Bull's expression softened and he pulled Dorian closer to him. He guided the mage's hands, encouraged his fingers to slip beneath the ropes, to curl around them and hold on. He leaned down to kiss him again.

"You are allowed to like it," he said quietly, his voice warm and deep. "Maybe it's not meant to look good for other people, but I like that it looks good to you. Same way I'd probably stare for a long time if I saw you in all your altus glory."

His fingers brushed tenderly over Dorian's neck. "I know you, Dorian. And I know that somewhere under there might be a hundred questions about what its purpose is, if it symbolizes anything, if the color is important. And if you happen to be distracted by the fact that I look good in it, well... I can always answer all of those later."