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Footsteps resound in the chamber as Zhongli's shoes meet polished tile. The chamber itself is bathed in soft light that seeps in through the stained glass dome of the cathedral.
"Finally made it here, huh?" Childe watches as Zhongli enters the room. The man is as pristine as usual with his carefully adjusted tie and ornate vest, gold embellishment tracing the tails of his outer coat. "I almost thought you wouldn't show up." It's lighthearted as he trails off with a playful chuckle. Zhongli's golden irises only pierce his being, stoic and imperial.
"I would not dream of disappointing," The Archon's baritone voice projects and bounces off the inlaid walls, deepened with the gravity of the situation.
"I never took you as a man that would," Childe quips, if only to prolong the inevitable. His eyes linger as Zhongli steadily approaches, on his broad shoulders and narrow waist, set arms and smooth movement. Zhongli, the owner of a funeral parlor, the man with a treasure trove of knowledge on flowers and gems. The man with never a single mora on him. The man worshipped as the eldest of the seven archons.
Indeed, a man of many talents.
Zhongli wordlessly raises his arm out to grasp a black-gold lance that materializes in shimmering dust. He carries the lance by his side, relaxed yet firm on the pole. Childe can only sigh and shake his head. "It's really come to this, huh?" His Vision glows, a mesmerizing aqua, and shimmering blades form in each of his hands. "A real shame things had to turn out this way- but, then again, who could've predicted this?" He relays the irony to himself. Zhongli reaches the circular area right underneath the dome, almost like a coliseum, where Childe stands pinpoint center. He stops, and their eyes meet. Smoldering gold into storming violet. Divinity into man.
"Well. Let's dance, shall we?"
It happens in an instant; they dash forth and sparks fly from their weapons as they clash. They do not speak with their mouths, but rather, their bodies as they flit about each other, dodging and sidestepping to jab and parry. Blurs in the eyes of a normal viewer.
Childe jumps backward to gain distance as he pulls out his bow. With astounding speed, he fires a barrage of arrows in Zhongli's direction; said man effortlessly sidesteps the entire fleet and twirls- 'Stylish,' Childe immediately thinks- into a lunge. A very telegraphed lunge that he can ascertain without even blinking where Zhongli will land. He cockily steps forward to meet him, and Zhongli is all too light on his feet to not twist away as he avoids the sharp blade of a watery grave. Childe whistles.
"Nice, nice," He compliments, switching back to his bow. Zhongli frowns and readjusts the grip on his lance. Corrects his stance. And breathes.
Childe notices this.
With another flurry of arrows, Zhongli's back to dashing and dodging around Childe's arrows as though he were dancing. His coat tails twirl before an arrow rips through one of them and creates an unseemly tear. The man, however, keeps his composure.
Unexpectedly, he tears his jacket off and whirls it in front of him. The sudden movement itches Childe's trigger happy hand and wastes the arrow he had on the ready. The Archon uses this opportunity; he dashes forward, lance by his side. The distance between them rapidly disappears as, before Childe knows it, Zhongli is right in front of him. Looming in his presence, those piercing gold irises boring into him. Into his heart.
He flips backward and surprises Zhongli for long enough to regain his bearing. Zhongli comes rushing in soon enough, but he already has his dual blades out as he engages Zhongli, parrying his blows and being parried himself. Their weapons meet again, just as in the beginning, and sparks fly, just like before. Each struggles to push forward, locked in a stalemate.
“Impressive, I’ve gotta say,” Childe strains with some effort as an amused smile forms on his face. “An Archon indeed.” Zhongli huffs in distaste.
“I am glad I can meet your expectations,” And they each abandon the power struggle. The two jump backwards, still quick and agile, to catch their breath. Their gaze remains on each other as they pant, never daring to leave the other out of direct sight.
“I’d say I wasn’t expecting this,” Childe straightens out his posture. “But…” He elongates the word, chuckling. “That’d be a lie, now, wouldn’t it? And speaking of lies…”
Childe’s smirk isn’t simply devious anymore. There’s something to it that unnerves Zhongli in the curve of his lips, the glazed look in his eyes..
