Tartaglia

The room held a hushed intimacy as Childe found himself seated on the edge of the bed with you. He wore only his pants, his upper body bare, revealing well-defined muscles that rippled with every subtle movement. Yes, you were at that point in the relationship. His body, adorned with a myriad of scars, each one telling a story of battles fought and survived, lay exposed before you. There were too many to count, yet he wore them with a hint of pride in his eyes. Each one was a testament to his strength, his resilience, and his survival. Normally, he would not be comfortable revealing his scars, not on a deeper level like this, but this was you after all. And for you, Childe found it within himself to let down those guards.

Leaning back slightly, he supported himself with one arm, his muscles tensing and relaxing under your gentle exploration. Though he flinched and winced at times, the touch of your fingertips was undeniably pleasant, almost maddeningly so. He couldn't help but enjoy the way your fingers glided over his skin, sending a tingle through his body, a reaction that was part instinct, part anticipation. He had to mentally remind himself that your curiosity was innocent, even though your touch was driving him to distraction. He watched as your hand paused over a particularly prominent scar on his chest, noticing the curiosity that danced in your eyes. He could see the silent question forming, and he decided to indulge it. "Ah, this one," Childe began, his voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and amusement. His eyes glinted with the memory as he continued, "I earned that from sparring with my master, Skirk, back in the old days."

His gaze followed the path your fingers traced on his body, watching as you explored the evidence of his past. "I should hope that next we meet, I'll at least be able to force her to use both hands to beat me..." he murmured thoughtfully, more impressed by Skirk's prowess than frustrated by his own limitations. There was a quiet admiration in his voice, a respect for the master who had shaped him into the warrior he was today. As you continued to touch him, Childe's eyes softened, noticing that no one had ever been this curious about him before. The attention was both flattering and unnerving, and he found himself appreciating the depth of your interest. A small, teasing smile curved his lips as he observed the focused expression on your face. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, a playful lilt in his voice.