sterngaze | open post

[Liem's only reply to Cardan's drawl is a low hmm—because he's right, he has only ever been rewarded for his prickly treatment of his spouse, and because Liem would rather keep kissing him now, while he has the opportunity, than scorn him for his temper and his mischief.

Which is not, he's aware, a good way to encourage better behaviour.

But he likes the breathless cadence of that laugh, and he likes the willing ease with which Cardan tips his head beneath Liem's lips, and he likes the way those clever hands drag down the contours of his chest. And in all honesty, he likes the self-satisfied drawl too, so the odds of Cardan getting exactly what he wants at this very moment are looking pretty good. Liem takes a shallow, distracted breath, his touch wandering Cardan's back through the barrier of his shirt, and noses further down to kiss his neck.

This, despite the strange forest-green quality that makes Cardan smell so different from any human or vampire Liem has known, is still familiar: the hot skin of his throat, the pulse fluttering beneath the path of his lips. Liem sucks a kiss against the side of his neck, enchanted—then, recalling with curiosity the shiver Cardan had for the scrape of teeth on his lip, he teases his fangs over the kiss-damp skin.]

[ Liem has evidently found a good spot. Cardan will shiver again for the touch of his mouth; bizarrely, paradoxically, his skin feels overheated in the wake of Liem's touch. He's distracted from Liem's shirt by the want to card fingers through his hair. As it turns out, he has too many places he wants too touch and not enough hands.

He's reshuffling his priorities when he feels teeth-- no. Fangs.

The reaction is immediate. Cardan sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed; the fingers on Liem's shirt buttons stutter, then bite, pressing hard into cool skin. There is an animal instinct to it, a swift sense of caution, like the feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff--

For a moment, he is suspended in it, in the hot thrill of danger that rushes down his spine and straight into his cock. He's always been unwisely fond of this kind of risk, always too enamoured with the challenge of it, as moth to flame.

He opens his eyes, looks down at Liem. The expression on his face is coolly imperious-- though his breath comes quickly and his pupils are dilated, black-on-black. For a heartbeat, he will only stare.

Then he smiles one of his sharp-edged little smiles. ]

Don't tease something you aren't going to do, Liem.

[ The hypocrisy of that demand does not escape him. ]

[Cardan's reaction is fascinating. Not just because of the way his breath sucks in and his pulse jumps, though Liem certainly notices those things, just as he notices the stutter and bite of the fingers on his chest. There's a part of him that will always thrill in the moment of realization, the visceral reaction that comes when someone feels the promise of his teeth and can't help but anticipate their bite. It sends a shiver right through him, heady and thrilling.

But the really fascinating thing is the look Cardan gives him, like he's gazing down at him from a throne instead of on a hillside with Liem's mouth still just a breath away from his neck. He didn't expect Cardan to swoon at the touch of teeth at his throat, but this is a reaction he's never received before. That sharp little smile pairs amazingly with the wide pupils, the quick breaths; he looks like he's staring death in the face and isn't particularly impressed, which is outrageously sexy.

But it does not really look like the reaction of someone who is pleased with the direction things are going.]

I'm not going to bite you unless you want me to.

[He leans back a little, trying to better gauge the look Cardan is giving him. It could simply be goading, he supposes, but if that's the case then he doesn't understand where the sudden chill has come from. A little furrow appears between his brows.]

Or… did you think I would refuse?

[ Cardan blinks.

...this is not quite how he envisioned this going, either. Liem was supposed to feel provoked into doing the thing that Cardan and his very obvious (to Cardan) arousal want him to be doing, not into asking ridiculous, self-evident questions.

His eyebrows inch up. ]

You haven't shown any particular desire to.

[ Which is, in fact, insulting. It's not like he doesn't know that Liem feeds; his smell is the sharpest of his senses, and it's not particularly hard to note the faint scent of blood, nor the way Liem looks just a little perked in the aftermath.

