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Don’t tell anyone, but despite being a Harbinger, diplomacy is not Childe’s strong suit.
Well, technically, there’s no need to tell anyone, because everyone’s plenty aware. Her Imperial Majesty pretty much just drags him along for these political things like ‘peace talks’ because she likes him, according to the other ten Harbingers.
Childe insists it’s because he’s Her Imperial Majesty’s head knight (and royal bodyguard), and he’s the best at his job. At least his interests align with Her Imperial Majesty’s needs at all times, unlike, say, Dottore, who… who is like that.
Vanguard, Eleventh, Tartaglia, Head Knight, Royal Bodyguard… Childe goes by many names, and he needs no introduction.
This is why he hates what he’s going through right now, being stuck in a stuffy outfit in the second hottest country after Sumeru, just for some diplomatic ‘peace talks’ that he doesn’t even have to listen to. He’s supposed to be in charge of the military and defending and anything that has to do with bloodshed, so something like this is completely out of his itinerary, yet he has to attend in all these clothes!
At least he’s not the only one who’s affected. Signora’s gaudiness and faux grace are being hindered by the clothes, and Scaramouche looks as if he’s drowning in them.
As expected, Her Imperial Majesty the Tsaritsa is the only one who appears as if she actually fits in the Liyuen traditional robes, even though she probably hates them most of all.
She walks with such elegance, it’s almost as if she floats. She bows and speaks like fluid water, yet her gaze still struck as cold as ice.
Emperor Zhongli is nothing like that.
He sits on his throne as if he owns the place, relaxed and looking down on the visitors as if they’re bugs under his shoe… until he stands and bows back, and he’s more refined than a fiery diamond.
His words flow from him like molasses, smooth and slow, and his melancholy appearance turns stony as he addresses the Snezhnayans. He breaks the tension simply by smiling, a tiny uptick of the corners of his mouth.
“Thank you for coming so far to arrive in Liyue, Your Majesty,” the Emperor says. “I understand you may be under stress due to the disadvantage of being in former enemy territory, which is why I have drawn up a contract.”
Childe tries not to grimace. Emperor Zhongli also had this poor habit of making contracts upon contracts upon contracts. A simple promise would be enough, and Childe suspects that perhaps he would struggle, but he could defeat the entirety of guards lining this throne room alone.
“While you are here in Liyue, discussing with me, not a person of Liyue will be able to injure you or your companions. If there comes a case where you or one of your companions attacks us first, then we are allowed to retaliate in full force. Do you agree to these terms?”
The second term has both Signora and Scaramouche’s eyes on him, but Childe doesn’t twitch, and Her Highness tilts her head in a single nod.
“I do.”
“Then let this contract be set in stone, and whoever breaks it will suffer the Wrath of the Rock.”
“...Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty.”
Their time in Liyue stretches out before them, and Childe nearly drools at the sight of dumplings.
Emperor Zhongli smiles at his visitors, presenting the feast his servants prepared. “Please enjoy.”
Childe looks at his chopsticks in contempt, then at the tantalizing food.
He looks back and forth for a moment, until the Emperor himself picks up a dumpling, dips it in soy sauce, and places it on Childe’s plate.
“If you need a fork, I can have someone retrieve one,” he says lowly, his voice washing over Childe like warm spring waters.
Childe doesn’t reply, picking up his chopsticks and stabbing them into the dumpling.
He doesn’t see the satisfied smile on the Emperor’s face as he eats.
The Tsaritsa dislikes how Emperor Zhongli prefers to work everything out so meticulously, so slowly.
She’s seen it done countless of times, seen her spies come back broken and insane after he pulled apart the strings of their minds, seen the contracts laid out that go on for pages and pages and pages, seen her plans fall apart before her because of his keen eye.
As Emperor Zhongli peers at her bodyguard, she sees it now, a tiny smile adorning his face as he holds out a traditional dao .
He says, “Actually, I imagine you would do well with this in your arsenal.”
Childe looks at him in disbelief. “You’re… giving that to me?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a weapon. Aren’t we enemies?”
“Not anymore.”
“…Well, okay…”
The Tsaritsa feels her mood sour, that this Emperor has the audacity to flirt with her youngest so desperately like this, right in front of her. He even glances at her out of the corner of his eye, smiling sugar-sweet as Childe drags a finger over the blade of the dao. He turns his attention back onto her knight, her bodyguard, her Eleventh. “I would enjoy sparring with you one day, Childe.”
Childe’s gaze sparkles and the Tsaritsa frowns.
