[Dorian liked to think he'd braced himself enough for whatever it was that made Byerly seem to terrible in the eyes of his own blood. He thought that it might be something calculated to ruin his relationship with his father, thought-out, devastating. He was prepared for something complex.

He wasn't prepared for it to be something so simple, and so very familiar. There's a fire in his eyes as he lies there staring at Byerly, fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turn a lighter shade. He's furious- he doesn't remember being so furious for someone besides himself. Not for something like this.]

Because kissing boys is such a vile thing, so unforgivably treacherous and shameful that is warrants casting aside a life that he put into the world. Everyone knows that! Everyone fucking-- fucking knows that, how could anyone think that your father is selfish and stupid and unworthy of his son? I must mad to think that it's a wonderful thing to kiss you, that I'd like to again and again, that your company is a goddamn blessing.

Your father can choke. Anyone who brought it forward as a perverted thing that only leads to more perverted things can choke on the shit they blather. All the advancements of your world, and they think like slack-jawed yokels.