Sebastian could certainly not deny that his companion had an altogether fair point. So much of his life as an English gentleman was dictated by what was deemed and prim and proper for a man of his status. So many aspects of life were strictly forbidden if only for the shame it would surely bring upon his family. His father had ensured both of his sons were well aware of what was anticipated of them, even if Sebastian was a bit more discreetly indulgent in those very aspects that Victorian etiquette so demanded he remain entirely chaste with. He was certain there was likely some proper amount of time from some specific viewing angle that art was so supposed to be viewed from and yet, in truth, Sebastian had spent particularly little time dedicated to eying the works that so lined the walls of the exquisite the court. Rather - the man's attention had been taken wholly by the people that so drifted within those halls, as was very much his duty to be. Still, the vampire found his head tilting ever so slightly to the side in consideration before nodding ever so slightly, "I suppose you are right." He uttered, adding after a moment of further consideration, "I have likely been doing it wrong my whole life."

And yet, despite that admittance, Sebastian hardly dwelled on the crimes he'd committed to those dedicated to the artform, instead merely settling on the floor per the request of his enigmatic lover. Those hues the fae King so meticulously mixed were entirely unexpected, that assaulting sensation of paint upon his skin only further catching the vampire off guard. That brush of blue continued with noteable purpose down the length of his chest, the vampire found himself so struggling to find attentiveness solely to the words upon the lips of the man above him. Still, there was no denying he found such a title as the Lord of the Mediterranean Sea curious, that jest so falling from his lips that, perhaps, Dorian might be more akin to the god of said sea then some mere Lord. What he hadn't anticipated, however, was that Dorian had found such a notion entirely farfetched if only for the man's inability to swim. It was a notion entirely baffling to the vampire if only because even he, in all his distaste for such a thing, was entirely capable of treading water when necessary. It was a skill taught to him if only for the simple fact that his home land was bordered by such mass liquids. The ocean was entirely inescapable. "Perhaps then I shall find another name for you." He uttered, a small hint of mischievousness crossing his features though this was but entirely fleeting at the continued presence of that consistency.

That paint so had a fashion of dredging up memories Sebastian often preferred to simply forget. That feeling upon his flesh was so akin to the same texture of that blood he so often ate. It was warm and soft and wet at first before slowly drying and cracking in a fashion that was wholly unforgettable. His indigo gaze so intently rose to the form of his lover, so innately aware of the blood running through the man's veins, of the warmth of his flesh and the memory of his taste. And yet, for all those things that so plagued him, Sebastian remained entirely still, exactly as had been demanded of him. He was hardly aware that it was this which so captured Dorian's attention, his gaze instead intently meeting that of his lovers at the man's simple assurance that, in this fashion, Dorian's own interest was entirely more engaging. Sebastian could hardly deny that the paint had certainly managed to engage him in some fashion, though he was certain it was not the way in which Dorian had wanted him to be.

Regardless of such lingering thoughts, and such wants that so lingered just under the surface, Sebastian merely offered the slightest of nods, his gaze still wholly steadfast upon those silver eyes that so intently stared back at him. He met that gaze with that same lingering want and yet, the vampire hardly spoke a word, simply noting the man's features as his lips contorted ever so slightly. That momentary silence was entirely pregnant of those words that went unspoken between the two - a recognition surely of what so transpired within the vampire passing between them. And, Sebastian was wholly thankful his companion simply failed to comment altogether on that effort he so put forth to remain, as always, within control of those bloodthirsty urges. Those stories that paralleled to such sensations were of darker period he hardly wished to share, much less dwell upon. His own gaze shifted back towards that multitude of paint, watching his lover's fingers as he took such care to so create the perfect hue of green for his landmasses. That brush of paint once again upon his abdomen saw a small shudder run down his spine and yet it was a reaction he did his best to suppress. His navy gaze slowly drifted towards that island his lover so attempted to craft over those finely toned muscles, the King's comment on the very subject caused the smallest of simpers to so cross his lips. "Would you prefer I was less so - for your future painting endeavors?" He inquired, putting every effort to line his lyrics with a hint of mischievousness.

