He's good? His expression glazes over a little as he soaks up the praise, and then nods. If he'd had any concerns, a good word or two neatly wipes them away before he leans in and licks his tongue over the head of Dorian's cock. Different, interesting, but he remembers what he used to like.

With a hum, he moves to quickly lick his own palm and suck on his fingers before returning to stroke. No one wants a cold, dry hand somewhere personal. There's no hurry, and he's perfectly willing to suck, be used, or just keep Dorian warm while he chats with other people.

From this angle, if Dorian were to look at the back of his neck, just behind his hair, there's something that looks rather like a magical sigil written in metal and embedded into his skin. Weird.