Work Text:
Childe impatiently tapped the end of his pen against the smooth surface of his handout, the colorful cover already creased from his fidgeting. He didn’t even bother to turn the page to follow along with the presentation. The screen flickered as slides changed, but his attention was miles away. He was bored out of his mind. Up front, a young girl with an angelic voice enthusiastically gestured to different parts of the presentation, each point more colorful than the last.
It didn’t take the smartest person in Teyvat to know that the theme of that powerpoint aligned with the handout given to everyone. Columbina was always too keen on wasting papers for her own aethestic taste. Childe clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Show off!”
Meanwhile, his boss, seated alone at the shorter edge of the long table, nodded attentively with each bullet point. In contrast to Childe’s couldn’t-care-less attitude, her half smirk indicated the CEO’s piqued interest at how dedicated her subordinate was.
Childe sighed slowly as he took a glance around the small meeting room. This scene—oh, so familiar—never failed to make him sick, even though he only had to endure it once a year. “The Annual Fatui Harbinger Meetup”, where regional directors gathered to present their yearly achievements and strategies to their CEO—the Tsaritsa. As an outsider’s perspective, the meeting should have, would have, must have been a grand social event for brightest brains of Teyvat to showcase their best moves. That was not entirely true, much as the opposite because of a not-so-ironic twist: All the Harbingers hated each other’s guts. Each of them wholeheartedly believed they were singlehandedly driving the company toward a profitable future. And the Tsaritsa, in her brilliance (or madness), seemed to encourage this vicious competition. Maybe it motivated them, or maybe she just enjoyed the chaos. Either way, it worked—Fatui remained the most powerful company in all of Teyvat.
Childe, the youngest and latest Harbinger appointed, had just attended his third meeting; however, he had already had enough. The scent of ink on freshly printed reports mingled with the chill from the max powered air conditioner. He could hear Dottore’s annoyingly steady breathing beside him, reeking of cigarettes. He wished the second Harbinger would smoke more so the impact of the habit didn’t only create his overly loud breathing chronics. And across the table stood Columbina, her flashy report overwhelmed with colorful graphs—most of which Childe knew she’d faked, thanks to her MLM-style network of partnerships.
“When will this hell end…?”
Worse still, he’d had to leave his newlywed wife behind to attend this meaningless meeting that could’ve easily been a Zoom call. He used to hate being stationed in Liyue as the new regional director, even cursing Pantalone for supporting the move. But life seemed to prepare a surprising yet pleasant destiny for him. After a year in the beautiful country rich with culture and ancient myths, Childe had sorted the biggest debt owner of the Northland Bank, earning him the trust of the Ninth Harbinger and more money than his little brother Teucer could count. To most people, violence was not the answer. But to the young Harbinger, violence was a question, and the answer was " heck yes”, Although Pantalone didn’t really align with Childe’s method, he decided to turn the blind eye at the bloody crime scene as long as the mora was back to his pocket. And, of course, it would be a great loss if he didn’t mention the *biggest* surprise—finding the most gorgeous lover and tying the knot after two years of ups and downs.
Childe sighed, sinking lower in his chair. He missed Zhongli already…
For a company as advanced as Fatui—state-of-the-art tech, innovative working culture—some of its processes were just unnecessarily long and boring.
“It’s a chance for the Harbingers to finally meet and learn from each other,” Pierro had once said. Childe respected the man, but really? Who wanted to learn from Columbina? Or even…Dottore? The thought made his stomach churn in disgust.
After Capitano’s presentation, Childe’s attention span had reached its limit. Now he just had to survive Pulcinella’s part—his former mentor—before he could finally escape to his hotel room. First, though, he had to endure Dottore’s presentation that sounded like an interrogation between him and the Tsaritsa due to his unethically questionable methods, and Allerchino’s dangerously child-labor-esque strategy. The second Harbinger had specifically requested to delay his turn of presentation for his object of demonstration hadn’t arrived yet. Seriously, who would want to see his brand new “fetus in a bottle”?
Childe slid his phone from his pocket, carefully hiding the screen’s light under the hem of his jacket. His fingers quickly tapped the first message in his inbox: “Wifey <3.”
“Baobei, is it your turn to present yet?”
The message immediately warmed his heart.
“Not yet… I miss you…”
He typed back, a silly grin spreading across his face. Zhongli wasn’t exactly tech-savvy, but his adorable attempts at texting made Childe's heart flutter every time. This was their first time apart since getting married, and the distance was both exciting and unsettling. He felt more responsible now, like a grown man pushing through capitalism to provide for his beloved.
For Zhongli . Childe thought. I can sit through this hell for two more days… max.
“Are you ready for bed?”
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as he imagined Zhongli back home. Was he ready for bed? Childe pictured Childe in the Fatui uniform sweater during a cold Liyuen evening with nothing underneath, those milky thighs spotted with new and old bitemarks staggered on top of each other. The deep scent of sandalwood that lingered on his collar even after their laundry day. Or maybe, with this current heat, Zhongli would be lounging in his silky brown robe, embroidered with real gold thread—an extravagant touch that never failed to turn him into a literal emperor in their bedroom.
Childe never understood why Zhongli insisted on such regal homewear, but he certainly didn’t mind. The smooth, cool fabric clung to Zhongli’s body in all the right ways, like water carving through stone. Childe’s mind wandered further—how Zhongli’s every move seemed to flow with effortless grace, creating a shape of a dragon tail with those golden frame tracing his behind. Childe didn’t realize his breath was turning heavier, a mischievous thought fueling his excitement. Archons forgive him for being a young man in love.
His phone vibrated again, peeling him away from his daydreams. Zhongli had replied, his message slightly out of sync with the conversation.
“Not yet. I am unboxing a shipment that just arrived this morning.”
Ah, Zhongli and his overspending habit . Childe never complained; in fact, it was one of the many things he adored about his wife. After all, this little quirk was how they had first met.
Childe had played the part of the gentleman that day, showcasing Snezhnayan chivalry by stepping in to help a confused, beautiful man in front of a shop. Zhongli stood there, wide-eyed like a deer caught in headlights, long eyelashes fluttering as the merchant shouted about payments. The seller’s face had turned crimson, as if he were about to have a heart attack anytime soon.
Turned out, “Cashless” - the word stated bold and proud on the store sign - in Zhongli’s world meant not having to pay at all. Childe had felt a warmth bloom in his chest at the sight of the bewildered man—so earnest, so pure for this world. Zhongli was a testament to the term “goodness in human hearts,” maybe a bit too good, and Childe found himself falling uncontrollably for this endearing stranger.
