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096 » ever since the start i saw the end
[By now, the Qixing have surely reclaimed the Golden House — but oddly enough, they still haven't done anything with it. Normal activities have yet to resume, perhaps because they can't continue to produce coins without the power of the Geo Archon. The mint stands empty and abandoned, its golden riches untouched; as such, it's the perfect place for Aether and Childe to rendezvous for their weekly rematches, given that no one notices the sheer amount of destruction going on inside its depths.
(After hearing that Aether was going to meet Childe at the Golden House, Paimon had sighed and rolled her eyes, flitting off towards the nearest rooftop. "Oh, you two are going to do some kind of weird mountain man training in there, aren't you?" she'd asked. "Paimon doesn't really like dodging explosions, so Paimon will just stay in Liyue and ask people about a route to Inazuma. Think of it as re... recon... reconnaiss.. research! Come back and find Paimon later!")
In any case, by the time the dust settles and Childe's Foul Legacy Transformation has melted away, the Harbinger is lying on his side and Aether is still standing. Shaken, of course, and not without injuries of his own, but he's still standing.
Breathing heavily, the traveler walks over to Childe as he lies on the floor, using his foot to push Childe a little roughly onto his back. Still standing over the Harbinger — nothing like haughtiness or smug satisfaction on his face, just an infinite, calculated calm — Aether then plants his heel into Childe's chest, gold eyes burning as he holds the tip of his sword against Childe's neck.]
...You've gotten faster. [The remark is half-whispered as Aether struggles to catch his breath.] But I've gotten stronger.
[His eyes lid just slightly as he looks coldly down at Childe.]
How does it feel?
(After hearing that Aether was going to meet Childe at the Golden House, Paimon had sighed and rolled her eyes, flitting off towards the nearest rooftop. "Oh, you two are going to do some kind of weird mountain man training in there, aren't you?" she'd asked. "Paimon doesn't really like dodging explosions, so Paimon will just stay in Liyue and ask people about a route to Inazuma. Think of it as re... recon... reconnaiss.. research! Come back and find Paimon later!")
In any case, by the time the dust settles and Childe's Foul Legacy Transformation has melted away, the Harbinger is lying on his side and Aether is still standing. Shaken, of course, and not without injuries of his own, but he's still standing.
Breathing heavily, the traveler walks over to Childe as he lies on the floor, using his foot to push Childe a little roughly onto his back. Still standing over the Harbinger — nothing like haughtiness or smug satisfaction on his face, just an infinite, calculated calm — Aether then plants his heel into Childe's chest, gold eyes burning as he holds the tip of his sword against Childe's neck.]
...You've gotten faster. [The remark is half-whispered as Aether struggles to catch his breath.] But I've gotten stronger.
[His eyes lid just slightly as he looks coldly down at Childe.]
How does it feel?
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His mask is on the ground next to him, so there's nothing to hide the glassiness of his eyes when he looks up toward Aether, or the bitten-red tinge of his mouth. He doesn't think he has the strength to even stand right now, let alone to push Aether's blade away.
The more things change, the more they stay the same, he thinks to himself almost bitterly, but it's hard to cling to those feelings of frustration when Aether is looking down at him like this, like a sullen god, cold and somehow all the more appealing for it.
His breath quickens. His heart, just a few inches below Aether's boot, quickens too.]
-thought I had you, [he mutters in a rush of breath, finding the strength to lift an arm, to wrap his fingers around Aether's ankle. Not quite pushing him away, but enough to touch, to feel the weight of him and admire the strength that he still has.
(If he could still make his knives hold shape, he'd cut here, sever the tendon, bring him down and get on top of him - but he can't. Damnit. He's got to learn restraint, one of these days.)]
With that last strike, [he clarifies, the corner of his mouth twitching into a hint of a smile at the memory,] caught your cape.
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[It's almost soothing, the way Aether says it. The tone of his voice could bring up memories from a thousand years ago. So close. You'll get it right next time,
Ajax.He acts as if his life isn't on the line — as if he wants Childe to succeed. Maybe that's what keeps the Harbinger coming back to this, time and time again, only to taste bitter defeat.Looking down at Childe from above, it suddenly occurs to Aether, truly for the first time, that Childe has a kindness to him. Even in the throes of this hazy bloodlust, the young Harbinger has a kindness to him. It's in his smile, his unseeing eyes, his sick enthusiasm over the idea of finally defeating Aether, killing him, conquering him, as he's done with so many others. It's in the gentle weight of his hand atop Aether's ankle, the way that touch is almost worshipful.
Aether isn't afraid. He wouldn't be afraid even if those long fingers curled around his ankle and tried to pull him under. Childe may be a beast, but he isn't a monster. The real monsters are those that know neither fear, nor pity, nor love, nor kindness.
He allows himself to wonder, for a moment, if Childe would be different if he had been born anywhere but Snezhnaya — but it's pointless to speculate, and in the end, the traveler lets his sword clatter to the ground where it disintegrates into golden light. He drops to one knee, kneeling over Childe's prone form; that heel is still digging into Childe's chest, but now Aether is cradling his jaw in both hands. His thumb caresses the wound over Childe's lip.]
So close, but you still lost.
