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Ajax thinks—the summer in Liyue is only bearable because of this. Because of Zhongli. Because of how exquisite he looks, elegantly laying on the couch with a book between his hands.
The soft sound of paper has accompanied them for a while now, but Childe already feels like there could be prettier sounds filling the room.
(The kind of sounds Zhongli lets out every time his immaculate skin is treated roughly, for example. Those would do just perfectly, dragged out from swollen, pink lips.)
Light breaks through the window, scattered, reflecting a halo on his ring and sunbathing the pair of plump thighs that comfortably rest over fine cushions. The bruises decorating them makes Childe grin.
He follows the path up, up, up through infinite long legs. Instead of the usual robe Zhongli wears at home, he is now wearing one of his shirts, lying there draped in red and nothing more.
How enticing. How daring of him to directly walk into the jaws of the wolf without expecting to be devoured. Funny how badly he wants the opposite.
Childe knows his Omega is dressed like this purposely, to tempt him with his mere presence. It is a silent truth between them. A petition to fulfill.
Touch me, it pleads.
And there is nothing in the world Ajax could deny to his Zhongli.
In fact, the brunette has probably noticed by now the way his gaze is glued to him, but decides to remain immersed in his reading, even if he can’t focus on a single word. Those blue eyes have already done terrible things to him—bend him over the desk, grip his throat, swallow his cries.
(Ajax knows what Zhongli is thinking about—the tilt of his head, the tremble of his lips, the twitching of his legs.)
Urge bashes him, strikes him faster and harder than a tide, leaving him with a need that only grows, grows and grows until it's impossible to contain. He wants that and more, so much more.
Finally, Zhongli loses it. He whines, looking at him through eyes full of lust. “Alpha—”
Sat behind the desk, Childe smiles his rightness and indulges.
“Come here.”
There is no need to repeat himself. Zhongli abandons the coach in the blink of an eye, without even worrying for his precious book anymore, and makes his way towards the Harbinger. The usually graceful and calm footsteps are now replaced with clumsy ones, a crave pouring in them.
When Zhongli’s arms wrap around his neck, Childe unravels in the sight. It is always a pleasant surprise how beautiful his Omega looks when he is like this, as if he only existed to be here, snuggling on his lap, both legs at each side of his hips squeezing him so, so tightly. Zhongli is pliant and ready to be bred, to have subdued every single last part of him.
How beautiful he looks, how pretty, when he doesn't care to contain his urge and is bathed by it instead, by the want. When he is devoured by lust.
They’re close enough for Childe to feel a certain heat and wetness. There's no need to ask to know where it comes from. He chuckles, voice raspy, and closes both hands around Zhongli's petite waist to press down, enveloping it completely.
(This image should be a sin—it will forever haunt him, both thumbs meeting just above the brunette's navel.)
“Ajax.” Zhongli's pretty, small mouth opens to let out a gasp, his name stained on it.
“I’m right here darling, tell me what you want.”
Cor lapis eyes hover to question him, almost comically enough. The cloudiness on them is an unbridled crave, hazy and already teary.
Zhongli repeats an obvious need, hips moving in growing despair. “Alpha—”
But Childe seizes them in his hands. The bruising grip stops his Omega, who whimpers miserably and seems ready to throw a tantrum if denied once more. Tartaglia knows what Zhongli is thinking right now, the offended gaze tells him everything, almost as if he had just done a terrible thing.
(He can read in those eyes—how would Ajax dare to?)
Just the small consequences of spoiling him too much. Nothing a rough hand can't fix.
This time, his voice leaves a firm command. “Tell me.”
Zhongli is clear, he has no option but to respond. The fingers pressed against his soft skin slowly gain strength while his silence lasts, until the ruthless grip starts to hurt. Childe doesn't hold back when it comes to reaffirm who is in charge, or when it comes to getting what he wants.
“You, you, please—”
Ajax makes an appreciative sound at the back of his throat, similar to a hum, and releases. As always, it is a torture to let go of the wide hips, of that curvaceous shape, to be separated from that warm, soft skin.
