Cullen arrived at the Serpent Suite at the same time as he had the previous night, and instantly noted the piece of paper tucked into the crack between frame and door. Further inspection showed his name writ upon it, so he retrieved it, unfolding the paper and taking it to some nearby candles to read.

Proceed directly to the stage, I will join you anon.

Puzzled, he followed the instructions and entered, heading to the small practice stage, though in truth it was more a raised platform with a rickety backdrop than aught else. He leapt up onto the small stage and began to pace as he set his persona once more in his mind. Fascinating in all the right ways, or so he prayed. A movement from the corner of his eye attracted his attention, and he turned to find Dorian entering the room.

A… Dorian naked from the waist up. Carrying two blunted stage rapiers in his hands, and wearing that damned cocky smile of his that Cullen always wanted to-

Interrupting his own thoughts before they manifested too physically for Dorian to ignore, Cullen jumped from the stage and bent in a bow. "Master, I bid you good e'en."

"You make me feel quite the knave," Dorian remarked apropos of nothing as he sauntered to the stage and claimed his place upon it.

"Oh? How did my invocation of such a sad despair come to pass?" Cullen responded. The prior lesson had eased their manner together, certainly, but it was a test of his resolve not to stare at what Dorian had put on display.

"You maintain your ruff and doublet," Dorian declared, pointing at Cullen with one of the blades he held, "despite the lack of necessity. Come, come, remove the impediments and prepare yourself after my example. Mayhap that will unleash your skills as well, hmm?"

He wants me… like him? Cullen could only nod. "'Twould be more comfortable, aye."

"Prithee, proceed. And whilst you do," Dorian lifted the swords and rested them on his shoulders, "we shall play questions."

Cullen fought the urge to stare at the way Dorian's muscles tensed when he stood in that posture. "And how, pray tell, do we play questions?" he asked, as his hands worked at his clothes, starting with his doublet.

"Do you mean you've ne'er heard tell of them?" Dorian fired back.

The manner of response helped to clue Cullen in, and he gave Dorian a crooked grin. "Do you think me a fool?"

"Ah, but what manner of fool?" Dorian chuckled, extending a leg as he swayed to the side.

Question, question… "Surely not the same manner you are?" It was weak at best, and he knew it.

"Foul! Statement as question. Point to me," Dorian said in triumph. "Care to guess wherefore this is a good exercise?"

"Can I know such things if I am not informed?" Tugging the doublet and sleeves over his head and tossing them aside, he worked next at the ruff.

"Am I to assume the depth of your education?"

The peculiar emphasis Dorian gave to the word depth made Cullen tug his collar off even more quickly. "Would it be wrong to do so?" he countered as his hands assaulted his shirt next.

Dorian's eyes twinkled. "Can anyone know right from wrong in this world?"

"Rhetoric! My point," Cullen declared as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the side. Two agile steps and a leap took him to the stage, and he bowed as he held out his hand. "An it please you, my weapon?"

Rather than flipping the sword to hold it by the blade, Dorian passed the hilt from his hand to Cullen's directly, letting his fingers glide over Cullen's wrist for a moment before withdrawing and taking two sharp steps back. Brandishing his blade, Dorian slashed it in the form of a cross and then assumed the en garde position. "Can you defend yourself against my blade?"

"Wherefore do you assume I wish to?" Cullen countered, then flushed slightly. Was that too forward? To cover the possible overreach, he quickly mirrored Dorian and tapped his blade against the other to signal his readiness. "You do recall I told you of my expertise in this arena?"

Dorian simply laughed. "Shall I not be my own judge of the strength of your blade?" he asked, then stepped forward to begin the mock duel.

God's blood, to which of my blades does he refer? Grateful for the distraction given by the actual swordplay, Cullen countered, "Is not a man's worth shown by the strength of his blade?"

"I'd rather judge a man's worth," Dorian began, then suddenly circled his rapier around Cullen's in a smart maneuver which brought their hilts together, bringing the men abruptly face to face, "by the agility of his tongue."

