Euphoric.

Intense.

Entrancing

That was how to describe the feeling of the Eleventh Harbingers' touch. All those teasing words were music to your ears. Every little scandalous touch was like fire on your skin, taking you high and leaving you begging for more.

At least, that's what you thought. Childe often invited you to his parties, mostly because he needed someone to keep an eye on him once he got wasted.

You were the one who protected his drinks, acting like his bodyguard.

"Come on, comrade; loosen up a little and have a drink." The Harbinger mumbled, his words slurring slightly.

The two of you were positioned on a couch in a private room, as you had decided that he needed to take a break. Childe was draped across you, his head lolled to the side on the couch cushion while the rest of him practically crushed you.