“It’s about time you get to see what my Delusion does.”
Energy blasts throughout the chamber and pushes Zhongli with immense force. He grunts and shields his face from the purple waves, plants his feet into the floor. The entire chamber shakes, and loose masonry falls from the pillars as the room trembles.
Childe is bathed in a blinding lilac light that rises from the ground, teeming with volatile energy. Energy crackles around the form, static ringing in Zhongli’s ears.
And as the energy suddenly dissipates, it leaves only trails of electricity that now crackle about his changed form. His clothes are somehow blackened and he wears his mask on his face, obscuring his eyes in a sinister view. He slowly descends to the ground, landing with a soft tap . His gloved hand reaches outward, and in it appears an electrified lance not unlike Zhongli’s. He can see the ends of his scarf now blaze with energy, leaving trails of purple as they flutter in the force of Childe’s transformation.
The Archon frowns yet again. ‘Is this the product of the Tsaritsa ?’ His grip tightens, squeezing his lance hard. But Childe wastes no time in seemingly teleporting in front of Zhongli. He leans in, his palm outstretched and planted firmly against Zhongli’s chest.
His Delusion pulses, and Zhongli is sent rocketing backward into the chamber walls with a deafening rumble.
The wind is slammed out of him as he lands onto what was once, surely, a lovely mural. His body has formed a deep imprint in the walls, utterly destroying the intricate masonry. Zhongli chokes out blood as his eyes squeeze painfully shut. He grunts in equal amounts of pain and lets out a ragged breath before forcing his eyes open, to see Childe in front of him. Smiling, so sweetly.
“Didn’t expect that, didja?” His voice is as taunting as before but leaks with malice. Not at Zhongli. But pure malice, from the depths of his heart.
“Gh…!” Zhongli winces at a stabbing pain in his side. Broken ribs, probably.
“Now…” Childe raises his same hand. “To finish the main course.”
He almost gets the chance to knock Zhongli unconscious; but the man rasps out, “Pill… ar…” And true to his word, a black pillar shoots out of the ground right below Childe. It pulses pure, golden energy, making the man click his tongue and fall back. It allows for much-needed space between the two.
So Zhongli, with effort, pushes himself off of the wall, and stumbles as he falls onto the pillar for support. With a staggering breath, he pushes himself up again, temporarily protected by his pillar. But it won’t last long. He re-materializes his lance in his hands, gleaming dust evaporating as it appears.
He has to end this now.
“You’re getting quite winded there, aren’t you?” Childe chuckles. ‘What a perfect opportunity .’
And Zhongli doesn’t deign to respond. Instead, he stands upright (best as he can) as his pillar disintegrates into fine, black dust.
The cathedral is quite a wreck now. The entire chamber is cracked and cluttered with tiny debris, the flooring cracked and displaced. Then there’s the hole in the wall where Zhongli landed.
Such a shame. It really had been quite beautiful.
“Childe.” Zhongli suddenly speaks up. He’s somehow back to his original, looming posture despite the breaks in his bones.
“Hm?” Childe hums. He’s so bold as to relax his stance and dissipate his lance. An insult, were Zhongli not as mature as he was.
“I will ask one thing. You need not respond.” The room is deadly silent before he speaks his next words.
“Why?”
Ah...
Childe hadn’t expected that.
“What would drive you down this path?” Zhongli’s face is stern, but the slightest hint of remorse traces his features. As though this were somehow his fault, that he could control the Tsaritsa, control the choices Childe made.
For the first time since Zhongli entered the room, Childe frowned.
He stays still, processing. But after what must have been only a minute of complete silence, of Childe failing to meet Zhongli’s eyes, his mouth doesn’t move. It stays shut as he draws his lance. And Zhongli sighs.
He readies his lance as well, and he takes one last good luck at Childe. Embellished in black and wearing a mask.
He’s not so different, himself, in that regard.
He gives himself no time to think that over as they both dash towards each other at the same second.