"Statement, not a question! Point to m-" Cullen's ears finally caught up with him, and he blushed furiously. Still, he wouldn't let that get in the way of the first game. Or was it the second? "Did you truly think that would work?" he demanded with a passing semblance of indignation despite the redness on his cheeks.

Dorian laughed and swept their blades to the side, stepping back and dropping into the 'ready' position once more. "The attempt was well worth the reward, was it not?"

"Do you expect an honest response to that?" Cullen grated as the redness started to fade from his cheeks and ears.

"On this stage, or a softer one?" Dorian teased, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Having no ready response to that, Cullen found his mouth opening and closing without any actual words coming out.

"Hesitation!" Dorian declared, stepping forward to tap his sword against Cullen's. "Point to me. Next point wins the game." He then smartly slapped Cullen on the backside with the flat side of his rapier, causing Cullen to stifle a yelp as he skipped across the small stage to stand where Dorian had been. "Are you sure you've played this game before?"

Resisting the urge to ask, Which one? Cullen brought his blade up and ignored his stinging cheek out of sheer obstinacy. "And what does all this have to do with acting?" he said, changing tactics even as he dove in with his blade.

"Do you question the value of improvisation?" Dorian asked, an eyebrow raising in challenge as he smoothly countered Cullen's blows.

"Can I not express my doubts?" Cullen protested, initiating a flurry that had them both shifting around the stage.

"Do you have any doubts to express?" Dorian replied glibly.

The smirk on the other man's lips made Cullen bite his own in frustration, a surge he used to abruptly break through Dorian's guard and tangle their hilts together. Pulling Dorian close, Cullen tilted his head and demanded, "Must you repeat everything I say?"

Dorian's head canted in the opposite direction as he smiled in an oddly gentle fashion. "Must you be so charming when you speak?"

"Ch-charming?" It was technically a question, so it stood, but he hadn't meant it to be part of the game.

"Utterly and completely," Dorian said, staring into Cullen's eyes with a directness that made Cullen grateful for his own bombast.

Slowly it dawned on Cullen that Dorian's last words had not, in fact, been a question, and thus could be seen as game and match to Cullen. Was the game over? Had it been a deliberate forfeiture on Dorian's part? Or was this the start of a new game entire? Unsure of the other man's intent, he ventured, "So the game is mine, then?"

Dorian chuckled softly as he reached up to claim both swords. Tossing them to one side with a clatter, he set his hands on his hips. "Quite the rude pupil, are you not, to thusly so overshadow your mentor?"

`Tis not… `tis not a game anymore… is it? It was proving hard to keep up with the changing situation, so Cullen decided to proceed with caution. Mimicking Dorian's posture, he asked in a low voice, "Would you prefer down?"

Chin dipping slightly, Dorian's lips widened into a smile Cullen could only label as sultry. "Do I have to have a preference?" he inquired as he shifted to one side.

God's blood, that smile. "One would think so, would they not?"

"Mayhap one would think so, but you wish to know whether I think so." He leaned forward minutely, head tilting so he could look at Cullen from an angle. "Do you have reason to believe that I would have such a preference?"

Cullen slowly licked his lips, "Master, I pray you have a preference, in very deed." There. An end to the game. Which game he actually meant, even Cullen didn't quite know. It may yet be that both game and pretense would come to an end now. Either way, Cullen edged forward, unable to help himself.

"Oh, I have many preferences when it comes to thoughts and deeds and prayers," Dorian assured him.

They were close enough now that their breaths caught on the other's lips, yet neither actually touched the other. The palpable yet Cullen added to that thought sent a shiver down his spine. "You ask wherefore I do not beseech the skies?" he murmured.

Dorian's eyes flicked down to look at Cullen's lips, then rose again. "I ask wherefore you do not beseech me."

God's blood. Cullen took a shuddering breath and let his eyelids half shut for a moment before he opened them again. "You, I would never beseech with words. Rather, my preference would be for lips and looks and tingling touches."