“It wasn't that hard, you see?” He leans against Zhongli's exposed collarbone, breathing in the smell of tea and flowers. “Good boy,” the Harbinger whispers, teeth slightly grazing on immaculate skin before biting down just where the bonding mark lays. “Good Omega.”
On top of him, the brunette shivers and squeezes Childe between his thighs, grinding against the hard length that pokes at his crotch. Tartaglia decides to spare him, and instead of stopping the movement, indulges himself by grabbing Zhongli's hips once more and setting a pace.
How welcome the softness of those curves is to his itching hands. He is always wanting this. Always craving for a tenderness and warmth only Zhongli can give.
“A-Ajax, please, husband,” his spouse beautifully cries, unaware of how much Childe wants to stir his suffering for even longer when he begs like this. “More— I-I want more.”
If it already takes all of his self-control to remain firm and instruct Zhongli, now it takes even more than that to contain his mad urge and not fuck him raw until he's sobbing.
(Eventually, it'll happen, but there is another kind of pleasure in seeing the way Zhongli slowly, slowly, slowly breaks—in stripping him bare of his refined self and leaving him with nothing but scraps of a yearning.)
Childe can see the tears gathering in the corners of his Omega's eyes, an unfocused and watery sunset. The firsts of them begin to fall and roll down through rosy cheeks when understanding bathes the brunette.
If he wants it so badly, then he'll have to earn it. Childe won't indulge him this time.
“Hold on tight, princess.”
Despite the persistent tremble coursing through his body, Zhongli is quick to obey, and drapes his arms around Tartaglia's broad shoulders to find support. Still, he fails to suppress a yelp once he is suddenly lifted up and carried out of the office.
The Harbinger chuckles and presses a kiss against his forehead. “Cute.”
Using his leg to open their bedroom door, Childe gently lays Zhongli onto the bed and slots himself between his plump thighs, so willingly parted to welcome the heat. The red silk draped over the brunette is now hanging from his shoulders, revealing the many marks on his skin: the bites, the hickeys, the bruises—there are so many of them, everywhere, but somehow they're still not enough.
They are never enough, in fact.
That milky white is begging for more burning red, for bleeding hues. The mark of a sin, of an union, of possession. Zhongli takes the flame of his arousal in his hands and stirs it with a smile, spreading the fire.
No, they are never enough. The only way of marking Zhongli in his entirety, of completely owning him in something beyond flesh, is to—
“Alpha,” Zhongli says, voice wrapping his ears in cloying velvet with the wake of his breath. That little minx knows exactly which words to use to get what he wants. “Won't you breed me?”
(And there's nothing in the world Ajax could deny to his Zhongli.
(Not when he is like this, so beautiful and warm, so pliant and docile for him and him only.
(There is truly nothing in the world Ajax could deny to his Zhongli. Never.)
“Of course, my love.”
Pink lips part open with a gorgeous moan, back arching to meet the nearest heat that Zhongli can find, and Childe doesn't deny it this time. He cups the small curve and draws him closer, closer, closer, until the warmth is palpable even through layers of clothes.
“Ajax,” his Omega brokenly calls, both hands grasping and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. “Off— take it off.”
Childe fondly huffs a breathy laugh, chastising but only indulging his thirst. “Eager thing.”
Spoiling him rotten, as always.
And yet, he still complies, leaning back to reveal what lies beneath the gray of his clothes. Zhongli's gaze takes in everything, staring with an impossible greed, as if he hasn't already seen all of this many times before. Every last bit hovering around those moves makes his body itch with need, a silent trail of anticipation filling what is left of him feeling hollow.
Despite the urge that tells him to ravish his Omega right now, Childe decides he wants to take his time to properly enjoy this, to taste Zhongli with slow, tempting bites before sinking his teeth down and devouring him entirely.
(To stir this suffering until none of them can't take it anymore. There's a deeper satisfaction in being denied and then sweetly pleased.
(Picking up the broken pieces of their aching bodies never fails in making Childe's heart melt.)
