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Tartaglia is pretty sure he could ascend to Celestia any minute now.
The familiar weight of the ex Geo Archon on top of him – and the way he keeps rolling his hips down while making all these sweet sounds Tartaglia’s brain tries to memorize for future reference – feels almost too good to be real.
Zhongli and Tartaglia have been romantically (and sexually) involved for a while now. One could say their relationship is flourishing. There’s mutual respect, there’s trust, and understanding the other’s needs and wishes. These are what built their bond anew and strengthened it.
There are no secrets between them anymore.
At least that’s what Tartaglia thought. But you can never be sure when your lover is an ex archon who has lived for over 6000 years. Everyday you learn something new. Isn’t that part of the charm?
Today’s lesson is taking place in their bedroom.
It’s begun when both Tartaglia’s mind and body were rather occupied, so it’s impossible to pinpoint the exact moment of the rather significant change in Zhongli’s appearance.
But can the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers be blamed? He’s got a literal god riding him, making the expressions he shows no one else, the ones Tartaglia deeply adores and rewards (also deeply).
So here they are, indulged in seeking and giving pleasure. Lost in what they’ve found in each other’s presence.
Stroking along Zhongli’s firm thighs and matching the man’s smooth movements with occasional pushes of his own hips, Tartaglia is crying out more praises, promises, pleadings.
Tartaglia knows he’s utterly, undeniably in love with Zhongli.
It never ceases to amaze him how they are so different, yet so alike. Extremely compatible. Similar enough to get along with each other well; different enough to make things exciting, to constantly give to the relationship and make it work.
Tartaglia is obsessed with the way Zhongli speaks, thinks, simply exists.
And with the touch of Zhongli’s arms wrapping around him and pulling him close when they are alone. With the feather-like kisses brushing against his nape in the dark of the night. With the warmth of the ex archon’s body in their shared bed. With the comfort of another person by his side.
Tartaglia is also a huge fan of Zhongli’s looks. And honestly, who isn’t?
Objectively, Zhongli is the most beautiful man Tartaglia has ever laid his eyes on. The Fatui Harbinger doesn’t know if love at first sight exists, but if it does, it’s definitely happened to him.
He remembers how drawn to the consultant he felt the moment they met. The whole world around him suddenly felt brighter and warmer in this person’s presence. He didn’t understand it back then, but he does now. He can’t not be with Zhongli. Walking away from him was the hardest goodbye he didn’t say. Walking away hurt him, maybe even more so than the broken trust.
It took much time and effort for them to be able to rebuild their relationship, and then some more to admit what they wanted it to be.
But that’s all behind them, the past is in the past. It’s better to focus on the present.
The thing is – although by now Tartaglia knew better than anyone else in Teyvat that Zhongli was no ordinary man (wasn't even human, to begin with) – the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor consultant’s usual appearance didn't reveal his true identity in the slightest.
Right now, however...
The first thing Tartaglia hazily notices is a pair of horns on top of Zhongli's head. Golden, elegant, sturdy. Tartaglia blinks a couple of times to make sure his eyes and overstimulated brain aren't playing tricks on him. Nope, still there.
And not just the horns. Tartaglia notices the ex archon’s skin is peppered in light-colored, barely noticeable dragon scales here and there. One of these curious spots appeared on his cheek. Tartaglia reaches up to cup Zhongli’s face and his heart melts a little when the man leans into the touch and kisses his palm tenderly.
The smooth skin on Zhongli’s cheek doesn’t feel any different, still just as warm and soft as Tartaglia remembers. It’s like the scales were painted on Zhongli’s body by a skillful artist.
The scales suddenly remind Tartaglia of a starry night, when countless constellations in the sky shine so brightly, mysteriously, beautifully. Out of reach, unlike the man in front of him.
Tartaglia sighs quietly, mentally vowing to kiss every spot marking Zhongli’s body.
Another major change in the ex archon’s appearance are his arms he’s currently using to steady himself as he’s taking Tartaglia’s cock time after time. The skin turned almost completely dark, with only a golden pattern overflowing with energy. But that’s not very surprising as it’s a view Tartaglia has seen before.
Back when he persuaded Zhongli to spar with him for the first time, he intentionally provoked the ex archon to go a little overboard.
He shudders at the memory.