[He leans in close, almost close enough to kiss, and he whispers —]
I win.
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He's sweet instead, soothing in a way that burns at his pride, pressing at Childe as if he were a student, an inexperienced boy rather than one of the most efficient killers in the country.
So close.
Aether's hands are warm and Childe makes a soft sound - halfway between a whimper and a gasp, slipping out from his open mouth against his will - at the press of fingers to his jaw. He watches him, scarcely daring to move, scarcely daring to think, and some animal part of him lifts his chin to bare his throat.
It takes too long to find words.]
You win.
[He echoes it, admits it, and for all that Aether is coddling him, driving in the humiliation of defeat, it all seems to go sideways in Childe's mind and turns into something else entirely. Aether is almost close enough to kiss, but he can't lift his head to meet his mouth, not yet, not with the fingers cradling at his face.
The bastard is going to make him say it. Of that, Childe is absolutely certain.]
- I want you.
[It's soft, barely audible, but Aether is close enough to hear the admission and Childe won't say it any louder. It's his second defeat in as many minutes, but it's sweeter than the first, easier to give in to.]
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[Aether acknowledges it as casually as he might observe a change in the weather; privately, he's more than satisfied with the admission. Slowly, he removes his foot from Childe's chest, replacing the weight of his heel with the weight of his whole body, thighs straddling the taller man's waist so that he's pinned where he lays.
All things considered, Aether's a beast in his own way, and he won't refuse the milky expanse of Childe's deliciously bare throat when it's offered to him. Swiftly, he lowers his mouth to the Harbinger's neck, his kiss sweet and chaste at first, then wetter, sloppier, sucking hard enough to leave a hickey. To the victor goes the spoils, he'd said — and what more satisfying prize than the opportunity to mark one's prey? He wonders briefly whether Childe will wear his scarf wrapped around his neck for a few days or leave it proudly for all his subordinates to see what he's been up to.]
Were you going to have your way with me if you won?
[Since Childe has been such a good boy volunteering what Aether wanted him to say without being prompted for it, Aether will reward his honesty. Still calmly, still coldly, he reaches behind his back, palming Childe's cock through his pants with a generous hand. Teasing, massaging, fondling — there's no shyness in it. The traveler's gold eyes remain fixed on Childe's glassy expression.]
Tell me how you want me, Childe. How you've imagined me.
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As it is, he has no presence of mind to think about such insignificant matters, not when Aether is on top of him, not when he's marking him, not when his hand slips back to touch him.
That pulls a quick gasp from him, and he's - he's been hard since Aether first fucking stepped on him, and it's such a relief to be touched, even (especially) like this, with a thread of cruelty twisted in. He likes it enough to arch into Aether, his heels catching on the ground as he shifts his hips upward, needy.]
I'd have pushed you back on the ground, [he finally says, still breathless, but his strength is returning to him ounce by ounce. It's enough now for him to lift his arms, to press his gloved hands delicately against the bare skin of Aether's waist, to feel the heat of him, how alive he feels. It's sharper than the lightning of his delusion. It's sweeter than he could have imagined.]
Crawled over you. [He swallows hard, his throat clutching around the words.] Licked the blood from your mouth. Claimed you.
[His fingers dig in, just slightly. Childe lifts a hand to his mouth, peels his glove off with his teeth, just so he can get his bare fingers around Aether's hip, to let his nails press into the skin there, to slide up and count his ribs, to press underneath his shirt.]
I'd have won you like a battle.
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He keeps his hand working to spoil Childe for some time longer, not letting up until the young man is well and truly straining at the fly of his trousers, and then, with a slightly impish smirk on his face, the traveler slides himself back such that their hips are aligned. He rolls his hips into the motion, relishing the feel of their bodies pressed against each other; this way, Childe can feel more clearly that Aether is hard, too.]
You're so cute.
[Again with the cool, detached air of some master giving his pet a treat, Aether reaches up to unclasp the buckle that keeps his chestplate and pauldron tied together, casting both on the floor of the Golden House to make it easier for Childe to reach up and into his shirt. He has yet to remove his gloves, they both have yet to remove their trousers — but, hips grinding slowly and meaningfully into Childe's own, the blond traveler leans down once more to claim Childe's mouth, staining his own lips red with blood.
Childe tastes of rust and iron owing to his wounded lip, but Aether kisses soft as a butterfly and then hard enough to bruise in the next second, mixing pleasure and pain with a disciplined hand. He catches Childe's tongue with his own and sucks suggestively, nipping lightly, all very gentle, all very loving. It doesn't seem right that he should be this loving when both of them are battered and injured, fresh off the adrenaline rush of battle.]
...Maybe you can do that next time.
[He parts for breath when he needs to, heaving slightly, both for the kiss and for their earlier exertions. His gloved hand rubs along the little triangle of exposed skin below the hem of Childe's jacket, teasing and promising more.]
Right now... I'm not going to let you leave until I have everything I want from you.
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Next time sounds like a promise, sounds like a deal. If you can beat me doesn't need to be said, but god if it isn't incentive for Childe to train harder than ever before.