At this point, all she can do is hope that Childe rips him apart before he can do the same.
Childe is under the opinion that Liyuens are delusional.
“They don’t seriously refer to him as ‘Son of Heaven,’ right?” he asks Signora, who’s taking long drags out of a pipe she’s not supposed to have, and Scaramouche, who looks like he’d rather rip his organs out than speak to either of them.
“Some of them must,” Signora says when she deigns the silence pitiful enough that she allows herself to answer.
“Your Imperial Majesty is fine,” Childe says, “Her Imperial Majesty the Tsaritsa is called that, and she deserves it. ‘Radiant Highness’ is pushing it. ‘Holy Highness’ and ‘Son of Heaven’ is completely ridiculous.”
Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “The people of Liyue do believe that he is quite literally a deity.”
“That’s insane,” Childe grits out, lowering his voice. “Even I know that Her Imperial Majesty is a human, just like the rest of us.”
A knock sounds out at their door, causing Childe to jump.
After a moment, a maid opens the door, bowing as she enters. “The Lord of Ten Thousand Years would like for Her Imperial Majesty the Tsaritsa’s royal bodyguard to join him for his walk through the garden.”
Childe exchanges a look with the other two Harbingers, who look as if they’re about to burst out laughing.
He walks beside Emperor Zhongli through the lily gardens. Before this, he had accompanied him for walks, yes, but Her Imperial Majesty was there as well.
Today, it’s just them and the flowers.
“Emperor Zhongli, why did you invite me for a walk?” Childe asks.
Emperor Zhongli stops, turning to Childe, a light smile on his face. “Did you know that it’s highly forbidden to refer to an emperor, a Huangdi, by his name? Not even the empress dowager is allowed.”
Childe did, in fact, know that.
“The contract says you nor your people can hurt me, so I’ll call you whatever I like, Emperor Zhongli,” Childe announces.
Emperor Zhongli’s smile only grows. “I’m honored, Head Knight, that you’re taking opportunities. Liyuens could stand to be as shrewd as you. I’m guessing this is how Her Imperial Majesty did so well against us.”
Childe blinks at him, taking a step back. “Um… Er, thank you…?”
“Of course.” Emperor Zhongli gives a small bow. “You asked why I invited you for a walk.”
“Yes.”
“The reason is quite simple, really.” Emperor Zhongli takes a knee towards the nearest glaze lily, watching it unfurl as the sun begins to set. “You’re interesting. I enjoy seeing the anthers of this glaze lily as it unfurls every night, and I would like to see your thoughts underneath that mask of yours.”
Childe doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and it feels like all he can hear is the sound of him swallowing back a stone in his throat.
“I did not know the Emperor was so easily charmed. Is your harem ever-growing?”
Emperor Zhongli rises to full height again, chuckling as he brings a hand to his mouth, facing the knight before him. “You must be mistaken, Childe. I admit I’m a rarity amongst emperors… I don’t have one. A harem, that is.”
When he relays this information to the Tsaritsa, she widens her eyes, a rare reaction.
“This is perfect, Childe,” she says, voice low. “He’s taken a liking to you. We’ll wait until he invites you for tea. He’ll eventually pull out alcohol, and I’ll have to ask you to try to get as much information out of him as possible while he’s vulnerable.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She sends Childe a side-eye. "Don't loosen your guard, now. He may be alone with you, but that doesn't mean he's harmless."
It takes both his deep, ingrained fear (respect, he corrects himself) of the Tsaritsa and his own willpower to not chuckle right in her face. He's seen Emperor Zhongli. The man is practically a twig. What could he possibly do?
Plus, the contract. The Emperor of the Land of Contracts can’t possibly break it himself, can he?
When the time comes, Childe finds himself approaching the Emperor’s private chambers.
As he goes down the long, seemingly endless hall, with pillars that rise to the skies, the ceiling high above him, his skin prickles.
Childe, Tartaglia, as the Tsaritsa’s most trusted bodyguard, doesn’t feel fear. He had no fear fending off assassins that Pulcinella had spent months agonizing over, he had no fear facing an entire army with only himself and twenty men, he had no fear traveling to a foreign country, surrounded by those with plenty of reason to kill him.
But, approaching the golden doors of a bedroom had him reverting to an old habit of scratching the skin on the back of his hand, between his wrist and the base of his thumb. Once he realizes it, he looks down at the reddened, sensitive skin, white scratch marks tracing up and down.
Shit, he thinks, rubbing it against his pants.