Cardan's hand leaves Liem's chest to make an airy, dismissive gesture. ]

I presumed you had little taste for immortal blood.

[ He presumed this because the alternative is worse. ]

[Liem regards Cardan’s incredulous expression with a faint frown, mostly because he’d been trying to be respectful and his husband has once again found his peculiarities irritating instead. It is unusual for higher vampires to marry outside of the vampire aristocracy, and there isn’t much precedent to dictate how one should treat a warm-blooded spouse. But he’d imagined that thirsting after him as a meal or a plaything would make their union seem demeaning, especially to royalty.

He recalls what Cardan said to him after the night of their wedding, after he’d brought Cardan into his bedroom for the very first time:

Never have I been insulted with such an excess of consideration.]

I’ve spent the last several weeks convinced that you couldn’t stand me.

[He has not, actually, been dissuaded from believing that to be true, but that had doubly been his assumption prior to tonight. His hands do not move from their places: at Cardan’s hip, at his back. In fact, they have gone very still.]

I did not imagine you would welcome the opportunity to let me drink your blood, except perhaps as a chance to make me regret my interest.

[ The difficulty is that Liem is not incorrect: Cardan has been annoyed with him, and he very well may have found a way to make the experience of drinking from him fraught. It’s possible that he is doing it right now.

Neither of those things, in his mind, preclude fulfilling a marital duty – and he had assumed this to be one. Had braced himself for it, prior to his arrival; had thought it would, perhaps, not be so bad after all, upon that first flutter of attraction, way back on the night of their wedding.

But Liem had never asked, and Cardan would never offer himself up only to look a fool.

Now, however– ]

Are we not wed? [ His tone is a little arch. ] Why would I have denied you such a thing?

[Liem is too incredulous to rein in the sharp little puff of breath, not quite a laugh, that escapes him at the sound of Cardan’s question. Since when has their marriage inclined Cardan to give him what he wanted? Yes, why indeed should Liem doubt Cardan's generosity with his own lifeblood when seeking his good graces has been like trying to bottle moonlight?]

Perhaps for the same reason you decided not to fuck me last night, [he says primly.

It's a little unfair of him to drag Cardan's little prank back into the open after he already apologized, but Liem is well used to apologies that serve no purpose other than to help the giver feel absolved, and he is rather tired of them—just as he is tired of Cardan getting sassy with him for failing to read his mind.]

Or for any other reason you might like. I couldn't possibly say.

[ Cardan’s eyes narrow. His fingers find Liem’s hand on his hip, close around his wrist; for a second it might look like he is going to pull it off him, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hard grip seems like it means to keep Liem there. ]

Nothing, [ he tells Liem, quietly, ] was stopping you from canceling on your little banquet.

[ He’s shifting to rise into a kneeling position -- slow, deliberate. His focus never strays from Liem's face. ]

Nothing– [ His free hand finds Liem’s shoulder, pushes him back, against the grass. If he permits Cardan this, he will find his husband straddling him, his forearm braced against the ground. ] –barred you from touching me all these weeks.

[For a still, clear moment, as Cardan’s eyes narrow and his fingers close around his wrist, Liem thinks he’s landed himself in exactly the same circumstance that led to their needing to come here to begin with. He thinks he’s finally irritated Cardan enough that his husband wants nothing more to do with him, burned through his goodwill in the very same night that he’d managed to earn it.

But as it turns out, he still doesn’t understand Cardan very well at all.

He doesn’t bother to resist the hand pushing at his shoulder, forcing him back until he lands with a gentle thump against the grass. He doesn’t bother, because Cardan’s right, he can admit that he’s right, and Liem isn’t even sorry. He chose not to give him a second chance that night, when he stalked out of their bathroom. He chose not to give in to Cardan’s little campaign of torments and distractions. Ultimately, he’d chosen his pride and he’d chosen to do things his own way, as he’s been doing for years. He can’t blame Cardan for doing the same, even if Cardan’s way has been driving him more than a little crazy.

