It was no secret, Sebastian's complete and utter disdain for that process in which he nearly daily met his death and found life once again. He abhorred how utterly discombobulating those moments were, when life was once again pressed into that cold corpse, breathing air in his lungs and prompting his heart to beat all over again. It was hardly like that night he had truly died, naturally, and yet he hated it all the same. Even so, Dorian had quite near purposefully taken it upon himself to ensure he was there in those first few moments every 'morning', at least since he had moved into the vampire's home a near year ago. That first breath was always the most difficult, nearly suffocating really, as if his lungs had forgotten how to breath, even if he hadn't needed such breath at all to continue his undead existence. Even so, it was a fleeting worry, one that was replaced with that knowledge of how close that warm figure beside him was. During those winter months, the fae Monarch had a habit of migrating within that bed further from Sebastian's cold frame then he did in the summer, not that the vampire could terribly fault the King in the slightest.

Even though some resemblance of awareness had returned to the waking vampire, he was hardly inclined to move from that comfortable position. Those blankets simply felt wonderful, embracing the bare flesh of his form with those extra layers in spite of the chill that had invaded in those twilight hours. Soon, he knew either Dorian himself would rise, or Elizabeth would come through that door to start the bath while Charles busied with the fireplace. Those morning were, perhaps, some of his favorite moments. There was a certain slow placidity to them, to having Dorian to himself before the day demanded otherwise. Perhaps, he might be capable of stealing another hour from the sleeping King, the vampire almost considering it when that bright yellow light suddenly invaded the room, nearly piercing through even those closed eyelids. A groan crossed his lips, at that sudden brightness, the voice that followed it was near instantly recognized by the vampire, enough so that those instincts were hardly perturbed by her presence in a place that she certainly didn't belong.

Sebastian rolled onto his side, his form retreated further into those blankets. His body ever so gingerly curled against the length of his lover's own. His head hid within the Monarch's neck, half buried within that pillow. Gingerly, his arm draped around Dorian's waist. "It's not tea time for another hour....I'm not ready to get up yet." He muttered, his words little more then a groan into his lover's skin and yet, Sebastian was altogether keen to simply pretend that light and, in turn, Vhalla, didn't exist. Dorian was far too comfortable for this, he was certain. He wasn't ready yet to let the King go, not with how busy the man had been of late. Each moment he had with his fiance was so desperately treasured, silly though it surely was when he had an eternity to spend at Dorian's side. It was that jingling of that collar that made the vampire stir once again, his head lifted just enough to glance up at the woman and that ever excitable puppy within her arms. That frown traced his features before his head fell back upon that pillow with another grunt of discontentment. At the very least, he trusted Vhalla to entertain Maxwell, even if the man hardly bothered to reply to that comment of the dog's name. After all, names were something Sebastian took very seriously. Maxwell still had time to grow into the dignity of his own.

Sebastian Ellington