Something’s making his instincts act up, but he has no idea why. He hasn’t even seen the Emperor yet, and he’s under the protection of the contract and, more importantly, his own capabilities.
He sighs, shrugging off the feeling, and knocks on the doors.
“Come in.”
The voice drawls out, sweet like honey, and Childe pulls the door open, and it’s lighter than he expected.
The room is large, of course, but it’s a weird combination of organized clutter and extravagant comfort.
A large, double bed with gold trim is in the middle, flush against the back wall. Trinkets and artifacts of varying sizes and shapes litter the room. In front of the bed, a mahogany tea table, where Emperor Zhongli sits on a cushion, burning incense.
Zhongli smiles magnanimously, a tea set sitting before him. “Childe,” he breathes like he’s never felt more relieved. “Please, sit.”
Childe thinks that he’s supposed to sit across from him, but he’s never exactly been the most polite of the Harbingers, so he sits to Zhongli’s right.
He thinks he’s supposed to say something, but Zhongli merely lifts the teapot and pours out a cup for each of them, and Childe notices that he’s tied his hair into a low bun, instead of the usual ponytail.
“Thanks for inviting me,” he finally settles on as he watches the steam rise off the tea. “What… kind is it?”
“Taiping houkui, also called ‘peaceful monkey leader’. It’s a green tea, made from the pressed leaves of a plant that’s grown at the foot of Huangshan. The leaves are long, and they stick up before you steep the tea… it’s quite an enjoyable sight.”
“Hmm…” Childe peers down at his modest cup, and he doesn’t see any leaves in there. “Well, thank you.”
He takes a small sip and is overwhelmed by the bamboo scent that wafts into his nose, and the smooth taste of the tea.
Zhongli watches him appraisingly. “Do you like it?”
“Yes, it tastes… great.”
Zhongli smiles. “I’m glad. People spend ages planting, raising, then picking the best plants in the fields. You know, they say the leaves’ shape is known for 'two knives and one pole,' its two straight leaves surrounding a white bud, like two loyal knights and their master.”
“Huh…”
Childe will admit that he hasn’t had much of an interest in artisanal things like tea or art, but the way Emperor Zhongli waxes poetry about the facts about them seems to draw him in like a drug.
As Zhongli continues to speak about his favorite teas, Childe falls further and further away from the dim orange light of the bedroom, from the stress of his previous war efforts, from the Tsaritsa’s orders. He’s surrounded by the smell of bamboo, the taste of sweet, delicate vegetables, and the rushing waters of a dragon well.
Zhongli ends his sermon as Childe finishes the tea, the warmth settling through his body, and he finds himself slumping, far too comfortable for his own good.
“Ah, we finished our tea.” Zhongli takes the tray and sets it to the side. “Would you like to enjoy a drink? I admit I spent too much of our time talking about myself.”
Childe perks up at the words. “No, no, it was very interesting! I think you have a talent for making things fun to listen to, even if I personally weren’t interested in it before.”
“Well, thank you very much, Childe, but I would like to know more about you. I told you before that I found you interesting, no?” Zhongli pulls out a large bottle from under the table, setting it in front of Childe. “Well, would you like a glass?”
Childe’s eyes bug out as he reads the label. “F-fire water? You… how…?”
“I thought you would enjoy a drink from Snezhnaya during your time here. A reminder of home. I understand how it must feel, visiting a former enemy’s territory just after a war…”
Childe swallows. He thinks about all the sorts of disadvantages he could be in, but he’s never gotten drunk from a single bottle of fire water, nor has he ever been able to lose a fight while drunk, and even after that, he still has the contract to fall back on.
He takes a deep breath.
Fuck. He really wants the fire water, too.
“Please,” he says, holding out his cup, “and thank you.”
Zhongli brings up the idea of a game, where one of them would ask a question to the other after taking a shot.
Childe downs his cup instantly. Zhongli snorts, tilting his head. “So, what question has got you so eager?”
“Uh.” Shit. He pauses, thinking back to all the times the other Harbingers had made jabs at his intelligence.
Shaking his head, Childe urgently throws the other Harbingers out of his mind. He wasn’t doing this for them, he was doing this for the Tsaritsa! Though he couldn’t just ask Zhongli about his future plans for his military, otherwise, Zhongli would just refuse. He had to ease into it, he knew that much.
“Why… don’t you have a harem?”
Zhongli’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising. “Oh? You’re wondering about that?”
