In those fateful evenings after his return from abroad, there was no denying the Englishman had so strove to coax as many of those altogether wondrous evenings from his King. He knew, all too realistically, that such sweet bliss could not last for eternity and, as much as he hated to admit it, their time together came to an end far faster than Sebastian would have liked. Still, though he had returned to his usual practice of so delicately persuading those souls he came across in the city to share their very life force with him, Sebastian had thus far remained entirely true to his word. He had abstained in the fashion that he had done for no one else from so warming their beds or from providing more affection than necessary to so reward himself with that flesh of their necks. He had, in all his capabilities, remained true to that newfound position and associated title he had found so happily boasting. He hadn't anticipated to find himself in such a position to be the declared Consort of a King - the thought alone entirely amusing to the vampire. How his parents had so struggled to find him a suitable wife to expand their titles in his youth and yet he had quite literally stumbled upon a king.

There was particularly little, of late, that so intrigued the vampire within the spiraling metropolis at large. Sebastian left his estate only to feed that animalistic hunger that so clawed at his facade of composure. He had so rejected any such offers to return with her to her apartment, instead leaving the young woman with her friends only to return to his own luxurious mansion. The Englishman had been pleasantly surprised to discover, upon his return, to find that embodiment of enticement so nestled comfortably upon that ebony leather sofa beneath that soft glow of that silver chandelier within his living room. The man's usual restraint was all but decimated in the company of the Italian fae, his ability to so keep his hands to himself entirely gone if only for the simple knowledge of the pleasure he knew well Dorian was so capable of bringing him. His lips had so immediately found Dorian's own, his hands had explored the entirety of that body he had become so familiar with. It was hardly long before clothes were deposited haphazardly upon the floor, the vampire having little care truly of their location within the comfort of his own home. After all, he was well assured that his servants would remain out of view whilst those groans of satisfaction so reverberated upon those dark wooden walls.

Sebastian was entirely ignorant of that soft press of lips upon his cheek as the fae pulled himself from his side, the vampire hardly any wiser of Dorian's departure nor Charlie's presence within his room. The array of colors that so painted the sky assured that Sebastian remained entirely as he was - dead. It certainly afforded Dorian the chance to so construct that in which he had so deviously and meticulously planned without the vampire's awareness. Still, there was no denying that Sebastian wholly relished in those evenings in which Dorian remained within his home, tucked against his body as life was so stolen from his corpse. He so despised those few moments upon sunset in which the vampire found himself on the edge of waking - entirely alone. Even after nearly two hundred years, that terrible sensation of breath filling his lungs by lunar and blood magic, that hunger stirring within him, it brought back memories he so preferred to forget. Dorian's presence alone seemed to so chase off such somber thoughts, his touch always brought promises of far more pleasing aspects upon the horizon.

He was aware, vaguely, of movement within his room, just as he too felt the soft brush against his figure, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly at that genteel contact of skin against the coldness of his own. A soft groan so left his lips, at the added weight upon the pallor of his chest, the vampire himself so difficult to pull from the depths of that daily death he so ritualistically endured. He felt the man's lips press against his own, so drawing forth the memories of what their previous evening had so gloriously held. His own efforts to return such a gesture was halfhearted at best and yet, the corner of his lips twitched upwards ever so subtly as he felt the Dorian's fingertips continue to trace circles across those refined planes of his chest. It was that teasing tone and that continual downward motion of those dancing touches that finally drew Sebastian from the depths of such a slumber, his dark, indigo hued gaze fluttering open. A soft yawn so crossed the vampire's lips, his hand rising to cover his mouth in a polite, habitual gesture. "I suppose." The English man muttered softly after a moment, his gaze wholly settling upon the fae King in front of him.

The vampire's arms so gingerly embraced his companion within that moment, his legs intermingling with Dorian's own as he rolled over, dragging the man with him in such a way to place Dorian beneath him. His lips so delicately found Dorian's neck, pressing against that tender flesh in a gentle kiss. Oh how he loved that reassuring, steady thrum of Dorian's heart, the sound almost peculiarly comforting as he nestled his own head against the crook of Dorian's neck in a fashion he so tended to do when so entirely content. His tongue reached out, licking that flesh as his obsidian gaze remained wholly trained upon Dorian himself, the gesture more teasing than of the usual want to fulfill those vampiric needs. His fingertips found the fae King's own, fully allowing that crimson thread only he could see tangled among their naked bodies. How he could find such serenity in moments as simple as this one! And yet, for all Sebastian's complacency, he found himself nuzzling his nose into the man's flesh before inquiring softly - "We have the night before us, my King, what shall we do with it?"