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[a hand is pressed against his chest, over his heart, and Dohalim can't help but move his own to rest on top of it, thumb rubbing along warm skin. his other, as he loosens his arm around Zhongli's neck, gently slide along his shoulder, down his arm, and back up his spine. those scales are still so unbelievably smooth that he almost misses where scales and skin meet. it feels so far from being draconic, or so he would think, and he half expected them to feel cool to the touch.

at the kiss, and Zhongli's words, Dohalim smiles softly, truly feeling content. his worries are whisked away for the moment, that empty space being filled with the deity's warmth and affection]

The feeling is mutual. You taste like the rarest and sweetest tea any man has ever cultivated.