A distinct embarrassment floods Childe’s senses, but it was too late. He grabbed the first question he thought of, and this is where it brought him. “W-well, you said it yourself, it’s rare for emperors to not have one. So. Uh. Why don’t you?”
“Simple. I would prefer to have one partner that I love, instead of a multitude of them.”
After answering, Zhongli knocks back a shot. “Alright, Childe, why did you decide to join the military?”
It continues like that, Childe asking increasingly distant questions, less about Zhongli himself and more about his plans for the nation. Zhongli smiles through it all, and never rejects a question, almost like he expected it. On the other hand, he asks Childe plenty of personal questions, some that are easy to answer and some that are not.
On one, Childe refuses, and Zhongli moves on, changing his question to what’s your favorite color?
But there’s one that Childe hesitates before answering.
Zhongli swallows his shot, and there’s about a quarter of the bottle left. Childe doesn’t feel tipsy at all, but it’s been a while since he’s drunk, so it still felt a bit surprising to see it disappear so quickly.
“What’s the extent of your relationship experience?”
Blinking, Childe stumbles on his words. “U-uhh, like, how so?”
“In general.” Zhongli tents his fingers as he sets his hands on the table, leaning forward. “I can be more specific if you want, but I won’t drink anymore unless the topic changes.”
“...Sure.”
“Have you been in a relationship yet?”
Childe shakes his head. “You know by now that when I was fourteen I left home… I devoted myself only to the Tsaritsa after that, and before, well, I guess I didn’t really have an interest.”
Zhongli nods. “So, I assume you’ve never… been intimate with someone.”
Childe frowns. Intimacy… he has friends, he has his family, he has the Tsaritsa. “It’s not like I’m all alone, Emperor.”
“Ah, perhaps I worded it wrong. You haven’t had sex, yes?”
If Childe was taking a sip of water, or even the prized firewater on the table, he would’ve spat it right onto Zhongli’s carpet.
“Th-that's-!!” He nearly refuses the question, because he knows he can, but Zhongli’s inquisitive, genuinely curious expression makes him stop.
As a Harbinger, he shouldn’t know regret, but he’s only human. He wavers, thinking about how Zhongli answered all of his questions without complaint, even though it puts him at a diplomatic disadvantage. Instead, Zhongli has been asking him comparatively easy questions, just things about his backstory and his personal opinions, things that Childe doesn’t usually get to talk about anyway.
“N…no…” he murmurs, a flush traveling over his body, staring at the designs on the tea table.
“Then, a kiss?”
Childe thinks about the times he was a teenager and he saw the unlucky recruits his age playing spin the bottle, and he had refused them, choosing instead to train. He doesn’t exactly regret training, otherwise, he wouldn’t have become a Harbinger so quickly, but he does think that maybe once, he should’ve said yes.
“I-I haven’t.”
Zhongli hums, then before Childe can say anything else, he knocks back a shot that Childe hadn’t even seen him pour.
“Would you like to?” Zhongli asks.
“Wha…what… kiss someone?”
“That, and be in a relationship. Being with someone you love every day, tell them your problems, touch them however you’d like, be able to be honest in every sense in the word.”
Childe shudders at the thought. He lies to his family every time they ask him how work is, he lies to his siblings especially, and they’re the ones closest to him. He can’t tell a thing to his coworkers, because lips that can move are lips that can spill secrets. The Tsaritsa… is the last person that can ever see him as weak.
He could lie.
This question is so simple, though.
“Y-yes. I think… I would like that,” he admits, the moon and Zhongli the only ones able to see his vulnerability, bared in the night.
The moment hangs in the air, and Zhongli lays his hand over Childe’s, and Childe nearly startles out of his skin.
“Childe, you’re rather honest for a Harbinger, aren’t you?”
He nearly snarks and tells Zhongli to take another shot first, but something tugs him to not. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I think you are. Honesty is a good trait to have… very attractive.”
Zhongli’s voice goes low, the molasses permeating Childe’s senses, and before he knows it, Zhongli’s lips are on his.
Zhongli kisses… insistently.
He grabs the back of Childe’s head, forcing them together, and his tongue licks into Childe’s mouth, pressing against his palate, his tongue, the back of his throat.
At first, the kiss is sweet, romantic enough that Childe sinks right into it. Then it devolves into Zhongli tonguefucking his throat, using his free hand to massage the outside of Childe’s trachea, his tongue and his hand pressing down on the same spot.
Childe moans into Zhongli’s mouth.