But that's for later. For next time. Now he's still trapped under the traveler and desperate for whatever Aether is willing to give him - and he seems to be willing to give quite a lot. Like this, with the other man straddling him, bending down to kiss, he's closer, crowding Childe in with his body heat. Childe couldn't escape if he tried. He doesn't want to, anyway.]
Oh?
[He wishes it could sound playful - teasing, even. He wishes he could smirk like he always does, in the way that aggravates Aether, but he can't. The word is gasped out, wet between their mouths as he slides a hand across his own chest to tear at the shoulder clasp of his coat and then lower, opening it and tossing the lapel aside, offering Aether more of him to touch, to feel. He doesn't wear anything underneath, or rather, his undershirt is attached to the underside of his jacket, which just leaves skin exposed to the chilled air of the Golden House.
His ribs are starting to bruise. There's cuts from Aether's geo spikes, marring skin that's already been scarred from battles past. Childe has lead an unashamed life of combat and it shows on every inch of his skin.]
And what - what do you want from me?
[He stammers, breathless with the need to kiss him again. Childe's bare hand goes up to Aether's hair, threading his fingers through the neatness of it where it's pulled back into his braid, tightening his grip. It's a touch too hard to be gentle, but lacking the strength to really make it hurt like he would if he had won.]
You have it.
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If Childe is chilly, well, it's fine — Aether will warm him up quickly enough, stripping himself of his brown gloves so that he can explore all of the Harbinger's cuts and bruises with his bare hands. His touch is slow and sensual, patiently exploratory. The hunger in his golden eyes is unmistakable, and the tug to his hair only stokes his desire even higher, pushes him closer to madness.]
I want to ride you until you're spent and broken.
[The thought of being the one to take Childe instead is not an unappealing one, but Aether knows what he wants, and he wants to feel every inch of Childe inside him, underneath him, wants to hear Childe whimper and beg for mercy every time he moves. He wants to watch the expression on Childe's face, too, when he says this — when the dark heat in his low voice overtakes his expression as he calmly announces his intentions.]
I want to feel you surrender to me, over and over and over again, so that when I'm through with you you'll never so much as ache with need again without longing for me.
[He lowers his face close enough to kiss again, but only nibbles gently on Childe's bottom lip.]
Understand?
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It's all he can do to nod shakily at the question: he understands, he wants it, he's already aching with how badly he wants it and he tilts his chin to try and finally kiss the traveler again, to press his mouth to him and taste him again. The gentle touch of his mouth contrasts with the sharpness of the pain as Aether prods at his bruises and cuts, but the juxtaposition of sensation only serves to remind him of who he has above him - the only person to beat him like this, time and again. The only person who understands what that means to him.]
I'll give it to you, [he swears, his hand lowering from Aether's head to trace along the long line of his braid, to absently wrap it around his wrist and hold his companion there, close enough to offer him a bruising kiss. He's still too weak to really force Aether to do anything, but the violence is there, brimming just below the surface.]
You've won it.
[That's what this is about, isn't it? That's what it's going to be? That's what his thoughts had drifted to late at night when he was alone and his hands slipped under the blankets. Just this: the purity of a battle, the warring of two beasts, and in the end, the spoils. Does it ultimately matter if he's on the losing side? Oh, it's a blow to his pride surely, but that doesn't erase the perfection of their arrangement, how beautifully composed it is to be exactly what he needs. He can be the one on his back, as long as it's been earned, and Aether has more than proven himself there.
He smiles despite himself, and then curves a whisper against Aether's cheek.]
I never thought about anyone before you. You're going to ruin me for everything after as well?
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That's what you come to me for, no? To be ruined. And now... to be conquered.
[It's so very addictive to kiss Childe when he's like this — when they're both like this, bruised and injured from their fight. Aether may not be quite as badly hurt, but there's a slight discomfort in his ribs from a blow he took to his core, a residual tingling from being shocked by Childe's Electro attacks. Yet it only seems to enhance the satisfaction he feels when he turns his head a little and nibbles at Childe's earlobe, pausing briefly to lick the shell of his ear.
This close, his voice can tickle the other man's eardrum as he whispers softly in a low tone:]
...Really, Childe? No one else?
[The revelation that he's the first person to make Childe want like this is... a surprise, and surprisingly intoxicating, too. It makes sense when Aether thinks about it, though — he's heard bits and pieces about Tartaglia's history from a few loose-lipped Fatui members who were more than happy to chat about their local leader while off the clock, so he knows, for the most part, that Childe has spent most of his career as a master of war. Battle-obsessed since the day he was discovered by the Fatui at fourteen. Of course he wouldn't have had time for sexual mores if he was only interested in fighting from the start, if he would only do this with someone who could leave him thoroughly defeated and satisfied with the battle. Still, to be the first...
When was the first time Aether looked at a handsome or gorgeous stranger and thought to himself that he wanted them? He can't even remember; he's seen one hundred worlds with Lumine by his side, met a thousand thousand people. And, sure, he's never wanted anyone quite like this, himself — but for a moment, looking down into the beautiful bottomless blue of Childe's eyes, the traveler has to wonder which of the two of them is truly more innocent.
Then he decides he doesn't care, and kisses Childe's bloodied lip one more time.]
You really know how to make me feel so special.