He’s still annoyed. Though, with his husband leaning over him, quiet and menacing and intent, it’s impossible not to feel electrically horny as well.

His hand is still splayed on Cardan’s hip. As the elf straddles him, Liem slides his other hand up his thigh. He says, evenly,]

I’m touching you now, you impossible man.

And they said Mab was the miracle worker, [ retorts Cardan, acidly. If Liem has complaints about this, he's going to have to wait until Cardan runs out of breath, because he's going to kiss Liem like it's the last thing he's getting to do in this life.

...on second thought, he's going to bite Liem, and then he's going to kiss him.

It's not like he's not aware of his responsibility in this mess. He's capricious, and cruel, and difficult; it's why he'd tried the apology in the first place. But it hadn't seemed to matter for longer than an hour, and now they're here, and he's at the end of his patience. And even if nothing else works, they appear to have no issues with mutual desire.

Case in point: the nigh-painful longing that hand on his thigh sends through him. How absurdly satisfying it feels have Liem trapped under him -- all slim, surprisingly solid muscle and steady hands. Liem's ire only makes it better, makes the spiteful, foolish part of Cardan prickle with excitement -- not unlike that brush of fangs at his throat, though this time Cardan is the one showing teeth.

He has decided, in the split second before he'd moved, that they were long past preambles. His fingers leave Liem's wrist, because he needs them elsewhere. Namely: he's going to slide his hand inside Liem's trousers and palm his dick, finding it as surprisingly cool as the rest of him.

A part of him is afraid that if he doesn't seize the moment, they're going to find something new and exciting to fight about. ]

[Initially, Liem had hoped that he might get to touch more of Cardan without treading on his pride and making him all prickly. That ship has sailed so irrevocably it's completely out of sight, but when Cardan leans down and bites him, the spike of lust that flares in his gut is hot and immediate. Their kiss muffles a sharp, impatient noise. Fuck the circuitous maze their marriage is threatening to become; he has much more pressing things to devote his attention to right now.

Things like the warm contours of Cardan's palm rubbing over his cock. Liem squirms under the touch, his fingers gripping tighter on Cardan's thigh, and he decides immediately that Cardan still looks far too put-together for their current activities. The recently freed hand on his hip slides down, makes a detour over the modest curve of one ass cheek, then climbs again—to his waist, where Liem will begin methodically tugging Cardan's shirt free of his trousers.

The longing from before seems to have evaporated completely, buried beneath the weight of Liem's frustration and long leashed want. He kisses Cardan with hungry insistence, and when he pauses for breath Liem waits like a stalking wolf before pouncing on him again. But between kisses, he still manages,]

You… have made my life… so difficult, Cardan.

[Is that a miracle? Seduction by means of terror campaign? It hardly seems deserving of the title, though Gusairne also makes Liem's life difficult and the amount of sexual tension between them has always been zero, so clearly Cardan is doing something special.]

[ Yes, Cardan thinks as he breathes in the noise Liem makes; yes at his easy reaction to Cardan's touch. ]

You could have [ he's already a little winded, and mildly reconsidering starting this fight with someone who doesn't breathe; except that the merciless assault of kisses is intoxicating, and he's never regretted anything less in his life ] asked me to stop.

[ Would he have? Possibly. But Liem didn't ask, is the point, has made no attempt to shield himself from Cardan's terrorism, and doesn't appear to be particularly eager to get away from it now.

If Liem is working on disheveling Cardan, then Cardan is not far behind: he's going to make short work of Liem's fly, so he can take him in hand and stroke, rather than just palm at him. He doesn't bother to be artful about this -- far too wound up by the simmering frustration between them -- but he will be unrelenting, greedy for signs of Liem's pleasure, for the interesting feel of cool skin where he's used to heat. Idly, he wonders if fucking Liem will be like fucking a particularly attractive marble statue.

He supposes there is only one way to find out.

