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It begins with a kiss on the hand.
Formal, continental, appreciative, and sweet, Childe kisses each of Diluc’s knuckles, closed-mouthed and chaste, every inch of skin unfathomably precious to him, clear in the manner that he roams his lover’s body. He kisses as if his lips are pressed to a priceless work of art, a marble statuette, soft clay that could smudge and meld beneath his body heat, so careful with each brush of contact.
From the hand, to the forearm, tongue poking out from between apricot lips, he trails his touch, laving silver saliva over risen-hair, gooseflesh a delicious texture, still notable over ridges formed from long-since healed burn scars. Childe is mindful of the soft hum he hears, the approval he so acutely desires, encouraging him ever more, and as he reaches Diluc’s inner elbow, he grazes the taut skin with his canines, teasingly gentle.
A hand roots in his hair, long nails scratching against his scalp in a way so nurturing that it aches, and he breathes out sharply, wrapped around Diluc’s little finger, without the other so much as speaking a word. Childe continues his work, dutiful as ever, juggling two focuses in his mind at once - his current endeavours, ensuring that Diluc feels just how far his adoration extends, and his end goal, the beautiful curves he boasts, the prime swell of his breast, full and shapely and so, so pretty.
He’d been ashamed, at first, with how deeply he loved Diluc’s chest, how intensely he fixated on it, desperate, like a man starved, to always inch a little closer to the padding around his heart, to nuzzle into that warmth, breathe him in from his very core. But, despite the other’s misgivings about his body, despite his scorn towards his distinct figure, he indulged his lover, cautiously allowing Childe to show him the appreciation he’d lacked in giving himself, and was pleasantly surprised by the outcome. Now, it was a common exchange between them, comfortable and casual some days, heated and hungry on others, with the present being a hearty mixture of both. Childe yearned, rushing his butterfly-kisses up from Diluc’s elbow to his shoulder, too eager to hold back the closer he got to his true desire.
It was with a sigh of relief that Childe pressed his lips to Diluc’s breast, stilling for a moment, absorbing the sensation, the delight that rushed through him from head to toe, and his left hand came to cup the one not occupied by his mouth, kneading the supple flesh in his palm, rough and calloused from his poor grip on his bow, yet no less tender from the rugged texture. Pleasure settled heavily in Childe’s gut as Diluc let a soft moan slip from his tongue, reclining back against his headboard, eyes fluttering closed as he let the other bask in him, the hand groping his breast never stilling, even as Childe became more frenzied with his mouth, sucking lightly around his hardening nipple, speckling pale skin with a litany of blackberry bruises.
Pausing in his ministrations momentarily, Childe switched to mouth at the other side of Diluc’s chest, giving it the same treatment with his tongue and teeth, hands never stilling, relentless in their intention to please, and Diluc affirmed as such with a fond sound, scratching at Childe’s scalp, tugging on the short strands of auburn hair at his crown. The motion sent heat rushing through Childe’s veins, coagulating between his legs, where the soft chub of his cock slowly hardened, filling out, more so each time he got to suck a ring of teeth into Diluc’s tits, the pinnacle of his longing.
Breathless, he drew back as little as possible, eyelids drooping as he let his gaze roam, taking in the gleam of his spit on the slope of Diluc’s bare chest, the blossoming pinks and purples, decorating him so charmingly. All his own work, he thought with pride, looking up to Diluc fondly, pleadingly, and was granted with a subtle nod, the only sign he needed, before he finally allowed himself his favourite state of being; stuffing his face between his tits, melting into Diluc’s skin, into the feeling of those strong arms embracing him, holding him as close as possibility would allow.
It was in these moments that the roaring cacophony of Childe’s thoughts left him in peace, smothered by the plush press of Diluc’s breast to his flushed cheek, the repetitive thrum of his heart beneath his sternum, and Childe could sink entirely into bliss, utterly serene, though no less aroused and desperate, the emotion only enhanced with the coos Diluc whispered above him, the persistent score of nails, rooted in his hair.
“Go on.” Diluc urged him, voice as downy as his duvet, pillowy and comforting, and Childe reluctantly pulled back from where he’d happily been nuzzling into his breasts, fixing him with a quizzical raise of his brow. The hand in his hair trailed to his nape, guiding his mouth to one erect nipple, and Diluc stared back at him, imploring him to do as he was told. Childe was weak, so weak, and immediately complied, opening his lips to latch around the pink bud, suckling as softly as he could, afraid of offending Diluc with a scrape of teeth, or too much boisterousness. The other sighed in pleasure, relaxing beneath Childe, those carmine eyes of his open and trained solely on his lover’s face, pupils swollen to full-moons. “Good boy, Childe. So obedient when it gets you what you want, aren’t you?”