It’s intense. Childe has no idea how Zhongli’s tongue is so long, yet simultaneously so thick, invading his throat and making him shake. Childe convulses, forcibly sucking on his tongue just to survive, and that seems to only egg Zhongli on further.
After what feels like an eternity, Zhongli releases him, pulling away, and his tongue retreats into his mouth so fast Childe can’t investigate.
Well, Childe feels too dizzy to investigate anyway. His mouth hangs open, his tongue lolling out, as his body rolled through what felt like pleasurable aftershocks from just a kiss.
When he refocuses enough to register things around him again, Zhongli has moved so he’s leaning over Childe, the table seemingly shoved away.
“Did you like it?” Zhongli breathes, and Childe shivers.
“Uh? Ah?” He forces himself to get a grip, swallowing. “Yeah,” he rasps, “I… I did.”
“I’m glad, Childe. I think I love you.”
Childe flinches from under him. “What?”
Zhongli gathers him in his arms, pulling him into a hug. He’s been hugged before, by his family, but their softness was incomparable to Zhongli, who feels like a steady rock that Childe is relying on for a hurricane.
Zhongli feels so overwhelming, his head fitting perfectly in the junction between Childe’s shoulder and his neck, his body pressed up against his as he tightly embraces him, their legs tangled on the luxurious floor of Zhongli’s bed chambers.
“You…” Childe chokes out. He tries to get his thoughts in order. “Are you drunk, or something…?”
“I’m not.” Zhongli draws away, locking eyes with Childe. “Is it a sin, do you think, falling for one who has killed countless of my people? Can a God sin?”
Childe swims through the muddied waters of his mind. After Zhongli kissed him, he just feels so confused, like his mind and his body was still stuck on the feeling of Zhongli’s tongue exploring his mouth. “God? Emperor, are… are you a God?”
“To an extent,” Zhongli says vaguely. “What a cruel God I am, to fall for you. How selfish and crude my desires must be.”
Childe shakes his head. “Don’t… say that.”
“Ah,” Zhongli says. “You’re right. It can’t be a sin to love you, Childe.”
“Th-that’s not what I meant…”
Zhongli ignores him, kissing his thoughts away.
Zhongli feels huge inside him.
The feeling makes him think of the thick hilts of swords as if one is rammed up his butt right now. Zhongli sighs behind him, and Childe grips the pillow harder.
It’s embarrassing, stripped bare in front of the Emperor of a nation he was just fighting, letting him grope and kiss and squeeze, and now-
Childe squeals as Zhongli presses in, even more, his warm hand tracing down Childe’s scarred back. He forces himself not to turn his head and look back, instead staring at the wood of the headboard as his legs quiver and his body tenses.
“Ajax,” Zhongli sighs as he thrusts relentlessly. “Ah, even your back is gorgeous. Sculpted by Nüwa herself, hmm?”
Childe has no idea who Nüwa is, and he doesn’t have enough time to think about it as Zhongli’s cock drags over his prostate, shoving deep inside him over and over again.
Even if he wanted to, he can’t escape from the mind-numbing pleasure that Zhongli drags him through; if he squirms, it sends zaps through his nerves, if he stays still, Zhongli fucks him so hard it makes him cry out.
Before he knows it, he’s grinding against the sheets, tearing up as he cums messily between his stomach and the bed. Zhongli doesn’t relent, grabbing Childe’s jelly hips and forcing him back onto his cock, grinding little circles that force tears out Childe’s eyes.
“Zh-zhongli~!” Childe chokes out, his eyes rolling back in his head before he can get a grip on the situation, the pleasure spiking over and over as aftershocks shake his body, Zhongli’s thrusts doing nothing but making the feeling overstimulating.
“Ah… Ajax, you dropped it.”
Childe tries to focus on whatever the hell he’s saying, but he just whines and tries to scoot away, but Zhongli refuses to let him go. “Dr-druh? Dro-huh? Hngh-”
“Emperor. You dropped it, my title…” Zhongli slows his thrusts, so slow that it’s infuriating, even to Childe who feels like he needs a break more than ever. “I should let you and you only call me by my name. I want to hear it, Childe… you saying my name in your sweet voice over and over again… the elders may complain, but my word is absolute…”
“N-nhanh-”
Zhongli’s thrusts speed up to an insane speed once again, slapping Childe’s ass every half second, until he cums deep inside him, dick pulsing, and the flood of warmth in Childe’s guts brings him to the brink once again.
Zhongli pulls out, and flips Childe over. He’s a mess, cum splattered underneath him and on his belly, his eyes spinning as his head attempts to catch up to his body, but Zhongli looks at him like he’s the god in this situation.
