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Summary
Power recognizes power. The Foul Legacy heels in the might of a once-archon, and still god. Zhongli barely does anything, he just leans over him, a hand pressed to the thick armor of his chest. “Darling,” he coos, dragging those fingers over the swell there, sweeping across dents and cuts that decorate the plates.
It’s sweetly saccharine. Childe can’t feel the heat of Zhongli’s fingertips, but arousal pools in his gut all the same. He’s always gotten off on this, the push and pull of the hunt, but to be at the end of his mate, of his laogong, as Zhongli so often calls him, is something else entirely.
Instead of Lumine at Childe's weekly spar, he finds Zhongli waiting for him instead.
Series
- Part 50 of Etched in Stone