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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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?

In spite of your insistence that I am able to do just that, I think I would lose my mind.

[It's almost an earnest response, even knowing it's at least partly amusement. The warrior finds himself staring at the far wall, considering everything. He has yet to cease being sensitive in any way that could help him, and his lips part just faintly at the press of fingers working along his spine. Really, he's impossible...

... doubly so, asking that. How does he even manage to have the strength to be horny after all that???]

... mm. I hope you don't mean in the bath. I haven't yet throttled you for using me to get off on, why would I bite you?

I'm aware of my place, here - you make it quite clear.

[He's more tired than angry, talking about it. Even now with his body mostly healed, he hasn't exactly fought hard to stop Childe from taking what he wants. Even he has to admit that much - it's just been easier to give a token resistance and let it be, though perhaps he'd expected the spoiled brat to get bored by now. ]

[ His fingers still at the comment and a telling silence follows Zhongli's little remark. If the other were to look up at his expression now there wouldn't be anything of note; Childe looks for all the world like he's only sleeping, and it would probably be easy to imagine that he had simply fallen asleep mid-conversation.

But then the fingers start up again and he lets out a low, amused hum. ]

It'd be less mess to clean up. But then again it probably isn't a concern if you swallow.

[ Childe shifts, then, gently leaning forward to nudge the other back and get some space between them. With the added room he lifts his hands to his shirt to begin unfastening it so he can peel the wet fabric off of his shoulders with some notable difficulty. There's aches and pains that light up along his tender muscles and fatigue complicating his movements further. ]

[Of course. He really shouldn't have expected anything less...]

... Are you planning on perching on the side of the tub, then? I don't really relish the idea of holding my breath just for you.

[Again, there's no snap to the statement - it's simple fact. And as Childe starts to peel fabric off of his shoulders, Zhongli sighs.]

Stop that. Let me.

[It's the least he can do, he tells himself, as fingers move to deal with fastenings and wet fabric. Whatever happened, it must have been quite the battle...

He has to admit, after all this, that he does feel a little bad that it was so. Childe seems at least as exhausted as he had been, when they dragged him to the boat... and maybe he deserves it, but maybe not so much with Zhongli's vitriol added on right now.]

You really should let yourself rest... or is that what you're considering it, asking me to use my mouth?

[ At Zhongli's insistence Childe relents, sitting there quite content to let himself be undressed like a spoiled child. There's no wounds on him to speak of which is just a testament to his skill in battle, or perhaps the matter of him transforming before he could sustain any lasting damage.

There is, however, a bit of bruising all along his body in various places, faint yellow blemishes darkening to red and blue along his skin.

While Zhongli works, Childe sits there quite placidly, his deep blue eyes watching the motion of hands peeling his wet clothes off of him. Knowing he'd have to inevitably get up to get the pants off he sits for a little while longer in the warm water, letting the heat soak into his bones before slowly getting to a stand and peeling his trousers off himself. This joins the rest of the wet clothes piling somewhere in the corner, leaving Childe free to hoist himself up onto the rim of the inlaid tub in all his naked glory.

Unsurprisingly, he's already hard. ]

Maybe I just missed you that much. [ He's teasing, but even so there's a certain edge of seriousness to the words. Perhaps he means it more than on the surface level. ]

Since you're so insistent on making me rest... does that mean you're going to start being nicer to me? I like that fiery spirit of yours, you know.

[It's not as bad as it could be, at least. That fact shouldn't give him the soft pang of relief that it does, and he ignores the fact that it did altogether. Removing his clothes is certainly easier than letting the Harbinger do it himself right now, and he lets the fabric slop to the floor to drain water down with the rest.

He doesn't let himself pay too much attention as Childe removes his pants and flops them off with the rest, sitting back on his haunches in the tub. At least it's big enough that he has plenty of room to maneuver...

Ah. This will be the first he's willingly given, won't it? A dangerous precedence.]

Then you are a fool. [Exasperated, and maybe the tiniest bit of embarrassment sinks into the words. Really, he barely knows Zhongli in the first place...]

No, I don't have any plans to change how I act. I want you to rest so that I don't have to worry about whether or not I'm going to be used again, for a time.

[Long fingers curl over Childe's thighs and he looks up from there, gaze sharp as ever.]

Don't make me regret this. You don't have to control everything, do you?

Maybe a little. That's certainly not the worst thing I've been called. [ Another hum. Zhongli paints an exceptionally pretty picture between his legs, and he makes a mental note to see if he can't import some Liyuen make-up from the h-- ah. Well, that's not an option.

It's telling that the regret he feels is heavier than it should be for someone who'd willingly burned Liyue to the ground. But Zhongli couldn't know that. ]

Used... even though you're the one getting pleasure? I don't think that's the right term for it.

[ That doesn't make his dick any less hard, though, a fact Zhongli will probably note when he looks down at it. His legs spread just a little, inviting Zhongli to come closer, balance himself between the Harbingers thighs in his endeavor to service him. ]

... is that you saying you don't want me to fuck your face? Is it your first time doing this for someone?

