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The lingerie fit perfectly.
Scaramouche had tried it on a few weeks before he and Childe left Sumeru for Camp Starfell at the beginning of the summer, but it was still nice to see it again after so long. As far as lingerie went, the quality was not the best, but he knew that Childe wouldn’t really care much for the details—not when he looked like this.
The black lace was stark against his pale skin, the floral design dainty and feminine. The bra, panties, garter belt, and stockings all complemented one another for a seamless look that he was only slightly mortified to be wearing. His cheeks warmed as he remembered trying on the panties for the first time; Scaramouche didn’t even know that crotchless underwear existed, but after looking it up it online after Childe revealed that he thought Scaramouche would look sexy in lingerie, he knew he had to buy it.
But as the name clearly stated, the panties were crotchless, so his dick was just… out. Even he could admit that he looked obscene like this, but thinking about how Childe would react when he finally arrived set his blood alight, and he could only imagine all the things that he would do to reward him for the surprise. Every possibility led to Scaramouche getting fucked into the mattress, so any embarrassment he felt now would be erased by the incredible sex he was about to have.
Worth it.
The fantasy Childe described months ago was not a particularly raunchy scenario, but it was still something Scaramouche had never done before, so it took plenty of planning on his part. To surprise the younger man for his birthday this year, he made it his mission to secure the lingerie—complete with tiny bows on, too—and a butt plug with a cute purple gem to keep him company until Childe arrived.
He fingered himself open hastily, unsure of the timing of the younger man’s return; the impending threat of being caught in the act only acted as fuel for his arousal, though, and by the time he was inserting the plug, Scaramouche was practically drooling on the bed.
Like this, in the cabin where it all started, he was reminded of just how far he had come since they got together—emotionally and physically.
Much to his annoyance, it turned out that he was, indeed, just as much of a freak as Childe.
Their sex wasn’t depraved by any means, but once they did have access to each other year-round, it was easy to indulge a lot. They had explored their sexualities together since—as much as Childe tried to deny it—neither were particularly experienced at sex, and countless hours of talking and discovering what turned them on and experimenting had culminated into this very moment: Scaramouche in lacy lingerie, lying wet and wanting with a plug up his ass, ready to be fucked the second Childe returned.
Heh, imagine… ‘Bratty Inazuman Twink Gets Corrupted by Big Snezhnayan Cock.’ Sounds like it would make a good porno.
He adjusted onto his back and keened with a loud gasp when the plug pressed against his prostate. Arousal coiled low in his tummy at the feeling, and he couldn’t help but shiver, his toes curling in the sheer stockings.
Fuck. Childe needs to hurry.
He laid there longer than he was expecting to, idly touching himself to the thought of what Childe would do once he got back to stay on edge, and when the sun was setting, he finally heard footsteps outside trudging up to the entrance.
Scaramouche waited impatiently, spread out on his bed as casually as he could manage as the handle on the cabin door rattled. It had been three days since he last saw Childe, and waiting for him to come back from his cabin’s excursion had been torture.
Luckily, this year, it was for a completely different reason.
He shifted, heart pounding as the door pushed open, then clicked shut.
Childe sang, “Honeyyy, I’m ho—” before his voice died when he saw Scaramouche on the bed, his jaw dropping and eyes widening almost comically as a crimson flush quickly crept up his neck and into his cheeks. An aborted, strangled sound caught in his throat.
Scaramouche smiled, his stomach light with giddiness, and casually said, “Oh, hey.”
Childe stood frozen for several long seconds, stunned into silence. Scaramouche really couldn’t blame him.
Scaramouche decided to tease him a bit more, and rolled over onto his stomach with a sigh, lifting his hips off the bed and settling onto his knees so the younger man could get an unobstructed view of the jewel between his legs. He looked over his shoulder coquettishly and Childe swallowed as his eyes raked across his body, his pupils blown.
Scaramouche arched his back lazily, resting his cheek on his forearms as he bit back a grin. “Happy birthday.”
