The young man had been taught at a particularly early age that to speak of anything of a more troubling nature was entirely frowned upon. After all, his family had been at the bottom of that social ladder when he was a child - nothing but utter perfection expected from himself and his brother in turn. His father had been entirely aspiring in nature, utilizing those eloquent skills and good looks to ensure they appealed to those of higher social status and, in turn, to further those titles and lands granted to them. It was so utterly ingrained within him that, to speak of those dejecting matters of the heart would bring his downfall that he struggled at even voicing such concerns to the singular soul in which he likely should have. After all, Dorian was his - his lover, his boyfriend, his King, why should he deny him the opportunity to equally be his confidant? It was that thought alone, surely, that saw his lips part and yet, any efforts to order those wayward thoughts in the fashion he so often meticulously did fell drastically short. He could hardly deny he that he was fond of the notion of ensuring that ring upon his lover's finger meant more than just that transference of the beat of the fae's heart. Nor could he refuse that possessive part of him that utterly desired to ensure the Monarch remained as his alone for the eternity that stretched on before them and yet, the prospect of asking was entirely vexing, that comment mirrored on his lips. Any notion he did have of how one went about doing so, however, were kept to himself as the vampire quickly realized he had gotten wholly distracted from the heart of that which perturbed him and, in turn, that which Dorian was truly after.

It had been very near over a century since Sebastian had spoken the syllables that formed the name of that woman who haunted him for so long. In truth, he had once looked fondly over her - she had been the entirety of his world for a year, though it had been but a blink in time for the sentimental Englishman. That joy he had found in her, however, had changed and their marriage degraded into an affair he most often cringed away from even considering as long as he didn't have to. This was but the first time he truly spoke of the woman and those few fleeting years of his life with any real detail. Even now, his comment of Isabella's detest of those specifics that came with his species was but the beginning of a tale that came to a, to some degree, less than pleasant conclusion. Those insecurities that had so beset the woman was spoken of but vaguely, hinting to rather real situations in which he had experienced with that woman who once bore his last name. He knew, truly he did, how utterly difficult it was to so be at his side. He knew the extent of what he asked of her, and now, Dorian. To remain utterly faithful to him alone whilst he was more akin to a philanderer. Were the roles exchanged, Sebastian was hardly even certain he could put up with the same.

Still, the vampire was utterly inclined to ensure that his lover knew well of his ever growing, and entirely unwavering, affections for him. His slender, pale fingers gingerly reached out to the King, pressing his cold hands against the warmth of that chiseled chin as Sebastian so strove to impress upon Dorian that fear that was perhaps greatest of all. The simple act of marriage had so utterly destroyed what he had once been assured had been a beautiful relationship with that young Victorian woman and, as nonsensical as it perhaps was, Sebastian couldn't not deny he was concerned that such a great forward step might somehow taint all of this, even if Fate had so declared Dorian his soul mate (or perhaps, really, even because of it). His head fell ever so slightly into his lover's chest, that soft sigh of defeat finally left his lips in the wake of all those more intimate and often concealed thoughts he so rarely even acknowledged. Sebastian could feel the warmth of the King's arms, even through those layers of lavished cotton. He shifted ever so slightly at the subtle sound of his lover's lips finally parting and yet, those words of faithful reassurance caused a glimpse of calmth within the man's troubled soul.

That shift of his lover's bodice was enough to cause the vampire to, regretfully, withdraw from the King's chest. Sebastian's indigo hued irises glanced upwards with a hint of hesitance to meet those striking silver ones he found himself eternally becoming lost within. Though, Dorian stated with utter confidence that he had been aware, from the beginning, that his very need for blood was a point unwilling to be compromised, the Englishman could scarcely help the cold clinch of guilt that gripped his heart at the King's admittance that it was certainly less than ideal. A soft breath of air left his parted lips as his lover continued and yet, Sebastian was hardly oblivious that, once again, the fae King was once again willing to accept that which even the vampire so struggled to come to terms with. He hardly despised that blood, not truly. Rather, it was the things he had done in the past, those actions he still did, and the ones he would undoubtedly do in the future that beset him with such discomfort. And yet, Sebastian was given not a singular moment to so dwell on his lover's acceptance - one which he was relatively certain he did not deserve. Instead, it was but a word of wisdom that Dorian offered to him, one that saw his eyebrows furrow ever so slightly.

"A means to an end?" He inquired, his accent still heavy as he repeated those words. They felt altogether foreign upon his tongue, the man never once questioning Isabella's affections for him. He had, without question so shouldered that burden in a fashion that was, perhaps, entirely stereotypically him. That rich chuckle that left his lover's lips drew Sebastian's gaze, that questioning look still present upon his features and yet, his head gave way easily enough at the King's genteel touch. That press of Dorian's lips against his own was met with a hint of hesitance, even as the fae pressed his figure further against the that steady frame of the undead man. Slowly, Sebastian relented, his figure falling with controlled ease back onto the plush comfort of those blankets beneath them, all the while his lips never once left those passionate kisses thrust upon him. That brush of Dorian's tongue was hardly ignored and yet, he found it curious, truly, how utterly willing the King was to so easily forgive him - that alone a sure testament to the differences between the man on top of him and the woman long since deceased. His lips parted, his eyes fluttered closed in that moment in an effort to so lose himself to that touch of his lover's body pressed against his, their mouths meeting with a frenzied need.

It was several moments later that Dorian pulled away from him, the vampire's eyelashes fluttered open to meet the gaze of the intoxicating man that so stared down at him. He listened all too intently as the King offered his own conditions, though, in truth, they were but onces Sebastian was perhaps all too eager to meet. For the first time, at least since Matteo had left their presence, a genuine simple, small as it was, settled upon the Englishman's features. "There is only ever you, Dorian." He offered softly, that promise leaving his lips entirely solemnly and yet, it was the truth. Even on those nights in which they had been apart, even during those evenings in which he was perhaps more promiscuous then he should have been, it was but Dorian that still lingered upon his mind. It was because of Dorian that he went home alone to that empty bed that he had found himself abhorring with each passing day. His heart beat for the King alone. His head bobbed after a moment, hearing those English phrases in that distinctly Italian accent brought a softened chuckle to his lips and yet, Sebastian still found himself meeting that mischievous kiss all the same, even if it failed to prompt the same immediate reaction of want it so often did - at least, not yet.

The vampire watched as his lover settled against his chest, his own hand reached up to tenderly nestle within the King's locks and yet, he entirely disregarded the man's words of appreciation. Instead, his head turned to the side, his free arm reached out for those peculiar wooden boards, holding one up to regard it with a measure of suspicion. "I suppose, doeling..." He started, nearly too lazy to switch to that French their pet names were often uttered in, "...that you should teach me what to do with these numbers...." The vampire's voice trailed off, clearly contemplating the use of this board as he turned it from one side to the other, as if his studious glimpse of it was enough to bring him some idea of that activity he had eagerly agreed to partake within. After all, he was perhaps as determined to ensure their evening was returned to some state of decency, even more so now that his lover had so taken it upon himself to not only listen but address those decidedly foolish worries the vampire had so fretted over for much of dinner.