Neither made it easy for the other – it was quite a fight, probably the most satisfying in Tartaglia’s life. Zhongli had to actually put some effort into pinning him down. Tartaglia remembers the feeling of the cold, hard floor underneath his back, contrasting with the warmth of Zhongli’s body on top of him.
Although Tartaglia might have been defeated, did he really lose? The fight was excellent and the tension building up the whole time had them go at it rather vigorously for hours later. Definitely worth it.
The vivid memory lingers just a little longer.
Tartaglia loses himself in the flashback of the golden eyes gazing down, piercing right through him, as if they were carefully studying his very soul. And the strong arms holding him down, keeping his wrists pinned to the ground above his head until he admited defeat in a growl. The beaming pattern on the dim skin was pulsing with the power of the Geo Archon, just like now.
These arms, they could crush him. They could melt him, they could make him scream for more.
Never before had Tartaglia felt so helpless, so exposed, so naked in front of another person. But there wasn’t place for either fear nor shame – only desire and want. And need.
Their relationship isn’t lacking in any way. But sometimes, Tartaglia feels like Zhongli is holding back, for some reason. And that’s just not it, because Tartaglia is greedy – he wants all of Zhongli.
Looks like his wish is being granted now.
The changes in Zhongli’s appearance make him look even more ethereal, especially matched with the blissful look on his face and the way his back arches when Tartaglia’s cock brushes against the right spot.
It’s holy. It’s blasphemous. Sacred and profaned.
Tartaglia was never religious nor big on adoration. But now, he thinks he could build shrines and live a life of devotion, dutifully worshipping one god in all his glory forever.
The view in front of him is mesmerizing as it is, but then Tartaglia notices one more thing. It makes him gasp in surprise. He manages to disguise it as a sound of utter pleasure, which isn't even far from the truth.
There is a massive dragon tail writhing lazily behind Zhongli.
In this exact moment, Zhongli suddenly opens his eyes. A wave of realization causes him to slow down his movements. Despite the powerful aura surrounding his very being, he looks genuinely apologetic when he hesitantly sets eyes on Tartaglia.
“Zhongli xiansheng–”
“I apologize,” comes a reply before Tartaglia can finish.
Tartaglia doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but the sudden lack of friction displeases him.
“I don’t know why it came to this, it's never happened before without my knowledge,” continues Zhongli. “I must have lost control and temporarily let my instincts off the leash, greatly indulged in seeking pleasure with you. I didn't mean to scare you.”
Tartaglia barks out a laugh. Zhongli looks startled, but makes no move to get off him just yet.
“Scare me?” the harbinger mocks. “I've never been more aroused in my whole life. I think I've just got harder, no? Can you tell?” he glances down pointedly.
Tartaglia’s hands find Zhongli’s slender waist, his thumbs pressing just enough to communicate he wants Zhongli to keep going.
The ex archon doesn't say anything, choosing to ignore the teasing. A bit reluctantly at first, he starts working his hips up and down again, this time choosing a slow, excruciating pace that makes Tartaglia want to howl.
“You can do that, you know?” Tartaglia's tone is serious. He fixes his eyes on Zhongli's golden ones as he continues.
“Show me all of you, I want it. I need it,” he is not above begging as Zhongli's movements become rapid, but still precise enough for Tartaglia’s cock to hit the right spot with every thrust.
To Tartaglia's joy, the dragon features stay for now. He instinctively reaches up to touch the horns, but quickly draws his hand back once he hears a quiet, broken moan escape Zhongli's mouth.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?”
“No, beloved,” Tartaglia is impressed Zhongli still manages to make his voice sound steady. Must be the archon stamina.
“Quite the opposite,” Zhongli gasps when he lowers his hips all the way down once again.
Oh, thinks Tartaglia. He raises his hands curiously and places them on each horn, stroking them gently. A content murmur tells him he's doing okay.
A certain idea occurs to him.
He quickly sits up, nearly making Zhongli fall off him in the process. They are pressed chest to chest now, and the sudden change of the angle makes Zhongli clench around Tartaglia’s dick even more, making the latter see stars. Zhongli will be the death of him, no doubt.
Tartaglia takes a moment to search the golden eyes for any signs of discomfort. But he only recognizes a hunger mirroring his own.
He wraps his arms around Zhongli's lower back to swiftly switch their position. Zhongli yelps but allows Tartaglia to push his back onto the mattress.