Childe tried to nod, but couldn’t move his head enough without losing purchase on Diluc’s chest, and decided against it, too enamoured with the feeling of his nipple, cool and hard, against his tongue, hot and soft, creating a perfect harmony. He felt his face flush as he took in a breath, a sharp sucking noise accidentally sounding between his lips and Diluc’s flesh, but he’d be a stone-cold liar if he said being louder didn’t affect him, make him throb in his boxers, the feeling of his cock leaking against cotton uncomfortable, but barely noticeable in the face of his current affairs.
“Can I be noisy?” He asked quietly, voice too close to a whine, keening like a dog when Diluc scruffed his hair, and he was tempted to yip like a fox, to bow his head in obedience and perform whatever tricks Diluc fancied from him, if only to be granted his wishes.
He needn’t go to such extents, however, as Diluc clicked his tongue affectionately.
“If you want to be.” His voice was steady, despite the dishevelled state of his skin, mottled like a twilight sky. “Be as noisy as you like, babygirl, you know I’ll hush you if you take it too far.”
Childe folded at the title he was gifted, alongside the freedom, and dove back in with fervour, sucking at Diluc’s tits messily, spit stringing from his lips like spidersilk, dribbling down his chin when he smacked his lips around his nipple, finally giving in to his wants, nibbling at the now-softened buds, delighted as they hardened again under the harsh sweep of his canines. Diluc hissed through his teeth, and Childe braced himself for a demand to stop, but was met with nothing but a firmer grip on his hair, an insistent yank, ordering more. And, Gods, was he happy to oblige.
He continued like this for longer than any other man would be able to bear, moaning wantonly with each breath he took, but it was all he wanted. There was no pleasure greater than having Diluc in his mouth, any part of him, really, but especially the delicacy that was his chest, the satisfying fullness stuffed between his lips enough to make him come. He didn’t, yet, but he knew from past experience, it was possible, it was likely. No touch was needed when he had everything exactly as he yearned for it; Diluc needn’t palm him or jerk him in quick strokes. All Childe needed, all he wanted, was tits in his face and his hands, and he was happy to rut shallowly against the mattress, the springy surface far too giving to allow for any friction.
“You’re so cute.” Diluc muttered, eyes glazed, breaths coming faster than they had earlier, Childe’s relentless assault on his skin finally getting to him, and the other drew back long enough to glance down Diluc’s bare body, save for his boxer shorts, which sported an impressive damp patch, slick leaking through the material to a point of saturation. “It’s… oddly endearing, how much you enjoy sucking tits.”
“Only yours.” Childe corrected him quickly, giving an exemplary lick from the swell from his chest, all the way up to his collarbone. “They’re so pretty, Diluc. You believe me, right?”
“Well…” Diluc huffed, averting his eyes, a forlorn smile making its way onto his face. “I believe that you think so.”
Childe frowned, but nodded in understanding and sympathy, forsaking his searing arousal in lieu of comforting, resting his chin on Diluc’s chest, still unable to tear himself away, but not groping desperately like before.
“I do think so.” He echoed, tracing a little heart over his breast with his index finger, though whether Diluc noticed the intention of the shape, Childe couldn’t be sure. “I think they’re part of what makes you so handsome, y’know?”
Diluc looked at him with a confused dent in his brow, utterly lost, and Childe eagerly continued to speak.
“You’re pretty strong, I mean, just look at you…” He began, a hand trailing up to Diluc’s bicep, squeezing the muscle, and Childe sighed dreamily. “You’ve got all these muscles, and here, too…” he drew back to run both hands down Diluc’s front, from his lower rib-cage to his stomach, pressing firmly into his abdominal muscles. “So strong, from all that greatsword swinging. It’s so hot, you’re so hot.” He leaned down, pressing a fleeting kiss to his stomach, before rising again, resuming his position of resting against the plush pillow of Diluc’s breasts. “Your chest goes perfectly with the rest of you, it’s part of your natural beauty. You’re just the epitome of everything a warrior longs to be… elegant, graceful, yet fierce and powerful.” He sighed again, closing his eyes, leaning his forehead to Diluc’s sternum. “I love you so much.”
“Such a sap.” Diluc said, though Childe heard the telltale thickness to his tone, the throaty tinge of welling tears. “You’re not half bad yourself.”
“Gee, thanks.” Childe said with a smile, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest, in his heart.
“Would you do something for me?” Diluc asked, and Childe nodded in an instant, before even hearing his request. Diluc smiled, the expression small, yet sincere, and so syrupy sweet. “Can you use that silver tongue of yours to get me off? I’m… far closer than I should be, considering you haven’t touched me at all below the waist.”
“I’m the same.” Childe muttered, trying not to sound abashed, as he slid down from Diluc’s chest, leaving one final kiss there, before he settled on his stomach, grasping onto Diluc’s thighs for purchase, nuzzling against the cotton of his boxers, inhaling deeply at the heady, earthy scent of his cunt, muted through the fibres, yet no less enticing. He licked his lips, not for show, but out of a genuine hunger, and eased down the elastic waistband, kissing Diluc’s thigh in thanks as he helped to shuffle off the garment.
