the Harbinger is dead, slain in battle somewhere, perhaps that would be just what he deserves.

At any rate, no matter what Zhongli does, there's another set of footsteps that echo down the hallway come nightfall, accompanied with a steady dripping noise. They're heavy, thudding slams of booted feet echoing ominously around the halls and bleeding through into Childe's private chambers. Heavier and larger than any of the vanguards that have delivered his meals thus far, and with more purpose.

They stop in front of the door and it creaks open. A horned head makes its appearance first, blue eye gleaming sinisterly in what little light there is. It's followed by the obscene bulk of a creature, bipedal, taller and larger than any of the Fatui that have come to visit thus far and bringing with it the strong, metallic scent of blood, grime, and death.

The door slams and a deep, rattling hiss resonates forth from this monster. Without another word, it turns and makes its way to the bath. ]

[After so long, maybe it's impossible not to feel even a pang of concern over all of it. The tardiness, in any case, doesn't go unnoticed, and though Zhongli settles to eat dinner in relative silence, it scatters most, if not all, of the tiredness he'd felt in his normal routine.

More still, he can't ask the men bringing him things anything, at they seem adamant about not talking to him at all. He supposes he can't blame them, after the work they'd had to put in to get him here... and maybe they just don't know any common tongue, but that seems unlikely.

So, he waits. It's long after the cart is taken care of, when he's settled in to pass the time one way or another, that another sound rises. Rhythmic, purposeful, exceptionally loud - and they herald quite the sight, a strange and monstrous form that makes its way into the room.

He's long gotten used to the gleam of the Vanguards' eyes in the dim, but this one is... a fair bit more unsettling, for obvious reason. That's before the spine-chilling smell, and his lips part as of questioning whether to announce his presence or not. It's an insane thought, he thinks. But... the creature hisses and heads perfectly purposefully toward the bath.

There aren't many conclusions to be drawn, in the end. Whatever it is, it has to be related to Childe - and it's damned well not related to the Tsaritsa in form, because no matter how she's hardened herself, he can recognise the taint of the Abyss. Even she can't afford that yet.

... so, a little reluctantly, he rises to follow that form to the bathroom. His feet pad nearly silently along the cold stone, and he pauses to stand in the doorway once he's reached it, as though just observing will answer his questions.]

[ The heavy footsteps carry the monster all the way to the baths, a trail of blood and ichor staining the pristine white marble behind it. And something more, something puddling heavy darkness in the spaces between that seem to slough off the creature with each step.

If it senses Zhongli at all, it does not acknowledge him and continues on to the bathroom, ducking under the doorway before making its way inside. Clawed fingers twist at that taps to get a bath going, and if Zhongli is there to see he'll watch the way more of the darkness sloughs off the beast with a great, shuddering sigh.

It's shrinking. The blood coating its "armor" mingles with the abyssal black in a macabre display, like swirls of paint in a pot. The water in the bath begins to fill to an appropriate degree and it's perhaps a good thing that it's such a large tub because the monster is going to step into it.

Water overflows with the addition of a larger body into it, flooding the bathroom for but a moment until the drain pulls it all to the center of the room and down the pipes. The scent of death mingles oddly with the floral oils and balms soaked into the surface from all the other baths Childe's taken, and as the creature reclines, comically large under the water it seems to shrink even more.

When it speaks its mouth doesn't move, but it turns its head towards Zhongli even as the voice rings, distorted, through the air all around them, filling all the spaces with its gravelly, otherworldly timber. ]

Did you eat yet?

[Mildly, Zhongli avoids the ichorous pools on his path, quietly glad that they seem only momentary compared to the rest. The number of possibilities dwindles with each step, every moment spent watching the monster as it walks, all gangly limbs and abyssal blackness, to its destination.

Is it pity that he feels, in the heavy, oppressive spell of the smell? He doesn't think so. A seed of concern, perhaps, borne of time spent and the realisation that honestly... there is only one answer. There's no one and nothing else this could be, no matter how nonsensical the reality.

Water threatens his feet for a moment, as the creature climbs into the tub. As it recedes, it's scent mixing with that of death and blood as though it has any hope of overcoming it, he watches.

There's only one answer. It's even clearer in the sound of its voice, ringing multiplicatively in his ears. Had there ever really been any other possibility?]

One does become accustomed to one's routine.

[There's not nearly as much vitriol in it as there could be, and it's ever typical for Zhongli's favor of wordiness.]

Shall I wait elsewhere, or will you have further... requests of me?