Cullen gasped when he felt fingertips land on his exposed chest, and he watched Dorian's eyes fall to where his hand slowly stroked upwards over flesh glistening with sweat. "Tingling touches such as these?" the man asked, then looked up at Cullen with a lidded gaze.

Eyelids fluttering closed as the fingers reached his neck and slowly explored upwards, Cullen nodded. "Aye, though that is but one of three, Mas-"

Lips brushed his own, soft as silk and hot as a summer's day. Cullen moaned softly when the touch proved to be fleeting, a cruel taunt of promised intimacy. Then he felt a hand sink into his hair and pull his head back, and those same lips found a racing pulse, lightly brushing over flushed skin down to the hollow of his throat. As Dorian retraced his path, he spoke, pouring hot breath over Cullen's skin in between those devilishly teasing kisses, the mustache adding an extra fillip of pleasure that made Cullen moan once more. "And now?"

"And now we have all three." A haze had settled over Cullen, and he was only vaguely aware that his own hands had settled on Dorian's hips somewhere amidst Dorian's delicious teasing.

"Thus you have received my prayer," Dorian said softly as his hand released its grip on Cullen's hair. "Perchance I could witness yours?"

Cullen lifted his head to he could meet Dorian's gaze. "Most happily."

When their lips met this time, it was more than a teasing glance of skin on skin. Cullen pulled Dorian's hips tight to his own, close enough to reveal the secrets previously hidden by the codpieces. After that, he slid his hand up Dorian's back to cradle the man's head as he deepened the kiss further, taking his time to savor the experience as thoroughly as possible. The heat between them grew more intense as Cullen alternated between tasting those soft lips and pulling the lower one between his teeth to bite down gently and then slowly release it.

When both men had been reduced to panting, he finally released Dorian from the kiss and stared deeply into those grey eyes, licking his tingling lips slowly even as he saw Dorian's tongue pass over reddened flesh. "And did I meet your expectations?"

After a few moments of slowing breaths, Dorian smiled. "In this circumstance, aye."

"And in what circumstances do I yet fall short?" Cullen asked as his thumb caressed the other man's cheek.

"I did mention thoughts and deeds and prayer all at once, as I recollect," Dorian said, his own fingers resuming their exploration of Cullen's throat.

"Aye, that you did," Cullen said with a slow smile. His hand shifted to trace the outer shell of Dorian's ear as he leaned in and nuzzled his mouth against the side of Dorian's head. "Here are my thoughts, then, for your maunderings. I think," he said, hips edging forward with each iteration of the word, "that I am going to push you against the wall over there with force enough to make you gasp. I think I'm going to rip these damned codpieces off. I think I'm going to take us both in hand and…" He paused when he heard a small gasp from the other man, and grinned. "Or mayhap those thoughts are sufficient?"

Dorian took a deep breath. "Oh, they are quite lovely. Like little jewels, in point of fact. However, I find myself pondering if it is time to move beyond prayer and thought."

"Shall we proceed as swiftly as may be to deed, then?" Cullen asked as he pulled back. He felt Dorian's hands settle on his hips and tug him closer, and this time it was Cullen who shuddered.

"Mayhap that depends. Are we still… practicing?" Dorian asked softly.

The question made Cullen pause. Surely this hadn't all been a lesson of some sort, had it? "Practicing what?"

"Practicing at pretending, naturally."

Cullen raised an eyebrow. "Or perchance we were merely pretending to practice from the first." He dipped in for a short, soft kiss, then murmured, "Which is your preference?"

Dorian sucked his lower lip between his teeth and then slowly let it find freedom. "My preference is… your prayer."

"Then," Cullen whispered as he wrapped his arms around Dorian, "I shall pray."

The soft moan Dorian made as Cullen brought their lips together was exquisite, and fitting to the worship he intended of the man. Long and lingering, he extended the kiss until he felt Dorian sag into him, losing that last little bit of resistance - though the thought did cross Cullen's mind whether Dorian was resisting Cullen, or himself. Only then did he part their lips, and watched as Dorian's eyes slowly opened.

