The vampire's fingertips brushed so gingerly against the man's cheek, that fanatical adoration so filled the vampire's navy gaze with a certain sort of perceptible intensity. That such a touch, as gentle and sweet as it was, could so bring to fruition that warm, illuminating simper so managed to warm the vampire's frigid heart. It was so utterly spellbinding, that simple twitch of his lips and the joy that such a smile surely alluded to. Sebastian slowly leaned back upon his elbows, allowing his companion to continue that careful tracing of those lands he held upon his own pale, cold corpse. He watches as Sicily and Malta and Barcelona came to life upon his flesh with each slow, methodical stroke and each brush of paint only seemed to further increase those desires for his lover, so overriding and altogether burying that hunger that had but moments ago clawed at him so abruptly. That map that graced his flesh, however, paled in comparison to the beauty of his lover, the vampire's cerulean gaze entirely trained upon each action Dorian took as he suddenly rose to abandon the vampire for but a mere moment. That sudden lack of Dorian's presence was nearly heartbreaking for the vampire, those needs so entirely eclipsing him to the point that such sheer feet of distance was nearly painful. Thankfully, he hardly was banished long to this icy existence before his lover returned with marker in hand.

His gaze was once again recaptured by his lover's simple form, the vampire hardly hesitated in so providing his own wrist for his companion, watching the fashion at which his name was written so exquisitely upon Sebastian's own skin. His eyes fluttered upwards towards his companion at that soft whisper that so spoke well of Dorian's own desire for their blooming attachment. A simper so warmed the vampire's features in that delicate moment, his gaze falling back down to that mark upon his wrist, his own response entirely just as hushed as he spoke some level of his own more vulnerable emotions, "I shall treasure it for as long as I might be able to keep it there." It was silly, truly, that something so simple and primal and, arguably, archaic could bring him such satisfaction. Truly though, few had found any such lingering desires for the vampire enough to so want him in this fashion - not so liberally and of their own will. For so many, Sebastian had for so long been but a momentary distraction, a one night mistake, a good time. He had never been cast to the role of soulmate, never been the man anyone had wanted to bring home to their family, or treasure to the point to claim as their own for an infinity.

The vampire's eyes closed as Dorian's lips so tenderly pressed against his own in that singular fleeting sensation before the man leaned back against that mahogany desk just behind him, chasing away any apologies that Sebastian so attempted to offer him for his own lapse in discipline. That ease in which the fae King seemed so content to merely exist with his art work now at a satisfactory state was enough of a sign of permission for the vampire to so move, the man shifting to his own hands and knees to closer that distance between them. His long, slender fingers reached out to pluck at the buttons on that ironed shirt, the vampire so repeating with decided care that lengthy list of titles that had become embedded into his mind. After all, in court, knowing where one stood in comparison to one's peers was a necessity for any real introductions. Still, in those precious moments between them when such politeness and rules did not exist, the vampire took those rare glimpses of frivolity that were presented to him, so warping those names of those countries in a way that was altogether humorous for the Englishman.

Sebastian could hardly deny that joyous chuckle that so left his lips as Dorian so declared him little better the barbaric man he surely was at such a slaughter of those syllables that made up the countries Dorian's reign encompassed. Thankfully, his lover seemed to regard him with that same toying exasperation he so loved the look of as Sebastian's fingers reached out to push the shirt onto the ground beneath them. He leaned forward, his lips so embracing those soft, tender ones of the all too elegant King, his tongue reaching forward to caress them in a slow, succulent fashion. That brush was altogether fleeting, however, the vampire pulling back but moments later as a new conundrum so assaulted him. He could not deny that yearning demand to be close to his companion, to feel his flesh against his, and yet, that paint that so covered his figure was the sole cause of the man's marked hesitance. He was well aware that Dorian's hands were a multitude of colors but he was wholly uncertain that such comfort with this medium extended well to the majority of his flesh too being covered in it much in the same fashion his own was. Thankfully, Dorian seemed well aware of these thoughts that encompassed him, his own voice offering a solution to a question Sebastian had hardly even asked.

It was that mention of fucking that so brought that altogether charming simper back to the vampire's features. He had certainly not forgotten that crude language that had left his tongue hours upon hours ago, much less the imagery that Dorian had so left him with during his own lethargic efforts to remove himself from that bed. The politeness that was so mirrored within the man's vocal cords served entirely as a point of amusement for the vampire, the man nodding ever so slightly, "I thought you'd never ask." He uttered, his voice surely gaining that distinctive note of huskiness that so afflicted him when he so gave into such carnal desires. He moved to close what little distance existed between them at that tug of Dorian's fingers on his own dress pants, the vampire all too aware of Dorian's hands against his chest in that fleeting moment before his lips once again met those of his boyfriend's. That nip upon his bottom lip was met with a soft sound from his own throat, his mouth parted, so complying with those unspoken desires before his mouth once again met that of Dorian's own with a certain unyielding zeal. He hardly cared, in those treasured moments, as Dorian's hands so moved towards his blonde locks, so encasing them with that wet, oiled paint. In that moment, all that mattered was the fae's tongue in his mouth and chest against his painted flesh.

It was with much reluctance that he finally allowed Dorian to pull away from him, his indigo irises so steadfast upon his lover. The vampire knew well what was going to come - after all, though Dorian might so tease him and toy with his imagination, he never once failed to satisfy the Englishman's thirsty needs. Sebastian so desperately longed for any brush of affection that the King so might provide to him. He was aware of that simper that crossed Dorian's features at that downward glimpse of their own painted bodies and yet, his own eyes hardly followed, simply waiting with far more resilience than he so usually held. He watched as Dorian's gaze shifted back upwards towards him and yet, though he was entirely anticipatory as their encounter continuing, he hardly expected the man to so follow through on that imagery he'd so placed within the depths of the Victorian man's mind. Sebastian knew well that such delicate moments as this were entirely his alone to behind - those moments of Dorian upon his knees or tied with his arms above his head. Those sweet, precious moments the vampire so often liked to think back upon when the fae had so abandoned him to his usual habits.

The simple thought of what was to come was entirely enough to so create a reaction within the vampire's body, the man rising to his feet without even a touch of reluctance. He watched as Dorian reached forward to undo the button upon those dress pants, dropping them to reveal the entirety of Sebastian's craving for Dorian alone. It wasn't often that his lover so forewent that teasing foreplay, this surely being the first time and yet, the moment Sebastian found such sensitive areas within Dorian's mouth, his eyes fluttered closed, a soft breath leaving his lips, followed nearly immediately by that soft groan in the back of his throat. His breath hitched not but moment's later at those sensations so afforded to him and slowly, with such pointed care, Sebastian's eyes fluttered open, his gaze glancing down at his lover if only to so burn that simple image into his memory. Slowly, he reached down for his companion, his fingers running along Dorian's chest to so smear that paint further up towards his collarbone, followed by his neck as he pressed his hand into the back of the man's neck, so moving his hips forward ever so slightly in that gesture.

Even this was not enough for him, despite all those sensations and all that pleasure he so felt in those moments. He wanted to feel the King against him, moving with him and in that moment, in that overwhelming need of possessiveness and lust, he allowed his own affinity to so reach out to the man in a fashion he had not done in quite some time. He wanted the man to want him with the same intensity that Sebastian himself so needed the fae King - as if his very life depended upon it.