The whimper makes his throat tighten, his breathing come out with difficulty for a long moment after. Maybe he really has been on the front, fighting, for too long, because he can't recall ever hearing such a sweet noise. It is such a little thing and yet it threatens to collapse his facade. What does it translate into? Does Xiao need him too, or is he overwhelmed by the closeness and the warmth of them?

The way he holds onto his face seems to prove true the former. How gentle is his thumb, Zhongli can't help sighing. One of his hand leads to the skin that got bare out of its own will and fingertips trace the outline of his adam's apple, the sharpness of his collar bone, his forefinger slotting itself for a moment in the hollow in the middle. How blasphemous of him, to keep touching like this.

"Ah..." The noise is unbecoming, a low growl, almost a purr, when Xiao utters those three words Zhongli has only ever wished to hear, maybe after years of trying to break the walls the priests tried to build around the venerated one. He feels himself crumbling yet again and how peculiar, for Xiao to know of weak spots not even Zhongli is aware of; he keeps hitting them with raw precision. Maybe the truth is that Xiao is his weak spot at all.

"I'm honored, Your Grace." He murmurs and it holds sincerity. He can't help inching closer again, pressing an innocent peck to Xiao's cheek this time, landing yet again on his veil. "Will you think of me during these three days till our marriage?" He asks, still lingering close, nosing at his jawline.

"If you do, I will sense you and visit you when you close your eyes."