The vampire's indigo gaze momentarily remained wholly steadfast upon the peculiar topiary, considering the simple knowledge that the animals that adored his gardens were entirely foreign to his companion. It shouldn't have surprised him, this knowledge, and yet somehow it caught the vampire off guard. "Hm." He muttered softly, contemplating this concept of so changing the carefully crafted shrubbery each associated season. It was hardly a bad idea, one he might indeed mention to Charlie to see what the manservant thought of it. After all, he'd never particularly dwelled upon the shapes of his foliage before, merely trusting in the capabilities of his landscapers. Ashford would benefit from something like this. Fortunately, such altogether meaningless thoughts were altogether replaced by the sound of his name on Dorian's lips, pulling his attention away from the faux piano. Those words that left his lover's lips, however, were altogether unexpected and yet they didn't fail to so pull his features into an altogether warm simper. He stepped closer towards the fae King, the vampire no longer caring in the least for the crowd that was only just beginning to make their way out of that exquisite building and into those carefully tended gardens. All that mattered in that singular moment was ensuring that Dorian was well aware of his own feelings for the man.

It was that same passionate need that so saw the vampire take Dorian's lips within his own, his hands tangling in the King's locks as he closed that distance between them till there was but inches separating his body from that of his lover's. Sebastian was all too aware of that intensity that so laced his lover's lips as the man so eagerly returned each and every stolen kiss before the vampire found himself pulling away ever so slightly with but the intent to offer those same tender three words in a way of response. There was no denying his affections for Dorian and if those sweet words were one the King so longed to hear, Sebastian was all too keen to offer them. He had withheld them from ever being echoed for too long for but fear that they would not be understood for the emotions they certainly held. Rejection was the least of his concerns, Sebastian entirely steadfast in his belief of his own affinity and the thread that so connected him to the man in front of him. And yet, still, he found himself whispering them back ever so quietly against Dorian's own lips.

Sebastian was wholly aware of the man's hands so falling upon his hips in that moment, the King's grip tightening ever so slightly against his form at those whispered words. How he yearned to be within Dorian's embrace, to simply be held, to feel the man's flesh against his back. It was ridiculous that Dorian could so prompt within him such notions and yet, they existed all the same. Sebastian could hardly ignore those desires as the King's lips pressed against his own once more and in that simple moment of lips upon lips, the Englishman was entirely assured that his lover understood well the emotion he had so attempted to convey with that simple sentiment. A soft chuckle left his lips as Dorian pulled away from him, the vampire wholly aware of that embarrassment that so laced not only his companion's features but too his heart. It was little more than a boyish reaction - this aspect of love in public and yet, it amused Sebastian entirely in an endearing fashion. That brush of lips once again against his own in a more chaste fashion could hardly chase away that simper that so brightened the vampire's face, the fae's whispered words only resulting in a hushed reply of his own. The words were but yet another promise of sorts, "I will say them again as often as you like."

He felt Dorian's fingers so embrace his own hand, the vampire freely allowing himself to be led back down that cobblestone pathway the foliage so lined. Sebastian could hardly deny enjoying that simple notion that their night was hardly far from over. He despised those summer evenings if only for how short they were and how much he so wanted to spend far more hours then he was allotted with the King he'd become so terribly obsessed with. Sebastian so effortlessly slide into that ebony car that stood waiting for them at the edge of the sidewalk, his darkened irises immediately shifted towards his companion. His head tilted ever so inquisitively to the side as Dorian's attention, and too his words, turned to Charles to inquire after the rest of his intentions for this evening. His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly at the man's reassurance that such things had been cared for and yet, for all his wonderings, Sebastian was hardly perturbed. He trusted the two men within the vehicle well enough to be entirely assured that whatever this thing was, he was certain to enjoy it.

His darkened gaze so briefly met the eyes of his lover, that small simper so settling on his features as the fae King's lips so brushed across his cheek. The inquiry that followed, however, was a moment of equal inquisitiveness, "My favorite color?" He inquired in thought. It had been quite sometime since he had contemplated such things, his life often entirely void of any who cared of such insignificant notions as his favorite colors or preferences in such things. "I suppose I have always been partial to blues and greens." Sebastian stated after a moment's consideration before so turning that same question back upon his lover, "If you cannot tell me why then you must at least tell me which colors you favor. You never know when I might need such knowledge." It was by far an entirely important question - right up there with things like: when is your birthday and what are your hobbies. Still, thankfully, Sebastian had all of history to so learn of his lover. It was perhaps a singular perk to the man beside him being King, such information that he might need was hardly scare to come by. Still - he did much prefer to hear such thoughts come from the lips of Dorian himself. Although he knew well of Dorian's status within Italy, Sebastian himself still found it entirely difficult to imagine the man at his side upon a throne, regarding the world with a cold, calculated facade.