Later, Hu Tao—Zhongli’s boss—had revealed that the consultant received a hefty salary transferred directly to his bank account each month. But despite his financial security, Zhongli never seemed to absorb the concept of digital money and online transactions. Hu Tao then resorted to give him a cut of his own salary in cash for “the old man’s pocket money” to keep him from getting beaten by the shorter tempered storeowners. For bigger expenses, Zhongli eventuallyl relied on Childe to settle his bills. Technology wasn’t his strong suit; safe to say the intricacies of e-banking eluded him completely.
Childe chuckled, recalling his father’s wisdom: “A good wife is one who makes her husband work hard for her” . He couldn’t be prouder to fulfill Zhongli’s needs, especially when he saw the way those amber eyes sparkled like gold whenever he tried on the precious Van Cleef bracelets in all possible colors.
“Try to go to bed soon, моя любовь. Don’t stay up too late!” Childe typed, a teasing tone slipping into his message.
“I bought this box with your credit card. Let me show you what I got.”
Before he departed for the Annual Harbinger Meetup, Childe had left his unlimited black card in Zhongli’s capable hands. Normally, he would be more than happy to accompany his love on their little shopping sprees, with the chance of hearing the story behind each purchases. Archons helped Childe and his more-than-healthy financial freedom as Zhongli was not into cheap thrills at all. The man loved indulging himself in antique treasures, old paintings, and customized furniture that he deemed “a shame not to buy.” Each item carried its own historical story, and Zhongli would enthusiastically ramble on for hours and hours, his voice rich and soothing.
Childe often lied next to him with one elbow propped on the mattress and his hand supporting his head while the tender tones of his husband lulling him into a peaceful slumber. He laughed softly to himself, curiosity piqued about what kind of artifact Zhongli would present him with this time. Would he find a beautifully aged scroll detailing a forgotten history? Or perhaps a set of jade teacups that was once used by the Raiden Shogun?
Just then, Dottore’s voice pierced through his thoughts, his words droning on about “ innovative practices ” and “ synergy ,” and did Childe just misheard?
What the fuck was “ homunculi ”?
Childe fought the urge to roll his eyes. If he had to endure one more jargon, he might just scream. Instead, he focused on his phone, hoping for another message from Zhongli, a small distraction to get him through the tedious drama.
“What is it?” he typed, excitement fueling in his chest as the chat bubble from the other side started to form.
His phone buzz again almost instantly. Childe casually brushed lightly over the screen, his smile persisted. His eyes widened the moment he saw the message.
Er…
.
.
.
!!!
What greeted him was a picture that made the calm Harbinger fumbled, almost tossing the phone up in shock. Childe barely caught it with both hands before it could clatter onto the carpeted floor, face up for the whole room to see the message’s content. Pulcinella shot him a glance, one eyebrow raised in silent disapproval, but Childe pretended to not seeing that while trying to bury his burning cheeks behind his hand.
Sliding the phone back into his pocket as discreetly as possible, Childe could feel his face heating up despite the icy blast from the air conditioning. His mind was racing, replaying the image his wife had sent: a big, dusty pink box decorated with lace and puffy confetti, containing something… far more “exotic” than antiques or teacups:
The set of black net lingerie inside left absolutely nothing to the imagination, complete with a pair of handcuffs—*not just any handcuffs,* Childe realized with a mix of surprise and excitement. These were the exact replica of Wriothesley's handcuffs from "Fontaine's True Crime," the Netflix series he’d been obsessing over for months.
Childe’s blood ran hot at the sight. He still remembered how thrilled he had been when he learnt that the cast were in town for a fan meetup. He hadn’t hesitate to drag Zhongli to Liuli Pavilion’s front seat just to get the clearest view of the actors and actresses. Wriothesley, the lead actor, had turned out to be much more laid-back and goofy than his on-screen persona, especially when doting on his co-star now turned fiancé, Neuvillette. The fan service had been top-tier, though, especially when Wriothesley had agreed to a playful sparring session with Childe. By the end, Childe had managed to annoy the shit out of the actor, but it had been worth it. He had proven to Zhongli that he could be a bigger badass than any TV cop!
Now, thinking back at those cuffs in the picture, he could practically feel the tension rising in him. His pulse quickened. The tip of his ears are hot and red. His teeth subconsciously clenched together. His skin curled up. He knew exactly where those cuffs were meant to be used, and the thought alone sent a thrilling shiver down his spine.
But that wasn’t all. Off to the side, peeking out from the corners of the box, were the unmistakable smooth heads of what appeared to be… three—no, four?—butt plugs, neatly arranged like a colorful bouquet.
Childe’s breath hitched again as he shifted in his seat, trying not to make it obvious that his body had just gone from mildly bored to highly alert in record time. His mind raced with possibilities, mostly shocked. What was Zhongli’s motive buying those things? How long had his wife been into this? A small part of him squeaked in embarrassment as Childe was after all… young. Much younger and less experienced than Zhongli in all aspects of life. Did he fail to satisfy Zhongli? The thought soon changed to boiling thirst when he imagined Zhongli's elegant figure, calm as ever, presenting this little surprise with his usual poised demeanor.
He couldn’t help it—his entire focus was now on that picture alone, head spinning with multiple scenarios, in which Zhongli and him were the main characters in a sexual fantasy. But then… he was back to the ugly truth. He would have to sit through the rest of this meeting, pretending like he weren’t on the verge of melting into a puddle, and somehow make it through without losing his mind.
This business trip just got “a lot” more unbearable.
Childe's phone buzzed relentlessly, vibrating like it shared his pent-up tension. Ever since he saw the picture, it hadn’t stopped, tempting him to glance again. He shook his head, trying to focus on the meeting, but his mind kept drifting back to Liyue—back to Zhongli. He could already feel the warmth of his husband's embrace, smell the sandalwood fragrance, and imagine the two of them together, with no more Harbingers, no more meetings, just pure bliss. And of course... those “new toys”.
Zhongli had never hinted at being into such things before, which made the surprise even more intoxicating. Childe’s thoughts spiraled into chaos, and the tiny angel and devil on his shoulders had begun their bickering.
“You have to give feedback on these presentations! Focus! We’re stronger than this!” the angel yelled, waving a miniature PowerPoint clicker.
“Are you kidding me? Dottore’s going on about his animal testing again, and you’re supposed to care? Also, have you even seen the hook?” the devil replied smugly, arms crossed, leaning against a fiery backdrop.
“Wait, WHAT.HOOK?!” Both Childe and the angel perked up at once.
“You’re blind if you didn’t catch it. Look again. There’s a shiny thing right underneath the lingerie,” the devil smirked.
Childe groaned internally, trying to resist, but the temptation was too strong. “Just one more quick look,” he reasoned. It was harmless, right? No one would notice. Just a peek to see if there really was a hook in the box, as the devil claimed.
With a stealthy glance, he unlocked his phone again. His eyes widened at the series of new message, and it hit him like a jolt of electricity.
