a dragon’s nature
Genshin Impact | ZhongChi
Summary: The hands that are digging into Ajax’s thighs feel like molten lava, burning through his clothes and searing his skin underneath. He flinches at the heat. The harder Zhongli kisses him, the deeper he sinks his fangs into the flesh of his lips, the more he is reminded of the fact that Zhongli is a god. And after everything he had learned today, Ajax is once again made aware that not all gods are benevolent.
He could kill me, Ajax sighs against Zhongli’s mouth, he could end me right now, if he really wanted. After all, he might have eliminated an entire nation—
He breaks the kiss abruptly.
Or, Childe realizes that there is so much more to Zhongli than meets the eye.
Find it on Ao3!
SPOILER WARNING! This fic contains spoilers for the newest Archon Quest (We Will Be Reunited)!
A/N: I effectively ruined both my editors with this piece, so I think that means I did something right? Look, I played the new Archon Quest because Peaches told me to and I was so hurt that I had to write something. I played the whole damn thing and wrote this all in one night lmao, I hope this fic hurts y'all the same way the quest hurt me :,D
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Enjoy! <3 -u.n.
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When Childe steps out of the abyss for the second time in his life, he feels an undeniable cold sense of dread wash over him. Beside him stands Aether, eyes devoid of light, though his posture still exudes determination. Childe’s eyes soften. The respect he has for the boy truly grows more and more everyday; the otherworldly traveler somehow managed to surprise him with his strength and determination with each obstacle they face as a team. Childe heaves a sigh. Today he was forced to reenter the very thing that has carved his trauma into the walls of his heart and waited for no hour to haunt him without abandon. And after seeing that godforsaken Abyss Herald again, Childe couldn’t help but remember the very thing that raised him — forged him — into the weapon that he is today.
Childe shivers. The anxiety that creeps up his spine is a feeling he remembers all too well. No matter how many years pass, or how many enemies he kills, the Abyss always stands as a reminder of who he really was, of the childish purity he knew he could never go back to.
He never thought he would go back there and yet here he was. Nothing good ever came out of the Abyss. And now? Now he has to go home to Zhongli—
Zhongli.
“Always be on your guard around gods,” Dainsleif had said, “you shouldn’t put too much trust in them.”
The wedding ring on his finger suddenly feels like a shackle. It keeps him locked in place, and he’s almost too terrified to move. The sun beats down on his and Aether’s backs while they move in tandem. Childe sighs once more. The world will continue to turn regardless of what happened. Even if Lumine is alive and well, even if an obvious sense of foreboding fell across the room, or even if Dainsleif disappeared in pursuit of Aether’s twin. All of these things are trivial in the hands of time. Childe knows that the sun will set, and the moon will rise, and then the day will start again tomorrow.
There was no time to slow down. No time to take a break, or to appreciate what they had right now.
“We have always had time,” Lumine reminded him, “do not rush.”
To hell with that. Any second they spend not pursuing the Abyss is time for the organization to continue gaining strength. Childe puts one foot in front of the other. There was a world to save. Regardless of what Lumine said, the world he’s living in has his family. This world has his mother, his father, his wonderful siblings, and his husband. His husband, who has no idea that Childe could have possibly been exposed to Zhongli’s true draconic nature.
—
Childe steps past the threshold of his home, and despite the many things he has learned today, he still feels that familiar wave of reassurance wash over him. The smell of home, of sleep, of tea brewing and incense burning, how could he ever turn away from it? He tuts to himself as he toes his shoes off. He wants to dismiss Dainsleif’s obvious skepticism of the gods, but by working so closely with one and marrying another, Childe understands that there is always more than meets the eye when it comes to the divine beings. Dainsleif’s distrust in the gods really isn’t so far-fetched.
Zhongli steps out of their shared room donning nothing but a simple silk robe and his favorite pair of slippers. Their eyes meet from across the hall and from where he stands, Zhongli looks so vulnerable. His hair has been let loose and his robe is tied lazily around his waist. Everything about his posture seems relaxed and relieved to see the latter. Childe’s heart sighs happily at the sight.
