Etched In Stone

Comfort; Bliss

Zhongli comforts Childe in their bed after he wakes to his occasional nightmares.

CW: Smut

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Childe wakes in the middle of the night as he often does—in the throes of a nightmare.

They haven't talked about it much. The extent of what he experienced in the depths of the Abyss is still mostly a mystery. Zhongli won't pester him about it, either. Childe's the kind of man that keeps tight-lipped about most things personal, effortless in his ability to present himself as anything but what he is.

And Zhongli understands this intimately and wholly. The need to move on... is something that they share and keep close to their hearts. But here, in the quiet depths of Zhongli's apartments is a rare place where those walls are usually dropped. Often to Childe's detriment.

He wakes, thrashing about in the soft and silken sheets. Zhongli stirs automatically and presses close, flush against Childe's back. Smoothes a hand across his hip and nestles his face into the back of Childe's neck as he murmurs soft words into Childe's ear, gentle reminders that the past is gone. It is rare that he has nightmares in his presence. It must be particularly bad.

Zhongli is here in the present to help Childe come down from the adrenaline, that flight-or-fight response that seems to consume him. Childe's always been a fighter. Still is. He loves to feel his muscles strain with the burn of the fight, the satisfaction of being the victor and overcoming all that which lies below him. Like the Abyss.

But Childe isn't perfect and he isn't without fear.

"Shh," whispers Zhongli against his neck, a soft plea paired with the gentle calm of his touch. Childe's breath hitches as Zhongli's hand slides over his thigh and down his front, fingers just barely ghosting across his cock.

Another added benefit of occasional nighttime terrors, thinks Zhongli ruefully. With the promise of battle comes the promise of lust, and Childe is eager to fall right into it. His head tips back and his hips punch forward as he seeks out the warmth of Zhongli's palm in a sleepy daze.

"Zhongli," he murmurs quietly. Not Xiansheng, or any other teasing title. Here in their bed, it's only his name and—

"Ajax." Zhongli punctuates the word with a kiss against Childe's spine, mouthing at a knob of bone gently. "I'm here. I'm awake."

"Yeah," says Childe. Then he chuckles, a little more awake now, the bleary sound of his voice permeating the thick air around them. He drives his hips back against him, feeling Zhongli's rising need. It never takes much, not when Childe is so desperate. Zhongli loves to put him at ease, particularly with his cock.

"You tease." Zhongli huffs an amused breath, biting at the line of Childe's shoulder. "It's only in response to you—"

"Yes, yes, my fault," cuts in Childe, rolling his hips for a second time, grinding against Zhongli's aching length. Zhongli's grip tightens on Childe's hip bone as he holds him there, dick nestled right into the soft space between Childe's thighs.

Childe waits, enjoying the touch. Then he gets impatient like he often does. "Are you going to—"

Of course. Zhongli will take care of him, a promise that he whispers into Childe's nape as he nips at the skin there. His palm smoothes across the swell of Childe's ass and then downwards. His fingers circle Childe's rim, sighing at how soft and pliant he still is from earlier that night.

"Still so wet for me," praises Zhongli, pressing in a finger straight to the knuckle, leftover oil and come easing the way. And then a second, spreading them apart and pulling at Childe's entrance with teasing intent. Childe moans so perfectly in response, low and deep from his chest.