No, I should expect not. I believe I've called you worse in the past.

[Of course, Liyue itself won't disappear in a day. Even its imports can still be found - though the harbinger will assuredly have to fight to find someone willing to share them with a Snezhnayan.]

How many times have I asked you to stop? You took what you wanted, regardless of my own. Whether my body felt relief or not is a shallow salve for the use. A tyrant scarcely thinks their actions unjust, you know.

[He does slide a bit closer as Childe's legs spread, fingers moving further up his thighs.]

Is it such a surprise that I don't want that? And... it... has been a long time since I even considered it. I had more important things to do than chase partners, and I have ever been picky.

[That's the bulk of his hesitation, he tells himself. Never mind that it's partly just the fear that he might enjoy it, that that enjoyment means something more - indeed, as Childe had initially suggested - and relinquishes some measure of bodily agency in its wake. Ridiculous, but worries are worries nonetheless.

He doesn't think, either, about the fact that when he speaks, he sometimes talks like he's much older than he looks. It's unimportant, and his hand curls around Childe's cock to gently hold it in place, hot and throbbing against his fingers. Now... how did he...

Zhongli doesn't wait for a response before pressing his mouth to the underside of it, dragging his tongue upward for an admittedly curious taste.]

[ He's not wrong, Childe thinks, but he can hardly be pressed to feel bad about it. His actions up until now had been entirely selfish, he knows, but he doesn't find himself regretting a single one. If he'd left Zhongli in Liyue, he doubtless would have been killed. If not because of the powers-that-be insisting that nothing be left alive in their wake, then because the death and destruction of a once-populated, thriving city would have surely attracted the beasts and monsters of the countryside, picking over the carnage in hopes for a few unattended scraps.

He was beautiful back then, he thinks. All fire and desperation, a pride and dignity so potent Childe felt humbled just looking at him. The way he'd held his own with the bodies of the Fatui scattered around him... It wouldn't be a far stretch to say he'd fallen in love a little, at least back then.

If things had been different, perhaps he would have courted him on his last trips to Liyue. He'd gift him resents of flowers and precious stones, things he could wear even as a Millelith guard, steal kisses in an alley under the moonlight. It would be a long courtship, he thinks, but he'd like to imagine Zhongli would eventually give in and come back with him to Snezhnaya of his own volition.

He wasn't sure why they'd been ordered to destroy the city as they did, but even a Harbinger knew better than to question orders from the higher-ups. And unfortunately, as the lowest ranked Harbinger a good deal of them were above him in the hierarchy.

His dick twitches at the friction of fingers against his skin and he lets out a hiss of breath. A hand makes its way into Zhongli's hair, brushing it away from his face and watching golden eyes watch him. ]

I don't think I can be blamed, when you look so beautiful cumming on my fingers, tongue, and my cock. [ Is all he says, like that absolves him of any blame. And really, it could have been a lot worse; there are dungeons a-plenty he could have thrown Zhongli into, instead of keeping him prisoner in his home. He's not sure which one the foreigner finds worse; the thought of being kept as a sex-slave to a Harbinger with a high libido, or being thrown into a cold, damp dungeon and being fed in a bowl like a dog. ]

I find it surprising that people didn't chase you -- [ And that's all he gets out, the rest of the words dying out in a strangled moan when Zhongli kisses at his cock, the action prompting a twitch and pre-cum beading at the tip. Immediately his fingers clench and his spine arches, hips bucking forward for more. ]

[In another situation, things certainly may have been different. Perhaps they would have shared meals, learned enough about one another to not go through this painstaking process. Alas, such is life.

Fingers grasp his hair and he allows it, eyelids lilting half-closed as the man speaks.]

Of course you can be blamed. I still blame you, every single time. [It's a savage thing to say so clearly, and perhaps it does make one wonder if Zhongli wouldn't prefer some pitiful jail cell. He wouldn't, but he's headstrong.

Childe starts speaking, and he can't decide if he likes how easily he's made to moan. It's not unpleasant, and there's not a small amount of satisfaction in making it happen.

It's nothing like his own situation, of course. This is what Childe actually wants, after all. He stays steady as fingers clench and hips buck, his own shifting to press firmly against a thigh.]

Sit still, or I will stop. Behave, and maybe you'll see a difference between this and what has been prior.

[He thinks he can get away with it, for now. Childe could still try and force him, but their situations are largely reversed, aren't they? Zhongli is no longer the exhausted fish-out-of-water foreigner, easily bullied by his captor. He still is much of that, granted, but that's not the point.]

And, most people don't like being scolded the way you apparently do.

[Zhongli's breath ghosts along the harbinger's cock, and he slips the tip between his lips, tongue swirling around it before his head bobs forward just an inch or so.]

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TIMESKIP TIME TO SKIP

Time goes by so slowly, etc

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