He offers a small smile. “I’m home,” he greets with open arms.
Zhongli pads toward him and meets him in the middle, arms wrapping around Childe’s waist and drawing him closer. The archon immediately noses at his neck, all but purring happily. It’s something that he’s always done as soon as Childe is back in his arms. The ginger never really paid much attention to the action, always brushing it off as Zhongli being adorably clingy, but now his pulse quickens as Zhongli pulls him closer.
Despite his mild discomfort, Childe snakes his arms around the latter’s neck and lets his head fall to Zhongli’s shoulder. He feels Zhongli’s palms slide up and down his sides in a soothing manner.
“Welcome back,” he places a kiss to the spot behind Childe’s ear before nosing against his jawline.
The touch is so familiar, it almost makes Childe want to melt in his hold. There was no way a man as gentle as him could have committed something as criminal as mass genocide.
Except.
It was entirely possible.
Childe was married to Zhongli, but he has never actually met Morax. He’s only heard stories of Rex Lapis. And frankly, he didn’t even know the name Vago Mundo existed. The man before him was a god withered by time and his burdens alone. Eroded away was the bright and bubbly ambitious god he used to be. All that is left now is his darkened core now exposed to the light for scrutinization.
Tartaglia heaves out a tired sigh, and sags against his husband’s chest. He doesn’t want to think, he just wants to love the man he’s entrusted his life to. Zhongli wraps his arms around him a little tighter.
Tartaglia pulls away to look at him then. He’s met with warm, golden eyes that are no longer lined with red. They droop with a level of exhaustion Tartaglia can only imagine feeling, but he blinks slowly, tiredly, as Tartaglia continues to watch him fondly. A warmth blooms within his chest. Golden irises follow his blue ones with curiosity; they dig deeper than he’d like to admit, prying further into his core until Tartaglia is left trembling in his arms. Those eyes… they definitely held secrets that Tartaglia knew he would never be able to comprehend. But despite the secrets he knows Zhongli holds, he still loves him. Still would devote his life to him. Still trusts him endlessly.
It was the right thing to do. They were married; irreversibly bound together by a contract that Childe knew better than to go back on. Besides, he was a man of his word. Commitment has never been an issue for him.
“What’s wrong, my love?” Zhongli asks, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.
Tartaglia shakes his head wordlessly. His hand cups the back of his neck as he draws him closer for a kiss, and Zhongli follows without complaint. They meet in the middle the same way they have done countless times before. Tartaglia lets himself sink into the kiss as he tries to tune out all his problems, and the contact instantaneously drowns out any and all of his intrusive thoughts. They press closer until the kiss continues to grow more daring by the second. Ajax tilts his head, angling himself so Zhongli can take the lead, as he usually does. The archon takes the hint and sends him walking backwards until the backs of Ajax’s knees hit the table. Zhongli pushes until the Harbinger props himself up on the surface, drawing the latter in between his legs.
His lips part involuntarily and Zhongli takes advantage of the opening, licking into his mouth with a certain possessive fervor that Ajax isn’t unfamiliar with, but certainly hasn’t felt in a long time. The ginger tries to ignore the feeling of getting claimed in favor of focusing on the hands that are gripping his thighs.
His heart beats with uncertainty, if only for a split second.
Instead of slowing down, Zhongli takes the sudden drop in his confidence as an invitation to keep going.
The hands that are digging into Ajax’s thighs feel like molten lava, burning through his clothes and searing his skin underneath. He flinches at the heat. The harder Zhongli kisses him, the deeper he sinks his fangs into the flesh of his lips, the more he is reminded of the fact that Zhongli is a god. And after everything he had learned today, Ajax is once again made aware that not all gods are benevolent.
The usual roughness Zhongli shows while they’re intimate is merely the tip of the iceberg.