Cardan's free hand finds its way to the fastenings of his own trousers... the loosening of which will, in confluence with Liem's ministrations, free the whip-like tail from beneath his clothing. He shivers, distracted for a moment, as it uncoils into the night air; Liem may feel the odd, twitchy sweep of it over his thigh. ]

[Liem may not need to breathe, but Cardan's touch is distracting him quite competently from actually continuing their quarrel. The breath he snags between greedy kisses sighs from him on a groan, low and hungry, as he squirms again into that incessantly stroking hand. He slides his own hand beneath Cardan's clothes at the first opportunity, eager for the touch of hot skin beneath his palm, and rucks the fine fabric up his back as his arm slides around him.

He could be trying harder to control himself, could be making Cardan work more to tear his composure to ribbons, but he doesn't have the patience for that right now. Besides which, he's been nothing but composed for weeks on end, and now that Cardan is on top of him again, helping himself to his body, he sees no point in pretending that this isn't exactly what he wanted. Short-lived as the peace between them was, Liem is still grateful for his apology; it makes the prospect of fucking his husband at the very first opportunity after last night far less embarrassing.

But he does tip his face up and nip again at Cardan's lip, and this time he isn't particularly gentle about it. He has been an absolute terror, after all.]

What in the world [he mutters as Cardan is unfastening his own fly] makes you think I wanted you to stop?

[ This time, Cardan doesn't protest the caress at his back -- rather, he will pause for half a breath to reach back and pull the bothersome shirt wholly off, dropping it carelessly into the grass. After, he presses close again, into the touch, loath to let go for longer than he absolutely must, longing to feel skin on skin. The little burst of pain left by Liem's teeth pulls a heated little sound from his throat; the rush of his own blood is deafening in his ears, frantic as his breathing.

He'll smile, then: a secretive, lazy thing, tucked against the line of Liem's jaw. ]

...I didn't.

[ It's true enough.

And it gives him time to breathe, for a second, having wrestled open his own troublesome trousers. Then he'll reach for himself. His cock -- hot, so much hotter than even the rest of him -- slides against Liem's, Cardan's long fingers wrapping around them both, his exhale shivery against Liem's skin. His's hips rock forward, shallowly -- and again, and again as he strokes them both off, and it feels wonderful, and strange, and triumphant all at once.

In the back of his mind, he realizes that he cannot remember the last time he's felt so overwrought from simple touch. ]

[Liem is reminded, as Cardan leans back briefly to rid himself of his shirt, that he has never actually seen Cardan unclothed before. The sight of him stripped to the waist, bare but for the glitter of jewellery against his skin, only makes him more curious, more eager to touch—and more frustrated that he's let himself wind up flat on his back without having removed so much as his jacket first. There are still too many layers between most of him and Cardan's skin, and it is too late to do much of anything about it.

It's too late because Cardan is already pressing close again, and because Liem can't imagine sitting up at this point so that he might shed some of his clothing. He doesn't want to imagine anything that isn't Cardan's weight on top of him, the long, lean line of his body hemming him flat against the grass. He just wants to slide one hand into that crown of dark hair and the other over that warm, slim back, and lean up to kiss the shell of one pointed ear.

So he does.

And when Cardan's cock slides fever-warm against his own, when those clever fingers begin to stroke them both, Liem clutches him close with another unsteady breath to press greedy kisses against the crook of his neck, the bared line of his shoulder.

He could bite him. He wants to bite him. But he also wants to hear Cardan say it first—or maybe again would be more correct. Either way, he's feeling just petty enough at the moment to not want to give him this specific thing, the reason for their fight in the first place, without him asking for it. So he kisses him, and he does tease, deliberately, with the light scrape of teeth—

But he doesn't bite.]

[ It's perfect.

For a moment, it's only perfect: the way their bodies fit together, the way Liem's mouth leaves pleasant goosebumps blooming on Cardan's skin, each uneven breath he coaxes out of his husband's lungs-- Cardan cannot think of anything he'd like more just then than the friction of their bodies and this quiet rhythm they're finding between them.

