And Cullen pulls a length of linen off the shelf to dry himself with, and hangs his shirt over the back of a chair, and finishes his own preparations. They don't take long; he omits the prayers.

He settles in bed with a grunt -- sore muscles -- and nevertheless turns on his side, pulling Alistair close, fitting him against his body. Mumbled against his neck: "Indulge me for just a moment."