For all the vampire's capabilities to so manipulate those around him - to create lust, desire, want, he was entirely oblivious at the way Dorian's affinity so reached forward to envelop him with that simple unyielding loyalty the man. There was no denying that Sebastian was entirely possessive by nature, the vampire wholly declaring Dorian as his own in every facet, even if the King was oblivious of that claim. In that moment, Sebastian wholly desired to keep Dorian here tonight, nestled against him between those sheets and within that bed rather than seeing the man return to that roommate he knew the fae so cherished. In that moment of selfishness, it hardly mattered to him his care for Samantha or whatever friendships he might have developed with others within that city. Sebastian wanted all of him. No, he needed all of him. He needed to feel his hands upon his body, he needed to feel the weight of Dorian's slated hued irises. He needed to hear the man's whispered voice for his ears alone. He needed that simple scent that was so distinctive of the King. He needed every ounce Dorian had ever offered to him before and so much more - far more than he had ever needed anything from anyone. Those darkened irises remained entirely trained upon the King, such simple, raw, possessiveness somehow managed to override that initial thirst, warping it into something else entirely.

It was amidst that pause between painting that Sebastian reached out, his fingertips running along side Dorian's cheek in a small display of affection. For all those needs that so grew within him, he remained wholly bound to Dorian's command to remain relatively still, lest he interrupt the painting process - still, he could not deny that simple desires to touch the man before him. Those few moments between changes of hues were all he allowed himself to steal before stilling once again under Dorian's fingertips. Those words that fell from Dorian's lips were so attentively drank if only for the simple fact that they were words meant only for him from the man he so obsessively adored. Sebastian so attentively watched the simple movement of Dorian's lips, both imaging the taste of them and too abhorring with such a fervor any whom the King had afforded even the slightest of brushes that very mouth.

His navy hued eyes so intently watched his companion as he rose, suddenly leaving Sebastian's flesh cold and desperately lonely without the weight of Dorian's body against his hips. His lips pressed together in discontent and yet, Sebastian did his best to suppress that pathetic whine that so threatened to fall from his mouth. Thankfully, Dorian returned to his side but moment's later, so speaking again of those titles that he bore. The vampire all too eagerly gave into that simple request for his hand, watching the way in which that permanent marker so stained his ivory flesh with Dorian's signature. It was peculiar, really, that such a simple thing could bring him so much pleasure. To find Dorian's signature upon his very form as if, somehow, he was a thing to be owned might have been insulting to some and yet, for Sebastian, it only fueled those urges to too possess the king in some remarkable way.

Dorian's soft, simple utterance that he had done well surely required some sort of recognition on his own part and so, softly, those french words so left his own lips as he shifted to his knees, "Je suis désolé, ma biche." (I'm sorry, my pet.). It was the only words he would speak on his struggles and yet, such feelings were quickly forgotten in the wake of that kiss upon his lps and too those urgers that so feverishly tugged at him. The vampire crawled closer towards his companion, his fingertips so reaching out to the man's pristine ivory dress shirt. In truth, his interest in such art that adorned his body was all but destroyed in the wake of those desires. Sebastian undid the first button, his mind so quickly pulling at those very titles Dorian had given him to remember. "You did a splendid job, King of Naples, Sicily, Sardines..." The vampire had quite purposefully faltered, continuing without even missing a beat as he moved from button to button. "...Corsica, Aragon, Valencia, Marjoram, Malta, Andorra, some poorly painted Islands because I'm too toned, Athens....Cleopatra...Carcelona...Caterpiller land, and Neptune." He finished unbuttoning that last button, the vampire carefully pushing that shirt off the man's shoulders to fall on the floor beneath them as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Dorian's own, his tongue brushing against the King's lip. God how he yearned to feel Dorian's body against his own and yet, it was that very wet paint that so saw Sebastian hesitate from so embracing his lover in the way he so desperately desired.