For all that Dorian most assuredly is- the man the very example of manner and politeness and propriety in every sense of the word- he remains, when out of the public view, an entirely forthright individual when it so comes to his wants or desires or even those ever flourishing oddities that so seem to capture his mind at any given moment with an endless curiosity. Alone, at least with Sebastian, he is far more given to mischievousness and so allowing that wholly more playful aspect of his temperament to be seen. His species, by very nature, is far more inclined to deviousness then most and yet Dorian is nothing if not a product of his time. The man so entirely every inch the Monarch he should be when the situation should require it and yet here and now atop the grass and beneath that pale sphere and without any other being to so press the weight of expectation upon him the Fae is so finally relaxed enough to simply be. That deviant, impish nature that so contrasts the view often presented to others readily seeing the man so willingly discuss the very freedom of his jeans within that moment. A freedom that was vastly restricted the mere second Sebastian had so seen to it to dare to allow his fingers to grace beneath that waistline and so render Dorian once more within the very state he had only some hours ago been wholly relieved to be released off. Yet- that the vampire might so easily bring about such a thing was nothing short of endearing to him all the same, Sebastian's mere proximity, it seemed, wholly capable of causing a response within him- let alone that all to pleasing touch! Dorian so utterly unconcerned with offering these admittances to his companion.

That teasing simper remains entirely in place, widening ever so slightly at the soft chuckle his words seem to draw from within the vampire himself. One silvery eye arcs neatly upward at the lyrics he is afforded, that husky tone within the man's voice hardly missed- Dorian having already learned that just such a tone arose within the vampire whenever his thoughts, it seemed, might be inclined to travel to those more intimate of activities they so often shared. His gaze drifts briefly downward, so following that bright blue of Sebastian's own before he finds that chuckle upon his own lips at the simple amusement he so finds with the situation. Such words however, hardly fail to stoke at those already smouldering embers of desire Sebastian had stirred to life upon the grass, Dorian pausing as if to consider such an offer as his fingers so rake through his own hair to loosen those stray blades of grass that had found their way within.

"I think Tesoro, that such a thing is the very job of the Boyfriend Consort alone."

Those Italian lyrics so accent his words before he moves to intertwine his fingers with Sebastian's own in a gesture that had become entirely second nature to the man. Dorian, once, having found even a gesture so chaste as this to be wholly daring within the public eye in the least and yet over those passing weeks he had become entirely more accepting of it regardless of who might exist to see. That some relationships were, perhaps, far more accepted then they had ever been within his own time was still something of an oddity to him. Samantha assuring him all the same that times had changed dramatically in this regard and that it was unlikely- outside of the odd traditionalist, that he would meet any true opposition to such open affections with another man in a public setting. It was a realisation that Dorian was, slowly, beginning to accept. His promise amongst those night markets to one day allow Sebastian to do whatever he should please in public hardly forgotten. It is simply an understanding Dorian finds himself steadily progressing towards within this modern world.

Their arrival within those stables however, is a very step within the opposite direction and away from anything in a modern sense, that entirely sweet smell of hay and horse so rapidly returning Dorian to perhaps those more treasured memories of his own youth and a time in which he might have been so permitted to leave his own palaces. Naples, after all, had forever possessed an endless array of hills and beaches, his own gardens extensive enough to permit him to ride throughout them or so pursue the hunt that had once been the very epitome of a gentleman's sport. Every deer, after all, was by law his own property to take if only it graced his lands. Ah, how he might treasure those very memories and too, the very steed whom had once accompanied him upon such ventures. It is with no small amount of eagerness that Dorian steps away from Sebastian in that moment, hands extended to stroke at, first, the dappled grey mare whom seemed all-too eager for his attention as his fingers so graced the contours of her fine head. Horses were, it seemed, wholly unchanged in all those years. They were a little larger perhaps, then those he kept within his own stables. His silver gaze is drawn briefly to the painted mare beside, those colours far from anything he had ever seen upon a horse before, features frowning softly in consideration of just why the animal seemed so undecided on its own colour before he sees fit to challenge his lover, in a fashion, to a race of sorts one day. That quiet confidence that so seemed to linger within Sebastian's words bringing a simper of amusement to his own features, that chuckle humming within his throat.

"Ah Bastien, believe what you will."

His words are entirely designed to goad at the man further still, riding forever having been an interested shared amongst the lords within his own time as it was shared between Sebastian and himself now. This a part of history they both existed within and one Dorian knew well how to engage within. He allows himself to be led away from the grey mare then and towards the stall at the end of the line, hands reaching once more for the ebony animal that so eagerly greeted him now, fingers caressing that velveteen muzzle with affection for the horse he saw fit to declare nicer then his compatriots as Sebastian spoke of these deer parks. Why Sebastian might keep deer, if not to hunt them, was something of a novelty to the Monarch and yet he remains silent upon it now, simply nodding at this explanation he was afforded before 'Stella' so saw fit to agree with her Master. The vampire offering him a look almost akin to smug. Dorian's eyes rolling softly before affording the grey mare his full attention.

"We have offended the lady, it would seem, you have my apologies then."

Stella, for her part, hardly seemed as if she wished to hear them- his gaze drifting then to this Genevieve. Dorian noting for the first time how very....proper the names his lover so chose for his steeds before Sebastian gestured to the stallion his own hands still stroked. The very words of his companion however so rapidly see the Fae turn to face him once more in evident surprise.

"To be mine? He is a gift?"

It was hardly the first time in which Dorian had been afforded a horse as a gift and yet it was perhaps the first time in several hundred years he had been done so. That such a thing was from Sebastian, too, made it all the more glorious. Affection swelling within now for his lover. Delight entirely evident upon his features as that grin so adorns them.

"This is a most splendid gift! Grazie! Ah, but he must have a name as you say, one that is like Stella and Genevieve or else they should both laugh at him and a man should not be laughed at by his women."

This business of naming, it seems, is of critical importance.

"Perhaps I might name him Nikoli then. I do not think he is Italian as I am but it is a most respectable name, yes?"

His gaze returns then to the man behind him, features still adorned with that soft simper as he so seeks to assure himself Sebastian too might find this pleasing before he steps back from his new horse, fingers so entwining with Sebastian's own once more- admiring his gift for but a moment still in that simple, peaceful contentment before he speaks softly now, leaning against Sebastian's chest.

"If there is nothing else you might so wish to show me, for tonight at least, I think perhaps we should go back to bed- unless you prefer the hay of course, though there are ladies present."

Dorian Aragona