#crimsonmist

The clash of steel and boots had barely ended when the vial hit the ground. A soft plink, almost comically quiet after the riot of violence. Childe barely turned in time to see it roll underfoot — a sliver of red glass with a Fatui sigil etched deep into the curve, glowing faintly from within. His instincts screamed. He shouted a warning—

But too late.

Shhhhhhffff— the hiss of vapor, sudden and sharp, filled the chamber like a breath drawn in fear. The mist rose like a slow, seductive bloom, thick and wine-colored, curling across the frost-crusted arena floor and into the air with a sickly-sweet scent that clung to the back of the throat.

Lumine inhaled once.

Twice.

And buckled.

Her knees hit the icy ground with a choked gasp, hands gripping her thighs as her body shuddered. “A-aahh—what is—”

Her pupils dilated instantly, chest heaving. The cold floor offered no relief, no shock. Her skin prickled as blood surged, hot and maddening, through every vein. The scent was unbearable — metal, sugar, musk, soaked with something biological. It wasn’t just in her head. Her cunt clenched, slick already coating the inside of her thighs as arousal crashed through her like lightning.

“Shit,” Childe rasped, staggering toward her. His body burned too, joints twitching, cock swelling painfully hard under his gear. He could barely think. She smelled like sex. Like heat. Like prey. Her golden hair was splayed like a halo, and every inch of her radiated need. “No. Lumine—fuck—we have to get out of here—”

He tried to back away, fingers clawing at the collar of his uniform as sweat soaked his temples, his inner thighs. But the pheromones in the mist were already binding to his blood, his skin, his instincts. It wasn’t just heat — it was override. No thought. No discipline. Only hunger.

“C-Childe…” her voice was trembling, barely coherent, but pleading.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy, lips parted. A tremor rolled down her body, her thighs squeezing tight. She wasn’t begging him to stop.

She was begging him not to.

He cursed again, teeth bared, fighting himself. He’d fucked before. He’d fought before. But never like this — never while his cock felt like it was about to tear out of his body, every nerve lit up and screaming to claim. His gloves shook as he reached for her — just to check, just to stabilize—

But when his fingers brushed her cheek, soft and flushed and so fucking hot, her entire body arched with a whimper.

“Ah—mmnhh!—”

Her eyes fluttered closed. And his hand stayed.

“Fuck it.”

His voice cracked as he dropped to his knees, hands gripping her face, pulling her mouth into his. Their lips crashed, tongues messy and uncoordinated, driven not by finesse but pure, starving desperation. He kissed her like he needed her to breathe — and maybe he did. Maybe the mist was killing him with every second he didn’t fuck her senseless.

He pushed her back onto the floor, uncaring of the frost that bit at her spine, his hands already tugging at her clothes with brutal urgency. Buttons popped. Fabric tore. Her bare thighs were flushed and glistening, trembling as she spread for him without hesitation, slick smeared between her folds like her body had been waiting for him.

His own uniform was a blur — pants half-undone, cock springing free, hard and veined and dripping precum like he’d been edging for hours. He lined up without thought, the tip brushing her entrance, and froze for just a second, panting over her, lips hovering an inch from hers.

“We shouldn’t—”

“You already are,” she breathed.

And then he plunged in.

Schlk—THMP.

She cried out — a raw, high-pitched ahhh! as her walls stretched around him, clenching tight like a vice. He filled her completely, hips jerking with the force of his need, his cock buried deep as she locked her legs around him like a trap. Their bodies slapped together wet and loud, her hands scrabbling at his back, his name falling from her lips in choked little sobs.

“F-Fuck, you’re—hnn—tight—Lumine, I’m not—can’t hold back—”

“Don’t,” she moaned. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

The mist pressed in around them, thick and hot. Somewhere beyond the gate, boots pounded past. Voices shouted. Orders barked.

But in here, Childe fucked.

Hard, brutal thrusts that shook the floor, cock driving into her slick cunt with reckless, filthy rhythm. He bit her neck, left marks on her thighs, groaned her name against her breast as she rocked up to meet him, completely lost to the drugged haze.

Each thrust pushed her closer, her moans escalating from mewls to cries, head tossing as pleasure devoured her.

“I-I’m gonna—!”

“Yeah?” he panted, rutting into her harder, faster, cock twitching inside. “Cum for me, princess. Let ‘em hear it.”

And she did — body wracked with a scream, cunt spasming around him, her orgasm tearing through her like a storm. He followed instantly, hips slamming deep one final time, burying every inch of himself inside her as he came with a grunt, seed spilling hot and thick into her, flooding her in waves.

They stayed like that, locked together, bodies shaking, chests heaving, skin burning.

The mist finally began to thin.

But the damage was done.

She was wrecked.

He was spent.