“Holy shit,” Childe said intelligently, dropping his backpack from his shoulders with a loud thump and taking a couple long strides to close the distance between them. Broad, warm hands stroked up the back of Scaramouche’s thighs, tracing over the lace on the stockings before moving to grab his ass. He muttered something in his native tongue, raspy and desperate. “I don’t—fuck. I-I don’t even know what to say.”
“Hm, maybe you can start by telling me I look good? Unless, of course, you don’t like it...”
“You look like a goddamned wet dream, Moose. Fuck.”
Scaramouche grinned, humming when Childe squeezed his ass appreciatively. “Thanks.”
“God, look at you,” Childe breathed, dazed. “Remember when you were shy about this kind of stuff?”
Scaramouche buried his face into the pillow, whining with impatience when the redhead pressed against the jewel at the base of the plug, pushing the toy over his prostate.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now,” he admitted, gasping when Childe ground his growing erection into him, the fabric of his shorts rough against his bare skin. He felt dirty being so exposed while his boyfriend was still fully clothed, but it only made his blood sing as he trembled in anticipation. He swayed his hips in what he hoped was a tantalizing manner, his face burning at his own brazenness. “You want your present, or what?”
“Lemme savor this a bit,” the younger man murmured, his hands groping at the soft flesh at his hips. “How long have you been waiting?”
Scaramouche flushed down to his toes, whimpering when Childe’s hands crept up his torso, circling around his waist possessively. Knowing that his fingers met in the middle still made Scaramouche dizzy. “L-Like an hour.”
The groan that rumbled in Childe’s throat was borderline feral, and it sent a thrill of adrenaline through his body. “Fuck. All this for me, huh?”
Scaramouche yelped when Childe suddenly leaned down to sink his teeth into the flesh of an ass cheek, biting hard enough for it to hurt. “Ow! Fuck!”
“As much as I would love to just stuff you full,” Childe said lowly, soothing the hurt with a wet kiss, “I think I want something else, first.”
“Hm? What?” Scaramouche asked, shivering when Childe took his skin between his teeth in a barely-there, teasing scrape.
“Play with yourself.”
“Seriously?”
Scaramouche went willingly when Childe flipped him over, and he landed on his back with a huff, his face burning as he met Childe’s eyes.
“It’s my birthday, isn’t it?” the younger man asked, his head tilting curiously. The cocky smirk he’d grown so accustomed to seeing was finally present despite his still-flushed cheeks, and Scaramouche wanted to kiss it away. “I want to watch you get yourself off.”
“…Is that it, though?”
“For now. I mean, you got all dolled up for me,” Childe said, his dark eyes dragging across the lacy set, lingering between his legs before settling where the suspenders held up the sheer stockings on his thighs. Slipping a finger under a strap to pull it, he let it snap back against the skin, and Scaramouche’s heart pounded. “Why do that if you didn’t wanna be on display?”
The words made a flare of heat surge through Scaramouche’s body, and he felt the tip of his cock leak out another bead of precum. Dark blue eyes grazed along every inch of his skin slowly, taking in each feature like he had never truly seen him before.
Childe looked like he wanted to devour Scaramouche whole, and honestly, who was he to say no?
It was his birthday, after all.
“Hmph. Alright, then.”
Childe grinned, pleased, but before he could get away, Scaramouche pulled him down by the collar of his shirt to kiss him. It was fleeting, a lingering promise for more, but it was enough to make his mind blank for a few seconds.
“Go over there if you’re gonna watch,” he murmured against Childe’s mouth, licking at his lips teasingly before shoving his chest back. “No touching the merchandise.”
The redhead’s smile was all teeth. “Yessir.”
Scaramouche settled back onto the pillows, spreading his legs so Childe could have a clear view of everything he was going to do—like the younger man said, he didn’t buy a lacy set for nothing. Childe sat on his own bed across the room after hastily peeling out of his clothes, and Scaramouche’s mouth dried as he slowly palmed over his erection, his chin tilting up as a soft noise slipped past his lips.
“C’mon, baby,” the younger man murmured, his eyes dark. “Show off for me.”