Finally his shirt is off, deceived somewhere on the floor with little to no care. Zhongli takes it as another opportunity to plead. “Kiss.”
Or most likely to demand.
Either way, Childe finds himself unable to say no, his response tied to the pout on the brunette's lips and to the awfully needy expression on his face. Ajax thinks that he might as well cry if he doesn't get what he wants, very much like a spoiled kid.
It would only be part of this whole tantrum he's throwing.
When Tartaglia leans forward, Zhongli melts between his arms. There's a soft sound dancing at the back of his throat—a quiet, appreciative purr that he swallows.
Sweet. How sweet his Zhongli is for him.
Lean arms worm around his broad shoulders, feeling the tight muscle there, until they're both wrapped around his neck and only pulling him closer, closer, closer. Zhongli doesn't want him anywhere else but here, glued to his body and chained to his soul. Chained to him.
Childe grazes at Zhongli's lower lip, commanding him to part his mouth open. He does so with a moan, allowing the Alpha to dip his tongue into that wet cavern. The taste is already familiar, in a way that's rooted deep into his being. Childe is sure he would never grow tired of it.
Zhongli kisses with so much urge that these shared breaths are hardly anything else beyond that: a sloppy exchange in which Childe has to find some footing, or he would go directly mad—madder, even madder than he already is.
When they separate, Zhongli is quick to complain with a whimper. It tells him that he didn't get enough from the kiss despite the accelerated movement of his chest and his breathing. His Omega looks utterly broken by now, his eyes holding the pain of a betrayal that never took place.
“What's got you so demanding today, princess?” Childe asks, drawing Zhongli impossibly closer with a hand cupping the back of his waist. “Coming into my office while I'm working, sprawling on my couch. I need to work to buy you all the little trinkets you like, you know?”
Zhongli giggles. That spoiled brat. Childe needs to be stricter with him.
His Omega easily responds, a smile on his pretty, beautiful face. This is critical. “Would you prefer me to sprawl myself on your desk instead, Alpha?”
Oh, Childe definitely needs to be stricter with him.
Only Zhongli can make fire this cloying. Only Zhongli can be this defying and docile at the same time, forcing his flawless, deadly tenderness upon the flood that Ajax is, to soothe the beast within his bones.
Amazing. Zhongli is amazing.
“You're trying to kill me, aren't you?” Childe punctuates with slow, deep grinds against the brunette's crotch. He is wet, and cannot possibly hide it—doesn't try to hide it. “Sly minx.”
Even if Zhongli were really trying to kill him, Ajax would let him, without any doubt.
(There's nothing in the world he could deny to Zhongli. Absolutely nothing at all.)
“I want you to breed me first,” Zhongli pleads. “Please, husband?”
Childe is suddenly aware of why Scaramouche and the rest of the Harbingers like to mess with him so much—he's woefully, wonderfully doomed.
“When have I ever denied you something, my love?”
“Never.”
Never, indeed.
Therefore, he reaches for the hem of Zhongli's shirt, grazing at the skin of his thighs with his fingers, where bruises start to bloom in red tones. The mere anticipation of them is enough to set a flame inside his chest that burns with a sense of possession.
Mine, it says. This man is mine.
Zhongli trembles beneath the rough touch of his hands, the already broken pieces of his being shattering a bit more. When Childe finally lifts the crimson clothing, he is received by a sight that makes him growl and his cock twitch, painfully hard.
Pink panties. Zhongli is wearing pink panties. He looks beautiful in them, the soft hues melting against his milky white skin. It's so obscene, so lewd, so lovely—the fact that Zhongli dressed up for him.
“Oh, darling,” he begins with a whisper, only to pause at the loss of words. His hand slides beneath the Omega's underwear, resting at the side of his hips. “You're so good for me.”
The brunette immediately moans and spreads his legs wider in a silent plea, his sunset eyes looking straight at him with utter devotion and raw urge.
Yes. Take me, take me, take me, Childe can read in them. I am good.
And then again, Ajax finds himself unable to deny Zhongli anything. There's a deep, almost primal impulse that pushes him on, on, on— that burns without leaving any trace of ashes, and he cannot fight against it.