They waste no time with any more pleasantries. Each strike is designed to kill as Childe slashes and Zhongli thrusts his lance. No more games. Childe lunges forward in a sudden thrust, but Zhongli redirects his lance with his own’s stock, allowing him to completely evade the attack. But Childe bounces backward, easily controlling his lance as it flashes gone and suddenly appears in his hand again. Zhongli clicks his tongue.
“C’mon, old man,” Childe calls out, deliberately attempting provocation. “Come at me harder than that-” He sprints forward, and Zhongli is forced to use his Lance’s stock again to block Childe’s initial attack. He’s forced backwards, though, when Childe unleashes a barrage of jabs, each one aimed at vital areas. His eyes widen before narrowing, as he searches for openings in Childe’s stance. But there are none.
Zhongli grits his teeth as a jab grazes his shoulder, before another leaves a deep gash in his hip.
Grunting, he puts his energy into a giant leap backwards, but Childe keeps in hot pursuit. He’s being backed into a corner.
He needs to do something. Battered as he is, something.
“... Meteor! ” The unrealistic summons doesn’t do anything at first. Childe actually pauses, to see if he’s missing something.
“... That supposed to do something?”
But soon enough, the room starts shaking. Like before. It grows greater, rumbling with ferocity- and... the roof caves in.
In a shower of falling glass and stone, a mass of cubed rock plummets down, leaving a tail of golden energy. Like Zhongli’s Pillar. It’s black and glows gold in its core- it screams as it falls, foreshadowing its impending destruction.
Childe only has so much time to think and react.
The meteor deafeningly crashes into the floor, devastating the entire building. The floor begins to rumble, and the meteor releases shockwaves of energy that rattle even Zhongli. The rumbling grows, and cracks form in the floor- ‘ It’s breaking apart ,’ as he’d predicted. A large split grows across the entire length of the room. And he can see the cracks branch out into the rest of the floor, but after that summons, he can't run as the cracks reach him.
He falls.
The floor crumbles beneath him, and he's sent down. Zhongli normally would've taken the time to appreciate the spectacular, bioluminescent walls that guarded the lower chamber if he wasn't severely injured. It's all a blur to him as he struggles to retain his center of balance, falling without a trace of safety.
But the drop turns out to be much shorter than he thought, and he lands flat on his back with a thud that leaves him heavily disoriented.
“Ugh...” He groans as his head rattles. He quickly remembers what he’s doing, however. With effort, he pushes himself up, wincing at the piercing aches in his spine. His head still rings from the impact. Looking around, debris surrounds him in the dark reaches of the chamber. His eyes pierce through the dark, distinct irises permeating the shadows.
He shifts his hand across the ruined floor and pushes himself up. His right leg is cut up; he can tell because he looks down when he notices the searing pain in his leg, and immediately shifts his weight.
Zhongli breathes slowly. He doesn’t see anyone. Not even scanning the room for any traces of life, can he find anything.
… He’s done.
A sigh of immense relief escapes him. He slouches, as though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. But his eyes uncontrollably linger among the rubble, searching for a sign of Childe. Not even tatters of his scarf can be seen fluttering about-
A dull pain shoots through Zhongli’s chest. His eyes widen as he chokes up more blood.
“That was a close one, wasn’t it?” That chuckle.
Zhongli soundly falls to his knees. “Too close, honestly.”
“... You...” The Archon chokes more blood that drips off his chin, onto his ruined dress shirt. He looks down, and he sees the head of an electric spear protruding from his chest.
“I’m glad this is over. I was getting real worried there,” Childe yanks his spear out of Zhongli. But he doesn’t let him fall onto the floor. His hands snake up his torso and embrace him gingerly, and Zhongli can feel Childe nuzzle his neck. He doesn’t know when Childe took his mask off.
“Now...” He wants to stop him. Childe’s fingers trail upwards, dancing as they unbutton his shirt with the ease of someone who wasn’t just fighting a battle to the death. They reach the collar, and slowly, so slowly, trace down his bare skin, ghosting lines down his chest and circling the hole through his torso just below.
“G- hh-!” Zhongli almost jerks at the stinging contact as his teeth grind against each other. He’s quivering, trying to breath through the borderline torture.
