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The fire a few feet away from them is roaring amidst the quiet of the room, thanks to a bit of absentminded prying from his vision to keep them both warm. Diluc can hear Childe muttering to himself, loosening the top button of his shirt and slumping further into the couch beside him. He’s barely processing anything, too tired from the expedition he’d gone on earlier and from too many sleepless nights recently that he’s content to let his guard down and relax, even if that means making himself vulnerable in front of a harbinger.
No extensive amount of time spent being in a relationship with the man would ever make him not at least a little bit on guard around him, but he still held a great deal of trust in him; otherwise he didn’t think he’d have let the man ever even touch him, certainly not in the ways that he has before.
Diluc sees the harbinger turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye, taking a deep, steadying breath, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “You’re staring, fatui.”
Childe chuckles lightly, “How many months together and you still can’t call me something a little more affectionate ?” He doesn’t have the time to protest before there’s a strong hand on his upper arm pulling him over and into Childe’s lap. He grunts involuntarily, eyes remaining closed even as he shifts into place in his arms. “Tired?”
He offers a short nod and lets his boyfriend settle them in a more comfortable position. Long fingers thread through his hair, freeing it from the ribbon tied around it to keep it up from his face, and the noise he lets out is weak, a borderline moan, that Childe seems to revel in. The same hand shifts to cradle his jaw, calloused palms dragging along the small raised scars on his face. There’s a mouth pressing light kisses into the opposite side of his face and his jaw, down his neck and beneath the high collar of his jacket. Diluc tilts his head to the side subconsciously to give him more room, and Childe takes it eagerly, nosing beneath the harsh line of his jaw as he mutters quietly, “You’re so pretty.”
Heat floods his face, a quiet squawk of indignation rising in his throat. “Shut up, you sound-“ he starts, but then there’s another hand snaking around his waist and slipping beneath his shirt and he can’t find any words or sound besides a quiet gasp as he squirms in Childe’s grip.
“ Relax , Diluc, let me,” he says, and he can’t even let himself argue when Childe says his name like that. Besides , he tells himself, I would have listened to him anyways .
He exhales shakily, shifting his hips slightly and ending up not surprised at what he finds. “ Childe ,” Diluc tries to say, but the word is too warbly to make out and it sounds more like a weak moan than anything. The cold hand skirting its way across his bare stomach is teasingly light, seeking more to draw out every embarrassing noise possible rather than just an absent, gentle touch.
“Better than fatui , I suppose, but Ajax would be better,” he laughs, and Diluc can’t stop himself from scowling, even as he grinds back hard into his lap and proceeds to melt further into him.
His body is completely molten, filled with a heat he’s completely familiar with but is entirely different from the warmth of his pyro vision, and Childe is molding him like putty, hands brushing the waistband of his pants, breath hot against his neck. He wants to cry with the wave of heat that washes over him when hips grind up against his backside. Diluc whines weakly, voice pitching as he twitches and squirms in his grip.
Childe’s laughing at him softly, still holding him still as bucks his hips up into him. “Hold still, Diluc .”
Finally, he opens his eyes, finding the warmth of blue ones watching him softly. “Touch me-“ he starts, but Childe is already slipping a hand into his pants, palm grinding against the growing hardness it finds there, and Diluc damn near breaks, hips bucking as his mouth parts in a silent whine. He can’t bring himself to move, think, can’t do anything other than let Childe do as he wishes, hand shooting down to clutch at his wrist and thighs snapping shut in an attempt to stave off the pressure between his legs. “Nmmmm- no no-“
“You want to be good for me right?” he hears him ask, but the words are distant, dull and barely heard between the roaring in his head and the heat between his legs. He wants to reach for him, tangle fingers in orange strands and pull him lower so that he might kiss him, but his body is weak, feels more like molten metal than anything. Diluc tries anyway, barely raising his hands a few inches before falling back to his lap.
Childe halts the heavy movements of his hands to turn them and lay him on his back, dragging a cool hand up beneath the thick fabric of his clothes and leaving his skin burning. His free hand seems to absently seek out one of his own, and the slide of Childe’s fingers between his as he ducks down to kiss him makes his heart jump in his chest. “You alright, Diluc?” The words are nearly silent, whispered so softly against his lips that if he hadn’t felt them he wouldn’t have noticed.
His eyes shift closed as he nods slowly, breathing in deep before he lifts his free hand to clutch at his shoulder while the other tightens briefly in Childe’s hold. “Holding up just fine, what about you, fatui?” Diluc offers in response, and he noses gently at his cheek as he holds back the soft laugh building in his chest. The other doesn’t bother to, laughing openly as he nods right back.
Lips return to his, and then the hand gracing his chest is moving to instead unbutton his shirt further. “Help me out here,” Childe hums, lip quirking upwards once he notices the way Diluc’s hands seem to tremble as he reaches to help him work on the buttons.
He holds back the retort, trying -- and struggling -- to undo the buttons quick enough, but thankfully the other catches on and makes more work of helping him. By the time he’s finally slipping his shirt off, Childe’s reaching for the button of his pants and undoing them quickly, despite the fact he’s only got one free hand to do so.
Diluc’s growing uneasy again, shifting against the thigh pressed between his legs and taking short, shallow breaths to try and steady himself and keep patient. “Faster, please,” he says quietly, trying to keep the pleading tone from his voice, but the harbinger seems to have no intentions of making this easy on him.