Not when Zhongli is like this, at least, so willingly letting all of him be taken.
There'll be another opportunity to stir their suffering, to reduce his refined Omega to a sobbing mess, to strip him out of it little by little.
For now, Childe will have to settle with this.
He manhandles Zhongli to pull him up in his arms, arched back pressed against his chest. Childe decides that this isn't the best moment to linger on how perfectly they fit, on how perfectly they complete each other.
(But he definitely will, later, when they're both curled up on the sheets and Zhongli is left warm, purring with content and satisfaction. Childe will look at his sleeping face and think about it.)
The cute Omega snuggling on his lap doesn't need to be told before he spreads his legs. So obedient, Childe thinks, so good.
Soon, however, his thoughts are replaced with the appealing scent Zhongli distills. It’s a hint of something earthy and sweet, like flowers, and it’s so heavy that Childe almost cannot contain the urge to just breed him already. But what makes his body go stiff, muscles tensing and breath sharpening, is the ever so clear recognition of his own scent intertwining with Zhongli’s.
It’s like a display—the way his Omega so shamelessly begs for him and accepts his need, welcomes and carries every mark of his possession. If it were for him, Ajax would happily bury his face on the brunette's collarbone and choke to death.
When his fingers start to rub the wet patch between Zhongli's legs, he immediately whimpers. It was an oversight to not anticipate this.
“Stay still.” Childe only needs to whisper, punctuating every word with small circles around the brunette's clit, which makes him shudder.
“Please.” Zhongli begs in a voice so small that Childe almost caves in the sweetness of it. This brat. He definitely knows what strings to pull.
“Have you touched yourself lately?” His fingers keep tracing circles, this time putting more and more pressure on the tiny bud of nerves.
His Omega only shakes his head, unable to form a whole coherent sentence. His body is starting to twitch at every touch, signaling how strong the pleasure is, almost unbearable.
“Good boy.” Childe finally decides. Maybe a reward is in order, but first he needs to get Zhongli down from that peak of distress that is not being given what he needs.
A wet sob reminds him of it, the slow crumbling of the beauty in his arms.
“Cum on my fingers first and I'll give you whatever you ask me for,” Childe offers, trying to convince his Omega like he would do with his siblings every time they refuse to eat. “Can you do that for me, hm?”
“Mhmm.”
That is the only response he manages to get out of Zhongli, but it's enough to coax him. He visibly relaxes, body going completely limp except for the occasional jerks that mean he's getting closer, closer, closer to where Ajax wants him.
(In the epitome of brokenness. Laying down on their bed with his red shirt hanging from his shoulders, like the most beautiful work of art to ever exist.)
Childe accelerates his pace, fingers now moving in errant forms. He has a single goal in his mind, and that is to bring Zhongli to completion. By now, he can tell how close his Omega is—his whole body shakes, moans spill from his lips, eyes unfocused and rolling to his skull.
There's only one thing he needs. There's only one thing lacking.
“A-Ajax,” Zhongli sobs out, calling for him like something he can't reach, so wet by now that the squelch of his fluids can still be heard above his cries. “Alpha—”
Ajax listens and coos. “Cum for me, princess.”
Upon that, Zhongli snaps like a tense bowstring in a clear shot. His body is nothing but a beautiful, crumbling arch; Ajax has to cross an arm around his chest to prevent him from collapsing.
“Pretty. My pretty little thing,” he whispers against Zhongli's ear, still rubbing small circles with his hand to wane the last waves of his orgasm. “Oh, lyubimy, you're so pretty when you cum for me.”
More than pretty. The sight of Zhongli going slack between his arms is more than just a mere word. He can only whimper and tremble, hurrying every step to his absolute submission.
After allowing some minutes of nothing but praises and kisses for Zhongli to relax, Childe decides it's time to continue with their session.
He's been dying for it since he saw Zhongli on that shirt, asking to be ravished. Those sunset eyes were begging him to.
(Touch me. Please. Please.)