The picture that greeted him this time almost made him faint on the spot with blood spilling from his nose. Zhongli, in the familiar black silky robe, had it draped open, revealing his flawless skin beneath. The contrast between his pale complexion and the intricate black straps of the lingerie guaranteed to have the same killing power as Medusa. It was… breathtaking. The black strap started at Zhongli's neck, forming a thick leather collar before blossoming into a checkered pattern that framed his chest, traced his navel, and wrapped sensually around his hips all the way to his groins and disappeared behind to hug his cheeks tightly. Apart from the bodysuit and the robe carelessly hung on his shouderblade, Zhongli was practically bare. The usual inverted nipples perked up and glistened like two glossy sakura buds, indicating them being played with well before the picture was taken. The high resolution of the photo left nothing to hide: his slim waist, toned abs and his neatly trimmed pube. His hands, cuffed in front of him, rested modestly between his legs, though the rest of his posture was far from modest—his knees spread apart, sitting on his heels like a tempting invitation.
The text that accompanied the image nearly knocked the wind out of Childe.
"While you are away, Wriothesley has held me captive. Will you come rescue me soon?"
Childe bit his lip, stifling a groan of unreasonable jealousy and possessiveness. His grip tightened around the phone as he fought to keep a straight face. His heart pounded in his chest; the heat surged through his head and saliva started to well inside his mouth. Childe was grateful for the dim lighting in the room; otherwise, everyone would’ve seen his cheeks flushing a dangerous shade of red. He felt his pulse quicken, his body betraying him despite the ice-cold air from the vent above.
The higher ranking Harbinger was still talking, who was it anyways? Childe was only half-aware of his surroundings. His mind was somewhere else, imagining exactly how he would "rescue" Zhongli from the captivity, more than rescuing himself from his miserable boner.
Childe wiggled in his seat. Archons, how was he going to survive this way?
He leaned back slightly, willing himself to calm down. “Focus, fuck it, focus!”—but every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the image of Zhongli, looking up at him with those amber eyes and all of the longing from the most desperate maidens.
Suddenly, the thought of staying one more night in Snezhnaya seemed unbearable. He needed to get back to Liyue, like right now .
Childe's phone continued buzzing, seemingly refusing to leave him alone. Not far away from him, Dottore and Pulcinella started to exchange some heated arguments about ethics, which was something at least one of them lacked. Whoever was on the more favorable side wasn’t Childe’s main concern now as his entire world had narrowed to the screen in his pocket. He couldn’t stop now; he NEED to see what came next.
Another picture arrived, and Childe's heart skipped a beat. At first, the image seemed tamer—a portrait—but the moment it fully rendered, it was over for him. Zhongli, blindfolded, with a thin, lacy cloth covering his eyes, looked more enticing than ever. His expression was a perfect mix of vulnerability and temptation, like a widow caught in a forbidden trance. Beads of sweat glistened on his cheekbones, the absence of his amber eyes only accentuating the sharp cut of his jawline. His rosy lips were parted slightly, revealing just the faintest glimpse of teeth biting down on his tongue, as if holding back from a moan. It was devastatingly sensual, far more than Childe anticipated. Zhongli truly was a masterpiece, shifting effortlessly between elegant innocence and sinful seduction.
“It’s dark here,” the next message read, continuing the poetic tease, as if Zhongli were whispering right next to his ear.
Childe was helpless, fully hypnotized by this unfolding fantasy. His surroundings slowly faded into a blurry illusion and there he was, trying his best to keep the last bit of a Harbinger’s dicknity before getting lured completely into Zhongli’s world of private pleasure and torment.
Childe managed to whine “ please, don’t ” and Zhongli simply replied “ why not? ”
And his wife swayed gracefully into their kitchen in the next photo, dragging along the last string that held Childe’s self control. It took a moment for the Harbinger to realize that this image was of their kitchen—their spacious, well-kept kitchen. The red dim lighting cast long, eerie shadows that gave the room an unfamiliar, almost sinister atmosphere. On the black granite countertop, usually pristine, placed four vertically aligned toys like some kind of sinful ritual. Zhongli stood at the counter's edge, one knee resting against the countertop.
“If you don’t come home soon, I will be tortured,” Zhongli's message urged, pleaded, supplicate. Lured.
Childe squinted at the scene. The lighting system had been perfectly calibrated to replicate the climactic moment from "Fontaine’s True Crime," where Wriothesley’s dark side was revealed, and Neuvilette found himself trapped in the serial killer’s lair. On the exact table, with different kind of tension of course. Though, Childe suspected that Zhongli had reached his stroke of genius for being able to order their Google Home to arrange this kind of lighting arrays. The ominous red glow shaded their kitchen, casting Zhongli in a devilishly irresistible light. Even Childe’s sushi knife set was hanging ominously on the wall, mimicking the torture devices from the show.
“How long has Zhongli been planning this?” Childe’s mind spun. Torture? It’s him who’s being tortured here!
Childe discreetly shifted in his seat, inching closer to the table’s edge to hide the growing tension in his pants. He buttoned his vest, hoping that the length was enough to strategically draped over his lap.
“Cold?”
A voice as cold as ice pierced his daze. Childe jumped in his seat, startled. He hadn’t noticed Allerchino gliding silently on her rolling chair toward him. Her crossed pupils scrutinized him with a probing look. A frown etched between her brows suggested she had noticed far more than Childe would’ve liked.
Without waiting for Childe to reply, she wordlessly shrugged off her thick, furry jacket and tossed it onto his lap, covering his growing dilemma. Then, just as quietly, she retreated back to her seat, her expression never softening.
Childe shot her a furious look, but she barely acknowledged him, her attention already back on the meeting.
“Pretentious old hag!” he spat at her in his mind. “Acting all noble and all.”
If the Tsaritsa knew about her spending the company’s funds to help out the new starlette Furina achieve her success and mask it as “KOL fee”, it would be over for the Fourth Harbinger. She should have known better and left him alone with his dreams until this were all over and they would be released to go back to where they all belonged.
Speaking of that, Childe realized that he hadn’t replied to the latest message from Zhongli. At this point, he was a bit scared to open the chatting app. He took a deep breath, willing his mind to calm, but the thoughts of Zhongli—blindfolded, tied up, waiting—were impossible to shake. Childe gingerly unlocked his phone, furrowing his brow at the cryptic final message sent five minutes ago:
“You have 15 minutes.”
Fifteen minutes… for what? Childe’s mind raced. Their releases usually lasted more than that. Childe stared at the screen. The avatar of his wife, brightly in the consultant uniform, stared back at him. Zhongli was always a beautiful mystery, waiting for him to unveil. There wasn’t a second that he wasn’t blown away by the other’s intelligence and knowledge depth. Yet, in this moment, the silence that followed the message gnawed at him. Zhongli hadn’t sent another text. No clues, no hints. Just that strange deadline. His heartbeat quickened, a mix of anticipation and unease stirring in his chest. He glanced at the time: “14:50”.