Hovering over heavily-panting Zhongli, Tartaglia leans down to capture his mouth. His thrusts turn much slower, deeper.
The kiss lingers, neither is willing to let go first. They keep exchanging sloppy kisses and whispering sweet nothings against the other’s lips until Tartaglia draws back, letting his dick slip out of Zhongli’s entrance. He rubs his reddened lips against one of Zhongli’s horns.
He gives it a chaste peck. Zhongli is too taken aback to react at first.
But then, Tartaglia takes the tip of the horn into his mouth, closing his eyes and full-on sucking on it.
“Ajax...,” it’s hard to tell if it’s meant to be a warning, or a demand.
Tartaglia thinks himself rather good with his tongue, among other things, and if Zhongli's current state is any indicator of the level of the redhead’s skills, Tartaglia’s doing a great job.
Zhongli’s nails (resembling claws now) involuntarily dig into Tartaglia’s arms. It’s not very painful, but will probably leave marks. At least Tartaglia hopes it will.
He lets go of the horn to press a gentle, affectionate kiss to Zhongli’s cheek and murmur praises and terms of endearment.
Now Tartaglia's attention turns to the tail. Zhongli is lying on his side, panting and gripping the bedsheet as he tries to even out his breath, the tail writhing behind him.
It looks heavy, the skin thick and seemingly rough. But, although the scales are solid and durable, they still feel nice to the touch, Tartaglia finds out. Cool and smooth. The harbinger caresses it with great care.
And then, he does the most reasonable thing he can think of. He squeezes and tugs at the base of the tail with both hands. As expected, the reaction is very rewarding. Zhongli’s back arches and the man himself makes a guttural sound, resonating with Tartaglia's whole being.
He slowly turns around to face Tartaglia. His arms reach out and tighten around the harbinger's shoulders, bringing him close, so impossibly close that their hearts start beating as one.
In one swift thrust, Tartaglia shoves his cock back in. Zhongli groans and Tartaglia captures his lips once again to have a taste of that delicious sound.
The rhythm of Tartaglia’s hips is making the golden pattern on Zhongli's arms shine brighter and pulse irregularly with that vibrant, geo energy.
“Baobei, you feel so good... You really are perfect for meme,” Tartaglia murmurs into Zhongli's ear, making him shiver all over. At this point, Tartaglia is hell-bent on pushing him to the edge.
“Tell me, Zhongli-xiansheng... Say, if I fuck you long and hard enough, will you bear my children?”
A particularly desperate moan escapes Zhongli's mouth.
“You'd like that, huh? Look at you, practically begging to be bred.”
The newly found pace makes Zhongli cling to him desperately, legs wrapped around Tartaglia’s torso, claws digging into his skin. It gets the harbinger even more fired up. There’s no coming back now.
“Tell you what...” Tartaglia gasps. “I'm gonna keep breeding you every single day, just like this... For hours and hours... Until we succeed in creating our very own offspring. How about that?”
He is mercilessly hitting the right spot with every thrust of his hips, knowing Zhongli is just as close to coming as him.
Zhongli's reply gets pressed against Tartaglia's mouth, spoken softly in a tone barely over a whisper:
“Yes.”
That’s all both of them need.
***
“Ajax, did you mean what you said earlier?”
“Huh?” Tartaglia is still coming off his high. He’s holding Zhongli in his arms, absent-mindedly stroking his soft hair. Zhongli got rid of the dragon horns and the rest of his divine features. A shame, really, but made cuddling much easier.
“Oh,” Tartaglia finally recalls. “Oh, that. Was it too much? You didn't like it? It was just, you know, the heat of the moment. But we don't have to engage in such talks if you're not into it–” the redhead keeps rambling as the look on Zhongli’s face turns more dejected with each word falling from Tartaglia's lips.
“Ah. I understand. Nevermind. So you didn't.”
Although Zhongli remains composed and is speaking without rancor, Tartaglia senses something is wrong. More specifically – he senses that he fucked up, somehow.
He hurries up with an explanation.
“Yes. No. I mean, yes, I meant everything I said, you know I'm crazy about you, don't you? But what I said... it will never be more than a pipe dream, right? So what's the point in discussing that now–”
Zhongli sits up to give him a stern look.