...then those teeth tease over his skin, again. He feels it, again, the shiver of want and fear; Liem might feel it too, in the way Cardan's cock pulses with it, in how his fingers tighten on them both... and then stutter to an abrupt halt. Even though Cardan aches for the sudden absence of touch, of movement, when his whole body feels like it's burning up with need.

Even then. ]

...Liem.

[ He sounds deceptively mild about it.

Cardan is going to lift his head, and then push himself up -- just enough for him to look at his husband's face. His own is flushed, and the little half-smile he wears is irritated -- as is the persistent twitch in his tail. A hand finds its way to Liem's face; Cardan's fingers brush over his mouth, his lips-- ]

I have asked from you only one thing: don't tease that which you will not do.

[ The fingers press, asking -- no, demanding -- admission to Liem's mouth. Demanding leave to press down on the soft pillow of his tongue, as if it were naught more than Cardan's plaything. It's as intentional as the thumb that whispers over the head of Liem's cock, with so little pressure it may as well have been a breath. ]

Surely you cannot have forgotten.

[Even though he is directly responsible, Liem still has to swallow a frustrated exhale when the spike in Cardan's pulse, the tightening of his grip, the jolt of hot, animal desire all culminate almost immediately in— Stillness. In Cardan's hand halting abruptly, in him pushing himself away from the touch of Liem's mouth to aim an annoyed look down at him. He can feel the tip of that tail twitching against his leg, an irritable flick that he barely notices compared to the affront of absence where heat and friction were just moments before.

He looks up at Cardan, rumpled and impatient and feeling a little thwarted, and he shivers slightly at the brush of warm fingers over his mouth.

When they push inside, he's too shocked to do more than flicker his eyelids, his irises thin, pale rings around pupils blown wide. No partner has ever dared to treat him thus, at least without express invitation. It's hypnotically attractive.

As Cardan presses down against his tongue, it doesn't occur to Liem to refute him—to tip his jaw enough to slice open skin, to let the scent of his immortal blood flavour the air. But he does let out a sharp, wanting little breath as humiliation shivers beneath his skin and pulses straight to his cock. He swallows, and tries his utmost to keep that shiver from turning into a squirm as that whisper of contact brushes over the tip.

There is nothing he can do to meaningfully respond to Cardan in this situation, so he assumes his input isn't important. Still, he gives the barest shake of his head, careful not to disturb the fingers in his mouth.]

[ He wouldn't have been surprised by anger or indignation -- had half-expected the bite of teeth at least now. It would have been fine; more bickering, more hunger, the hot pleasure of touch -- none of those require Liem to be happy with him.

But those blown-wide pupils and that careful movement of Liem's head tell a different story entirely, and Cardan would be lying if he hadn't suspected this, too. Still, it's-- a stronger reaction than he's expected. Cardan's fingers press down just a touch harder; his own lips part, the annoyance replaced by an intent, considering stare.

Something clicks into place, as silently and smoothly as if it'd always been there. ]

...you like this.

[ When I'm mean to you.

It's half accusation, half statement of fact. He doesn't need Liem's confirmation -- or rather, he already has it, plain as day in the cool moonlight. The smile will curl over his face again, slow and indulgent. Liem's mouth is softbeneath his touch, intoxicatingly pliant, except for the sharp edges where Cardan's fingers drape over teeth. But that's good too, because the whisper of danger has never made him want anyone less.

Although this isn't about the things Cardan wants, just for the moment. ]

Since your mouth is so restless, let me put it to use.

[ The hand between their bodies pulls away; Cardan's long fingers curve over Liem's hipbone, instead. It takes most of his self-control to do this, because it's not like he doesn't-- want to be touched, isn't hard and straining for it just as much as his partner.

Thankfully, his spite has always outlasted his more immediate desires. ]

Suck.

[ His voice all soft, considered menace. ]

And if you do a fine job, perhaps I will give you something you want.