Even after a year together, Childe still had the ability to render Scaramouche into a blushing puddle of goo with just a few honeyed words, and he still had not gotten used to the pet names that Childe had taken to calling him—baby, sweetheart, sugar, doll, princess.
And his (not-so) secret favorite: my love.
One year, and Scaramouche hardly recognized himself—but the change was for the better. He liked that he knew himself better now, that he had finally started to live his life however he wanted, that he was no longer so afraid to change. It was still scary to not know what the future held, but with his boyfriend by his side, it all felt unimportant.
He liked who he was with Childe.
Clearly Childe didn’t mind either, since he never took his pretty blue eyes off of him—like he physically could not stop looking—and Scaramouche would be lying if he said the constant attention didn’t fuel his ego.
“God, Moose,” Childe breathed, thumbing over the head of his cock with a groan as Scaramouche toyed with his nipples. “Feel good?”
“Not like when you do it,” the older man said honestly, his voice breathless. He pinched them hard, just like he liked, moaning softly as his back arched off the mattress, and his cock drooled onto his stomach. “You sure you don’t wanna help me?”
“Mm, normally I would, doll, but I just wanna watch you right now. You’re so beautiful for me.”
The praise struck Scaramouche right in the dick and he huffed in annoyance, glaring at the now-grinning redhead as he stroked his cock lazily, clearly enjoying driving Scaramouche insane.
Two can play at that game.
He rolled over on the bed, resuming his previous position on his knees as he slowly pulled the plug out, and gasped when the flared base popped past the rim.
Childe groaned at the sight. “Oh, fuck, that’s bigger than I thought it would be.”
Scaramouche looked over his shoulder and held eye contact as he slipped a few fingers between his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he moaned around them for dramatic effect; he spent a few seconds sucking and swirling his tongue around the digits, and when he pulled them out, a string of saliva lingered before breaking off. Childe watched intensely, his hand squeezing his cock at the base as Scaramouche slid his fingers into his stretched hole.
“Mmm,” Scaramouche sighed, fucking into himself shallowly. After prepping himself earlier and being stuffed with the plug for so long, his entrance was still slick and soft; he pushed in a third finger with a content noise, meeting Childe’s eyes. “Wish this was you.”
“Yeah?” Childe croaked, stroking himself again, the rise and fall of his chest ragged with his unsteady breaths.
“Missed you,” Scaramouche continued breathlessly, pumping his fingers to reach deeper inside himself and letting out a keening noise when he accidentally brushed over his prostate. “I-I wanted to surprise you when you got back.”
“Moose, I just about had a heart attack when I walked in and saw you like that.”
Scaramouche let out a breathless laugh. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”
Childe clicked his tongue in displeasure and the Inazuman grinned.
Scaramouche had a habit of teasing him for being so well-known and sought after at the Akademiya campus—he was definitely not lying last summer when he said he was popular in Sumeru. He knew Childe only had eyes for him, though, and he carried that knowledge with a smugness that could not be shaken no matter how many people hit on his boyfriend. That didn’t mean he couldn’t tease him about it, though—especially when he knew that Childe could find a way to shut him up pretty quickly.
“What’s wrong?” Scaramouche goaded, whining as his fingers sped up, the wet sounds loud in the quiet cabin. “Thinking about your other little girlfriends?”
“I’m thinking that you need to shut your mouth,” Childe warned, his voice low, “before I shut it for you.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, babe,” Scaramouche replied, grinning, “I’ve been thinking about that stupid cock for days.”
Childe cursed, his hand squeezing the base of his cock again, just like Scaramouche knew he liked. Even from across the room, he could see the pre leaking out, and his mouth watered when the redhead ordered, “On your back.”
Scaramouche flipped himself over immediately, pulling his fingers free as he laid back against the pillows. He bit back a smug grin as Childe stood and crossed the small space. His arousal bobbed in the air, flushed and proud, and Scaramouche’s mouth filled with even more saliva. “Impatient, huh?”
“What are you doing?”
Scaramouche paused, his brows furrowing. “You’re going to fuck me…?”
“I said I would shut you up,” Childe corrected, his gaze sharp, challenging.