The hands that Ajax so willingly asks to be wrapped around his neck, the claws that he loves to see digging into his thighs, the fangs that always bite down a little too closely to his carotid artery—
He could kill me, Ajax sighs against Zhongli’s mouth, he could end me right now, if he really wanted. After all, he might have eliminated an entire nation—
He breaks the kiss abruptly. The thought of Zhongli taking lives with so little care makes his stomach churn. Not because of death itself, but because Ajax is abruptly reminded of the lives he must have taken— the individuals he must have slaughtered to see his way through. Now, Ajax was always someone who was itching to fight, but he never once found pleasure in challenging the weak. If there was no actual fight to be put up, the Harbinger found absolutely no interest in participating. But Zhongli? He could have taken anyone of any age; those who were young and those who were old, none of it mattered to Zhongli. To Morax, they were simply bodies.
Zhongli pays no mind to his obvious discomfort. His lips continue to trail across his jaw, biting and nipping and marking his skin wherever his mouth may land. His lips traverse the pale skin of his jugular until he comes across Ajax’s pulse point. He sucks the skin harshly between his lips and bites down until the skin breaks. Ajax winces. He feels Zhongli’s tongue swipe over the wound, collecting his blood onto his taste buds.
Ajax whimpers. It isn’t necessarily pleasure that he feels.
Zhongli hears him and tilts his head up to recapture the ginger’s lips between his. Ajax complies, because what else can he do when he quite literally is up against a divine being? Gnosis or not, the power that he holds is unmatched. Even if he transforms and calls upon his delusion, it still would not be enough to match the speed and strength of a dragon god—
“Ajax,” Zhongli calls for him, “what troubles you?”
Their eyes meet, and the ginger is taken aback with what he sees.
Zhongli’s eyes, usually so round and warm and kind, now glow a tad bit brighter with pupils almost narrowed into slits.
“W-what…”
“I can hear your thoughts, baobei,” Zhongli chides, moving closer until their noses brush, lips only centimeters apart. Ajax closes the distance with a small, chaste peck to his lips.
“It’s nothing, solnyshko,” he tries to reassure him, “I promise.”
“Please do not lie to me,” Zhongli tries again. His hands slip under Ajax’s coat and grips at his waist. Usually, the pressure would be comforting, but now, it feels… threatening. Ajax’s blood almost runs cold.
Zhongli kisses him once more and uses the grip he has on Ajax’s waist to drag him closer. The ginger forcefully scoots across the table until he’s just at the edge of the surface, their pelvises meeting in the middle. Ajax gasps at the sudden pleasure, and feels disappointed by his body’s immediate reaction. His hips jut forward, desperately seeking friction. Zhongli grins against his lips.
“You are still mine,” he all but growls, “but you need not worry, my love. I will never let harm near you.”
Ajax whines against him, his body moving on its own to grind against Zhongli. They kiss languidly for a moment, with Ajax quickly falling back into a hazy state of mind as he slowly relaxes again. It’s easy to forget he’s married a murderer when said murderer is licking so sweetly into his mouth, kissing him like he’s the greatest treasure to ever come across, and holds him like he was woven with the finest silk.
“I know what it is you think of,” the archon breaks the kiss to whisper hotly into his ear. “You are thinking of Khaenri’ah, are you not?”
His heart stutters. He doesn’t recall speaking out loud at all.
Ajax actually finds it in him to pull away this time. His gloved hands push at Zhongli’s shoulders. “How did you know that?” He demands. Ajax’s courage spikes as he challenges the man in front of him. He may not put up much of a fight against the deity, but he can at least say that he tried.
Zhongli frowns and snakes a hand up to the base of his neck, fisting the red hair there and pulling. Ajax’s lips part in a surprised gasp as his head is pulled back and his neck is suddenly bared to the older man.
“When you live as long as I have,” he begins, voice low and throaty, “you begin to accept the undeniable omnipotence you are granted.”
