[It is fascinating to watch someone reveal themselves in increments with the reckless certainty of a man who does not know how to do anything by half-measures. It is impossible not to when Ajax lays himself so deliberately bare, as if the very act of wanting, of taking, of pursuing, is a game in and of itself. And perhaps that is the most dangerous thing about him, his strength, his wit, the layered way he maneuvers the chessboard, and how he plays as though there is nothing to lose. That boyish grin that never quite reaches his eyes, how it curls with charm, with ease, with something so sweetly dangerous. How insidious.
How deceptive, that something so bright, so warm, could also be so lethal. How his playfulness lapped at the edges of his cold, calculating gaze, like waves against jagged rock, as if it was his own innocence that made him treacherous.
And isn’t that what makes a man truly terrifying?
The casual gamble of a man who does not flinch at risk, who does not hedge his bets. Ajax plays with all or nothing. And he has since the moment he first sat in front of Zhongli on that quiet park afternoon, all boyish charm and too-bright eyes, an open sort of affection, so genuine it almost seems unpracticed, uncalculated, untouched by the world’s cruelty, moving his chess pieces with the same open ease as he threw flirtations as if to say, Here. Have me. Take me. Or don’t. But I won’t hesitate to try anyway.
He knows that true danger is not the blade at one’s throat, nor the weight of a gun pressed firm to the small of one’s back. True danger is the man who smiles as he does it. It is the light in Ajax’s eyes, too bright, too warm, even as his fingers tighten around the edge of control. That is the kind of man who, were he in the same universe as he is, would not hesitate before pulling a trigger.
Zhongli knows better than to believe in idle hands. Knows better than to think that Ajax is unaware of what he is doing. Knows he lets Zhongli notice his gaze flickering to his mouth as though he thinks he is not watching. No, he is making a point. A bold, shameless declaration, a challenge written in the way his fingertips play so idly with the silk of Zhongli’s restraint.
And it is then, with such dangerous thoughts blooming in his mind, that Zhongli shifts his weight ever so slightly, pressing the arch of his foot harder against the inside of Ajax’s thigh.
Ah. What a dangerous thing to test in such a public place.
Zhongli exhales quietly, clears his throat, barely resisting the urge to reach for a cup of tea that isn’t there. His lips feel dry. He wets them absently, pressing them together as if to compose himself as if the subtle heat curling in his stomach could be soothed with anything so simple.
Instead, a quiet chuckle slips from his lips.]
Perhaps, [he muses, tapping a single finger against the board,] I simply enjoy watching you work for it.
[It is a contradiction, really.
Because just as he speaks, he moves the second rook.
The twin to the first. The shadow to its counterpart. A silent piece that had remained unseen, unnoticed, until now. And as it slides into place, Ajax’s king is caught in check.
But by doing so, Zhongli opens a full, unobstructed path towards his own king.
An exposed throat to a blade. A parting of lips to waiting teeth.
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How deceptive, that something so bright, so warm, could also be so lethal. How his playfulness lapped at the edges of his cold, calculating gaze, like waves against jagged rock, as if it was his own innocence that made him treacherous.
And isn’t that what makes a man truly terrifying?
The casual gamble of a man who does not flinch at risk, who does not hedge his bets. Ajax plays with all or nothing. And he has since the moment he first sat in front of Zhongli on that quiet park afternoon, all boyish charm and too-bright eyes, an open sort of affection, so genuine it almost seems unpracticed, uncalculated, untouched by the world’s cruelty, moving his chess pieces with the same open ease as he threw flirtations as if to say, Here. Have me. Take me. Or don’t. But I won’t hesitate to try anyway.
He knows that true danger is not the blade at one’s throat, nor the weight of a gun pressed firm to the small of one’s back. True danger is the man who smiles as he does it. It is the light in Ajax’s eyes, too bright, too warm, even as his fingers tighten around the edge of control. That is the kind of man who, were he in the same universe as he is, would not hesitate before pulling a trigger.
Zhongli knows better than to believe in idle hands. Knows better than to think that Ajax is unaware of what he is doing. Knows he lets Zhongli notice his gaze flickering to his mouth as though he thinks he is not watching. No, he is making a point. A bold, shameless declaration, a challenge written in the way his fingertips play so idly with the silk of Zhongli’s restraint.
And it is then, with such dangerous thoughts blooming in his mind, that Zhongli shifts his weight ever so slightly, pressing the arch of his foot harder against the inside of Ajax’s thigh.
Ah. What a dangerous thing to test in such a public place.
Zhongli exhales quietly, clears his throat, barely resisting the urge to reach for a cup of tea that isn’t there. His lips feel dry. He wets them absently, pressing them together as if to compose himself as if the subtle heat curling in his stomach could be soothed with anything so simple.
Instead, a quiet chuckle slips from his lips.]
Perhaps, [he muses, tapping a single finger against the board,] I simply enjoy watching you work for it.
[It is a contradiction, really.
Because just as he speaks, he moves the second rook.
The twin to the first. The shadow to its counterpart. A silent piece that had remained unseen, unnoticed, until now. And as it slides into place, Ajax’s king is caught in check.
But by doing so, Zhongli opens a full, unobstructed path towards his own king.
An exposed throat to a blade. A parting of lips to waiting teeth.
It could be a trap.
Or it could be an offering.]