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Childe had met some strange people in his life, comrades and enemies alike. Of course the Fatui was full or strange people, but especially here, in Liyue, where Childe now finds himself making any excuse to go.
For example, the strange man he used to see near the harbor, always talking about the wind, though he’s not quite there as much anymore. Or some of the residents of Liyue that Childe ran into often.
Childe was known, Childe made small talk with people, talking to anyone he’d meet in his current location. Tartaglia was quiet, Tartaglia was calculating, Tartaglia was manipulating.
Ajax was gone.
But the strangest person that Childe had met was Mr. Zhongli, the man he’d fallen for, the man he’d do anything for. The man who betrayed him. The man who was far too consumed in past grief to care about Childe.
Soon Childe would be gone too, from Liyue at least. His legacy as the kind outgoing foreigner replaced by his legacy as the Fatui harbinger that had deceived them all. For the citizens of Liyue, memories will coated with an uncontrollable anger. And for Tartaglia, life will move on.
It’s difficult, almost, maybe. He’s not exactly sure, he hasn’t experienced this sort of attachment to a place before, if it can be called that.
He’s not even sure if it’s the place, it may have just been the person that’s been keeping him there that’ll be missed.
Tartaglia lies, often and with no remorse. It’s survival of the fittest, and he’s adapted, he’s survived, and it’ll continue that way for as long as he has to live.
He lies to those he hates, to those he needs to distract, but he lies especially to those he loves. The people who lie back. The people that make him ache.
“Childe? Is that you? What are you doing down at the harbor this late?” A familiar voice calls from only a few feet away.
He lets his relaxed and tired expression fade, lets his face dawn a smile, lets himself yell with an enthusiastic voice.
“Ah, Mr. Zhongli! It’s good to see you, I was just admiring the view, Liyue has always had beautiful views, don’t you think?”
And as natural as the color of his hair, or the freckles on his face, the lies lie on the tip of his tounge.
Mr. Zhongli nods with an aged elegance and walks over to stand next to Childe, hands behind his back, with the grace of a god.
“It does indeed.” The man replies, a silent pride showing in his words. Of course, they are looking at his nation, after all.
A loud silence flows through the area around them, even as Liyue stays as alive as ever, citizens walking through, although less than during the daytime, and guards in every corner of the city.
Tartaglia looks to the side, that the man, or rather, god , is situated next to him. Mr. Zhongli’s posture is straight, and his expression is as unreadable as Dottore’s handwriting.
There are feelings, longing, love, sadness, anger. Tartaglia chooses to focus on the last, what reason would there be to live if you didn’t have something to prove? But the thoughts of longing still run though his mind. It was Signora who deceived him, Mr. Zhongli was hardly to blame. He chooses to ignore the thoughts.
“I assume you must have to leave soon, for the Fatui correct?” Mr. Zhongli asks, looking over the shorter ginger, his face kind, but almost relived when Tartaglia nods. Of course he’d be relived at Tartaglia leaving, he is a danger to Liyue. And it doesn’t hurt, not at all.
With a small groan Tartaglia stretches, raising his arms above his head as he grunts. All the while thinking everything over, as to be sure he’s not making a mistake.
After all, there’s no telling when he’ll be back in Liyue, and he might as well not be distracted on any other missions due to regret. It’s best to get Childe’s feelings out of the way so Tartaglia can function.
“Mr. Zhongli, if you don’t happen to be busy at the moment, would you care to join me on a walk around the harbor?” He asks, looking the taller man in the eyes, waiting for an answer.
“That would be quite relaxing… I don’t see why not then.” Mr. Zhongli says taking one last at the view from the bridge before beginning to walk, side by side with Childe.
They walk slowly, as to make the moment last longer, preserve it in time for the people of the future to gawk at. Childe jokes as they walk, filling the night sky with meaningless words, talking for the sake of talking. Repeating the mundane details of his day to the archon.
At some point during the walk Childe stops looking at the street, trusting the other man to warn him if anything comes up. Instead, he looks directly at the face of the archon, trying to make it seem like it’s just his natural body language and hiding how his vision focuses in on Mr. Zhongli’s lips every once in a while.
At another point Mr. Zhongli starts to talk, and as much as he tries, Childe cannot pay attention. Though their relationship came to a unfortunate end the day Childe found out the truth, they had never bedded each other. Childe intended to change that before he left, a goodbye of sorts.
“-wouldn’t you agree?” Mr. Zhongli asks, looking at Childe with an amused, knowing look in his eyes.