Realization of the younger man’s intentions hit Scaramouche like a freight train, and arousal coiled tightly in his belly as he quickly readjusted himself to lay on his back with his head hanging off the bed. He felt a little giddy at the thought of finally getting Childe’s cock in his mouth, even more so in a position that stole the air from his lungs so sweetly. He found that he enjoyed relinquishing control to the younger man like this immensely, and he was always secretly excited to be nothing more than a slick hole for Childe to fuck. Finding the pretty blue eyes watching him with so much desire and affection, he lolled his tongue out, ready to receive whatever Childe wanted to give.
“There he is,” Childe murmured, taking hold of his cock and slapping it against his tongue a few times. Scaramouche let out a pathetic noise at the feeling, his thighs squeezing together as his fingers twisted at the sheets. “You want me to be mean tonight, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” Scaramouche breathed, already dizzy with Childe’s natural musk around him and his cock so close to his lips. He reached up to grab Childe’s hips and pull him closer, nuzzling against the hot weight of his leaking arousal. “Anything the birthday boy wants.”
“You’re so good to me,” the younger man said lovingly, leading himself into Scaramouche’s mouth.
Sucking Childe off like this was never the most graceful experience, but feeling the stretch of his lips and the strain against his throat as he laid helpless and entirely at the redhead’s mercy never failed to make him absolutely drunk on cock. Drunk on Childe.
There was no doubt that it was degrading and humiliating to be held down and fucked like he was nothing more than a hole for Childe to fill—but fuck, it was always so goddamned incredible.
Jesus. He really did corrupt me, Scaramouche thought distantly before Childe’s hips started moving, fucking into his mouth with shallow thrusts. Then, broad fingers wove into his hair and Scaramouche’s mind went blank.
“Touch yourself,” Childe ordered roughly, his fingers tightening their grip. “Let me see how much you love me fucking your slutty throat.”
Scaramouche moaned around him, his eyes watery as he kept one hand on Childe’s hip while the other finally reached for his leaking cock. The first touch was almost enough to make him cum, and he let out a strangled, sobbing cry around Childe’s cock when one of his nipples was pinched. The redhead practically growled in satisfaction as he shoved the entire length into Scaramouche’s mouth, not stopping until the coarse hair at the base tickled at his lips and he was swallowing around the intrusion.
Scaramouche relaxed his throat, breathing unsteadily through his nostrils and reminding himself that he was not in any danger—even after sucking Childe off countless times, the way he filled his throat so completely was always surprising, always enough to trick his brain into thinking he was going to suffocate.
Always so fucking hot.
“Fuck,” Childe groaned, his hips settling into a gentle rhythm while Scaramouche acclimated, gagging slightly. “You love me, don’t you, Moose?”
A garbled moan of assent.
“You know I love you, don’t you?”
He moaned again, spluttering when Childe pulled away to give him a few seconds to catch his breath before pushing back into his slick mouth. Scaramouche jerked himself clumsily, his hand sticky and head swimming with pleasure.
“Good,” Childe murmured, “because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”
The words sent a thrill through the older man’s body, and that was all the warning he got before Childe was thrusting into his mouth harshly. Scaramouche moaned, gagging as he squeezed his eyes shut, tears forming from the rough treatment as his throat was used as a tight, warm sleeve for Childe’s cock.
“Can’t believe I get to come home to this perfect little cocksleeve every day,” Childe panted, his hand circling around Scaramouche throat to feel the way it bulged with each thrust. He squeezed hard enough to cut off his airflow for a few seconds, and Scaramouche could do nothing but lie back and take it, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Such a good fucking whore.”
Scaramouche’s orgasm built and built with each second that passed, and he was shaking on the bed as blood rushed through his ears, his fingernails digging crescents into Childe’s thighs as he held on for dear life.
Suddenly, Childe pulled out all the way, allowing Scaramouche to suck in a desperate breath as he coughed, a line of saliva connecting his lips and Childe’s slick cock, and his hand wrapped around Scaramouche’s, engulfing it completely where he was stroking himself. The older man whined in surprise as Childe took control and led his movements, manhandling him until he was crying out and blowing his load all over his stomach.