[Still... now that he's said it, he has to come to terms with the fact that he does need to prepare himself if he's going to be taking Childe from the top. And while he does have the requisite materials on hand, the Harbinger seems almost at his limit, the way he's been straining and whining and whimpering. All of it is going straight to Aether's cock, making him want to grind their hips together until they've both made messes inside of their clothes, but he's patient; he can wait for his own satisfaction, whereas he doesn't want to keep Childe waiting much longer for something earth-shattering.
Drawing back, he pulls back just enough to give himself some room to unbuckle Childe's belt, careful to treat his Vision like something delicate as he pulls it loose and then manages to extract Childe's deliciously reddened erection from his undergarments.]
You've been so good, I'll let you come once before we really get started. Just lie back and relax...
[It seems a shame to pull his long braid out of Childe's reach, but the Harbinger can put up with that for just a moment, can't he? Without hesitation, Aether lowers his mouth, taking the head of Childe's cock past his soft, warm lips —]
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The traveler's hair slips from his fingers when he pulls back and Childe feels his hand clutching over empty air, bereft as Aether slides back further and focuses on his belt.
His belt. It's hard not to surge upward at that, but he forces himself to keep remarkably still while Aether delicately handles the glassy blue of his vision, undoes the top of his pants and just reaches for him as if he's done it a hundred times before.
Maybe he has. Childe doesn't know much about the traveler's history, just that he seems to be older, wiser, stronger than his youthful face would let on. Has he had lovers before? Partners? Has he conquered his opponents just like this in the past?
The thoughts would be distracting, but then Aether is leaning down, talking to him again and pressing down -]
Ah -
[It's warm and wet and Childe cries out, full to bursting already with the sudden ripple of pleasure that Aether's mouth wrenches out of him. His head falls back to the ground and he arches, his jaw tight with tension. His cock is firm, insistent in Aether's mouth, and already leaking on his tongue.
He wants to - oh, he wants to grip at his hair again, force him down until he's had his fill, but he doesn't. Aether is the one calling the shots here and Childe tries to let him, but he can't help the rush of movement in response to the pleasure and his body's need to keep him grounded: one spindly leg lifts up from the ground and hooks around Aether's waist, keeping him close, keeping him there, while his hands press down against the tile beneath them both, nails scraping at the ornate flooring.]
Please -
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Patiently, the traveler hooks one arm around the long leg currently wrapped around his waist, gripping Childe's thigh as best as he can with his left hand, just to hold him close. You're going to ruin your nails clawing at the floor like that, chides some big-brother instinct still left in him — just as patiently, Aether reaches for one of the Harbinger's wrists with his right hand, guiding it to his neck, welcoming him there. Childe could tug at Aether's hair, if he wanted to. He could pull that pretty braid loose, if he wanted to. He could do anything, anything, because none of this jostles the steady silky pace of Aether's lips bobbing up and down at all.
The inside of Aether's mouth is hot and wet and luscious — he licks and sucks and swallows, maddeningly insatiable, as if Childe is his meal for the evening and he fully intends to lick his plate clean. If the Harbinger were not quite so defeated at the moment — if he were seated upright and had a better view of what Aether was doing to him, well, maybe Aether would be far more inclined to tease with long licks and sultry half-lidded eyes — but as things are, the traveler isn't wasting any more time with teasing.
Every drop of precum dribbling sweetly onto his tongue only seems to spur Aether on still further. Slowly, he drags his tongue around Childe's girth, fully intent on wresting more moans and pretty little sounds from his routed foe.]
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His hand slides along Aether's neck, fingers tangling in his hair at the base of it. It's pulled back into that damned braid, but Childe works his fingers in anyway, tightens his grip as a few strands start to come loose. Like this, it's easier to stay grounded, easier to move how his body wants, his hips jerking upward despite himself, into Aether's beautiful mouth.
It would be considered rude, maybe, if he was not so beside himself with lust, if he had not been so far gone now, but as it is, he can barely think about the polite thing to do when Aether is using his tongue like he was made for it.
Childe groans low in his throat, his spine bowing upward, breath coming in quick, hot pants.]
You have to - I won't last, oh fuck -
[That's all it takes, really, he's been on the edge for so long, pushed to the brink and nearly bursting with it. The hand that isn't in Aether's hair is thrown up above his own head as his back lifts fully from the floor and he moans - god, he cries out loud enough to echo through the giant chamber, a high and embarrassing noise when he finally comes.
Aether doesn't get much warning, all things considered, and maybe that's rude too, but it's not like he didn't anticipate this, pushing Childe to the edge like this and then just getting his mouth on him. What else could he do? How else could he react? Now, it's all he can muster just to breathe through it as his orgasm shakes through him like lightning, pressed insistently inside of his companion's soft mouth.]
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Despite this, his throat still seizes tight when that first spurt of Childe's release catches him at the back of his tongue; the traveler hasn't had such an overwhelming number of lovers that he can stop himself from having that particular reflex, but he forces himself to swallow through it nonetheless, nails digging very slightly into his enemy's thigh as he struggles to reorient himself. When he's done, he slowly slides up and off Childe's cock, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, taking a moment just to admire the Harbinger as he lies desecrated on the floor of the Golden House.