“Ah, my apologies, it seems I’d zoned out. Would you mind repeating the question?” Childe says with a sheepish chuckle. The consultant replies with a smile, sweet, yet taunting. And a nod.
“Of course, I was simply commenting about how bright the stars look at this time of year, during the cloudless nights.”
“Ah, of course! Back in Snezhnaya the sky almost never cleared, and when I’d first arrived here in Liyue I was quite surprised by the clarity of the stars.” He comments, staring straight up and simply, observing. “…It’s beautiful.”
He observes the inconsistency of patterns, notices how some stars seem to be bright as the sun while some glow dim and hesitant, and gazes at the shooting star that flies across the sky.
Thinking of the old Teyvat legend he decides to close his eyes and wish, for something that he’d never get, at least not in this lifetime.
Focusing back in the area around him, he notices that the man next to him had also been looking up towards the unreachable. And as the man’s head descends, and their eyes meet, an understanding seems to pass through.
“Ah, Mr. Zhongli, would you like to go to my hotel? It’s getting quite late, even the streets seem to be clearing up.” A lie, the streets were still as busy as ever, but an excuse was needed. And so an excuse was made. “Your home is far, yes? On the other side of the city if I remember correctly.”
He remembered, of course he did. They’d spend nights and days there, laughing and loving.
“Of course, thank you for the request.”
Childe nods in response and begins to lead them toward the hotel Childe had rented for the month. It was a fairly simple yet nice place, and the location was also quite peacuful, surrounded by shops and restaurants so Childe never had to walk too far to get something. Fatui money put to good use, after all.
The walk is silent, no words are exchanged, and the only nearby sound seems to be their own footsteps. But the journey is rather quick, and it only takes a few minutes to arrive.
They quickly enter the building, and then the room, or more fittingly, rooms. Childe sees Mr. Zhongli scanning the space around them, the building was largely made of wood, like the rest of the buildings in the harbor, the walls were lightly decorated with vibrant arts, and the furniture was simplistic and traditional.
Childe sees the man’s eyes focus in in something, and the looks in the general direction to realize that it’s the box atop the table. The small box that contained a pair or chopsticks that was ‘gifted’ to him by the archon.
“Ah, I’m sure you recognize that, I do appreciate the gesture. Who knows? Maybe by the next time I’m in Liyue I’ll be adept at using chopsticks!”
Another lie, Tartaglia had no intention to return to this place, he may even personally request to the Tsaritsa to not have to be assigned to the nation.
The archon released a heavy breath, perhaps one of annoyance at the thought of having the harbinger return. “I’m glad you appreciate it, and I do hope you’ll use them.”
Now for the final act. Childe turns to face Zhongli suddenly, almost losing balance at the unexpected momentum. “Excuse me if I misunderstood the situation, Mr. Zhongli, but would you like to come to bed now?”
A small smile appears on the man’s face, “you have not misconstrued anything, my dear. Would you like a moment to freshen up?”
Ah, this was quite embarrassing for Childe, who shakes his head. “There’s no need, I had uh- done so earlier.”
Mr. Zhongli raises his eyebrows, looking mildly surprised, but oh so amused. “Oh? Had this been in your plans for your final days in Liyue?”
“I have a feeling you wouldn’t quite mind if it was,” The harbinger replies simply, leading them toward the bedroom. As they enter he begins to work on getting undressed, clumsily undoing each button until his jacket falls to the floor, his scarf going with it.
He looks up, to find the god sitting in the bed, just looking at Childe as the man undresses. There’s a look in his eye that the ginger can’t quite place his finger on. Childe raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘Why are you just sitting here?’
“Im simply enjoying the view, please, continue.”
In a huff of annoyance Childe rids himself off his shirt, letting it fall among the other articles of clothing.
He steps forward, towards the older man, using one of his fingers to swiftly unbutton the first button. He repeats the process, getting rid of Zhongli’s upper layers.
He was more toned than Childe had recalled, the boxy clothing really did hide secrets, maybe even as well as the man wearing it.
Slowly, Childe runs his hand over Zhongli’s torso, featherlight touches from cold fingers, but enough to get the other man to tense, only for a moment.
The archon grabs onto Childe’s hand, and the ginger isn’t quite sure when their gloves had seemingly disappeared.
Standing up, Zhongli pulls a hand around the fatuus’ waist, as if he were some sort of damsel. But it was surprisingly… gentle. Zhongli’s warm hands are almost comforting, almost putting him at ease, letting him forget of his desires and hatred. Almost.
The harbinger slides down from Zhongli’s chest to the hem of his pants, now on his knees. He doesn’t indulge just yet, enjoying the teasing games he tends to play on his sexual partners.
