It is decidedly easy to become distracted by antiques, even those that failed to hold any true age upon them, though such a fact remained outside of Dorian's immediate knowledge. So many of the objects that surrounded him here and now were far younger than the man himself and yet he had missed so much of history that nearly every item he was presented with held a distinct curiosity for him. Many of them, by the Fae's standard, seemed decidedly modern. Many more still he held no true idea as to what they were or how they might have once been used. As such, Dorian finds his mind readily and easily engaged with the obscurities that surround him. Even so, he remains distinctly aware of his companion and just where the vampire was at any given time, the Fae King decidedly unwilling to lose him amongst the crowd. Sebastian however, very rarely seemed to be far, Dorian continuing to make his way up the street and along the line of stalls that decorated it. The pair at last managing to have made it at least half way along before Dorian finds himself pausing outside the stall lined with decorative tea cups. Fine china is well outside his own era and yet the delicacy of such a thing was hardly lost upon him as his fingers run along the smooth edges and daintily painted surface.

All too easily does he pass the delicate object to his companion, readily engaging the woman once more as if he truly held some interest in her historical recount of such items and the when and how of their use. On most occasions Dorian would be entirely inclined to listen to the woman, incorrect or otherwise his interest in the history of the world he had missed never failed to ensnare his attention and yet tonight there is another being whose mere presence seems to eclipse any desire he may have otherwise held. It is startling to him, truly, that even after having enjoyed the man on two separate occasions his desire for him is far from sated. He cannot recall the last time he had held a need for someone that continued to exist well beyond the embrace of a single night. His encounters, after all, were so often fleeting, brief, Dorian content to entertain his company for that single night before assuring them of whatever words they had needed to hear and sending them upon their way. His authority, if nothing else, prevented any from returning in person to profess undying love for him- though over the course of his existence several others had managed to send servants with just that message. All of which had failed to hold his interest. Indeed his first night with Sebastian had been designed to be entirely just that and yet somewhere, somehow, something had changed.

Yet oh how alive it made him feel! He had forgotten how it truly felt to play such a game, to engage in even the most subtle of touches that promise so much more and yet so easily deny all at once until that flame of desire is stoked into something far more feverish in its design. It is all too easy to allow his hand to run down the man's back, Dorian far bolder then he has been thus far and yet it had not escaped his attention that this marketplace hardly seemed to have guards, that Sebastian had held his hand through a veritable throng of people and not one had cried out or offered even the vaguest of disapproving looks. He suspects, perhaps, that he may well be capable of more than he ever has been within the public eye and as such, tonight, Dorian has merely become inclined to test another of his ideas as he so often is upon his companion. He can near feel the pleasant cool of the other man's skin, even beneath his shirt. Just as he too, can feel the man's body react in turn to the delicate path of his fingers down his back. Ah, but there is enjoyment to be had in seeing just what his own touch might do to his companion! His fingers, at last, reach their ultimate goal- hand sliding into the back pocket of the man's jeans with casual ease, a simper tracing his lips at the soft release of breath from the man beside him. His own words in response to the teacup seem to remind the vampire he had been holding it within the first place, a soft chuckle humming within Dorian's throat as he remains pressed against his companion.

"No, not today, tea is not at all what I want right now."

He offers the words softly, though his voice still holds that distinctive edge of want relishing in even the feeling of the man pressed against him now- as close as Dorian is sure is acceptable in public. Though it is hardly to the extent he desires. How his own games turn upon him so quickly! Sebastian's voice beside him sees the silver of his gaze glance sideways, those French lyrics teasing the smallest of smiles onto his lips before the words themselves fall upon him. To say such things! An ache he knows far to well settles with a distinct and almost pleasing discomfort lower down, Dorian entirely unable to resist the urge to shift ever so slightly in place. The Fae biting down softly upon his lip to prevent himself uttering the groan that threatens to escape him.

"Les idées que vous me donnez quand vous dites ces choses, vous avez aucune idée."
(The ideas you give me when you say these things, you have no idea.)

How he wishes, truly, they were not looking at teacups right now. It is with no small measure of reluctance that Dorian moves to slip his hand from Sebastian's back pocket. The woman before them seeming to have grown only increasingly concerned with the delicate item within Sebastian's hands, Dorian moving to gently take it from his companion and pass it back to the woman before him. He gestures briefly up the street once more, falling back into step beside his companion now. This time, Dorian remains entirely beside him. What remains of the stalls- clothing, children's toys and plants, holding little true intrigue for the man though his gaze passes over them all the same. The pair reach the end of the street at last, this end far less crowded though indeed much of the crowd itself is beginning to dispel with the lateness of the hour.

"I have decided upon something."

He has returned easily to English now as he pauses once more, one hand reaching towards one of the decorative fairy lights within the shrubbery beside him, Dorian hesitating several times before at last allowing his fingers to touch the coloured light- both eyes lifting in evident surprise that he is capable of such a thing. His gaze casts sideways now to the man beside him, that impish grin returned.

"I think next time, we should lay together before it is so we go out, this I think- I would like. If you are not opposed?"

For his wants in this area in the least, Dorian has never been less then bold, the Fae finding he is utterly unashamed to offer Sebastian such ideas. He is comfortable with this man after all, more so then he is with perhaps any other- and oh how he desired him even here and now. The hour though was perhaps later then Dorian had truly anticipated, the Fae having intended to leave Sebastian with entirely enough time tonight to find his meal- the faintest of frowns touching his features now.

"I have kept you longer from your night then I intended I fear. Let us start walking back in the least."

The King however, pauses a moment longer still, Dorian evidently content to debate something within his mind for several moments longer before he reaches abruptly forward to gently take Sebastian's hand in his own- lacing his fingers with the man's own. It is a decidedly significant step for a man still bound by the rules of the 15th century and yet it seems he is determined to....test the idea. Sebastian, he is sure, will see him break all the rules by the time they are done.

Dorian Aragona