Xiao's touch has his heart shiver, a sensation aptly similar to feathers brushing against it and Zhongli bites onto his tongue until it bleeds not to give way to any unbecoming noise or thought. The way in which he wants him is absolute, it echoes in each heartbeat and sings in his flowing blood. He was made for Xiao, and so it cannot be any other way.
Even as fingertips travel to his neck and his face, he stays perfectly still, barely swallows to get over the tightness in his throat. But his eyelids flutter close and he sighs deeply at the little kiss, breath trembling, while he buries his hand in the other's hair to keep him close. It is the hardest battle he's ever fought, against himself. He has to hold back, because if he doesn't, he risks to take too much, too soon --he knows Xiao is too sweet, too pliant with him, he wouldn't fight any of his decisions.
Patience is a virtue he never thought he lacked until now. He finally realizes how wrong he was: the difficult part wasn't making his path to Xiao; it is now, controlling himself in the face of the one he adores, give him his time and space. He was Xiao's even before the other was born, he belonged to the idea of him that the universe had carved in his soul. As a familiar, he was born first, to be ready to take care of him and lead him and protect him, but Xiao was taken away too young, too soon, tricked into an unbreakable contract that bleeds him dry, one drop at a time. Was it more haunting for Zhongli to live while knowing of their bond, or for Xiao, who wasn't aware he could hope for something different?
"A good dream, I hope." He whispers, not trusting how his voice would sound any other way. He takes Xiao's hand to kiss his palm, before he scoops him up in his arms and easily rests him on his lap, letting the other's side lean against his chest. He hugs his waist, keeps him close so he can warm him up and protect him and he nuzzles into his hair, presses pecks onto it. "Can you tell we're meant to be close, like this?" He wonders, deep voice poured directly in his ear, unsure how deep the bond runs on the other half of it.
Despite his good purposes, with the way Xiao's robes resemble more a bride's than a groom's, Zhongli slowly slides a hand under the layers until he finds his leg and he rubs long, large fingers into his thigh, marveling at how much smaller than him Xiao is. If he were to wrap his whole hand around his thigh, not much would be left out. It is enough to make him shiver with desire. "Do you know what human couples do, on the night of their wedding?" It's a soft question, his smile suffused into it --it is a bit of a tease as much as it is curiousity: he wonders how much about the world he was told and he learnt, raised as he was.
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Even as fingertips travel to his neck and his face, he stays perfectly still, barely swallows to get over the tightness in his throat. But his eyelids flutter close and he sighs deeply at the little kiss, breath trembling, while he buries his hand in the other's hair to keep him close. It is the hardest battle he's ever fought, against himself. He has to hold back, because if he doesn't, he risks to take too much, too soon --he knows Xiao is too sweet, too pliant with him, he wouldn't fight any of his decisions.
Patience is a virtue he never thought he lacked until now. He finally realizes how wrong he was: the difficult part wasn't making his path to Xiao; it is now, controlling himself in the face of the one he adores, give him his time and space. He was Xiao's even before the other was born, he belonged to the idea of him that the universe had carved in his soul. As a familiar, he was born first, to be ready to take care of him and lead him and protect him, but Xiao was taken away too young, too soon, tricked into an unbreakable contract that bleeds him dry, one drop at a time. Was it more haunting for Zhongli to live while knowing of their bond, or for Xiao, who wasn't aware he could hope for something different?
"A good dream, I hope." He whispers, not trusting how his voice would sound any other way. He takes Xiao's hand to kiss his palm, before he scoops him up in his arms and easily rests him on his lap, letting the other's side lean against his chest. He hugs his waist, keeps him close so he can warm him up and protect him and he nuzzles into his hair, presses pecks onto it. "Can you tell we're meant to be close, like this?" He wonders, deep voice poured directly in his ear, unsure how deep the bond runs on the other half of it.
Despite his good purposes, with the way Xiao's robes resemble more a bride's than a groom's, Zhongli slowly slides a hand under the layers until he finds his leg and he rubs long, large fingers into his thigh, marveling at how much smaller than him Xiao is. If he were to wrap his whole hand around his thigh, not much would be left out. It is enough to make him shiver with desire. "Do you know what human couples do, on the night of their wedding?" It's a soft question, his smile suffused into it --it is a bit of a tease as much as it is curiousity: he wonders how much about the world he was told and he learnt, raised as he was.