So shattered, so beautiful. Does Childe know how attractive he is? And all the more like this, littered with wounds, one arm above his head, heaving for breath. It's enough to make Aether gently work a trail of kisses past his navel, his chest, his collarbones — all the way up to his neck once more, where he nuzzles at the mark he left earlier. He's tempted to kiss that lovely mouth of his again, but resists, half because he's not sure if Childe is the sort of man who doesn't like being kissed after a blowjob.
If the Harbinger hadn't made it painfully clear that this is his first, Aether might move on to other things, but first times ought to be handled with a bit more care. Gently, he sweeps a teasing finger along Childe's jawline, smiling faintly as he looks at what he's done.]
...How was it? Good?
[Sure, he hardly needs to ask... but he likes to hear it.]
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He can only nod at the question, his face still flushed with his release, and Childe closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard to try and wrest himself back under control. It isn't as if he's never touched himself, never felt how good this sort of thing can be, but with him - with the traveler putting himself to work in a way Childe had never cared to imagine before, everything had just been better.]
...yeah.
[Childe licks at his lips, opening his eyes to look back toward Aether, tipping his face against the other man's finger and catching the tip of it between his lips. He's lazy, sex drunk and sluggish from the fight, but he offers the traveler just a hint of teeth against his finger, his eyes sparking back with presence as he comes back down to earth.]
Didn't expect you to do that, [he murmurs, still nipping at Aether's finger.] I might - need a minute before I can fuck you, you know.
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[They were at each other's throats only minutes ago, but — lying together like this, watching Childe nip and gnaw at his finger, Aether feels an impossible rush of fondness run through him. It turns his normally stoic expression into something more placid, more affectionate. He might be smiling, just the faintest bit. He might be enamored with that growing spark in Childe's eyes — though he equally enjoyed seeing the man shattered and almost sightless with pleasure.
Aether could move on. Take off his trousers, figure out what they're going to do next. He's thought it out; he has plans for what he'll do next. But — just for a moment longer — he lingers, patiently letting Childe nibble at him until he's satisfied.]
...You really are so handsome when you're like this.
[He'll surely regret this later, when Childe is being his usual irritating self and all of his smarmy charm is being utilized for various misdeeds — and Aether knows that, knows that he's only giving Childe fodder to tease him with later, but in the moment, he feels so strongly about it that he's willing to say it aloud.]
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Have you thought of me like this?
[Aether's fingers are warm against him, and if they're calloused by years of sword use - well, that's even better. Childe reaches for him then, resting a hand against Aether's hip as he did at the beginning of this, his fingers pressing down against the hem of his pants.]
Or was it sweeter? [With clarity comes his teasing again, for all that Aether has beaten him down and pushed him back and taken, Childe still feels somehow as if he's been given the upper hand here. Give him an inch and he'll take a mile and laugh about it all the way and that's exactly what he's doing here and now as he leans up again, as if going in for a kiss, but hesitates.] In a bed, maybe? I'd whisper sweet nothings to you as we learned each other slowly... is that the kind of thing you wanted?
[It's fundamentally not who he is, but he can't help teasing all the same as he finally leans in for that sweet, almost chaste kiss.]
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...You wouldn't do that sort of thing anyway.
[Not a denial, then?
He feels those fingers toying with the hem of his pants, but Aether's so annoyed that he's not willing to give Childe the satisfaction of taking them off. Never mind, he thinks; telling him something like this was pointless from the start, and now he's not going to feel victorious until he has Childe speechless and moaning and begging underneath him again. It was stupid to even say it —
Pulling himself out of Childe's reach, Aether fishes a small bottle of Pyro-attuned oil out of his pockets and sets it down near Childe's shoulder (he'd made it for legitimate adventuring purposes, but the alchemist at the crafting station had given him a look and said something like some people become more... passionate when they use that, you know, and then he'd had to reconsider giving it to Diluc); then, rising to his feet, he stands, kicking himself out of his boots at last, pulling the voluminous fabric of his pants from his legs. His pants are so loose-fitting that it wasn't quite possible to see that he was hard before; now, clad in just his black underwear, Aether can't exactly hide that he's more than a little interested in what's going to follow after.
Sighing, he falls to his knees again, gathering his pants into something of a ball — the fabric is soft and thick enough that it isn't terribly difficult to conceal the hard bits and belts — that will make a makeshift cushion for Childe, as long as they're just going to do this... on the floor of the Golden House. Hm. He suddenly hopes that Ningguang doesn't know about this, but she probably does.]
Here, lift your head.
[Never let it be said that he doesn't care for the comfort of the man he's planning to turn into a sex-drunk mess.]
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He'd never entertained the thought of the other kind of romance, something more boring and slow, something sweet and gentle, like what they write about in fairy tales. Childe has spent a lifetime hardened by snow and ice, singed by fire from the battlefield, haunted by the Abyss - there's no room for anything gentle anymore.
Except... except maybe there is, because Aether is delicately sliding his folded-up pants under his head and the gesture takes him by surprise. Childe blinks for a moment before allowing it, resting back and offering his companion a small nod of thanks.]
You're the sweet one, [he observes, reaching downward to slide his pants off of his knees from where Aether had only briefly undone them to get at his cock earlier.]