Despite how pretty Zhongli looks with the pink panties, Tartaglia knows they'll get on his way later, so he slowly takes them off. The brunette visibly shudders under him, exhaling a shaking breath that screams anticipation.
Childe takes in the appealing view— the sharp bone of Zhongli's hips, the wide curve of them, the way his stomach clenches and unclenches at his touch and disembarks into the sight of his vulva to finally, finally reveal his rosy folds damp with slick.
Cute. His Zhongli is so cute, ready to be bred.
Ajax can feel his mouth water and his fingers itch to the thought of more, his cock impossibly hard and yet still inside his trousers.
He isn't sure how much longer he can take not being buried deep into his Omega's womb, breeding him full. He knows not for too long, the Alpha in him screaming to just take him— but Zhongli still needs some preparation, so Childe adjusts their position to lay him down on the bed.
Zhongli is quick to welcome him, spreading his legs like the only place for Ajax to be is between them.
Would it be another occasion, without a spoiled Omega demanding to be bred, Childe would gladly use his mouth to prepare Zhongli, but there is no chance for it to happen now. His beloved immediately snaps when he tries to collect some slick leaking from Zhongli's folds with his fingers, already knowing what will happen next.
Few are the occasions Zhongli had been this eager, acting like even the smallest thing is the end of the world.
“I'm ready,” he fussily whines, thrashing as if trying to get away. “Please, please—”
Another tantrum, Childe thinks. He is quick to seize the Omega's waist with his free hand, grip strong enough to pin his body into the sheets. Zhongli goes pliant once more, showing his docility and whole submission.
Good. The praise is stuck between Tartaglia's teeth.
Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside Zhongli and moves them as much as possible, unsurprisingly being met with trapping tightness. Despite the self lubrication and all, it's obvious that more is needed to make the pain faint enough.
Zhongli tries his best to suppress the pained moans spilling from his lips, but Childe can still hear them.
“You are not ready,” he scolds. “I can hardly fit two fingers here.”
This time, when he looks back at Zhongli, he can see the exact moment in which his lower lip juts in a pout and his eyes shed some of the already dwelling tears. The sight of them is both heartbreaking and bewitching.
“Please, please, please—”
Zhongli is only able to beg thrice before Childe manhandles him into another position, this time sitting with both legs at each side of his hips. Either be it the lack of strength or an instinct reaction, the way his Omega just directly melts against his chest is something more than lovely.
“Spoiled brat,” Tartaglia mumbles between gritted teeth, exasperation clear in his scent. “I don't want to hear you crying later.”
There’s a fact hovering in the room, that neither of them wants to acknowledge, that neither of them is resigned to point out. Childe decides that there is no need to, while he frees his cock from the insufferable tightness of his pants, but that still is reminded of when Zhongli trembles and trembles and trembles in both impatience and fear.
Even if the last thing he wants right now is to be one more second out of his Omega’s warm cunt, Childe still has some sense left in him. He rubs his length between the wet folds to, at least, have a cheap excuse for the absence of lube and further preparation.
When Zhongli seems about to burst into tears once again, his face suddenly changes into something different from distress. Childe moves slowly and yet without a waver, and as he begins to push his dick past the tight ring of muscles, also drinks in the sight of the brunette getting exactly what he cried for.
It hurts. Of course it hurts. Ajax knew how risky and bold it was to fuck Zhongli raw outside of his heats, but it only happened to be one of the things that fueled his arousal.
Moreover, the pretty Omega sobbing on his lap doesn't seem willing to do anything else but be good and obediently take what he deserves, what he asked for.
It makes his heart bleed.
“Do you want me to pull out?” He asks, the anger from before nowhere to be seen, but Zhongli immediately whimpers and shakes his head, his insides closing around his girth even more.
That's enough response for him, and he can't help but let out a strangled chuckle.
“Love, you're too tight,” Childe whispers, slightly thrusting inside that amazing heat. “Relax for me.”
Even the smallest move is sufficient to make Zhongli sob from both pleasure and pain. Ajax can see tears gathering on those eyes and falling, falling, falling down through rosy cheeks. The soft walls clench around his cock so tightly that he doesn't know—cannot know—if Zhongli is trying to push him away or suck him further in.