Faced with Diluc at his rawest, Childe revelled in delight, wasting no time as he buried his head between his lover’s thighs, nose bumping against the swollen head of his clit, whilst his tongue snaked outwards, and he licked a curving stripe through dripping lips, relishing the tang of slick on his tongue. Diluc shivered, thighs tensing around his head, and Childe doubled down in an instant, no longer inclined to take things slow. He’d had his fun, waxed his poetry, got his prize, and now all he wanted was to make Diluc feel so good, he’d forget any anxieties or insecurities he had, if only for the moment.
He switched methodically between licking through folds of burning skin, and closing his lips around Diluc’s cock, sucking with tantalising force, tongue brushing over the head, and each moment he spent wrapped up in the sensation, the louder Diluc’s whines became, until he was mewling helplessly, scrabbling for purchase on Childe’s hair, pulling so hard that it sent sharp spikes of pain from his scalp, all the way through his body, though he didn’t complain - he liked when Diluc lost himself to his feelings, to his body’s enjoyment, and clawed at him with reckless abandon. It enhanced his own arousal, and once again he noticed the throb of his cock, near-painful, and rolled his hips down against the mattress, in a better position now, relieved as the action took the edge off.
Only a moment later, Diluc’s thighs tightened either side of Childe’s head, a heavenly experience, in the Harbinger’s opinion, lips parted as he took in heavy breaths, shuddering through the intense swell of his orgasm, and leaked a fresh wash of slick into the other’s mouth, wet and warm and endless. Childe drank up every single drop of Diluc that he was granted, kitten-licking through his folds, cleaning up around his dripping hole, dutiful and rigorous, and was pleased with the pat on the head he received moments later, a sign of a job well done, all the while building a steady pace in his ceaseless rutting, shifting his legs to angle his cock just right through the material of his pants.
“Come on, Childe.” Diluc cooed, breathless from his own climax, but still reaching out to stroke Childe’s face, unbothered by the stickiness of clear spend on his face. “Come in your pants, like you so clearly want to.” His voice dropped into something a little condescending, and Childe devoured the hint of scathing, grinding harder against the flat surface, impractical, foolish, yet so fucking hot. “You could’ve just asked me nicely, and I’d have touched you. Maybe you could have even put it in me, but you’d rather just hump the air like a dog, wouldn’t you?” Childe nodded, entirely shameless, and Diluc laughed at him, though it wasn’t mirthless, a fond melody ringing clear as a bell. “That’s okay. I like watching you.”
It was such a simple thing to say, but Childe stuttered on a groan, breath catching in his throat, as the roll of his hips became erratic, shaky, body trembling from overwhelming sensation and emotion in one. Diluc’s legs still wrapped around him, bare skin pressed to bare skin, the petting of a familiar hand behind his ear, all together sent him into a euphoric state, and he cried out meekly as he felt the wave of his pleasure crest, sending him into bliss, cock throbbing one final time before he came, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed bonelessly over Diluc, cheek pressed flat against his stomach.
So far away in his ecstacy, it took Childe a few minutes to return to the present, grounded by the repetitive stroke of Diluc’s hand in his hair, a tender motion, one that had a purr rumbling in his throat, and he snuggled closely to the other, whining when he was prevented from wrapping around him like a housecat.
“You just came in your pants,” Diluc said, matter-of-factly, “and I’m dripping onto the duvet. We need to clean up.”
Childe furrowed his brow imploringly, silently begging for Diluc to just give into the wet and messy, and let them cuddle, but was unsuccessful, as the other planted a quick kiss to his lips, before hauling him up as if he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes, depositing him back on the bed and rummaging around in their drawers. Childe didn’t get a chance to speak, before a pair of clean boxers were tossed to him, landing on his face, and he let out a muffled groan, to which he heard Diluc chuckle.
“Just change, I’ll get a cloth. Be back in a sec.”
Childe watched with glazed vision, dazedly happy, as Diluc shimmied into his en-suite, still naked, shimmering liquid between his thighs catching in the light, carmine curls a mess tumbling over his shoulders, and lay back with a satisfied huff of breath, closing his eyes, only for a moment, to relish the image of his lover so pleased with him. As much as he adored, worshipped, Diluc’s body, it was his fiery heart that had won him over in the first place, and gaining his approval, his trust, and most importantly of all, his love, was Childe’s greatest feat to date.
When Diluc returned, they cleaned one another up, sharing light-hearted banter and gentle laughter, before Diluc paused, gazing at Childe fondly, line of sight dropping to his lips, before he leaned in for a kiss. Not heated, nor passionate, not in the way they had been minutes before, instead true, honest, achingly tender.
“I love you too.” He whispered with a smile.
Childe would kiss his hands, his palms, his fingers, each cuticle and each knuckle, his arms and legs, each inch of his skin, from his stomach up to his neck, his rosy cheeks and fluttering eyelids, every single part of him, over and over, as long as Diluc wanted him. Nothing would be a greater honour.
It begins with a kiss on the hand, and ends with simple sweetness.