Too sweet for me. I don't deserve that sort of thing from you.
[He doesn't say it out of self pity and his tone never changes from lighthearted and teasing. It's just a statement of fact. He's done nothing to earn Aether's trust after betraying him and he knows just the kind of person that makes him - and yet, Aether is still here, offering him pillows, kissing him so sweetly... a man could fall in love, if he wasn't careful.]
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[Is he... angry? There's certainly something dark and sulky in Aether's voice as he climbs on top of Childe again, straddling his newly bared thighs, though he doesn't seem mad so much as just irritated. The strands of hair that have come loose from his braid are bothering him; without much conscious thought about it, the traveler pulls his hair tie loose, shaking out his golden halo of long blond hair so that he looks resplendent as a god as he looks down at Childe.]
I don't want to hear another word out of you unless you're begging me to let you come.
[And on that note... seeing as Childe was more than happy to nibble and nip earlier, Aether doesn't see any reason he should feel bad about the way he abruptly puts two fingers inside of Childe's teasing mouth, rubbing them suggestively against the Harbinger's wet tongue to get them slick and wet.]
Suck.
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He gags for a moment, eyes wide and caught by surprise by the sudden intrusion of fingers in his mouth, hooking over his teeth as if he were a prize dog for breeding. He doesn't bite - he's too good for that, but he thinks about it, just to prove to Aether that he's still sharp, even with all of the soft parts of him exposed like this.
But he doesn't. Aether won, this was their agreement. Besides, it isn't like he dislikes it. Aether's fingers taste like dust and sweat, folded into his hands from the hilt of his sword. Childe opens his mouth to them and as he relaxes, he lifts his eyes up toward the other man's again, his tongue working instinctively over the skin.
Aether says suck, but what Childe really thinks he means is get my fingers wet, and he does just that. His tongue lolls out, sliding between the digits as he takes them further into his mouth, closing his lips around the base of his fingers. Like this, he can feel Aether in the back of his throat and his eyes flutter for a moment as he adjusts, sucking delicately so as not to overwhelm himself.
Never let it be said that Childe does not put everything he has into the task at hand - with this, he gives it as good as he's got and then some. He listens, he obeys, and if his fingers slide around Aether's wrist to feel his pulse and hold his hand right there... well, who can blame him?]
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...You're good at this. Next time, I should make you suck something else.
[Leaning forward just slightly, Aether presses a kiss to the fingers Childe has wrapped around his wrist, then pulls his hand back. His fingertips glisten with Childe's saliva, glossy and promising.
When did he grab the bottle of oil he left lying on the floor? With his clean hand, Aether casually undoes the stopper and pours some of the warm liquid onto his wet fingers. Cutting some of the thick oil with Childe's saliva makes it slightly less viscous, and with a sigh he tips his hips backward once more, such that his hard cock is pressed against Childe's once again. He leans forward, catches the Harbinger's lips with his own, his arm reaches backwards, slides inward, fingering himself loose, kisses Childe harder —
Oh, could it be that he just doesn't want Childe to see?]
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The kiss is welcome and Childe returns it with teeth, biting at Aether's mouth, pressing his tongue insistently against Aether's own. He rises up from the ground there, eager for more touch, more connection. The knowledge of just what Aether is doing licks through him like a flame and Childe slides a hand between them both to wrap his fingers around their cocks, keep them pressed together.
Despite his youth, he hadn't really considered the possibility of getting off twice in such a short span of time - and yet here he is, firming underneath his fingers as he strokes them both off with a rigid grip. It's the kissing, the touch pressed against him, it's Aether shifting just slightly when he adds another finger and Childe finds himself hard again just at the thought of it.]
You're really gonna be the death of me, you know.
[It's lighthearted between kisses but Childe is already breathless with it, squirming under Aether's hips.]
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Patience, he chides himself. He'll have everything he's wanted soon enough. Humming faintly, he lets Childe's tongue slide against his own, parting for breath in due time.]
Mmm... Why? Can't keep up?
[Maybe Aether is being just the tiniest bit manipulative, given that he knows full well that nothing excites Childe like throwing an element of competition into the proceedings... but he's desperately hoping that the Harbinger doesn't notice that he's dangerously on the edge of losing control of the situation.
He's worked two fingers into his tight hole and he's steadily working himself loose, but his movements falter every time Childe strokes him just right and he has to hold back the moan threatening to spill over his lips. The fact that he can feel Childe's cock pressed against his own makes everything just that much better, and the warm oil seeping into his skin seems to feed a fire in his core, a burning desire to be filled and sated and pleased.]
I thought you liked pushing your body to its limits.
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Maybe it's an odd thing to fixate on, but Childe is competitive to the last and there's no reason he can't treat sex the same as he treats a battlefield. He groans, his fingers tightening around them both for a short stroke before rubbing his palm over the tips of their cocks, slicking his hand with their excitement to ease further strokes.]
Mm. I could fuck you all day, [he says, barely managing to keep his tone even, teasing to the last.]
Don't think that I wouldn't. Another day, when I'm at my best...
[He has to stop and gasp, his breath letting out in a shaky moan, which kind of ruins the effect, but he wants, gods, he wants -]
...I'd eat you alive.
