Warren sighed a little as the music slid to instrumental for a moment. At least he was getting this right.

His fingers slid to Devin's hair, stroking through it, down the back of his neck as he picked up the thread of the song again. The candles were starting to fill the room with vanilla and cinnamon. Apple cinnamon.

He darted out quickly, grabbing the small bottle from the plastic bag and setting it down next to his wine glass before resuming the touches, the singing, interspersed with sips of wine.