Looking into golden brown eyes, eyes full of power and sobriety, the fatuus wets his lips, practically staring at the growing bulge in the other man’s pants and wrapping his mouth around the fabric. He wants to ruin those eyes.
“Wouldn’t you mind getting to it, Childe?” The tone is much harsher than before, more demanding. And Childe can’t help but respond snarkily.
“Really Xiangsheng? Was that your idea of dirty talk? You sounded like you were ‘kindly asking me to leave the premises’.”
It’s easy to fall back into loving when you’ve never stopped, and Childe regrets being so affectionate and casual with Zhongli. Because then he might grow hope, ask Childe to stay, and the harbinger isn’t quite sure he’d refuse.
Yet still, an annoyance falls onto the his demeanor, he chuckles to to himself quietly. “You accuse me of being overly polite, and that you still insist on calling me ‘mister’.”
“Just shut up and let me suck you off.” The ginger replies with a roll of his eyes. Continuing to tease, running his fingers over the fabric where the now clear bulge lies, and soaking it.
“Hm, you have a way with words.”
After a long minute, Childe finally reaches for the waistband of Zhongli’s pants. He snakes his finger rather between his skin and his pants, and quickly rids Zhongli of his garments, pulling them down to his ankles.
Zhongli pulls them off neatly, setting the to the side atop his other winkled clothes.
Childe is met with both of Zhongli’s dicks, uncut and dragonic. Almost scarily large. It’s not exactly the first time he’s seen them, of course they’ve seen each other naked before. And yet, it never fails to surprise him just a bit. He’s not sure he can take that, or how he will. but he wants to, he needs to.
Childe pushes the two of them backward until they hit the bed, his partner taking the hint and sitting down.
Childe takes it slow, licking at the tip of one and slowly moving downwards. He takes the tip in his mouth and sucks lightly, pulling a broken groan from Zhongli. He pulls back with a wet pop, spitting on his hand to start stroking the other one.
A hand rests in Childe’s hair, holding his head but not pulling, just simply… being.
Childe goes lower, until he can feel his gag reflex, which he promptly suppresses. Zhongli is large, but now with his mouth on him, Childe can truly tell. He uses his free hand to make up for the part his mouth won’t reach, bobbing and using his spit as a lubricant.
His other hand is still rubbing at Zhongli’s extra dick, tracing the veins with this his thumb, and teasing the tip. His hand can’t wrap around the full girth, and so he twists, still thinking of the other man’s pleasure.
Zhongli’s hand tightens on his head, now pulling his hair lightly, ever so slightly painfully, and yet so well
“Gods- Childe.” Zhongli stutters out, his voice booms, reverberating through the room. He sounds powerful, godlike.
And yet so vulnerable.
Childe responds with a hum, knowing the vibrations would only tease the older man. He speeds up his hand, feeling the pulsing of the dick, and squeezing gently.
He slowly pulls off, making sure to put on a bit of a show as his lips detach with a pop, and a string of saliva remains the only connector between Childe’s lips to Zhongli’s dick. He must look obscene. He goes back into it though, taking Zhongli as far down his throat as he can.
Zhongli pulses in his mouth, his muscles are clearly tensed, and his mouth holds back noises. But still, the slightest whimper that may escape only gets Childe more wanting. More eager to get to the main course.
By now Childe can feel the intensity behind Zhongli’s hand, which remains gripping his hair. Pulling it. Zhongli looks beautiful here, the moonlight shining through the thin wooden blinds, illuminating only part of him, but it’s enough.
“Do you want to wait to cum, or do you think you can go twice?”
Childe asks after pulling back, quiet and soft, a contrast to the nature of the question. As if he doesn’t want to interrupt the tranquillity of the moment.
“Ah, I can go twice, the refractory period of my kind is short, if not none at all.” The older man says, running his hands through Childe’s ginger hair. Referring to dragons as his kind, when somehow Xaingsheng seems different. Childe isn’t sure that there ever has been a dragon so human.
With a curt nod, the Sneznayan resumes, licking and sucking and stroking for only a short period of time before a groan of warning is pulled from Zhongli. Raspy and heavy breaths fill the air as Zhongli’s chest rises and falls.
Childe remains adamant, still continuing until he feels Zhongli’s cum hit the back of his throat along with his cock. Childe lets the liquid run down his throat, ignoring the uncomfortable and tingly sensation. For a moment the ginger considers spitting it out, but decides against it.
He continues with his hand for a few more moments, until the cum sprays onto him, coating his hand and splattering in his face.