Childe does not have mercy.
His fingers trail upward once more, and stop just center on his chest. His thumb and fingers pinch together as they press into his skin.
Golden light breaks through, and Zhongli screams in pain.
The tiny glimmering hourglass is extracted, so, so slowly, and Zhongli writhes .
Childe pulls it out at his own pace, relishing in the noises Zhongli emits. He watches the hourglass shimmer in the dim light of the chamber, beautifully glowing.
Just like Zhongli.
Said man’s eyes, however, begin to dim. The irises can no longer pierce the dark as they fade. Zhongli is still very much alive. If only barely, as Childe fully extracts his gnosis.
“What a sight...” Childe breathes. “Almost as mesmerizing as the first time I met you.”
Zhongli gasps and wheezes for breath, only held up by Childe’s arms. He can’t think. All he feels is the gaping void and encroaching pain that accompanies his growing weakness.
“I must say... I quite like you when you’re like this, too.” Zhongli doesn’t hear him. Childe gently, twistedly gently, lays Zhongli down, turning him to face upwards. A hand wanders up his cheek and strokes the pale, soft skin. His thumb smears the drying blood on his chin over Zhongli’s lips, painting them crimson red.
“... Breathtaking .”
Childe leans in, entranced. Their faces are dangerously close, and Zhongli’s still struggling to find his breath.
Their lips meet, and lock together, softly. Zhongli’s attempts at breathing are muffled, but he can’t struggle; he stays there, exhausted and unable to think.
Childe tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and the man has no choice but to comply. Gloved fingers thread through black, silky hair, appreciating the smooth locks.
Childe himself makes appreciative noises that disconcert Zhongli, in the back of his mind, but he simply accepts the other man’s untimely advances. Almost can’t do anything, the state he’s in.
Childe lets go, slowly releasing himself. “... Beautiful.” Zhongli gasps for breath, chest heaving up and down with the force. His eye squeeze shut in pain as his body continues to punish him for everything that’s transpired. Hands trace down his body, pressing down in spots that make him choke in sheer agony. Prodding.
“Gh- hh...!” His teeth grit and his fingers scratch the floor, unable to find purchase.
“There you go... Just like that,” Childe gasps. Like he’s getting pleasure out of this. His hands reach Zhongli’s belt, and begin unfastening.
He unbuckles the lock, takes the slider out and pulls the whole thing off his slacks. It’s unceremoniously tossed to the side as his fingers dip under the waistband of Zhongli’s slacks.
They pull, and, in three seconds flat, both Zhongli’s pants and boxers are off and tossed over Childe’s shoulder.
His mouth waters. Zhongli’s still attempting to cope with the removal of his gnosis as his body quivers and his hands scratch against the floor. Chest trembling with labored, heavy breaths. Lips colored red with blood. His eyes are still scrunched shut as his teeth grind against each other.
Childe hooks his thumbs under his gloves and slips them off. ‘Beautiful,’ He keeps thinking to himself.
His bare hands grasp Zhongli’s thighs, stroking the soft skin. His thighs are beautifully toned, not a trace of fat. The opposite of a bourgeois parasite, as he once said.
Those same gentle hands push Zhongli’s thighs up and fold him in half. He sucks in air through his teeth, as the hole in his chest is stretched and his windpipe constricted. He’s on full display, full display for Childe.
Childe quickly reaches for his own belt and unworks it even quicker than Zhongli’s. With a small tug on his briefs, he has his erection out, all ready. His hand strokes himself, once, twice, while the other lovingly strokes Zhongli’s face. He leans down, to nuzzle the crook of his neck again, and he breathes in the scent of blood, dust, and Zhongli.
“I’m not a greedy man, y’know.” His lips leave soft kisses on other’s neck. “I want you to feel good too,” Childe tilts his head to breath into his ear. His dick brushes along the inside of Zhongli’s thigh, and they both shiver.
“Just say my name.” He whispers, and Zhongli barely hears it.
“Childe…” He rasps, distantly not liking where this is going. Childe frowns.
“Ah, that’s right. I haven’t told you my real name,” He clicks his tongue.
