He does look at Dorian curiously as they drift off to sleep, the mage in his arms, tucked against his chest.ĭorian doesn’t find another for nearly a year although he checks the mirror every single time, fingers raking through dark strands, searching for any sign of betrayal.ĭorian’s just stopped breathing a sigh of relief every time he looks in the mirror, has started taking their absence for granted when the next appears. It’s different yes, but hardly unpleasant. He needs to be needed, needs to be craved like they were still young. Anything to prove that he’s still attractive, still worthy of love and lust not old.Ĭullen doesn’t complain. He needs this, this aching, relentless need. He tries to put it from his mind but for the rest of the day he’s unsettled, less quick than he normally is and when he falls into bed with the Commander he’s desperate, quick thrusts and ragged kisses though of late they’ve settled into a rhythm that’s softer, more loving and domestic. It doesn’t mean anything.ĭorian swears vigorously under his breath, a stream of the filthiest curses he knows in Tevene as he circles the treacherous hair with two fingers and plucks it out of his head.
He’s just turning to leave when the early morning sunlight glints off of it, catching his attention with a gasp. The first time Dorian finds a grey hair - well really, it’s more a brilliant stark white than actually grey, Altus’ do NOT go grey - he’s lingering in the baths after having waxed his mustache into perfection. What about Dorian's hair starting to go grey?
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