[ Though it might be a strange thing for someone like Dorian to admit, but the fact that Alistair is always ready with a smile or some outstandingly ridiculous joke is something he appreciates. After being here as long as he has been, it's refreshing to see at least someone will still welcome him with positivity rather than spit at him behind his back. Or to his face. If he were to be further truthful, he could say it's that smile that has charmed Alistair further into his heart than even he realizes.
So, he's not that far off in thinking Dorian does these things because he truly does care for him. It's more that than it is because he's king (though, to be sure, that is a perk; even Dorian isn't impervious to the allure of royalty). There's nothing wrong with dreams, even Dorian has some outlandish ones of his own—quite possibly involving the man right in front of him. But, dreams are dreams. Foolish flights of fancy to have during idle moments. Nothing can come of this, Dorian knows that. And yet he lets himself get carried away all the same.
It's hard not to when the wine tells him this is fine. Just as it's fine that his hand slips up to curl around the side of Alistair's neck—not bringing him closer, or pushing him further away. Just there. His nose bumps against Alistair's lightly. ]
You'll discover them in due time.
[ He hovers a moment, breath fanning warm and soft over Alistair's lips as if he'll close that last small gap and kiss him. But, he pulls away with a smirk on his lips as he slowly backs toward the throne. His hand does slip, but only to circle around Alistair's wrist, urging him to follow along. ]
Tell me, though, I'm quite interested. What sort of books would they be?
no subject
So, he's not that far off in thinking Dorian does these things because he truly does care for him. It's more that than it is because he's king (though, to be sure, that is a perk; even Dorian isn't impervious to the allure of royalty). There's nothing wrong with dreams, even Dorian has some outlandish ones of his own—quite possibly involving the man right in front of him. But, dreams are dreams. Foolish flights of fancy to have during idle moments. Nothing can come of this, Dorian knows that. And yet he lets himself get carried away all the same.
It's hard not to when the wine tells him this is fine. Just as it's fine that his hand slips up to curl around the side of Alistair's neck—not bringing him closer, or pushing him further away. Just there. His nose bumps against Alistair's lightly. ]
You'll discover them in due time.
[ He hovers a moment, breath fanning warm and soft over Alistair's lips as if he'll close that last small gap and kiss him. But, he pulls away with a smirk on his lips as he slowly backs toward the throne. His hand does slip, but only to circle around Alistair's wrist, urging him to follow along. ]
Tell me, though, I'm quite interested. What sort of books would they be?