Perhaps he should be more surprised that Jin Guangyao seems to like the odd chill of him (perhaps some distant part of him is), but right now his thoughts are thoroughly stuck on the declaration of love so freely spilling out of Jin Guangyao's lips, and he smiles warm and bright through tears of relief.

They can say it. They do not have to hide these things, bury them beneath their endless intricacies (though he doubts those will go away, they'd been at it for so long it will be a habit by now, but the fact they just don't have to rely on them anymore is a weight off his shoulders).

They're free. After so long, they are finally free.

He kisses him, slow and deep, head angled just as Jin Guangyao demonstrated so he can lick the aftertaste of those words from his beloved's tongue. There's another intrusion below, a gentle prod into the tight heat, the coldness of his skin helping to ease away any pain the lubricant can't take care of.

"A-Yao," he whispers against his lips, "my husband, I love you too."