Maybe both. The Omega trembling between his arms looks as troubled and confused as him.
(So broken, too.
(Beautifully, wonderfully broken.)
Childe tries to change their position to the one before, more comfortable for Zhongli, laying him down and holding each leg with his hands, but soon realizes that it isn't as effective as he initially thought. He can't help but huff, frustration and urge starting to creep on him like ivy, inciting him to move forward and just thrust, thrust, thrust—
It's too much, he knows. Zhongli can't take him like this. Zhongli can't take more but still wants him.
A trembling sigh after, Childe closes his eyes and leans into his Omega's neck. This is dangerous. He can feel the smaller body trembling between his arms, barely able to hold and claw at his shoulders with what little strength he has left.
Ajax realizes the flow of the things now. The nature of them. Of course, like every other time, he would fall for whatever spell Zhongli put on him. He always does.
Before he can know it, his hips are moving almost on their own. Zhongli is curled up against him, the small of his back a perfect fit for his hand to hold and lift up, allowing him to go ever deeper and reach that soft entrance that begs to be filled. They're so, so, so close to each other that he can hear the other's heartbeat.
“Poor thing,” Childe coos and Zhongli immediately gives in, tightening up more and more and more. “So empty and needy that you would take anything, even if it hurts. You'll just let me take whatever I want from you, right, darling?”
This time, Zhongli babbles a response. He's shaking, threatening to crumble and give away. Childe could make him pass out like this.
“Am I hurting you, princess?” he asks again; his Omega nods, face tucked into his chest and straight out crying. “Does it hurt?” Zhongli is defeated, broken, pliant for him and him only. He nods. “And why aren't you begging for me to stop?”
“Y-You told me— a-ah!” Zhongli tries so hard to respond, but can only whimper through the throes of ecstasy. “C-Can't— I-I can't!”
Ajax sucks a sharp breath between his teeth. This is addicting, more so than any kind of power he has ever laid his hands upon. It's so addicting that he is certain—he has conquered the world. This is the only thing he wants to have for all eternity.
Damn all greed, all battle, all other gods. Ajax wants him, him, him and him only.
“Good boy. Are you my good boy, Zhongli?”
“Y-Yes,” Zhongli sobs and nods. “Y-Yours. Yours.”
Childe gives in to the feral hunger burning inside his gut. He isn't sure what happens next, but he starts thrusting into his Omega like it'll be the last thing he'll do in his whole life, battering his womb open and getting drunk with his cries.
His love for this man is a tender ache deep in his chest, in his bones, in his veins—everywhere. Zhongli is a beam of light and then deadly fire.
I want him to, Ajax thinks. I want him to burn me whole. I want him to kill me.
Zhongli clamps down into him with an urge that only says need—need you, and Ajax gives all of himself without holding back, fucking his Omega through orgasm after orgasm after orgasm until he's a crying, shivering mess that doesn't have any strength left but still not telling him to stop and only calling, calling, calling his name.
He's possessed. There is no other explanation.
-
When he comes to be, sweat dripping down from his forehead and chest heaving with every breath, Zhongli is laying on his stomach, nothing more but a sprawled out mess full of his cum. It's leaking between his thighs and onto the sheets.
He looks beautiful, all bruises and hickeys and gorgeous reds that scream of him.
For a moment, Childe thinks he could have gone too far this time, forcing Zhongli to take him without rest til the point of oblivion and borderline unconsciousness, but when he leaves the bed to look for water and something to clean, his Omega whines, slightly shifting.
Childe goes back immediately, manhandling Zhongli with the utmost care to lay him on his side, back against his broad chest. He is appeased after finding the warmth he had been missing, and purrs.
His heart melts at the sight of his Omega peacefully falling asleep between his arms. He could demand anything—the world itself, the seven gnoses back, holy Celestia, his very own life—and Ajax would say that he has already committed all of it to him. That there is nothing he could deny. That everything his beloved wants shall be in his hands.