Ajax gulps. His fists tighten their hold on his husband’s robe. Zhongli watches with sick satisfaction as his throat bobs up and down. He noses at his neck, sending chills down Ajax's spine as the contact tickles the sensitive skin there.
“How do you think I am able to answer the prayers of my people?” He mutters, “this divinity allows me to hear the thoughts of those who so much as speak my name. And although I have gotten rather adept at tuning out everyone’s voices, I especially listen to yours.”
The Harbinger beneath him suddenly looks so small like this. Back arched from his hair being pulled back, neck shamelessly bared, hips grinding desperately against Zhongli’s crotch— he was truly a decadent sight to see. It was easy for the both of them to forget that Tartaglia’s name was so feared on the battlefield, especially when he looked like this chasing his own pleasure.
But now? Now that Ajax was aware of Zhongli’s full potential, he was hit with the sudden understanding of his place next to Zhongli. And try as he might to deny it, he is beneath him. Ajax was strong; he is arguably one of the strongest mortals in Teyvat. But no amount of fabricated power could compare to the raw strength that Zhongli holds. The god has had multiple millennia to fully harness his power. Ajax knows, now more than ever, that a couple decades of experience was nothing compared to what Zhongli knew.
“If you must know,” Zhongli loosens his grip on Ajax’s hair as the ginger comes to his own internal realization, “Khaenri’ah was a land with no respect for the divine. Constantly boasting about their godless land, taunting us in Celestia, claiming that they needed naught the leadership of a god in order to thrive… it was rather disheartening to see.”
Ajax lets his shoulders sag, but tries to push the other man away regardless. Right now, he’s desperate for a little distance between them.
Of course, Zhongli denies him of his wish and simply pulls him closer as if the minuscule action didn’t just send Ajax into a panic attack. The archon’s hands begin to roam his body, completely void of his usual loving caresses. Now, his touch can only be described as an insatiable curiosity. It feels as though he is seconds away from tearing at Ajax’s clothes and observing the Harbinger under a microscope. Scorching palms begin to trail lower and lower, until they cover the growing bulge in his pants. Ajax bites his lip in anticipation. The other hand presses against the junction between his leg and his hip and pushes his legs further apart. Ajax complies blindly.
“I was called upon from my throne to assist in the overthrow of the godless nation. I obliged, because I simply found no need of a population so lost and so caught up in their ego,” he squeezes around Ajax’s length and revels in the way his husband so eagerly responds despite his growing terror. To Zhongli, it seemed as though Ajax’s body still knew what it wanted, even if his mind protested. “Many bodies fell that day. But if you must know, I never laid my hands on the young.”
Ajax feels bile climb up his throat.
“You still killed them,” his voice wavers, “just because you personally didn’t take their lives, doesn’t mean you didn’t assist in their deaths.”
“Perhaps,” Zhongli acquiesces, “but maybe if they had more respect for those who created the very ground beneath them—“
“There were kids, Zhongli,” Ajax snarls, eyes wet with obvious distress. “You murdered children.” His voice trails off.
Zhongli stares at him blankly. If there is any drop of remorse that flows through Zhongli’s cold blood, it is not enough to earn his forgiveness. Ajax’s stomach drops.
How. How could he marry someone with no remorse for taking innocent lives? How could he allow someone into his family that harbors the ability to kill the young? How could—
Teucer. Tonia. Anthon.
Ajax shoves him away and launches himself off the table. He is horrified. Panicked. Aghast. Disgusted.
“I would never harm your siblings, Ajax, how dare you assume—“
“Get out of my head!” He whips around, suddenly furious. How incredibly invasive. “Right now, I don’t give a single flying fuck if you’re a god. You get no respect from me if you are able to slaughter children in cold blood and walk away as if nothing happened—“
“Where are you going.”
Zhongli’s voice had evidently dropped a couple octaves, bordering a growl as he got closer to the exit.
