howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

"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?"

"Filthy things."

He resumes massaging lightly.

"Fun things. Imagine you had an important meeting. Imagine you ordered me to do those things, in front of everyone." His tone is soft, speculative. Tricksy.

"I'd do them. Happily. With enthusiasm. Eyes only for you."

"Oh," says Alistair weakly.

His eyes have widened as he stares off into the middle distance.

"Oh?" he inquires, politely.

Smugly.

Evilly.

(He puts a little weight behind his hand.)

Alistair swallows, hard.

Hoarsely, "Tell me more?"

A low laugh.

"I'd go to my knees. Take you in my mouth. Make it last as long as possible, so you could conduct all your business in peace."

Slowly, he runs his fingers up and down Alistair's spine.

"You could make me stroke myself in front of all those people. And just when I'm about to come -- make me stop. And I just... sit there. Waiting on your command."

"Maker's breath, Cullen."

A shaky laugh. His fingers curl against Cullen's chest.

"You'd drive me mad. The whole time I'd have to conduct just enough business to get through the meeting, and all I'd want to do if I saw you pleasing yourself was throw you on the table and have my way with you."

Gently, his nails scrape Cullen's skin.

"Maybe I would. Shove everything aside, strip you naked right there."

For once, he thinks, he's damn well going to get and keep the upper hand. Alistair's nails scrape; Cullen inhales and exhales carefully.

"And I'd thank you for it." Low. "Thank you for allowing me to provide you some relief. And beg you for the chance to keep serving you. Every meeting. Every day and night. At your order. Anything."

Alistair's own breath has quickened considerably. "Yes."

He insinuates a leg between Cullen's. Damn it, why can't he sober up any faster?

"Having you any time I'd want you, anywhere I'd want you -- yes."