What’s going to happen at 3pm?
Despite his trust in Zhongli—knowing his love had known Liyue like the back of his hand, and that no one would dare disturb their home—the prickling sensation of the unknown crawled up Childe’s spine. He mindlessly vibrated his thighs in a futile attempt to shrug away his overthinking.
Now Sandrone had taken over the stage, her voice droning on about her vision for a “mechanical era.” Childe forced himself to focus on her presentation, feigning interest. He knew Teucer, his younger brother, would love the topic. The boy had dreamt of becoming an engineer one day, and Sandrone’s stories would surely spark his curiosity.
But as fascinating as the new robot model appeared on the screen, Childe’s thoughts kept drifting back to his phone. He checked the time again. “14:55” . Five minutes gone, and still no word from Zhongli. He navigated himself back to Sandrone again, who was now explaining how the project would cost nearly half a year’s revenue. “Big numbers, important decisions,” Childe told himself, trying to memorize the boring details. Yet, despite his best efforts, his mind kept returning to one question:
What’s going to happen at 3pm?
What’s going to happen at 3pm?
What’s going to happen at 3pm?
The tension was unbearable. He didn’t know if the clock was ticking down to something delightful or disastrous. At this point, he leaned towards the option that a laser gun would pop out of nowhere and end his life in the next 5 minutes.
Childe rested his chin on his palm, eyes flickering back and forth between the clock on the wall and Sandrone's latest robot design. Each passing second seemed to stretch on, the details about the robot's hand material buzzing in his ears. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the table as the anticipation clenched his chest.
Suddenly, the clock struck 3pm . Childe’s body jolted, his heart leaping in response to the long suspension. His micro-reaction didn’t go unnoticed—Sandrone’s mechanical birdy companion perched on her shoulder twisted its head at an unnatural angle, its metal eyebrows knitting together in animitation of suspicion. Childe quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks under the creature’s unblinking gaze.
He unlocked his phone. Nothing but a few useless notifications from his e-commerce apps. His heart pounded harder, his mind racing as he ducked down, pulling his laptop from his bag. From across the table, Pantalone beamed at him, thinking Childe’s actions as an effort of note-taking for Sandrone's presentation.
Childe fumbled on his keyboard, furiously clicking through his browser and apps. He felt like a detective wandering aimlessly in the maze of evidences. He needed to find some clue—any clue—about Zhongli's next move. There was no way the man would leave him hanging like this. Not with a tease like that, right?
Skype: nothing.
Facebook: nothing.
WhatsApp: nothing.
He refreshed everything. Restarted apps. Still nothing. His fingers trembled as they hovered over the final tab: his work email. The inbox was clean—squeaky clean, in fact. He’d already marked everything as read without even opening them. “Typical office worker habit”, he thought. But then, almost out of sheer reflex, he mindlessly clicked into the spam folder.
And there it was.
A strange email without a sender’s address. No subject line. No body text. Just an attachment in bold:
“TORTURE 1.mp4.”
What did Zhongli mean by "torture? And 1???
Childe swallowed dryly, his pulse quickening. He knew his love was a mastermind. In front of Zhongli, he was just a small fox trapped in a neve-ending scheme. Yet, he was matured enough to have an inkling of what would happen in the video. Just… he didn’t anticipate his wife to be this…bold when he was away. His palms grew sweaty as he hovered over the file. It was a video—a three-minute-long clip. His index finger rested on the trackpad.
“Oh, Archons help me,” he thought. He was too weak for this.
His other head directed the finger to click the file. The screen went dark for a moment before the video began to play. Childe straightened his pose. His nerves were frayed, anticipation coiled tightly in his chest. He felt like a boy exploring Christmas for the first time of his life.
The video took its sweet time to load and buffer, then the screen filled with an image that nearly made him choke on his breath.
Zhongli slowly climbed on the countertop of their kitchen, the light and shadow sketched his sihouette like a painting. His silky black robe was half-slipped off his shoulder, revealing the elegant curve of his collarbone and chest, while his hands were bound in front of him with those same cursed cuffs. His face was flushed, the blindfold stayed on. His lips parted, soft breaths escaping in the quiet of the room. Zhongli tilted his head slightly, as if he could sense the camera, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile. It was a slow, torturous smile, one that Childe knew all too well. It was the smile Zhongli used when he was in control, completely aware of the effect he had on Childe.
“Gods, this is truly torture, Childe thought, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.
The camera zoomed in slightly, capturing the way Zhongli’s chest heaved with each breath, the way his hands fidgeted in the tight cuffs. His fingers twitched, brushing against the smooth granite of the countertop, as if holding onto.
And there Childe saw it.
As Zhongli laborously lifted himself up, a hint of glass tube-shaped object appeared underneath. The glassy embodiment of the toy sparked under the lack of light like a magic wand: its tip was an upside down heart, slightly bigger than the length, adding a naughty note to the toy. Overall, the toy was not too big (Childe was proud that his size could easily beats this!). Still, the brunette winced when he willed himself to sink down slowly bit by bit again. Zhongli seemed to be tighter after a while without each other.
Childe’s eyes widened as the scene unfolded before him, his breath hitching in his throat. The slow rhythm of Zhongli’s descent onto the toy, his body adjusting to the strange object inside him, was mesmerizing. It was the first time Childe observed his love in a third person perspective.
That was it. Childe couldn’t contain himself this way!
The young Harbinger kicked the chair away from the table and quickly walked out of the room, ignoring any questionable look from the others. Beelining without looking back into the restroom, Childe’s mind raced, his pulse thundering in his ears as he locked himself inside the first stall. This kind of desperation in his actions was uncharacteristic for someone usually so carefree, even unacceptable for a Harbinger. But Zhongli—his Zhongli—had a way of breaking through all his defenses. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage.
He was painfully hard.
Childe’s hand shakily opened the mail app and logged in his work mail to his phone. This was a violation to his personal rule as he wanted to dedicate his free time to Zhongli as much as possible and stayed away from the company’s procedure when he clocked out. The signal in the bathroom was horrible, he cursed in Snezhnayan while turning on his 4G.
He clicked the attachment again. And there was Zhongli, still waiting for him at the original position.
Childe couldn’t unzip himself fast enough. With one quick motion to pull down both his pants and boxer, Childe hissed as cold air bit into his erection, the inside of his panties already sticky from precum. He angled the phone lower, as if he were beneath Zhongli.