Ajax halts in his tracks. He hadn’t even realized he was making a beeline for the door. Would leaving be the best thing for them right now? Would it really solve whatever tension was flooding the room at the moment? He could leave right now, but he would still come home to the same cold-blooded killer. Walking away wouldn’t mean anything.
He shakes his head, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. At this point, he isn’t even sure if these thoughts are his right now.
“I need to be away from you,” he starts tentatively, “even if just for a little bit. I need to sort my thoughts out.” Ajax starts walking toward the door again, determined to put some space between them. He doesn’t know what to feel. It may be true that the Zhongli that assisted in wiping out an entire civilization was a Zhongli of the past. And he’s seen the way the latter acts around his siblings: Zhongli harbors a certain softness for the three redheads back in Snezhnaya. He treasures them and holds them precious in his heart. They love him, and in return, he adores them as well. In fact, Ajax remembers the way the four of them had fallen asleep after a particularly long day of playing hide and seek, and convincing the kids that Mr. Cyclops was too tired to play. Ajax had found the bunch of them huddled up on the old, lumpy couch back in Morepesok with Zhongli’s arms tossed over the three of them protectively. He did his best to curl around the three tiny bodies that seemed to gravitate toward his warmth, protecting them from whatever harm may come.
It was so hard to think back on such a moment at a time like this. It’s why he needed to go, now more than ever. He swings the oak door open-
Just for it to be slammed in his face once again.
Ajax startles. Zhongli is suddenly in front of him, looking more pissed off than he had ever seen. He isn’t sure how or when, but the latter was suddenly peering down at him with a newfound height. From the crown of his head sprouted two ominous horns that glowed an impossible shade of gold. His eyes were bright and fierce, narrowed even further into angry slits as he stared down at him. Ajax’s eyes widened with a fear he never thought he would feel toward the man— no, dragon—in front of him. Cerulean eyes flicker down to the tail that has made itself known by slithering up his ankle, keeping him locked in place as ebony scales begin to form at the base of Zhongli’s neck. His shoulders broaden even more and fill in the confines of his silk robe, taking on a larger form to keep Ajax in check. His heart kicks into overdrive, and the Harbinger realizes that for the first time since he was a literal child, he is frozen with anxiety.
Zhongli is not at all who he thought he would be.
Then again, Ajax realizes that he’s finally come face to face with Morax.
“You are not leaving,” Morax says so quietly that Ajax almost misses it. “I will not allow it.”
“You won’t allow it?” Ajax croaks, “That’s not up to you, Zhongli-”
“No,” he interrupts, voice low and daunting. A single pulse of geo energy is released, and Ajax feels his body sag, his muscles giving way to exhaustion at the single command. “You are my husband. We are tied together by blood and by heart, the strongest contract of them all.”
“That’s not how it works, Zhongli,” he tries desperately, but with the way that the dragon stalks toward him and he finds himself stumbling backwards, he knows this is a fight he’s already lost. “I’m my own person.”
“Maybe you were once before,” Morax tips his chin up with a single claw. He gathers him in his arms and holds him close, crowding his space once again. Their noses brush. “But not anymore, my dear Ajax. Do you recall our first intimate night together after we wedded?”
Ajax nods weakly.
“The bite I had given you, the one you had referred to as a ‘kickass hickey’,” hostile golden eyes flicker down to his neck as he shuffles closer, not stopping until every inch of their bodies are pressed up against each other. His tail drags up his calf slowly, tantalizingly, until it squeezes around his thigh. He smiles cynically, “that was a bite that claimed you as mine. Forever.”
Ajax wants to cry.
A forked serpentine tongue laps at a stray tear, suspiciously gentle for the situation Ajax is in.
Oh. He actually is.
“Oh my god,” Ajax inhales. Another tear falls. “Oh my god.”
There really was no way out. The weight of the realization hits him like a freight train.
“Yes,” Morax ponders. He holds his chin with his thumb and forefinger, leaning down to steal a chaste kiss against red bitten lips. “It appears as though I am your god.”