“Good,” Childe breathed, swiping a few fingers through the mess and bringing them to his mouth to suck on. He did it with an indulgent hum, holding eye contact as he licked the digits clean, and Scaramouche’s cock twitched weakly. Childe brushed away some of the bangs stuck to Scaramouche’s face. “Open.”
Scaramouche’s lips felt slick and swollen as he opened his mouth, and his eyes fluttered shut as Childe took hold of himself again. His hand moved quickly as he brought himself closer to orgasm, and before long, he was spilling onto Scaramouche’s tongue with a long groan.
Scaramouche didn’t swallow since he knew it drove the younger man crazy to see the evidence of his release in his mouth; he waited for Childe to step back and pulled himself up when the redhead reached out for his face. Scaramouche leaned into Childe’s touch when his thumb stroked over his lips gently. “Lemme see.”
Face burning, the older man opened his mouth, showing off the mouthful of cum he was holding, and Childe released a shuddering breath, his eyes hazy as Scaramouche swallowed. When he was done, he stuck his tongue out to blow a raspberry in his face and Childe playfully scowled at him.
“Brat,” he muttered, fond, pulling him forward by his jaw to kiss him. He licked into his mouth hungrily, groaning when Scaramouche reciprocated with equal enthusiasm. Childe had always liked tasting himself on Scaramouche’s tongue—he’d admitted that it made him feel like he owned him. And maybe he did.
But when Scaramouche pulled away, making the younger man chase after him and beg for more, he knew that he owned Childe, too.
“On your knees, my love,” Childe murmured against his lips, nipping at the lower one before pulling away. Scaramouche complied, and the younger man hummed when he looked over his shoulder for approval. His hands spread Scaramouche’s cheeks apart, a thumb sliding over the fluttering hole, and Scaramouche gasped. “Mm, your pussy’s still nice and wet.”
“Shut up,” Scaramouche exhaled, burying his face into his arms to hide his blazing cheeks and pretend like the younger man’s words don’t send a bolt of arousal through his body. He knew that Childe knew he didn’t mean it. Thankfully, the redhead didn’t call him out and instead teased the head of his leaking cock at Scaramouche’s hole. He was already—still?—hard. “Y-You’re so annoying.”
“Hm? You don’t want me to talk about how good your cute little hole looks while it’s swallowing my cock?”
Scaramouche whined when Childe pressed forward just enough for the head to pop past the rim.
“Shit,” Childe hissed, grasping at his hips hard enough to bruise—Scaramouche knew from experience that it would. “Always so tight, no matter how much you whore yourself out for me.”
The feeling of the redhead finally sliding in was enough to make Scaramouche let out a shuddering moan, and he gripped at the sheets between his fingers when Childe’s pelvis pressed against his ass.
“You just love being on your knees for me, don’t you?”
The question was accentuated with a harsh thrust that slammed against Scaramouche’s prostate, and he cried out loudly, blood rushing through his ears as he buried his face into the bed. He drooled onto the sheets as the redhead hit it again and again.
“Mm, actually,” Childe continued, reaching down to hook an arm around the older man’s torso to pull him up against his chest so his mouth was at his ear, “I’ll have you like this.”
Scaramouche shivered at the feeling of hot breath on his skin, and he squirmed in the redhead’s grip as he groped over his torso and settled into a rhythm that had Scaramouche’s thighs shaking.
“I can feel myself here,” the younger man said, pressing his hand low on Scaramouche’s stomach, right above where he knew the redhead’s cock bulged with each thrust. The sensation made him shudder, and he gasped. “So tiny, but so good at taking cock. That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”
“Fuck you,” Scaramouche wheezed, moaning when Childe sank his teeth into the junction of his shoulder and neck, his hips practically slamming against Scaramouche’s ass with the force of his thrusts. Each one was a direct hit to his prostate, and he cried out as he gripped onto Childe’s arm desperately, his nails digging into the skin. “F-Fuck!”