Zhongli’s long, disheveled hair, cascading down his chest, swayed gently with every motion, while the heart-shaped tip of the toy glistened, almost mocking in its innocence compared to the wickedness of the scene. The movement initially was uneasy and slow as he tried to get used to the object stretching him wide inside. When his butt touched flat on the surface, he picked himself up and gently bobbed on the counter in a rhymical dance. Childe’s gaze flicked to the way the light refracted off the slick surface of the toy, the gel shimmering like molten crystal, oozing down from the tight pressure into a small puddle.
The heaves became louder by the minute, harmonizing with the soft squelching sound from the dildo as Zhongli rocked against it, his restrained wrists trembling slightly as he used them to maintain his balance. The easier the glass wand slithered inside, the more he leaned forward, showing off his cute dick waving back and forth from the natural speed of his bounce.
With one hand holding his dick tight and another hand steadying himself against the toilet tank, Childe glued his eyes on the way Zhongli’s muscles tightened and relaxed with every movement. The slow, deliberate movements of Zhongli, the soft moans escaping his lips, the way his body seemed to shimmer under the dim light, every detail sent fire through Childe’s veins.
Did Zhongli suck on him as hard as he did on this toy?
Would he call Childe’s name if he were there?
How come Childe never saw how beautiful Zhongli was on top of him like this?
His breaths became erratic as jealousy started to take over him. This action of Zhongli still left him baffled. While every fiber of his being screamed to be there, to be the one causing those sounds, to take Zhongli in his arms and make him feel everythin, all he could do was watch. His grip tightened around himself, a small groan slipping through his teeth as he began to stroke, thinking about the scenario that Zhongli was taken in front of his own helpless eyes.
Childe's chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath becoming more labored as the pressure built up inside him. He could almost feel Zhongli’s presence—his weight, his warmth, the way his breath would ghost over Childe's skin, the tip of Zhongli’s tongue hovered the trace of his sweat, needy hands kneaded on his thighs. Childe tensed up, his movements becoming more desperate. He could barely keep his eyes open, in his vivid imagination, the sound of Zhongli’s moan when the tip of the wand pressed on the right part was enough to push him on edge. Childe bit his lip hard, stifling a groan as his release hit him like a wave, his body trembling from the intensity.
For a brief moment, Childe leaned against the toilet tank, his temple rested against his arm. His breathing still ragged, the echo of Zhongli’s warmth lingering in the air. He blinked, slowly coming back to himself, his fingers loosening their grip on his messy dick. Childe wiped himself off, zipping his pants and pocketing his phone. Throwing the enormous ball of tissue into the bin, he was sure that the next person coming in would know what had happened here just from the scent reeked in the air. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his cheeks flushed, his hair disheveled. He looked like someone who had just survived an intense battle in the Abyss. He exhaled, trying to steady himself, but the heat coiled low in his stomach wouldn’t fade. Childe’s thought casually pingponged between shame and excitement. He splashed cold water on his face, letting the coolness soothe the heat that clung to him. The absurdity of the situation made him smirk: jerking off in the middle of a Fatui meeting was reckless even for him. Who was he? A teenager? But Zhongli had a way of grinding him and his gears effectively.
"30 minutes."
The next message came at magical timing. His wife was definitely not done with him. The toys lined up in the picture was the teaser of his arduous torture. He almost could feel those golden eyes narrowed with sick interest while his methodical scheme was slowly unfolded. In his life, Childe had never thought he would be on the receiving end of such a scheme, but here he was, hooked on every second of it like a fish under the sushi knife.
He took a deep breath and straightened his vest, checking his reflection in the mirror once more. He needed to play it cool. With a quick flick of his wrist, he smoothed down his hair and adjusted his collar. He looked like the perfect Harbinger again—composed, (kinda) in control.
But in 30 minutes? He wasn’t sure how long that facade would last.
As he stepped back into the meeting room, the presentation chain didn’t stop for one second. He wished that the Harbinger just kept carrying on without him like this.
Childe sat down, crossing his arms over his chest as if to guard the secret burning within him. He was doing his best to focus on the discussions—really, he was. But his thoughts were a million miles away, back in Liyue, back with Zhongli. The image of his wife spread across the granite countertop, every detail vivid in his imagination, made his heart race and his blood surge again. Whoever was speaking now had exactly 30 minutes of his attention. Although his knees were still shaky from the ejaculation, his heart already leaped at the thought of the next clip’s content. His intelligence couldn’t stop suggesting him different vision of Zhongli splaying himself on the cold surface of the granite, body sticky and wet from the liquid, eyelashes fluttered with pleasure. That’s the juice from the forbidden garden that Childe is willing to drink at all cost.
The youngest Harbinger eyed at the next presenter: Pantalone and his exquisite presentation in Excel format. There was one year when Columbina suggested that he should use Powerpoint to sync the format with the whole team. That year, Pantalone’s presentation ended up being 102 slides long with the average font size of 4. Furthermore, all slides were sheer tables. From then on, noone dared to bring up “aethestic” to him anymore. The man slowly took his spot in front of the screen, his eyes curved up into the shape of two rainbows and his lips bloomed a polite smile. Childe always wondered what was so funny about working with numbers and counting mora. The man was richer than the word rich itself. If there were a pictured dictionary in Teyvat, Pantalone’s picture would be under the definition of “rich”. But still, for the founder of the notorious Northland Bank, Pantalone enjoyed spending every second of his life counting mora and bantering with the Doctor over budget related matters .
Excel sheets flickered to life, filled with an overwhelming web of black and red numbers resembling a gambling table. Archons above understood what he was trying to highlight with that matrix of facts and figures. Childe couldn’t help but rolling his eyes at the density of data—Pantalone truly had a unique talent for making numbers feel like a battleground. Pantalone thrived in these moments with his sharp tongue and cunning nature. Without the need of physical strength, he wielded numbers like weapons, cutting down anyone who had mismanaged their budgets or failed experiments that directly affected the company’s financial situation.
That had always been the only fun(d) part of his presentation.
And today, as always, the audience was kept on edge—not by excitement, but by sheer survival instinct. Childe smirked, watching his fellow Harbingers brace themselves for the financial reckoning about to unfold.
He had earned his immunity this year. Having been an efficient left-hand man to Pantalone and recovered a large sum of loan in Liyue from a hard-headed debtor, he could sit back and enjoy the show. All thanks to Zhongli’s deep knowledge of Liyue’s economic landscape and understanding of family politics. Childe couldn’t have cornered them and got the money back any time soon if his love didn’t advise him those important intel.
Pantalone’s smile widened, his voice smooth as silk as he began his bloodbath. Dottore received a particularly long, drawn-out critique over his costly experiments, and even Sandrone wasn’t spared for her extravagant robot prototypes.
Let the others sweat. He’d married and he already won this round, bitches.
