howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

"Sorry -- " Laughing, as he sets Cullen down and gives him a much gentler squeeze. "Sorry. Gently nudging you onto the bed, then?"

That means Cullen won, right? Cullen definitely won.

He turns to face Alistair, winding his arms around his neck. "A reasonable compromise, I think."

Alistair is magnanimous enough to let Cullen believe that!

"Oh, good. What a relief," he murmurs before drawing Cullen close to kiss him, fervently.

(Apparently the bed can wait another moment.)

"Unless you follow through on your threat," Cullen mumbles into his ear, "I'll have to put on a shirt."

(There's a draft.)

Alistair breaks into laughter.

"Oh, now you've no patience for games?" He hooks two fingers into Cullen's waistband, pulling him toward the bed. "Come on, then."

Once they're closer to the mattress, he splays his hand over Cullen's abdomen and gives him a light shove, smirking all the while.

"I've plenty of patience for games," Cullen protests -- and flops dramatically back onto the mattress, and does his best to take up the whole damn thing. "Do you want me to catch a chill? And be even more difficult than usual?"

"Of course I don't."

If there's no room for Alistair, clearly that means he'll just have to climb on top of Cullen and straddle his hips. The smirk stays put.

"We'll have to find a way for you to stay warm."

"Like a coat," Cullen suggests. He wiggles a little under Alistair -- just enough to find a comfortable spot, of course.

Alistair hums in soft appreciation, rocking a little more of his weight against Cullen's hips.

"Here." Grinning, he unbuttons his shirt and shucks it free. It lands right on Cullen's face. "This might help."

Cullen stills, and huffs a a breath. Part of the fabric parachutes up, and then back down again.

Slowly, he raises one hand, hooks two fingers in the fabric, and pulls it down across his face just enough to reveal his eyes.

Which are glaring.

Accusingly.

Alistair, by contrast, wears a look of such innocence that Andraste Herself would weep.

....from laughter, maybe, but still.

"Too thin for the cold weather?"

Cullen narrows his eyes even further.

Nods.

"Oh, dear. I'm terribly sorry then, ser."

He whisks the shirt away from Cullen's face.

"That's colder," Cullen complains.

"Hm. Let's see."

He runs his hands up and down Cullen's arms, as if trying to rub warmth into a chilled limb -- but slower, and far more deliberate.

"Does that help?"

"Of course not." Cullen pokes Alistair's belly.

Alistair yelps reflexively, flinching back, and dissolves into laughter.

"Hey."

Cullen beams at him, smugly.

"Is there a problem?"

"I try to warm you up and this is how you repay me?"

He's trying for mournful, but can't manage it due to the continued laughter.

"Cruel taunts and pokes?" He snags Cullen's hand. "For shame."

"What was cruel about that, exactly?" Cullen tries to tug his hand back.

"You made me squeak. Exceptionally cruel, that."

Alistair sneaks a kiss onto Cullen's fingertips before letting him reclaim his hand.

"I didn't make you squeak."

He runs his fingertips -- both hands -- lightly up Alistair's belly. "You did that all on your own."

Alistair shivers.

"Perhaps." He shifts his weight atop Cullen, just a little. "With some encouragement."

"Not from me."

Cullen rests his hands on Alistair's hips.

"I'm not very encouraging."

"Really?"

He leans over Cullen, smiling, their faces inches apart.

"I haven't found that to be the case." Leaning closer still, he mouths a quick kiss at Cullen's neck, briefly tracing his tongue over the pit of his throat. "You can be very encouraging when you try. Like a couple of nights ago. Or sometimes when you don't try at all."

He curls two fingers into Cullen's waistband again.

"When you're too lost to do anything but make those noises I love hearing from you."