One curled corner of the man's magnificent mustache slowly lifted. "You never required my tutelage," he murmured.

Cullen chuckled, glad the secret was finally, fully out. "For acting, I confess that to be true. Yet ne'er before have I received such masterful and insightful instruction on the subject of prayer than I have with you. And though `twas not acting skills which I lacked, I daresay that mayhap I learned of a greater need still."

The other curl rose to match the first as Dorian's smile spread to his entire face. "A need we found together, perchance?" he suggested, and his eyes glanced down to Cullen's lips, then back up to meet his gaze. "So what say you to exploring all these delicious deeds, hmm?"

Cullen's lips spread into a slow smile. "To work, then?"

"In very deed," Dorian murmured, his hand reaching around Cullen's hip to settle on his backside, pulling him closer…

...just as someone pounded on the door.

"Vai a morire ammazzato," Dorian muttered under his breath, even as Cullen issued a rather less gentle oath than was his wont. "I beg your pardon," he added to Cullen, stealing one last kiss before releasing him with a sigh and walking from the room, snagging a dressing gown hanging on the back of a chair along the way. As Cullen leaned his head back and tried to make sense of how quickly matters had changed between himself and Dorian, he heard the front door open, and, more alarmingly, heard Dorian call out, "Cullen!" with panic in his voice.

Cullen didn't even pause to think, merely burst into motion as he dashed to the door to find Dorian supporting someone in his arms. "Felix?" he cried, rushing forward to take the man into his arms. His breath sucked in through his teeth when he saw the blood on Felix's lips. "You should not have come hither, not in your condition," he scolded as he heaved him up.

"The sofa," Dorian said, sweeping past Cullen. "I'll get some wine."

Cullen nodded and carefully laid Felix down, trying to make him as comfortable as he could. Felix's eyes opened slightly, and he smiled when he saw Cullen. "No shirt. Damn. Beg pardon."

"Fret not about that," Cullen told him sternly. "What has happened?" He glanced up as Dorian returned with the cup of wine and reached out to take it.

"I was a… mewling, clay-brained giglet," Felix sighed. When Cullen put the cup to his lips, he drank eagerly, then let his head fall back. "Went to… tavern, and after, knaves… accosted me on way back home. Had to… to leg it."

Cullen winced. "And this was the closest safe place?"

"Aye. But… can't… stay," he managed, then sagged back into the couch.

Surprised, Cullen looked at Dorian, but found the man already nodding. "`Tis the truth." He knelt beside Cullen and put his hand on Felix's forehead. "He has a physician?"

"Aye, one of the best," Cullen said softly. "I shall fetch him after taking Felix to his home. `Tis late enough that one man carrying another won't be an odd sight." Drunkards were fairly common in London at this hour, after all. He glanced at Dorian, and found those grey eyes already upon him, a clear concern in them. "I shall attend him. I promise."

Dorian nodded. "Abide," he said softly, then stood and left the room. As Cullen plied Felix with wine, Dorian returned carrying Cullen's clothes. "You'd best make haste," he said. "He should not be seen here."

Cullen wanted to ask why, but refrained out of respect for the privacy of both men. Dressing quickly, he nodded to Dorian. "I shall do what I can."

"This I know." Suddenly Dorian reached out and grabbed the front of Cullen's doublet, pulling him into a searing kiss which, though brief, carried all the passion of their broken tryst. When their lips broke apart, Dorian's eyes remained closed as he whispered, "It is not yet done between us."

Cullen felt his throat tighten. "It gladdens me to hear you speak thus," he said in a husked tone.

With a soft sigh, Dorian's fingers rose to touch Cullen's cheek. "Anon, then. As before."

Turning his head to catch those fingers with a kiss, Cullen nodded. "Anon."

No more words were exchanged as Cullen stepped back and gathered the unconscious Felix in his arms, nor as he left Serpent Suite. Both men knew that the only words left unspoken were not those of farewell.