Childe was enjoying the insult ping pong show between Pantalone and Dottore so much that he almost forgot the next clue from Zhongli. His laptop’s corner lighted up, signalling a new email. Childe inhaled sharply. His pupils already blew wide open in the dark. The second email was as mysterious as the first one. No title, no body, only a lone attachment named “TORTURE2.MP4”.
His fingers hovered over the mouse, but not before casting a quick, cautious glance around the room. He didn’t need anyone poking their noses where they didn’t belong—especially not into his personal business. Childe also made sure the volume was turned low. The last thing he needed was the entire room suddenly hearing something… incriminating.
With all was set, he swallowed the saliva pooling up in his mouth and discreetly clicked open the file, his pulse quickened. The sight of Zhongli, so effortlessly seductive yet composed, filled the screen, much bigger and clearer than the grainy image in Childe’s phone with poor internet connection. He slowly crawled on all four towards the next toy, the movement resembling the leopard. His eyes glinted in the dark. His robe, barely clinging to his broad shoulders, accentuated the elegance of his form and arms. Childe’s breath hitched. The robe was barely hanging on, like it was caught in some delicious hesitation, unsure whether to stay in place or fall completely. Zhongli's hair was still gathered in a loose ponytail, though strands had escaped, brushing teasingly against his bare skin. Shadows played across his collarbones, enhancing the soft tension in his muscles and the flush on his skin. The sight was enough to send a surge of heat through Childe's veins. Suddenly, the Harbinger furrowed his brows in sync with the sultry expression on Zhongli’s face.
Is that…
A gigantic cock with spike???
The second toy came into view, placed intentionally beside him. That thing was as big as a pestle! It looked firm and thick, like it was carved out of oak or some ancient relic dug up from the earth. The golden spikes poking out from the monstrosity were menacing enough to make even a daredevil like Childe pause for a second. Moreover, its color theme was messing with Childe’’s mentality more that he wanted to admit. Milky brown with a burnt tip? It looked suspiciously familiar, and Childe hated that the thing vaguely reminded him of someone he’d rather not think about:
Zhongli’s ex, Azhdaha.
Was he a high school sweetheart? Or just a weird fling? Whatever he was, there was one truth they both knew for sure—Azhdaha was a die-hard fan of Zhongli, always had been, and Childe suspected he probably still was. Back in the day, Zhongli had been curious about a lot of things, and Azhdaha had been glued to his side like some personal bodyguard, ensuring the beloved class president didn’t get into any trouble. Childe had only seen the guy in old photos in Zhongli’s archive yet the shape of that man had left an annoying impresion on Childe's mind. Azhdaha was an exchange athlete from Mongolia, which mean the dude was built like an absolute tank: Perfect eight-pack abs, tanned skin, long hair with dirty blonde tips. He talked big, ate like a rhino, and was practically Zhongli’s shadow, always hovering around him like some overzealous guard dog.
Who would want to date such a guy?
Childe clicked his tongue in annoyance. Staring at the object between Zhongli’s legs, he couldn’t help but wonder—was this on purpose? Or was he just thinking too much?
As if to help Childe unknot the burning question in his mind, Zhongli let out a soft moan, his lips moving in a slow, deliberate whisper. Childe read the words forming on those tempting lips:
"No... It's too big. It won't fit."
Zhongli’s hesitation, paired with his uncontrolled breaths, only amplified the anticipation. His hand tightened around the edge of the table as he watched Zhongli’s fingers trace the toy's surface, teasing, as though he was waiting for Childe to step up and stop him.
After a moment of eternity, Zhongli released the dildo and let it bounced around its center. He mouthed quietly.
"Is this what you wanted?"
Although the scene unfolding in front of him was muted, Childe could still feel anticipation bubbling in his veins. Every cell in his body focused on this moment as he watched Zhongli lift the toy, moving it slowly, deliberately, but stopping just before anything happens, like a fairy dipping her toe into the cold water to test the temperature.
In the first clip, Zhongli had struggled to fit the glass wand inside him, his body out of practice after long days without each other. But this time, it was different. Childe watched with sick interest as each golden spike pricked and stretched Zhongli’s rosy inner walls. The man on screen moved slowly, torturously, swallowing the entire monstrous length inch by inch. The sheer size of the toy was staggering, and Childe’s eyes were glued to the way it bulged against Zhongli's belly as it slid deeper. A visible bump formed, pressing out from the inside, as though the object was caressing his very guts. It left a firm, round protrusion the size of a ping-pong ball, and Childe couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Zhongli’s voice sounded hoarse now, strained from the torment, a single tear slipping down his flawless cheek. The sight was maddeningly beautiful, heart-wrenching, and overwhelmingly erotic all at once. His breath hitched, his eyes pleading.
"Please… help me," he gasped, his words soft and broken.
He looked angelic, like a god brought low by his own desires—distressed yet utterly breathtaking. Yet with a practiced move that seemed contrary to the vulnerability he showed earlier, Zhongli began to sit up, adjusting himself with practiced grace before sinking down. That calm, composed demeanor from earlier? Gone. Now, he looked... different. His usually restrained elegance was slipping into something darker, more primal. There was an edge to the way his lips parted, a glint of something sinful in his half-lidded gaze. Childe’s heart thudded loudly in his chest, matching the throb building in his lower body. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt like he was about to combust into pieces.
All of a sudden, Zhongli flipped over, sprawling himself flat against the granite surface. This side view offered Childe an enticing sight of the other’s body, the straps accentuating the curve of his behind. Flexible like a cat, Zhongli raised his ass high while pressing his chest against the cool stone. He continued his rhythmic back-and-forth motion, one hand covering his lips from uttering indecent sounds while the other pressed the toy deeper inside him, gradually increasing his pace.
Childe’s breath hitched as he noticed Zhongli’s nipples harden, turning a delightful shade of reddish-pink from the constant friction with the hard granite below. The thin layer of silk robe flitted up and down, leaving just enough to the imagination while providing a teasing hint of modesty.
“Tartaglia? Dear?”
A sweet voice suddenly called for him, yanking Childe out of his mesmerized state.
“Trust me,” Pantalone cooed, “my numbers are correct. You don’t have to wreck your brain trying to identify any mistake. It’s like finding the needle in a haystack.”
“Sir… I—” Childe stuttered, his mind scrambling for a reason to play along. “I’m new to this, so I’m just trying to learn from you.”
That answer undoubtedly stroked Pantalone’s ego, earning him a nod of approval. The man finally released Childe from his claws, though Sandrone shot him a dirty look that made him feel like a child caught sneaking cookies.
Returning to the clip, Childe’s heart raced as he saw the counter table painted in white, and Zhongli lay across it like a Renaissance statue, heaving with exhaustion. Childe bit the inside of his cheek, maniacally rewinding the video second by second to relive the moment he’d been missing.
