For a creature as highly observant as Dorian he is hardly unaware of that ever-so subtle shift in his companions demeanour. He makes no move to mention it, the silver tone of his gaze simply resting so subtly upon the vampire. There is an art, after all, to observing someone without allowing them to feel as if they are observed. So many years spent within the Royal Court of his homeland having allowed the fae to develop this skill exponentially so. After all, his Father had been a decidedly ill-tempered man and a difficult man to read at that. Dorian had, by way of one too many blows or sharply biting words, learned to predict the mans every subtle nuance with delicate care and- in light of this too- had discovered his own talent for observing the many beings that flooded his Father's court each and every day. He had been born with the misfortune of being the fifth son and if only to add insult to metaphorical injury his parentage had forever been questioned. After all, he held desperately little resemblance to his supposed Father. Dorian taller, fairer of hair and skin then any of his siblings. The man decidedly popular with the courtesans and high-born ladies alike- much to the ire of his brothers and yet, within such misfortune there was a hidden silver lining. After all- he was afforded, for the most part, little attention from anyone and in turn left to freely pursue most of his own interests and develop his own skills. Observation perhaps his most adapt among them.

It is an unusual conclusion in which the man comes to, observing those subtle notes of concern that seem to trace Sebastian's features and linger within the depths of that eternally blue gaze and yet one Dorian believes to be decidedly true even if the vampire was perhaps unaware of it himself. Sebastian, to a certain extent, was a worrier. It is almost an endearing trait really, one Dorian is not displeased to discover. His name upon his lover's lips as he dries himself sees his thoughts derailed momentarily, the tone within them so instantly ensnaring his attention if only for the manner in which it deviates ever so slightly from the man's normal voice (yet another observation) as his eyes rest upon the Sebastian's own. He affords the vampire every attention as he speaks, noting the way his hand seemed to run through his hair before seeming to choose his words with peculiar care. He feels the smallest of frowns touch his own features at this mention of other 'strenuous activities' one eye lifting ever so slightly, assured he understands entirely what it is Sebastian implies. His lips part entirely unbidden, a reassurance that Sebastian is the only one readily upon them before he catches himself, an uncertainty of sorts suddenly seeming to fill him. What would it mean- to admit such things aloud? To allow Sebastian to know he was, indeed, the only one? In perhaps more ways than one. For now, at least, it is perhaps a topic better left alone. The man offering a promise instead.

"I promise you, I will eat after every time, from now on."

There is a distinct solemness to his own voice, assuring the vampire there was indeed no lie within his words- working to alleviate that look of concern that so seemed to mar his features before allowing Sebastian to make his way back into his own room. Dorian following only after he was dressed, Sebastian efforts to avoid there prior conversation not unnoticed and indeed Dorian is entirely content to allow it. Returning the pair easily to their normal demeanour. His words instead focused upon the man's wardrobe. There are within it- rather a number of outfits the King is assured his companion would look decidedly dashing in, the man observing his companions choice with a simper of approval before asking after his country of birth. He hardly knows of Belton or Lincolnshire and yet the names of the places hardly matter so much as the knowledge it affords him of this man he had so come to adore.

"Your Father was a Lord then?"

He inquired. Inquisitiveness touching his features once more, unaware if the Courts of England had maintained the same structure as those of his own country, though indeed as to what title, if any, Sebastian had inherited and still maintained Dorian hardly found he minded. He is simply curious of them. His attention falls readily onto the vanity table beside the wardrobe now, shifting to stand beside the vampire once more. His silver gaze lingers with no small measure of intrigue as the man selects one bottle from amongst the others, spraying it upon his wrist, that all-too familiar scent filling the air. Dorian had, so unknowingly, come to connect this very scent with his lover. The Fae unable to prevent the soft smile that adorned his features in response before he states quite simply;

"Yes- we do like that one. It smells like you."

It is an honest admittance and one he hardly dwells upon. He moves to carefully take the second bottle he is presented with, eyeing that amber glass with care, considering the choice with no small measure of seriousness. The idea of cologne was so eternally foreign to him in every way and yet he cannot deny the pleasure he finds in it. It is the second one, he chooses in the end, curious of this scent Sebastian so seemed to believe he might enjoy, the man moving to apply it just as he had seen his lover do before his head nods in satisfaction. This scent equally as pleasing. Dorian satisfied entirely now before gesturing towards the door. He falls easily into step with the vampire, allowing him to lead the way back through the house, assured he would have to ask the man to allow him to see the rest of it later on. It is upon the very front doorstep however that a thought seems to strike the Fairy King- Dorian halted where he stands.

"Forgive me a moment, I will be right back."

He turns abruptly, striding right back and into the house, despite the lack of properness to such a gesture, the Fae easily finding the male servant whom had led him through when he had arrived. The barest of words are exchanged between the pair before the man hurried abruptly off, Dorian wandering back out to stand upon the front step once more- an almost knowing simper teasing upon his lips. It is only a few minutes longer before the servant returns, hurrying towards the pair, passing something into the Fae's hand before politely returning to his work. It is only now that Dorian moves to lift his hand, displaying to Sebastian what is quite clearly a sandwich with the softest of chuckles. His lips press softly to his companions jaw, just below his ear- even despite all they have done tonight he still seeks that all too-pleasing touch of the man. Even in a gesture so chaste, his words little more than a whisper.

"Now you need not worry."

He hopes to assure the man for tonight, if nothing else, that he was entirely well and intended to remain as such. The sandwich is raised easily to his lips, Dorian biting into it despite his dislike of food in general- bread not wholly unappealing to him. He starts forward now, finding his place at Sebastian's side, heading towards the south side of town and the park that was their destination.

"Shall I regale you, Bastien, with an idea while we walk?"

Dorian Aragona