“I am fucking you,” Childe said, chuckling when Scaramouche dug his nails in harder. He slowed his pace, fucking into the older man with long strokes that just missed the spot inside that made Scaramouche lose his mind. “Want me to stop?”
A whining sob wrenched its way past Scaramouche’s lips as he rocked back to meet his lazy thrusts, desperate to chase after the orgasm that he’s been teetering on the edge of for God knows how long now. He didn’t say anything, just let out another pathetic noise as frustrated tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over.
“You cryin’?” Childe murmured against his skin, breathless, elated. Mean. “What’s wrong, Moose?”
“Fuck you,” Scaramouche sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut as tears spilled down his cheeks. He was so close to cumming but the way Childe was fucking him was not enough, and he knew it—so, yes, Scaramouche was so mad that he was crying. “I f-fucking hate you right now, you smug basta—”
Scaramouche’s voice cut off when Childe’s fingers dug into the sides of his neck, pulling him back to his shoulder as he suddenly fucked into him with a reckless abandon that stunned Scaramouche. He was helpless against the broad hands holding his throat and pressing down on his stomach, lightheaded as his eyes rolled back and he keened desperately, trying to simultaneously get away and fall deeper into Childe’s embrace as his prostate was bullied over and over again.
“Well, I love you,” Childe breathed into his ear, groaning when Scaramouche shuddered and clenched around him. “So cute when you cry like this. My perfect little fucktoy… you were made just for me, weren’t you?”
“Yes. Yes,” Scaramouche whined desperately, his vision spotted with black, his hands clawing at Childe’s wrists as his building orgasm crested. He cried out, babbled, “L-Love you, loveyouloveyou—! A-Ahh, agh—!”
“Mmm, that’s it, baby,” Childe practically purred, licking a broad line up his neck; he sucked at the sensitive spot below his ear hard enough that it made Scaramouche whimper. Childe fucked into him mercilessly, and Scaramouche was close, he was so fucking close, he just needed— “Cum for me.”
The pressure around his neck released suddenly; the flood of oxygen to Scaramouche’s head was enough for him to buckle, but Childe held him steady against his body with strong arms as his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave.
It was so overwhelming that the world went blissfully white and silent for a few moments, and when he came back down to earth, he was being flipped onto his back as Childe slid back inside.
“God, I love you,” the younger man breathed out, settling back into a punishing pace as he chased his own release, uncaring for Scaramouche’s oversensitivity and gasping cries as he writhed on the mattress below him. “Such a perfect whore.”
Pleasure lit up every one of Scaramouche’s nerve endings and his eyes rolled back as Childe’s cock kept hitting his prostate, prolonging his orgasm until it hurt. “T-Toomuchtoomuch! Stop, stop—!”
“You wanted mean.” Childe gripped his jaw to force him to look forward; his eyes were wild, raking over Scaramouche’s face with barely contained glee as he made pathetic noises with each thrust, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You know our word, but you don’t really wanna say it, do you, Moose?” Scaramouche shook his head desperately, his face screwing up and mouth falling open with his whines. Childe took the opportunity to spit into it, and the older man shuddered at the sensation of saliva hitting his tongue. “Heh, thought so. Slut.”
Liquid heat flooded through Scaramouche’s body when Childe hovered over him, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss to swallow his cries. It was sloppy, uncoordinated and mostly panting breaths and moans, but Scaramouche got lost in it anyway. How couldn’t he, when he was being fucked exactly how he wanted?
“Should I cum in your pussy?” Childe murmured against his lips. “You want my kids?”
Scaramouche sobbed helplessly, clawing at the younger man’s back for purchase as his entire body shook with overstimulation. It was so fucking incredible that he felt it in every cell in his body, and he distantly wondered if anyone on the planet had ever been fucked like this before; it didn’t seem possible to be feeling this much pleasure and still be corporeal, yet here he was—moaning like a whore and getting fucked stupid by his boyfriend’s incredible cock.