“Ajax, my love, the beloved, the one I adore,” Zhongli murmurs as he sinks back in. “All excited so quickly once again? How young and virile you are… Let this be a contract of our own, that you will always be the one I yearn for, the one I cherish, the one I will forever devote my fidelity, my piety, my worship; my one and only weakness.”
As he goes on and on, he spreads Childe wide and fucks him like he’s mad, bending over and pressing Childe’s thighs up till he’s bent in half, his legs suspended in air, unable to shut, unable to rest. Childe wails as Zhongli pounds against his prostate, his feet trembling as Zhongli’s cock slides in, out, in, out, at such a speed that the thrusts begin to blend together into a cacophony of pleasure.
“Zh-zhong-zhongliiii, please, pleaase !” he begs, turning his head away and shutting his eyes tight.
Zhongli grabs his jaw and forces him to look, to match his fiery gaze, and Childe sobs, and Zhongli takes that time to force another of his throat-crushing kisses.
It takes only a moment for Childe to shudder out another orgasm, and this time, Zhongli doesn’t take long to follow. With each spurt of Zhongli’s cock, he presses impossibly deep, and Childe shakes and trembles.
Childe thought that was the end of it.
After a long, hazy night, his eyes flutter at the sight of Zhongli, standing above him. He’s kneeling. He’s kneeling, and he’s all hot and sticky… covered with cum, cum that Zhongli’s fucking back into his mouth with his fingers.
Zhongli pulls out Childe’s tongue and smiles reverently down at him.
The next day, the Emperor of Liyue has never been so agreeable. The Tsaritsa became suspicious after he agreed to her first proposal without any sort of negotiation.
Then he just kept going, complying with almost every one of her demands. She never got too greedy, of course, she had her pride as a leader who deserves respect, but she toed the line, and yet the Emperor only assented to her requests.
She has to congratulate Childe for his achievements, for whatever the hell he did last night.
That is, if she can find him…
The day after that, a servant knocks on the Emperor’s door.
“Excuse me,” she says nervously at the sight of the Emperor when he opens the door. He merely had on his undergarments for his lower half, revealing his torso muscles. The servant aims her gaze downward, at the wooden floor. “Th… the Tsaritsa, she wishes to know if you have any idea where her head bodyguard is. She says you were the last to see him.”
“Ah…” The Emperor leans against the doorframe. “Is that so? I’m sorry, I last saw him the other night. Is he still missing? I thought he would’ve gone training or something.”
“E-eh? Pardon this servant’s rudeness, but what makes you say that?”
“Hmm… Well, when we met the other night… Heh.” The Emperor couldn’t resist his chuckles. “It’d make sense for the head bodyguard, as skilled as he is, to do some stamina training.”
The servant blushes darkly. “Did… did the head bodyguard attempt to spar the Lord of Ten Thousand Years?”
“Yes, I suppose that’s a way of saying it.” The Emperor smiles. “Now, excuse me, but I must return to getting ready for the day.”
“Y-yes! Please excuse this servant.”
After the heavy-set doors shut, Zhongli makes his way to the bed, pulling off the wrinkled covers.
Childe glares at him with tears in his eyes, completely naked and covered in marks. “Didn’t know the Emperor was such a lying bastard.”
Zhongli grins. “I didn’t realize the Eleventh Harbinger was so principled he would’ve allowed the Emperor to drag him out of bed and proclaim that, in fact, I did know where you were hiding, having your little stamina training.”
Childe glares harder, but it’s about as intimidating as a newborn puppy. Zhongli does wonder how so many of his men fell to such a man.
Perhaps his army would have defeated Snezhnaya much sooner if Childe had been like this; recovering from two nights of relentless pleasure, and a pulsating dildo up his ass.
Zhongli sighs at the thought, moving forward and cupping Childe’s jaw.
“Without a war, perhaps you don’t need to be a Head Knight anymore… You’ll take your new free time and spend it with me, won’t you?”
Childe quivers in his grasp.
Despite being the Eleventh Harbinger, diplomacy is not his strong suit.
Neither are emotions beyond bloodlust and familial love.
Despite his weaknesses, he knows that there’s a searing, torrid desire for the one man who could ever have a chance to tear him and his entire country apart.
And yet, when Childe looks at Zhongli, he doesn’t see the shining eyes of a deity, or an emperor. He sees eyes that look at him in shining adoration like he’s the only man that has ever been loved.
So, he nods, and it’s not out of diplomacy.