Dorian melts at once into the kiss, whimpering against Bull's lips. He likes won't understand the magnitude of what has happened to him completely until the poision runs its course through his system, but Bull's open affection and reassurance are a balm on a very much still open wound. There are so few things that he can be certain of. He's immeasurably glad that the Bull is one of them.

"Amatus," he sighs, aching with relief and longing. "I thought of you so often." These last few days, he means, so obvious that it hardly bears mentioning. He's drifting, suspended in a world where the only thing anchoring him is the strength of the Bull's arms. He closes his eyes against the way the room tilts around him, resting his forehead against the solid warmth of Bull's chest. "And you came for me. I knew that you would."