“Tartaglia.”
Zhongli’s eyes widen a fraction, and Tartaglia chuckles. “Just say my real name,” He softly cups the man’s face and strokes his thigh.
Zhongli is barely able to breath, let alone think. Childe’s ginger locks are a blur to his unfocused eyes.
“T… ar…” His chest aches with the effort of speaking, but he doesn’t know what else to do. “t… ag-” He sputters and coughs out blood. Childe chuckles, almost amused.
“There you go-” He gingerly wipes the blood off his china again, like a lover. Applies them to his own lips this time. “Just a little further.”
“... Li,” Zhongli grimaces. The pain permeates every thread of his being. But there’s just one more syllable. One more letter.
“A-” He gasps, and no sooner has Childe plunged two digits into his entrance. Zhongli winces, curling his toes and clamping down, but Childe only chuckles in his ear and purrs,
“Don’t worry; just relax.” His free hand trails down his neck, leaving sparks in his skin that tingle in his wake. Zhongli shudders a strained sigh.
Childe’s able to pull his fingers out, slickened only with the blood from before, and twist them back in, earning a choked noise from the man he’s preparing. He pumps them in and out as they make out of place squelching noises, focusing Zhongli’s senses to what’s happening.
He still breathes erratically, but he has more clarity. His eyes focus on the destroying chamber with its luminescent walls and the distant first floor. The first thing he notices is how cold yet hot he feels. When he looks down, he figures out why, as he sees Childe pull his fingers out of a very private place and position a very private organ against that same place.
It’s an understatement to say he startles as Childe shoves his dick inside in one fell swoop.
“Hh-!” He tenses up as Childe and groans. The Harbinger almost forgets himself; it takes a while for him to open the eyes he hadn’t even noticed closing, and a bit longer for him to notice Zhongli’s more-than-uncomfortable predicament.
“Ah… My bad,” he chides himself. Fingers wander down Zhongli’s chest, leaving trails of the same sparks of electricity, and suddenly Zhongli feels less pain and more heat.
Childe rocks out, slowly, testing out the waters, and Zhongli gasps, then shakily exhales. He rocks right back in, and Zhongli’s breathing is left uneven as he chokes out a pleasured noise.
“That more like it?” Childe chuckles, and begins a slow, steady pace of thrusting in and out. He’s fucking a god, and that god is at his own mercy, trembling and letting out restless little noises.
He pulls out, and, suddenly, slams back in, earning himself a surprised squeak. He pauses. He wasn’t aware the man could make… such a cute sound.
He wants more.
He pulls out again, slowly and deliberately, before slamming back in once more and earning another squeak. He relishes it, and keeps at it, forcing all matter of sounds from Zhongli as he thrusts into him. He feels himself get more and more excited, and before he knows it, he’s near.
Surprisingly, Zhongli is hard too.
A very pleasant surprise.
Drool pools at the corner of Zhongli’s lip as Childe offers no quarter, quickening his thrusts and showing no mercy. His hands dig into the Archon’s hips, dig into the gash in his side and elicit a strangled yell. Blood slicks his fingers as his nails dig into the muscle fiber, and Zhongli is too weak to resist as he grits his teeth and fails to stifle his throes.
The mix is almost intoxicating; Childe pounding into him yet also torturing him, forcing every possible sound out of him.
Childe comes with a muffled yell as he bites the crook of Zhongli’s neck, his favorite spot. His hand keeps digging into Zhongli’s wound and the other jerks him off, overstimulating the man until he comes too, gasping for air.
He relaxes his grip and gently laps at the bite marks that broke skin, relishing the taste of his blood. He doesn’t pull out; they stay like that, conjoined, almost, as they both come down from the high. Childe continues to shower Zhongli’s neck with yet more kisses, as though unable to ever get enough.
His attention changes to rosy lips and he plants a deep, loving kiss.
When he gingerly pulls back, he looks into Zhongli's half-awake golden eyes.
"You think we'll ever get a next time?" He snickers softly as he strokes the other's lips with his thumb.
Zhongli can't even begin to think of an answer.