Truly, such grace will be sung through the ages.

Alistair's laughter isn't quite as soft, but compared to his usual volume, it passes muster. Anyway, his mouth's occupied with doing other things soon enough. For one, it's much easier to run his tongue over Cullen's chest now, tasting salt and feeling out the smattering of scars -- and then to start venturing lower as his nails scrape lightly over his hips