“There’s no way you’re having your fun without me!” he whispered to himself.
As if on cue, Zhongli complied with his request and come again. The brunette arched his back in pleasure, his hand subtly circling around his sensitive nipple. Childe’s mouth watered at the sight, imagining himself sucking on that rosebud until it was red and marked with swollen bite marks. Zhongli’s ass perked up even more, trembling as he lost himself in the sensations, his hole sucked the toy in deeper even when his hand had left its base. Ropes of pent-up cum splattered on the dark surface, painting the kitchen a shade of creamy white. Zhongli’s body slightly convulsed for a few more seconds, the now empty hole gaped and closed around nothing. He purred, just like how he was content after Childe everything to him.
With a graceful motion, Zhongli flipped onto his back, showcasing his entire body and his spent cock lying flat on his thigh. An exhausted smile teased his lips as he mumbled, “Don’t rewind me too much.”
Childe slammed his MacBook shut a little too hard, heart racing as he heard the sharp voice of his boss right beside him.
“Tartaglia,” she called, her tone sweet but authoritative. “You seem to have spent a lot of time researching Pantalone’s work. Any feedback for him before you take the stage?”
Shit. Childe's mind raced. He had completely forgotten Pantalone’s presentation was the last one. The meeting was shorter this year, thanks to Signora taking maternity leave. Who knew that witch would ever give up her unquenchable ambition to settle down with her high school sweetheart?
“I—uh…” Childe scratched his head, “I do have a few points I’d love to discuss with Pantalone after the meeting to avoid wasting everyone’s time. Mainly Liyue’s business! I think I can cover those parts in my report too!”
The CEO gave him a simple nod, gesturing for him to move forward. Childe’s fingers, still shaky from his earlier “research,” quickly plugged his MacBook into the projector. He prayed the screen would stay on track as he waited for the first slide of his presentation to come up.
He had practiced this plenty of times—once with Vlad, twice with Ekaterina. Zhongli had even given him feedback on the Liyue partnership updates, and Childe had Lady Ningguang’s signed contract tucked safely in his briefcase in case someone brought up that collaboration. He should feel confident. This was nothing but a piece of cake.
The first few slides went smoothly. A couple of tough questions were thrown his way, but Childe parried those like a pro. By the time he reached slide number four, which introduced his next major initiatives for the next quarter, Columbina's soft, singsong voice broke through his confidence.
“Is that… a blade?”. She tilted her head, squinting at the image on the screen.
“Huh? What?” Childe’s eyes widened as he fumbled with the mouse. Somehow, a random image had popped up, much larger than it should have been, displayed for all to see on the giant projector screen.
His fingers scrambled to close the file as he screamed at the girl.
“Who told you to go snooping in other people’s belongings?”
In the split second it took to close the picture and block the notification from interfering with his presentation, Childe had caught a glimpse of the object—a blue blade. Quite innocent, really. It lay lifelessly on the table with no particular purpose.
"Aah! I see that Tartaglia also shares my interest in knives," Dottore chimed in. "Liyue is renowned for their traditional blacksmithing skills. I gotta have my subordinate pick up one for me on their next business trip."
As Dottore showed off his hideous shark-teeth smile, Childe’s mind had made it way to another land. His thoughts kept circling back to Zhongli, that mysterious blue blade, and its bizarre design. Its cover, made of high-quality silicone and plastic, had an ombre effect: light blue melting into white, then deep blue, mimicking the ocean’s shore. What stood out most was its odd shape like a distorted rabbit with dissymmetrical ears. One ear was comically long and slightly curled into the other, which was much shorter like a hawk’s claw.
Dear Zhongli, what the fuck?
At this point, Childe’s mind surrendered to the chaos. He let his mouth run on autopilot, mechanically navigating the rest of his slides, the words leaving his lips effortlessly while his thoughts were far from the financial projections flashing on the screen.
Slide after slide was clicked through. Childe’s heart sing quietly as he could almost taste his freedom. He wouldn’t ask these fuckers to give him feedbacks, and he would be free to go back after another boring session of team dinner. He would survive that bland hotpot - a poor attempt to mimic Xiangling’s famous spicy broth. He would even change his flight to tonight and—
A secretary quietly slithered herself into the room, whispering something to the Tsaritsa. The CEO, who had been intently scrutinizing his numbers a moment ago, now waved her hand lazily, cutting him off mid-sentence.
"Excuse me, Tartaglia," she said, her monotone pierced through his heart. "It seems one of our products has been hacked by a creature calling itself Enjou. I need to address this immediately. We’ll resume shortly. Take five, everyone. Natasha, please bring some fruit and snacks for the Harbingers."
The Tsaritsa and her secretary quickly exited the room, their high heels clanked against the floor and echoed to Childe’s stunned silence. His heart, which had been soaring just moments earlier, now felt like it had been deflated like an after-party balloon. Seriously? He was this close to finishing, and now they had to stop for Archons know how long because of some absurd hacking incident that coulnd’t happen in another more convenient time?
"Is everything alright? You seem nervous," Capitano remarked as he proceeded to come closer, extending a firm hand. Childe took it, trying to compose himself, though his palm was clammy with sweat.
"Your hand is cold," the First Harbinger noted.
"I’m fine, Captain," Childe lied through his teeth, forcing a grin. "The AC’s a bit too much for me, I guess."
"I see." Capitano nodded. "I’ll be outside for a smoke. You’re welcome to join me."
Normally, Childe would jump in excitement for a chance to share a cigarette with the brilliant strategist. Capitano was a seasoned warrior in the industry, and Childe was always hungry to learn from him. But now? Zhongli was all that mattered. Nothing—not even business strategy—could tear him away from that next email.
"Maybe later," Childe said politely as Capitano left the room. The other Harbingers gradually scurried out for fresh air, leaving Childe just stood there like an idiot.
The second he was alone, Childe dove into his laptop, frantically clicking on the next email attachment. His hands shook with anticipation. His back was soaked with sweat, his body itching as beads of it ran down his abs.
That ocean-colored knife. Maybe it wasn’t a knife after all...
He thanked every god he could think of for being alone in this room right now because his heart was racing. As the third clip started, it was clear this one had a much closer angle. The camera was zoomed in, focusing from Zhongli’s collarbone down, leaving his face out of sight. The lack of facial expressions drove Childe wild, letting his imagination run rampant with how Zhongli must look in this moment—eyes half-lidded, lips parted in a mix of ecstasy and restraint.
Part of him was endlessly grateful to Zhongli for... well, for showing him this side of himself. But also, is this some sort of reality show where Zhongli’s just putting weird shit inside himself for the fun of it? And then there was the multi million mora question: Is he the most cursed or the luckiest husband in Teyvat to be watching this in the middle of the company’s anal report? No. Annual report!!