“Hm?” he hears from above him as he shuts his eyes and squeezes Childe’s hand in warning. “Aw, come on, Master Diluc, don’t be boring,” Childe teases, even though his movements are vastly contradicting his words where he’s quickly sliding the waist of Diluc’s pants down so that he can palm at him through the final thin layer of clothing remaining.
The gasp he lets out echoes in the nearly silent room, ringing in his own ears and making him more embarrassed than it probably should. Every restraint he has on himself snaps as he buckles beneath him and melts into the soft cushions of the couch.
Childe offers him a small laugh before he leans down to kiss along the column of his throat, the dips of his collarbones, leaving blazing heat in his wake. He wants to grab his hand and guide it to wrap around his length properly, rather than sit here grinding against his hand like they’re some inexperienced teenagers, but he has no strength left in his limbs, his muscles; all he can do is moan openly as he weakly tightens his grasp around the hand entangled in his.
It’s ridiculous, how sensitive he is and how easily he’s reacting, but he blames it on the exhaustion and simply the fact that mentally, he feels open , like he’s been rubbed raw, and every roll of Childe’s palm has his body lighting up like a fuse. As if reading his mind, the harbinger mutters just into the space beneath his jaw, “You’re awfully sensitive.”
He can’t find the words to respond, can only turn his head to the side in an attempt to hide the bright red flush that’s risen to his face, and hopes desperately that the man doesn’t mock him further.
Diluc squeezes his eyes shut, mouth dropping open around a choked moan when Childe -- finally -- wraps his hand around him, and starts off with too quick and too brutal of a pace for him to recover quick enough from the shock. “ Chi -” he starts desperately, but he’s cut off by a rough jerk of his hand.
“ Mmm? ” Biting his lip, he digs his nails into the back of Childe’s hand weakly, whimpering in refusal. “You can’t even call me by my real name, Diluc? I’m hurt,” Childe says, and he can hear the pout in his voice that the man knows he’s uncontrollably weak to, and he doesn’t need to turn and open his eyes to know he’s looking at him with wide, mockingly pleading eyes.
Another few rough slides of his hand over his dick has him breaking, gasping out a breathless “ Ajax ” as he nearly comes, but is stopped by the complete, abrupt absence of the other’s hand. The hand holding his is gone as well, and when he opens his eyes to blink dazedly up at him, he finds him unbuttoning his shirt before moving to unbutton his pants and slide the waist of them down low enough to free himself.
Childe returns to where he was leaning over him almost immediately after that, lining their erections up and groaning low in Diluc’s ear as he wraps a hand around the both of them. He finds enough strength in his body to join one of his hands with Childe’s, bucking into their combined grip with a moan. “ Close ,” he breathes against his lips, twitching as he tightens his grip in response.
The heat rising low in his gut makes him reflexively curl in on himself, nearly knocking away Childe’s hand as he blindly reaches for him. His orgasm nearly knocks the breath out of him, has him shuddering with each shallow breath he struggles to take as he whines out Childe’s name. Regardless, he doesn’t stop, his hands still jerking the both of them off as he presses his forehead to Diluc’s and groans.
He’s overrun with sensitivity, too overstimulated to function or do anything that isn’t moaning Ajax over and over like a prayer against the other’s mouth. “ No more ,” he says breathlessly, digging blunt nails into the bare skin of Childe’s forearm with how tightly he’s holding onto him.
He doesn’t get a response, is only given a teasingly light kiss to the corner of his mouth as the other bucks into both of their hands. “You can handle a little more,” Childe says to him softly, and the wave of heat that washes over him at the sight of him leaning back to take a heaving breath before he finally comes between the both of them.
The sound of his name on Childe’s lips is embarrassing enough that he forces him to hide the furious blush on his face, choosing to bury his face in the corner of the couch instead as he tries to steel his breathing. He resists the urge to lean into the hand that slides along his jaw to cradle his face, but his defiance barely lasts him a few moments before he’s turning and looking up to where Childe’s watching him with a smile plastered on his face.
They make a few moments of content, silent eye contact that should be awkward but isn’t really as they both catch their breath.”Are you going to stare at me like a lovesick child or are we going to get cleaned up?” Diluc says pointedly, but there’s no real harshness in his tone (as much as he’d begrudgingly to admit) as he moves Childe’s hand from his face.
Childe only laughs softly in response, reaching for his hand again almost immediately after Diluc attempts to move it, and leans down to kiss him. “Our hands are-” he starts, adding breathlessly between each kiss, “disgusting-”
“God forbid we have a soft, post-coital moment, Diluc,” Childe taunts, but just like he had, there’s nothing rude in his tone, just a soft, warm tone that makes his heart stutter in its steady rhythm within his chest. “We can eat something quickly first, then bathe, hm?” he finishes, tying off his statement with a chaste kiss to his forehead before he pulls away to walk off down the hall.
He takes the moment of silence and solitude to steady his breathing and calm himself down; the moment is short-lived, but he doesn’t really have it in him to complain when Childe returns with a cloth to wipe them both off gently.
Once he’s finished, he makes a show of absolutely plastering every available surface on Diluc’s body with kisses and small nips at his skin, laughing quietly to himself before he turns to walk into the kitchen. His body feels heavy with exhaustion, hunger settling in, but he’s still greatly satisfied and content to watch his partner prepare food for the both of them to eat while he sits, boneless, on the couch.
Diluc doesn’t think he’d prefer it otherwise.