“Oh- Dear Childe.” Zhongli’s breaths are weighed, and they hitch when the ginger swallows, with a null smile. As some escapes his mouth, dribbling down his chin mixed with this saliva.
He gets off his knees with a groan as he climbs onto the, bed, crawling towards Zhongli. Ignoring the ache in his body that comes with the thought of only having tonight, to be intimate with his love for the first and last time.
“Xaingsheng… You look,” Childe pauses for a moment, “ethereal.” A smile grows on Childe’s face, an action that seems almost subconscious in Zhongli’s presence. “One might even say, godly,” the ginger snickers a bit at his own joke, trying to lighten the heavy mood in vain, really only turning the moment a bit awkward.
The lord of geo promptly ignores him, instead choosing to to slide his hand out of Childe’s hair and to his chin. He holds it, pulling the Sneznayan closer. Childe shuffles forward, just enough for Zhongli to be able to connect them in a kiss.
Its warm and intimate, the opposite of the moment, the exception to the mood. Their lips dance the dance of love, and after a few moments their bodies close the gap between them.
It’s an intimacy that Childe has seen many times in his comparably short lifespan. Yet this time feels different; meaningful. Somehow, Zhongli always manages to be the exception.
He’s shifted out of his thoughts when Zhongli’s free hand runs down his abdomen, reaching for his exposed dick. Childe tenses, he’s not exactly new to the sensation, and but feels so alien than anything he’s felt before, coming from a man that Childe feels so strongly about.
They stop the kiss for a moment of air, and Zhongli’s hand rubs at the slit of Childe’s penis, pressing for moment. The pressure and friction releases a broken whine from the ginger’s lips, and his hips buckle.
In almost an instant, the older man manages to switch their position, spinning them around so that Childe is underneath Zhongli. At the sudden and almost uncomfortable loss of control a red flush grows on the Sneznayan’s pale freckled skin.
“Tartaglia…” Zhongli mutters, as Childe continues to squirm. Childe pauses for a moment at that, the name that Zhongli truly believes is Childe’s birth name. Blissfully unaware that it was just another lie.
And yet, coming out of his mouth, it still feels intimate, special, even if it’s a lie. Zhongli’s long, slender fingers find their way to his hole. And with the other hand still clutching Childe’s penis, he prods at the skin.
Suddenly he lets both hands go, and Childe’s eyes follows them to the bedside table, where they clutch the handle of the top drawer.
“Second drawer,” Childe mutters, under his breath. And the god’s hand reaches down, opening the drawer and rustling through it before pulling out a vail of oil. With no struggle, the man hurriedly pulls out the cork and puts a bit in his finger. Too much, perhaps, not that Childe is complaining.
Turning back to him, Zhongli prods at his entrance again, tracing circles around it, teasing, before entering a knuckle.
“My, you are quite loose.” The consultant comments, observing in a way that makes Childe want to cover himself.
“I told you that I had prepared.” The harbinger says, feeling unexpectedly warm. “Would you like for me to turn around?”He asks, and the archon clearly thinks about it for a moment before shaking his head.
“No, I wish to be able to see you.” The archon says, before rubbing Childe’s hole some more until it’s slicked up. Childe helps Zhongli line one of his wet cocks up. Slowly, the consultant pushes in, and with little resistance he is able to bury himself in Childe, to the hilt.
Childe’s small whines turn into moans as the archon goes deeper and deeper, until he breathes in raspy gasps and strained moans. Zhongli remains still, letting Childe adjust before slowly pulling out, and quickly burying himself in once more. Childe instinctively clenches around the older man, and Zhongli groans.
Zhongli pulls one hand to Childe’s toned stomach rubbling soothing patters until Childe can relax his muscles.
It’s big, bigger than anything Childe had taken before. And this is only half of what he wants. But he’s not fully sure he can take this, let alone take double the amount.
Tentatively, Zhongli begins thrusting again, taking it painfully slow, and it would be considered torture if it wasn’t so damn good. Still, the archon continues tracing patterns on Childe’s skin, calming him.
They both let out rhythmic groans and moans, and Childe is almost embarrassed of the lewd things that come out of his mouth, but Zhongli speeding up at each sound seems to encourage him. He suppresses the urge to hide himself, they’ve seen each other like this before. It’s no big deal.
They build a steady pace, and once Childe is comfortable in taking Zhongli the older man speaks up.
“Is it alright if I add the other, Tartaglia?” The only thing Childe can manage at the moment is a nod, a bit too nervous for his own liking.