“I’ll knock you up right now,” the redhead breathed out, letting out a growling moan when Scaramouche tightened around him. “Shit, yeah. Let’s send them here when they’re old enough. That way we can—hah, fuck—we can have the summer all to ourselves and I-I can fuck you like you deserve for being such a good mom.”
“Ohmygod,” Scaramouche slurred, whining when Childe latched onto his neck again, biting harshly as he fucked into him, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. “F-Fuck—fuck!”
Childe pulled away only to press their lips together in another sloppy kiss. It was all tongue and teeth, but Scaramouche melted into it anyway, crying out into Childe’s mouth as the redhead fucked into him once, twice, three more times, then fell apart.
He moaned raggedly as his cum flooded into Scaramouche, filling him with a warmth that he felt down to his toes. Their kiss slowed but was just as consuming, and Childe didn’t pull away until he was soft inside Scaramouche. He pressed a gentle peck to his lips before pushing off and standing to admire his handiwork; Scaramouche just laid sprawled on the bed, working on steadying his breathing; everything was blissfully numb and he felt like he was floating, still a little high from the intensity of his orgasms as the younger man gently squeezed his thighs.
When Childe didn’t move, Scaramouche cracked open an eye, rasping, “What?”
The redhead just watched him with dark eyes, focusing between his spread legs where his spend leaked out of Scaramouche. “Just admiring the view.”
When warm fingers massaged at his thighs just a little too sensually to be an accident, Scaramouche glared up at him. “Keep it in your pants, perv. I’m done.”
Childe pouted but complied, finally stripping him of his lingerie. When the garter belt was being slipped past his hips, the younger man murmured, “Next time you wear this, I’m not going so easy on you.”
Scaramouche’s lips twitched. “That was easy?”
Childe nipped at the soft skin behind Scaramouche’s knee playfully. “You’re still conscious, aren’t you?”
Their shower after Childe finished undressing him was warm, almost clinical. Scaramouche scowled at the redhead’s smug grin when his knees wobbled and he had to hold onto his shoulder for support; Childe helped keep him steady, though he was not spared from a few teasing remarks and heated kisses.
Scaramouche was toweled off gently until Childe covered his head and roughly dried his hair, snickering at the indignant squawks as the older man was jostled from side to side. He stopped when Scaramouche landed a solid punch to his stomach and keeled over with a winded grunt, but his giggles didn’t cease completely until they were slipping into his bed together.
Their sex had always been incredible, but Scaramouche found that he looked forward to cuddling afterwards even more. Even with his lean, muscled body, Childe made for an excellent pillow—he was always hot while Scaramouche generally ran cold, so he got to bask in the younger man’s warmth until he was drifting off into blissful slumber, sated and happy.
It was the perfect arrangement, if you asked him.
He stretched indulgently, his aching limbs straining pleasantly before he relaxed and sank into the mattress beside Childe, his eyes blinking slow and heavy. Childe laid on his side beside him, practically nose-to-nose, gently running his hand along his thigh.
“Tired?”
Scaramouche hummed, pulling him closer to kiss him. It was soft, lazy but still toe-curling when their tongues met, and the older man couldn’t help but sigh in content. Childe rolled over him, intertwining their fingers and pressing them down against the pillow at Scaramouche’s head as he took control and kissed the older man until he was a boneless, breathless heap on the sheets; were he less physically drained, he would probably be raring to go another round.
When they broke apart, Childe knocked their noses together gently and murmured, “I still can’t believe you did this for me. Thank you.”
“I knew you’d like it,” he replied with a small grin, his eyes slipping shut as the redhead trailed slow kisses along his cheek and down his neck. His breath caught when there was a teasing scrape of teeth at his collarbone. “I looked really hot.”
He felt Childe smile against his skin as he settled lazily on top of him, resting his cheek over his heart. “You’re always hot.”
“And you’re always easy.”
The younger man hummed in agreement, somehow sagging even further when Scaramouche’s fingers found their way into his damp hair and gently scratched at his scalp.
A few minutes passed before he sleepily mumbled, “Love you, Moose.”
He was a hair’s breadth from falling asleep, too, but Scaramouche’s heart still swelled and he easily replied, “I love you.”