[It's a promise, breathless and with every bit of the desperation that he'd been trying to keep under wraps. Childe growls and reaches up his free hand, fisting it in Aether's beautiful hair so that he can yank his head to the side and latch his teeth over his throat, as if demonstrating just how he'd do it.]
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...It's best that he doesn't, of course, but still — what a tempting thing to do. In another world, perhaps...]
Is that a promise?
[Murmuring darkly into Childe's ear, Aether's fingers caress the Harbinger's rusty red locks for a moment before they seize tight and the traveler grinds his hips against Childe's, growing slowly more unhinged with desire. The memory of the Harbinger's palm gliding over his cock is making him weak in the knees — he could have come from that alone if he weren't so desperately holding out — and Childe's growl seems to echo in Aether's ears as he sinks even deeper into the need that is driving them both to fuck like animals on the floor of Liyue's national mint.]
Because I could take you up on it, Tartaglia...
[He stretches it out a little, half-whispered and gently sing-song: Tar-ta-gli-a — but then he pulls back, straightens as much as he can with Childe's hand still tangled in his hair. He's worked himself up long enough: his whole body seems to be aching for Childe's cock, not that he'll admit it out loud.]
Let go. I'm ready.
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He lets go when ordered, fingers sliding through Aether's long hair and falling back beside him, though he itches to grasp at him again, to get his hands on his hips and force the shorter man to move - but he's patient. He has to be, even when it feels like he's crawling out of his own skin with need.]
I need you. [It's soft, softer than most everything else he's said so far. Like this, Childe almost sounds human, almost sounds like the inexperienced young man that he is, rather than this creature that he's forged himself into.
But it doesn't matter. This is just for them, and when Aether finally lifts his hips, Childe reaches down to hold himself steady, biting at his lower lip as he's encased in the unfamiliar heat of him.]
Oh - oh, you feel...
[He feels good, hot and tight around him, so much so that Childe forgets everything else for a moment: their battle, their location, Aether's needling, it all just becomes background noise to this.]
- good, that's good.
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[Aether can't hide that even he needs a moment — not to adjust, but just to appreciate the thick, pleasurable heat of Childe's cock inside of him, hilted at just the angle he's been craving ever since he first stepped on the Harbinger's chest and found the man hard and wanting underneath all his bruises. Oh, so good. Good is the only word to describe it. If Childe were anyone else, perhaps Aether would just surrender to it, just let him flip their positions and give in to pure instinct...
He hasn't forgotten that he has some pride at stake, however. Aether thinks about pinning Childe's wrists above his head while riding him, but their size difference makes it too difficult — it's a thought for another time, maybe, if there is another time, and he can get the Harbinger in a bed to tie his wrists to the headboard. As things are right now, with the both of them still aching from their fight, it's easier for the traveler to simply take Childe's wrists once he's sheathed in to the hilt, guiding the Harbinger's hands to the slim line of his waist where they can rest — or where Childe can hold Aether down against his cock with a bruising grip if that's what he'd rather.]
Such a pretty face — [he starts to move, punctuating every remark with the slow up-and-down movement of his body] — and a great body, and a perfect cock —
I should be the one saying that I feel good, right?
[Aether's praising Childe again, although this has a much different ring to it than before; where the earlier remark had the tone of a confession, these compliments are just hungry, admiring of the prize he's won. There's nothing like tenderness in them, except — except when he coyly lowers his voice to a whisper that could almost be loving, and says:]
Especially when I get to be your first...
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[Aether seems to know just how to move, just how to hold him and Childe can barely stand it, even after he's already found his completion once. The shorter man is just too perfect against him and all Childe can do is hold on, his fingertips digging into his hips, clutching at his slender waist like it's some kind of life raft.
It's true - Aether is his first. It's not something that Childe particularly feels shame about. He's reasonably confident that if he had been interested in sex prior to this, he could have found it somewhere - but it never really seemed to be a worthwhile pursuit when there were battles to be won.
Now, he knows better. Now, he realizes that sex is like a battle in itself, a kind of war between two people who know one another as intimately as if they had been fighting all their lives. He feels that way for Aether now and it bites something cold in his heart. He doesn't know what to do with that feeling and so he tucks it away, a task that isn't particularly difficult to do when he feels like this.]
H-happy to be of service, [he manages to bite out, as if he's just another tool for Aether use to get off. He's not sure if he minds that really, but for now he seeks his own completion, his heels scraping at the marble floor of the mint for some sort of traction so that he can lift his hips, meet Aether's movements, thrust up against him when he rocks downward. Gods, he feels so incredible.]
Aether - Aether, come on. [Childe urges him, rolling his hips up with the movement as he feels the sweet tension rising back up, low in his gut.] Just like this, come on -
welcome back and happy holidays!!
But when the redhead's voice is this strained and he's trying to thrust upward so desperately — it's impossible to resist him, impossible to resist how good it all feels. Moaning in pleasure, Aether throws all of his plans away in favor of moving faster and faster, relishing the slick wetness of Childe's cock gliding on the lube inside of him, the desperate press of Childe's hands upon his waist. Oh, when he thrusts in deep and hilts just right —]
...You really — nngh, make this so rewarding —
[Nothing else seems to matter now — not their battle, not his pride, nothing but how beautiful Tartaglia looks as he's trying oh-so-sweetly to get more friction between them. Shuddering, his loose golden hair swaying with every movement, Aether snaps his hips at a frantic pace, hovering on the edge of his own release, no longer aware now whether he's conquering or being conquered.]