Zhongli gets more oil and slicks up the other dick, he prods it at Childe’s entrance and archons, he doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to take this.
Agonizingly deliberate and slow, the consultant begins to pull out one, just a bit, to make room for the other. It’s painful. It’s the only thing Childe can think about as he’s breeched in a way he’s never experienced before.
It feels as if he being ripped apart from the inside. Childe has never liked that analogy for sex, but shit, it feels so accurate right now.
The smell of their coupling fills the air, the mixed aromas of sweat invades Childe’s senses as he tries to focus on anything else. But it’s so difficult, to think about anything but the two dicks in him.
“Are you alright, baobei?”
And there it is, that infuriating nickname. Childe tries desperately to be angry, to cling to that emotion, to keep him sane. But Zhongli stops suddenly, and he’s almost frozen in place from the sudden loss of pleasure.
“What- please, Mr Zhongli, Xiangsheng, continue-“ Childe almost flinches at the sound of his own voice. So desperate and utterly destroyed. A state he’d never catch himself in.
“Answer my question first. Then, you may get what you desire.” Zhongli’s voice is also strained, filled to the brim with pleasure that he’s suppressing. His breathing is labored, and the focused look in his eyes might just be the only thing keeping him grounded. He’s making a clear effort to stay composed.
It almost makes Childe proud, he did that, he was the one that got Morax to his breaking point. And it’s hard to hate somone who inflates his ego so much.
“I’m alright- amazing really, please just, just continue, please.”
As the words come out of his mouth, he feels the dragon moving in him once more. Steadily, bit by bit, taking over his body. Controlling his senses. Childe’s mind goes blank. And he lays there stupidly, drooling now, letting out pathetic noises. It hurts, it hurts so damn good.
“My, it seems I have you at my mercy, and I thought you only served the Tsaritsa.”
Childe recognizes the voice, and the words, but it simply doesn’t register in his mind what Zhongli has just said. If the ginger had any semblance of thought left, he may have been angry, annoyed at the god for saying such thing, for questioning his utter faith in the Tsaritsa. Instead, he takes it, nods, even.
With the next thrust Zhongli bottoms out, pushing in all the way to the base. They groan in unison, and the sound triggers some sort of arousal in the both of them, even if they don’t truly realize it.
Zhongli hits his prostate dead on, and Childe subconsciously spasms at the electrifying feeling. Somehow, from then on, Zhongli manages to hit his prostate every damn time.
Childe opens his eyes, not even realizing he’d closed them, and he sees Zhongli, now on his forearms. The older man lays kisses and bites on the pale skin, never really puncturing through the flesh. He recognizes the sting of teeth, and subconsciously brings a hand up, into Zhongli’s hair.
The archon rests his head on Childe’s chest, now beginning to speed up his thrusts.
It hurts, hurts so well, so much. And Childe loves it, he flourishes in the pain, embraces it. Spasms seem to break out all throughout the ginger’s body once more, he approaches the edge, so close but so far.
Zhongli lifts himself, straightening his arms but never wavering in his pace. He leans on one hand, lifting the other and bringing it down to Childe’s dick.
The harbinger barely recognizes the sounds leaving his own lips, and one look at Zhongli tells him that the god is in a similar mind state.
The friction, the stimulation, it’s a lot, too much, and Childe can feel his release inching closer. He utters a warning, or he thinks he does, tries to. He can’t tell with the intensity of the situation. Zhongli is going fast, faster than any person can go.
Childe feels his release pulse through him, and grips onto Zhongli’s hair, hard enough to pull a few follicles straight out. He squeezes his eyes shut, shivering from the pleasure.
He clenches, tightening around Zhongli’s dicks to the point they can barely move, and the action causes him to release in Childe with a heavy groan.
Childe can feel his orgasm wash over him, in slow waves, and he opens his eyes slightly to see he’s painted their stomachs white.
He registers Zhongli filling him, the warm liquid covers his walls. And he looks down only to realize there was a bulge near his stomach. He stares at it for a long moment as he comes to. And eventually he reaches down a trembling hand to trace it.
Then he averts his gaze to Zhongli, who’s also staring at the bulge. His usually neat hair is disheveled, and it seems his ponytail had fallen out.
It almost hurts to see him, because this will be the last time, Childe had promised himself that. No matter what, this would be the last time. And now, he doesn’t want to part with this moment. He wants to hold the other man forever. Stay here for eternity.
But he cannot, he will not. The Tsaritsa needs him to do his job. And that he will. He will fill his heart with meaningless hookups that could never truly compare. Fight until his dying breath, but he can never come back.
And so, Fontaine awaits.