Alecto's little "oh" quickly dissolves into a warm chuckle as he feels his husband's large arms wrap around his waist. He links their left hands together and squeezes their fingers, feeling how the thin, gold bands they both wore pressed tightly next to each other. "Do you like it?" he asks quietly, coquettishly, although he thinks he already knows the answer. He's watching Joshua's reflection deliberately in the mirror before them, even as his head leans back a bit to nuzzle against the slope of Joshua's jaw, notes how he smells like pine and smoke and dew.

The way Joshua is pressed close against him rumples the material of the slip, causing it to slide up from behind, making it now very, very clear that Alecto is, in fact, wearing nothing underneath.