[Perhaps it's strange, but he feels a little more generous just at the moment. Whatever happened must have been quite the ordeal, he thinks, to force Childe to not only arrive so late but in such a state. Does this count as him developing any sort of feelings? It hardly matters in the moment.]

[ The creature regards him - or it can be assumed he's regarding him; the jewel in the middle of its face does not move or swivel around, but there's no eyeholes to speak of, so - for a few moments, the steady ebb and flow of the water as it breathes the only noise filling the silence.

At length, it eventually lifts a hand - and that is a hand, now, distinctly human, the armor sloughing off like skin from a snake - and curls a finger in beckoning. Another great, shuddering sigh escapes, and the rest of the form dissipates in wispy tendrils of inky darkness that bleed out onto the floor before catching the dip in the tile and swirling down into the drain.

Childe sits there, still dressed and looking utterly exhausted. He's wearing the same clothes he wore when he first left and there's a smile on his face that looks entirely for show, not quite reaching his eyes. ]

I'll always have further requests of you. Join me.

[ Given Childe's state of dress it's probably safe to assume Zhongli can just join as is, but with the chill quickly seeping into the room would it be a wise idea? The bath water is warm, at least. ]

[Zhongli, at least, doesn't sigh. Nor does he really seem that surprised, and in the wake of the utter exhaustion wracking Childe's form, he supposes a little kindness is in order.

After all, for all the trouble he's caused and the force he's used, there could be... somewhat worse situations for him to find himself in. Even still, he takes a moment to pull off his clothing. There's no sense in risking the freeze when, most likely, he won't have fresh clothing until the morning. The sheer fabric does little against the chill, but it's something.]

Of course. I'm surprised you've the strength to think of requests, is all.

[He isn't, really, but it matters not at all. Zhongli climbs into the tub with more delicacy than the harbinger, and if his eyes sweep critically over any injuries... can he really be blamed?]

Perhaps you give yourself too little credit. [ Childe had gone to great lengths to bring him here, after all, and keep Zhongli in relative comfort. He'd be capable of a great many things if the opportunity presented itself, and especially with regards to his little Liyuen prize.

Understandably, his gaze roams over every inch of skin bared to him when Zhongli strips - not that there's much left to the imagination with the sheerness of his garment - and when the man eventually joins him in the tub Childe reaches for him like a child reaching for their favorite toy. His hands alight on slim hips, pulling the man unashamedly into his lap and wrapping his arms around him. His clothes feel only a little uncomfortable, drenched as they are.

In the nights they'd spent together the Harbinger seldom, if ever, cuddled, usually doing what he wanted to the other's body before rolling over to seek sleep for himself. This was especially true in recent nights when he'd also brought himself to completion. The most affection he showed up until now was the generosity and intensity that he sucked him off or ate him out, skilled rolls of his tongue bestowed upon Zhongli's trembling form with an almost loving devotion.

So to have the redhead suddenly tuck Zhongli against himself, chin resting on the brunet's head as though he were something to be cherished? It's certainly strange, if only for how out of character it is for him. ]

Stay with me like this a while. [ Is what he says after a moment. It's still a request, even if the words themselves leave no room for argument. ]

Perhaps.

[It's all the response he has to give to that, and it seems fitting enough for the moment.

There's a little pause when Childe pulls him close, almost childlike in his possessiveness, and it's less of a flinch than normal. He'll pass it off as surprise, of course, for how unlike Childe is.

He doesn't even pull away for once, letting arms wrap around his body and the faintly hair-raising brush of skin against skin.]

... I suppose I can acquiesce. It's warmer in here than the bed right now.

[Of course, it wouldn't be like him if he just accepted it with no quip at all. Childe may have regained a point of concern, but Zhongli still isn't over... everything else. At least his expression is hidden at this angle.]

That’s because you haven’t been laying in it all day.

[ It comes out in an amused hum that vibrates in his chest under Zhongli’s head, blue eyes sliding shut. One of his hands first entangles fingers in the other’s long brunet locks, then seems to think better of it and combs through to rest on the small of the foreigner’s back. He drags the pads of his fingers up and down the individual bumps of his spine - what he can feel, anyway - and squeezes his other arm just a little tighter around his prize.

It should come as absolutely no surprise to anyone that he’s already starting to stiffen under him. ]

If I asked you to take me into your mouth, do you think you could manage without biting me?

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TIMESKIP TIME TO SKIP

Time goes by so slowly, etc

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