So — so close, just — just a little more —
<3!
Like this, he almost sees a prince above him, like the entity of the stars that the traveler is. Timeless, ageless, and he's his - insomuch that he could be anyone's, he's his. How could Childe do anything but give him exactly what he asks for? How could Childe do anything but give him just what he needs?
For all that he's inexperienced, he tries. He doesn't know what makes it good from Aether's perspective, but he rocks up harder, seeking his own release, and one of his hands slips down toward the other man's neglected cock, running his fingers over it almost curiously.
He wonders what he tastes like. Aether did it to him earlier - he wants to know what it would be like to do the same. He wants to know how it would feel to wrap his hands around his cock and jerk him off against a wall, wants to know how it would feel to have him pressed up against him, inside of him, how the two of them could seek their pleasure again and again.
He wants to know. He wants to experience that with an intensity that almost frightens him, but is undiminished by his growing need to come.]
Do it.
[He whispers, wrapping his fingers around Aether's cock more definitively, stroking him in time with their thrusts. It will make a mess over his hand, but in that moment he could do nothing but try to pleasure Aether the best he can.]
I'm close too, please, please -
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So good. So good, so satisfied, and yet he still wants more. He's not sure he could actually demand it of his body at the moment, but another time, maybe, he can take Childe up on that offer of fucking him all day. Another time, maybe, he'll enjoy the Harbinger's lovely mouth, take still more of his firsts. Another time, even though he has so many other things to think of, and so many promises to keep...
For now, at least, he can't think of anything he'd like more than to lie here and enjoy a moment of post-orgasmic bliss. He's made a mess over Childe's hand, but it's fine — Childe's made a mess inside of him, too.
Aether doesn't say anything, not immediately — just shivers and sighs with utmost satisfaction, enjoying himself as he closes his eyes and rests his cheek atop Childe's shoulder. He allows himself one vulnerability: a softly hummed note, almost like a contented purr.]
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He gasps as he comes deep inside of the other man, his mouth moving soundlessly into the haphazard kiss - it's so sweet and tight and perfect that he's almost disappointed it's over, but there will be more times. There have to be more times like this, with Aether above him or beneath him or any way he can have him. Now that he's tasted this, he's ruined forever, and every time he sees the other man, he'll know exactly what the two of them could be doing with their time.
When Aether sags over him, Childe finds the strength in his limp body to lift an arm, pet his fingers over his spine, and simply lay there in a post-orgasmic bliss that pushes everything else from his mind.]
...now I wanna fight you twice a week.
[It's - a joke and Childe chuckles when he says it, but it's kind of serious too. His hips shift a little as he tenderly slides himself out of Aether's hole, biting at his swollen lip at the sensation on his overly-sensitive skin.
But otherwise, he just lays there. Pants for breath. Tries to come down a little from the high of what they've just done.]
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[For a guy like Childe, though, it probably doesn't count unless there's the fight beforehand... Which is exasperating to think about, but, well, Aether's in a good enough mood that he'll let the worst aspects of the Harbinger's personality slide without comment for the time being.
Aether shivers a little when Childe pulls out, somewhat sensitive himself, but he doesn't really move, either. He's content to rest on Childe's chest, nose pressed into his neck, savoring the ache in his body and the sweat on his skin. Mmm, doing this twice a week really wouldn't be so bad, though...
...Coming down from the high is, as always, less pleasant than achieving it. It's cold, and the stone tiles are hard. There's nowhere to clean up, and they'll have to put their clothes on if they're planning to leave the mint...
Well, unless Childe intends to sneak back to the city in the nude. Aether wouldn't put it past him, honestly.]
How tired are you feeling?
[Oh, right, he'd mentioned something like...]
I think I said that I was going to carry you back to Liyue.
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I don't think either of us is cut out for carrying anything right now.
[He's exhausted and out of breath and definitely starting to feel the aches and pains from his loss in their battle - pains which had been ignored and overridden during their tryst, but are now making themselves known with a vengeance. Childe winces as he tries to move and decides quickly against it, resigning himself to laying on that floor until he starves to death.
Well. Maybe he's being a little dramatic.]
Ah, don't worry about me, [he tries to reassure, his fingers slipping up Aether's spine to curl protectively - or threateningly? - around the back of his neck,] I'll slink off to the shadows and be right as rain next week.
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You don't have to slink off to the shadows. I...
[It sounds like the sort of sentence that would have a follow-up, but the truth is that Aether doesn't have one. What would he say afterward? You could stay with me? I would take care of you? He's not in a position to promise that, and Childe isn't in a position to accept it, either.
Technically speaking, they are still enemies.
Aether shifts, hesitates a moment, and then says:]
...I'd at least bring you something to eat.
[Sex and breakfast in bed. He could at least promise that much. If they weren't... currently lying on the floor, too drained to move.]