Etched In Stone

Sweet Surrender

Still early in their relationship, Childe surrenders to both Zhongli's cock, and the man himself.

CW: Smut

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 Childe chokes on Zhongli's dick because he presses in just a little too deep.

He whimpers, drool bubbling from his mouth as he swallows around the length. Childe's hips thrust into the open air, his own cock twitching, unsatisfied. Keep your hands behind you, said Zhongli earlier before coaxing Childe to his knees. He didn't bind them but he expects obedience—at least, for as long as Childe can manage.

Childe moans, an aborted sound as he sputters, tongue sliding against the underside of Zhongli's cock. He bobs his head, meeting the gentle roll of hips, soft lips pressed to the sweaty skin of Zhongli's groin.

Zhongli pets Childe's hair, sinking into the unruly auburn curls. A tug, just enough for the scalp to sting before his nails scratch through his locks, sending sparks down Childe's spine.

Childe's dick aches, hard in his lap as it goes untouched. His knees smart against the tile and he squirms, trying to relieve the pressure, trying to ignore the pinpricks of pain that knock his joints.

"Look at you," mutters Zhongli from above.

Childe looks up, watching him through a teary-eyed gaze, Zhongli's form blurred in his vision. He's red-faced. Sweat beads on his brow and the red liner underneath his eyes is smudged. Zhongli's hair hangs in his face, bangs plastered to his forehead.

"There's a good boy," he says, tipping Childe's head back so he can sink even deeper. "Just like that, yes."

It's caught somewhere between rough and gentle. Zhongli's thrusts are steady but as he drives into Childe's mouth, it's careful. Measured intent. He holds Childe's face between soft hands and strokes his cheeks sweetly as he pulls his face onto him.

"Fuck," hisses Zhongli, the curse pinched.

The tip of his cock nudges impossibly deep and Childe chokes again, nostrils flaring. But he's eager, moaning around him, swallowing, taking Zhongli's cock for all it's worth. Thick. Lodged deep. Childe can almost feel it in his gut. His hole clenches at the thought, begging to be fucked until it's loose and dripping with come.

But this—this is good. Brilliant, really; the heady taste of Zhongli on his tongue. The powerful scent as Childe gasps around him. His brain is fuzzy from the lack of breath. His throat is bruised from every thrust of Zhongli's dick.

Childe hums around his cock, meeting every movement, mouth wide open and accepting. His arms tense but remain behind him, notched against the small of his back as they tremble. His nails bite into the meat of his palms, a sharp, white-hot reminder of Zhongli's request. He's good. So well-behaved, just like Zhongli asked.

"So warm," murmurs Zhongli. His voice is deep, stuttered. His breath comes quickly and his movements begin to jerk. He brushes childe's bangs back and looks, breath caught at the sight of him. Zhongli watches him like a hawk, golden eyes glittering like Cor Lapis.

He sweeps a thumb over Childe's lips where they're tight around his cock. "Ajax."

It does not last long. Moments, really, from the time Childe kneels until Zhongli finishes. He fucks his mouth with earnest, heavy-handed thrusts that leave Childe's mind spinning and tears leaking from his eyes. He pulls back in just enough time to spill in Childe's mouth, not down his throat.

A groan flutters from Zhongli's mouth as he spends himself, the salty taste of his come flooding Childe's senses.

Zhongli pulls out. He still cups Childe's face, palm against his chin. Zhongli brushes back his own hair, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, the high of his orgasm bleeding through his being. "Come on, darling, show me."