“Ajax, I am an ex archon. Changing my physical appearance is effortless, of course it includes my anatomy.”
“Meaning...”
“To put it simply, I can grow a womb and give you a child if I so wish.”
Silence.
“You're joking.”
“I do have a sense of humor, but I assure you I've never been more serious.”
“That's... that's!” Tartaglia chokes on air, trying to find the words. “Absolutely fantastic?! You–... we could have biological children? I could be the father of your... of our kids?”
“Certainly. Ajax, are you crying?”
“Of course I'm crying, I never thought–... only imagined we could maybe adopt a bunch of little ones, one day. If you wanted to. But to have one of our own... I could cradle a tiny Zhongli in my arms? Or four little Zhonglis. And maybe a daughter, or two.”
That's definitely more than just one of their own. Zhongli chuckles at Tartaglia’s endearing enthusiasm.
“You will be a great father,” he hums, relaxing in Tartaglia's embrace once again.
The warmth of the human touch is addictive. Zhongli can no longer bear falling asleep without these arms wrapped tightly around him; these hands caressing his skin, reminding him whom he chose to belong to. The comfort they provide doesn't just feel nice – it feels like home. A home Zhongli never thought he would have.
“You think so?” asks Tartaglia sheepishly.
The ex archon puts the palm of his hand just above Tartaglia's heart to feel the heartbeat matching his own. Tartaglia places his hand on top of Zhongli’s.
“Of course,” Zhongli confirms with a certainty no human nor god would dare to question.
They stay like this, cuddled up in comfortable silence, until Tartaglia speaks up again.
“Are you sure about it? I mean, being a family is one thing, I've considered you mine for the longest time, but just think about it. You will be the one carrying and giving birth. I can and will help you with everything but that. Are you sure this is what you want? I don't want you to feel pressured. We've got plenty of time and other options to consider.”
Zhongli raises his head to look Tartaglia in the eyes.
“Ajax, I'm not doing this just for you. I want to do it for myself as well. For both of us. During my long lifetime, I never considered that possibility before. Never thought I would want a family of my own, not to mention offspring. But things changed, I met you,” his smile is so warm it makes Tartaglia all fuzzy inside. It radiates endless adoration. Tartaglia is being worshipped by his god.
“You were so many of my firsts already,” Zhongli whispers against the redhead’s parted lips. “And I want you to be all my lasts, too. My one and only.”
Tartaglia feels a wave of heat spread through his body; some places suddenly feel even hotter than others.
“Sounds like a proposal,” he tries to laugh off the tension.
“It is. That, and a promise.”
“How about a contract?” Tartaglia smirks at him.
“Of course. One that can never be broken,” answers Zhongli seriously.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Careful now, ‘cause you’re never gonna get rid of me.”
***
“Baobei?”
“Mn?”
“About the whole womb talk... Will that change anything else about your... physical appearance?”
“You mean my cock?”
Tartaglia looks way too embarrassed for someone who has seen the cock, touched the cock, sucked the cock, ridden the cock countless times.
“Yeah, that. I'm rather attached.”
“Then no, nothing else needs to change. I'll simply adjust my insides when it’s time, no need to fret over it now.”
“Will your tummy grow big in pregnancy? Or will you lay eggs?” Tartaglia is enjoying himself way too much.
“Ajax–”
“I will protect you and the babies with my life,” although Tartaglia’s voice is still ringing with its usual gleefulness, Zhongli can tell he’s being deadly serious.
“That won't be needed,” says Zhongli calmly. “I will crush anyone who means harm to my beloved and our offspring.”
The way he declares it so simply, without batting an eyelash, makes Tartaglia shiver with delight.
“You're so sexy when you talk like this,” he murmurs into Zhongli's ear. “You're always sexy, but even more so when you unintentionally remind me just how powerful you are.”
“I'm simply stating facts.”
“I know, that's hot. My baobei is so hot,” a gentle finger tilts Zhongli's head up so Tartaglia can kiss him on the lips.
What starts as a tender display of affection, soon turns into a heated exachange of hungry kisses – featuring occasional bites and noises of contentment, varying from sighs to moans.
“Actually, can we get to make cute little babies right now?” asks Tartaglia hurriedly when they part to take a breath.
His impatient fingers are already brushing alongside the soft skin on Zhongli's thighs.
“There’s no harm in trying.”