howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

Does Alistair look just a teensy bit smug at that? Perhaps!

"Your monster," he reminds him, resting his head on Cullen's shoulder. "Your fiend."

Cullen touches his lips to the top of Alistair's head. "My best fiend. My greatest fiend. My most superlative fiend."

"High praise."

A happy sigh.

"I'm so glad we met. And fell in love. ...a couple decades later, granted." Alistair traces a small circle on Cullen's chest. "Still. Took a while, but I can't imagine anyone else but you now."

Another low laugh.

"What, not some lovely farmer's daughter? A sweet barmaid, or a successful merchant?"

"Nah." Comfortably. "Just you."

He kisses the spot he circled.

"No farmer would think I'm good enough for his daughter. Barmaids deal with enough louts every day. And I'd be bored to tears living with a merchant."

"Hey." A growl. "Quit calling my husband a lout."

"Technically," says Alistair, with all the dignity he can muster, "I called your husband-to-be a lout."

That dignity would be a lot more effective if he could stop beaming.

"Don't call him a lout, either." He gently tugs on a tuft of Alistair's hair. "He's the best man I've ever known."

"Ever? Really?"

Somebody remains just drunk enough to get a little misty-eyed at that declaration. Naming no names.

(Cough, cough, Alistair.)

"Ever." Now he threads his fingers through, slowly, over and over. "Brave. Kind. Valiant. Patient. All of that and more. And this isn't bad, either."

(His hand has drifted down to Alistair's rear end, and squeezed.)

Alistair barks a delighted laugh, and plants a solid kiss on Cullen's cheek.

"I'm glad you approve, ser," he says. "I worked very hard on it."

"I can tell," Cullen says solemnly. He draws patterns on Alistair's back with two fingertips. "Your singleminded pursuit of certain goals is also quite... admirable."

Without thinking, Alistair arches his back slightly.

Just as solemn, "What can I say. Attention to detail's a very valuable skill."

"Mm."

He draws a lazy spiral.

"And how would you like to be rewarded for your diligence?"

"Hmm."

Alistair glances down at himself -- and pulls a rueful face.

"I think the ale may have gotten the better of me. Damn it."

Cullen laughs quietly. "Give it time, Theirin. I'll reward you whenever you'd like."

"Oh good." He relaxes against Cullen. "More time to think of something suitably filthy. -- I mean fun. Yes. That."

Shifty look!

Mildly:

"I was rather hoping you'd fuck me, but whatever you'd like."

Alistair cackles.

"Filthy and fun." He nips lightly at Cullen's neck. "Perfect. Genius, even."

Cullen arches his neck, laughing quietly. "Flatterer."

"I flatter you exactly as much as you deserve."

Another kiss, softer.

"So yes, I am. But the good kind."

Cullen's hand drifts to Alistair's lower back, where he resumes the lazy spirals.

"If your goal," he murmurs, "is to make me want to do anything for the chance to serve you... well done."

He shivers slightly, pressing closer.

"Wouldn't make you do anything," he murmurs. "Just reasonable things. Asking. Maybe bringing me a nice cheese plate every so often."

Alistair presses closer; Cullen lightens his touch, because he's a monster.

"But I would do anything."

Alistair whines a little, disappointed, and squirms.

"Like what?"