The so-called "blade," as it turned out, should be called a *duo blade* for its double impact for the front and back: the longer “ear of the rabbit” was a dildo that ended up deep inside Zhongli, massaging his prostate, while the smaller “ear” wrapped snugly around his balls and pressed firmly at the base of his dripping cock. Childe’s eyes were glued to the sight of Zhongli’s spent hole, greedily pulling the toy in like it had a mind of its own. Zhongli had this supernatural ability to be painfully tight every time, no matter how rough their previous nights had been. Watching the way his body resisted the release of the toy—how it almost “bounced back” by how elastic he was—sent Childe spiraling. The soft yet steady buzzing sound mixed with Zhongli’s hiccups and interrupted gasps made the whole scene nasty.
Half way into the clip, Zhongli pulled out something else that sent Childe to Celestia and ascended as a horny monster: a pair of golden clamps adorned with amber beads and tiny copper bells. Each end was connected by an intricate gold chain. With deliberate care, Zhongli aligned his nipples between the gold pincers, adjusting the chain so it brushed lightly across his sweat-slicked chest, while some of the links clung to his abs. Childe watched, captivated, as Zhongli’s nipples, already sensitive, turned darker and more swollen under the weight of the bells and beads. The tips pointed out, begging to be soothed by a certain pair of hands. Every slight movement made him wince and gasp, his hips never slowing as the blade continued its assault on his insides.
As the blade touched his erogenous zone, Zhongli’s entire body arched towards the camera, as if showing off how he was humiliated. His hard cock slapping against his belly with each thrust, his long dark hair cascading around him like a sensual aura. With each slam, precum splashed on his abdomen, glistening up with the sweat. Zhongli smoothly switched his speed and style from riding the blade to swirling down around it so the curve would violate all nooks and cranny of his guts.
Childe could barely contain himself. His own cock strained against his pants, the friction driving him mad as he palmed himself under the table, biting his lip to stifle any noise. His mind raced with fantasies: grabbing Zhongli’s slim waist until it bruised, squeezing the straps tightening around that body, biting on any open space, taking him so hard that Zhongli would beg for mercy. Hell, he would even impregnant the man. He knew for sure they possessed good genes. Their babies were gonna be the next talk of the Liyue Today.
"Childe…" Zhongli’s voice trembled through the speakers. "I’m close."
"Yes, baby," Childe whispered to the screen, feeling himself on the edge. "Come for me. Let’s do this together."
His breath hitched as Zhongli’s pace quickened. The bells’ soft jingling rang in his ears, etching the sound into his memory forever. Zhongli’s body shuddered, and with a cry, he came, his release splattering across the screen like a sinful masterpiece.
Childe couldn’t hold back any longer. He came right then and there, gripping his pants as his vision blurred. For a second, he could almost believe Zhongli had come on his face.
Childe was a man of justice. He didn’t like being an involuntary pawn, controlled and used against his will. More than anything, he believed that a game was only fun and fair when both sides played the equal part and walked out with similar benefits. Without thinking, Childe unbuckled himself and quickly took an ugliest and blurriest picture of his still hard cock and the amount of cum stuck between his fingers. He hit send, hoping that this move could gain him some balance in his marriage life.
“Look what you have done to me, my love” he texted, the corner of his mouth quirked up as he saw the “read” status appeared almost immediately.
Wifey <3 is typing…
The status stops.
Wifey <3 is typing…
The status stops.
Childe furrowed his brows. What took Zhongli so long? Was his picture too filthy for his wife? Would he get some scolding for not paying enough dedication to work? It was not his fault. Look, Zhongli did strike first??
Before Childe could overthink more, a picture was sent. Just a moment ago, Tartaglia Childe Ajax was so sure he had got the upper hand. But now? His heart pounded, the content showed on the screen seared into his brain to remind him about the real owner of the game.
Zhongli was taking a selfie, his strap bodysuit was pulled to the side and THE HOOK with the shape of letter J was centered in the picture. His tongue, playfully flicking at the smooth knob, his deep amber eyes still glassy with remnants of pleasure, his face a perfect mixture of arousal and smugness. The chain from the nipple clamps wrapped around the hook, adding to the sinful scene.
“You have 8 hours to come back here and hook me up the ceiling.”
After 2 years, 1 major foul and 6 months into marriage, Childe still has no idea Zhongli is a freak.
His wife, the so-called stoic, elegant, and refined Zhongli, was waiting for him back home, strapped into the most sinful position imaginable, asking to be hooked to the ceiling. He prayed that their chandelier would be strong enough to sustain their weights. Wait… was that the reason why Zhongli insisted on having a big ass chandelier in their kitchen???
—-----------
“Lord Tartaglia! LORD TARTAGLIA!! Where are you going? The Tsaritsa will attend to you very soon!” the CEO’s entourage chased after the young man’s quick strot, his heels clanking on the long corridor.
“I have some urgent business back home to do! Tell her I will be off for a few days and the report will be ready on her desk by tomorrow” Childe loudly exclaimed without looking back. Right now, there was only one mission in mind: get home, and claim victory in this game that Zhongli had started.
“But Sir, what is your reason so we can report to the Tsaritza?” the short man in suit confusingly asked.
“Parternity leave!!” Childe announced. “As a very family-oriented boss, I’m sure she will understand, right?”
“Pa-paternity leave?” More people asked in unison.
Childe didn’t waste his time to reason with them. The young Harbinger stepped into the elevator just in time for it to close in front of the entourage’s noses.
Winking them goodbye, he sighed, full of relieve.
Good riddance.
He jumped right to the middle of the street to catch the first taxi andd hop in. Throwing a bunch of mora to the driver, he ordered:
“To the airport. International, please! Oh and, stop by any industrial supermarket on the way there. I need to get some durable rubber bands.”
Childe smiled to himself.
“Baby, you seemed to cum too many times when I was away. Now it’s my time to make you suffer”
As the taxi sped down the busy streets, Childe leaned back, adrenaline still coursing through him. The Tsaritsa might not be happy with how spontaneous her last recruit had acted. But honestly? He didn’t care. Not when Zhongli was waiting for him at home, hooked up and begging to be taken.
Childe's mind buzzed with wicked plans for his beloved wife. They were gonna have a long, long night with many things to explore and many boundaries to test out. Childe was ready to prove that, if anyone knew how to make their partner beg, it was him.
The taxi driver glanced nervously in the rearview mirror, no doubt curious about this strange, well-dressed man requesting "durable rubber bands" and flashing that predatory grin. But Childe’s heart felt nothing but pride. If he had time, he would have verbally shared his sensual journey he just had with the poor driver.
The Harbinger messaged Zhongli, just one word:
“Soon.”