he was both everything you could ever want
and nothing you could ever have

There was, perhaps, a beauty in death - in how utterly finite it was. It's hold upon the vampire was steadfast within those daylight hours, that alarm hardly even registering in that infinite nothingness that had stolen all trace of life and warmth in that now pale corpse. He was oblivious of his lover's body as it so shifted away from him, his entire form hardly even reacting to that lack of body heat the King so often provided him. It was in those moments of death that Sebastian was perhaps truly vulnerable, the man remaining as unmoving as the cadaver he was. There was something entirely comforting, within those moments just prior to the sun peeking over the horizon with Dorian nestled against his frame, with the knowledge that, when he was finally afforded a breath of life, the fae would still be there all the same. It made falling into that seemingly everlasting nothingness not nearly as daunting as it so usually was those nights in which the Englishman spent with naught but his own frame to fill that large bed. He had come to relish that simple fact that his lover was here to stay. That prior week had been more akin to a dream in which he was sure he'd wake from at any moment and yet, in those moments just the evening before, he'd been all too inclined to nestle against those sheets against Dorian as they revisited their plans for this evening - plans he now was near forced to leave entirely within Dorian's hands.

He remained as still as ever as Dorian entered the room once again an hour later, the vampire himself none-the-wiser to the King's departure. He hardly stirred in the slightest by the presence of that tea, much that sweet sound of his beloved's voice or the shake Dorian's hand prompted upon his shoulder. He was, quite effectively, dead. That sudden clapping of the man's hands hardly tugged at the vampire, the man hardly even moving in the slightest to this loud and rather abrupt noise. He noticed not the singular finger that slipped through his lips, not until that flesh so found that fang. That sweet, delectable, irresistible blood coated those pristine teeth, several drops falling upon his tongue as Dorian slid his finger from his mouth. It moved with a slow, snail like crawl down towards his throat just as Dorian's hand began to move across his upper lip, that scent all the more poignant as that substance was held just beneath his nose. His nose twitched ever so slightly, the man's eyebrows furrowed as that eternal sleep seemed so unwilling to relinquish its hold upon him. His tongue immediately found the source of that delicious blood upon his own teeth, near akin to lick it clean as those blue eyes so immediately fluttered open.

For a moment, Sebastian merely blankly stared at his lover, his brain even slower to catch up to the simple fact that he was, indeed, awake, far before it was time for him to be so, much less to remember why. It was with a soft groan of tiredness that the man slowly rose just enough to rest his back against that headboard, a yawn upon his lips to so flash those sharpened canines in a rare display of almost youthful appearing innocence. He was aware, keenly so, of that hunger that so seized upon him as it so often did in those hours of daylight in which he certainly should not have been awake. That simple brush of Dorian's fingers across his forehead drew his attention back towards the man, his nose twitching once again at that scent of blood. "I'd rather drink you." He muttered softly, those words almost incoherent and yet, he sluggishly drew his gaze towards that gestured cup. A soft sigh left his lips at the sheer effort involved in so forcing his limbs to move and yet, eventually, he drew that mug from the nightstand, holding it cupped within his hands as if he could draw the very heat from the beverage into him. He sipped the contents, relishing in that taste of that English Breakfast tea before that aftermath of blood so slammed into him, causing his gaze to shift down. "Oh." He uttered with clear surprise, his gaze turning back upwards before a simper so fell upon his features. Dorian, it seemed, had already considered this very thing.

Sebastian was all too content to relish in the delectable taste of that tea, even if the man was vaguely aware of that brush of Dorian's affinity. His body somehow simply felt different when that life was afforded to him. That hunger no longer clawed at him, that blood no longer held an allure to his senses, his muscles seemed more inclined to react to his desires and, perhaps most noticeable at all, was that simple warmth that was so afforded to him with each creeping moment. By the time he'd reached the bottom of that cup, that substance no longer called to him. The sound of his lover's voice brought a soft simper to his lips, "I'm fine, Dorian." He uttered learning forward only to place his hand against Dorian's neck in the fashion he so often did. His lips brushed sweetly against his lover's own in an altogether fleeting gesture of affection. He pulled back just enough to let his forehead bump against the King's own. "Happy Anniversary, my love." It was perhaps not that exact day since they'd met and yet, surely such sentiment was worth celebrating all the same, even if the vampire still found himself utterly nervous of the day's events to come.

He strived, as he so often did, to simply forget of such affairs until he no longer could avoid it. Rather, he leaned back against that headboard, placing the cup on the nightstand beside him. "Are you looking forward to the beach, Ma Bichette?" He inquired, the remains of that sleep that held such a vice like grip upon him had all but diminished in the wake of that life that slowly flooded him, nearly giving his usually pale skin a hint of that far creamier color he'd once held in life. His eyes too followed suit, returning to that bright icicle blue shade they should have been. Life, it seemed, was quite becoming on the Englishman.

Sebastian Ellington