Lavellan laughed through the onslaught of kisses, feeling the last bit of tension completely drain out of him. How was he supposed to keep brooding through that? Really, Dorian was relentlessly charming. The bristly part didn’t bother him in the slightest, either. It was certainly a new experience for him—he’d never been kissed by anyone with facial hair before, given the distinct lack of it among elves—but he found that he rather preferred it. It made his toes curl, and Lavellan got lost a bit in chasing a few of those kisses, pleased to be doing this now without feeling rushed.
Though he pinched Dorian’s side hard at that last comment, smiling with too much teeth. "Patience. I’m not finished yet." There was warmth in his green eyes now that he finally felt relaxed enough to exist like this. It felt almost freeing to be here, as if neither of them had any care in the world. For the moment, anyway. Work would come with the sunrise, as it always did.
"There’s ma’av’in, too, depending on the context. Ma’lin is used more often, though. That’s harder to translate." He dragged his hand along Dorian’s side as if to apologize for the earlier pinch, gentle and protective. Lavellan pressed his forehead against the mage’s after, his voice taking on a quieter tone, hushed. "I like vhenan best. I’m proud I can call you that now."