howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

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."

Cullen is determined not to give Alistair satisfaction.

It probably doesn't help that he lets out a shaky sigh and closes his eyes at the touch of Alistair's lips.

Rallying (or trying to): "Ridiculous. I don't make noises."

"That was a noise you just made there." Amused.

He pulls the waistband lower.

"Shall I see if you'll make a few more?"

He grips Alistair's hips tight. Tighter.

"If you must," Cullen says, trying to sound bored.

Alistair snorts a laugh.

He reaches into Cullen's trousers, taking him in hand -- lightly, for now. Low, sly, he says, "I insist," and strokes him up and down, up and down, beginning a slow and deliberate rhythm.

Altogether sooner than Cullen would like, he can't stand it any more. "You are a beast," he hisses, face bright red, and digs his nails into Alistair's skin. "How?"

Alistair cackles, delighted by the victory. He draws Cullen into a long, ferocious kiss; "That doesn't mean you want me to stop, does it?" he asks once it breaks.

(Indeed, short of a request from Cullen, it seems he has no intention of stopping anything.)

Cullen slides his gaze away, mouth going crooked.

"Now that you've won," he says, softer. "Something less -- adversarial?"

Alistair's smile gentles. "Of course."

Another kiss: sweeter, more heartfelt. He withdraws his hand to sweep both palms over Cullen's hips.

There. There's the warmth he was after.

Cullen runs his hands up and down Alistair's sides in appreciation. If that encourages Alistair to get a little closer, well -- it's not like that's unpleasant.

It's more than suitable encouragement. Alistair hums, pleased, as he winds his arms around Cullen.

Without letting go, he lists over to roll them both onto their side. Better to jockey even closer that way, hooking an ankle around Cullen's leg, pressing another line of soft kisses along his jaw.

They're not combating each other any longer. There's no contest between their wills. Cullen lets out a long sigh and murmurs, soft, "Yes. That's nice."

As though to underscore it, he sets about tangling their legs together even further. More decisively. The best way to keep Alistair close.

"Yes?" He smiles; cradles Cullen's cheek as he ends the line of kisses just beneath his ear; begins to work down the side of his throat. "Good."

Goosebumps rise along his arms.

"Perhaps we -- " A soft laugh as he shivers. "Ought to dispense with the trousers?"

Cullen laughs, quietly, and threads his fingers through Alistair's hair, seeking a good grip. "When all evidence indicates -- "

He limpets as best he can.

" -- you're cold? That seems... counterintuitive, Theirin."

"That's when we figure out all the fun and creative ways we can warm each other up," says Alistair, practical, as he traces his fingers along Cullen's spine. "...Unless you'd rather just do this instead?"

The last sounds genuinely curious.

Cullen arches his back -- and then freezes.

He knows better than to say whatever you want. Doesn't mean he doesn't have to fight the urge to do it anyway.

It shouldn't be this difficult to make his voice work. "I feel -- "

"We just escaped something awful. It's like that. I want to be -- close. And, and to try for peace. Or something like it. We just escaped," he repeats. "I'm not feeling... ambitious."

Edited 2018-02-04 02:19 (UTC)

Alistair breathes out.

"All right, love." Soft; gentle. "Come here, then."

He settles his arm around him, shifting a little higher so he can tuck his chin over Cullen's head: surrounding him the best he can.