[Part of Liem is indignant. Most of him is, actually. He's indignant at the temerity with which Cardan makes demands of him, at the way he doesn't hesitate to put his hands wherever he pleases, at the way he seems to delight in putting him off-balance. The indulgent smile that curves his lips in the light of his revelation makes heat prickle over Liem's face and frustration carve its customary home between his brows.

But the frustration is mostly for himself, because Cardan is right: he does like it. Having his dignity trampled a little bit; being bullied, teased and tormented. It's been driving him crazy for weeks, and it's driving him crazy now—enough so that he lets slip an aggrieved whimper when Cardan's hand pulls away from their erections entirely, leaving him bereft and aching.

In its own perverse way, he likes that too.

His gaze holds Cardan's for another moment before he takes a soft breath that he doesn't need, before his lashes dip and his parted lips close around his fingers. He is careful about it, attentive with his tongue and wary of his teeth—but the attention he's content to spare glancing back up at Cardan suggests that he's well used to taking this kind of care.

Even if his own fingers do rub absently at Cardan's skin as he does it, and even if his hips do move a little restlessly now and then beneath his hand.]

Edited 2022-12-03 00:53 (UTC)

[ It's difficult.

It's difficult because of the wet, pliant mouth that encloses his fingers; it's difficult because of the expression on Liem's face -- the embarrassment and the frustration; and it's difficult, too, because Cardan is so hard he could cry, and every minute movement of Liem's hips reminds him of the fact that he's the one who chose to deprive them both of contact, of delicious friction.

Most of all, it's difficult because Liem does as he's told, and despite his own display of shameless arrogance, Cardan hadn't actually fully expected him to. It's a heady amount of power, given freely to him by a man who doesn't have to give Cardan anything at all.

Cardan absolutely cannot let on how much it undoes him.

It takes every ounce of his self-control to keep the astonished arousal out of his face; his jaw is tight with it, and the hand on Liem's hip presses down, hard, intent on holding him still. He cannot do anything about his own flush, but he at least manages to keep his features in some semblance of princely arrogance.

But only just. The tail is restless, the tip tapping softly. As Cardan's impatience mounts, so does its twitchy rhythm, until-- ]

Enough.

[ He'll move to pull his fingers back, trying not to stare at Liem's mouth as he does. ]

Tell me what you want.

[ It is decidedly not a request. ]

[It's impossible to do as Cardan has asked — as he's demanded — and not burn with the impatient awareness of his eyes watching the entire time. Liem feels pinned and scrutinized like an insect on a display board, distractingly conscious of both Cardan's attention and of his own painfully keen arousal — which is a heady, frustrating combination. The unyielding pressure of the hand on his hip and the imperious gaze spearing him are only making him desperate for the touch Cardan has decided to withhold. Considering the fraught relationship he has with his husband, this desperation is humiliating to contend with.

Tragically, that does nothing at all to lessen his excitement.

His eyes have slid closed by the time Cardan tells him to stop — which, to Liem, feels like an eternity. He opens them to look accusingly up at him as those fingers finally slip from his mouth, and runs the tip of his tongue over his lips.]

Cardan.

[His hand finds its way once again around to the back of his neck: tenderly. Perhaps in defiance of a desire to scruff him like an aggravating cat.]

I want you to stroke us off, completely.

[Despite his best efforts, the bleeding edge of his desperation makes his answer sound more aggrieved than he'd intended.]

Please.

Ah.

[ It's all he can do to sound smug instead of just-as-desperate. A part of him wonders how long he could go on-- how much he could tease Liem and get away with it. He doesn't fail to notice that despite his irritation, his husband has not seen it fit to take matters into his own hands. Has, in fact, obeyed any of Cardan's commands bar one.

He's almost certain Liem wouldn't throttle him.

Still. The bigger, keenly aching, desperately horny part of Cardan cannot deny himself any longer. Cannot deny either of them. His fingers -- still slicked with saliva, an obscene little detail that drives a shiver through him -- close over them both once more, and the contact alone drives the air out of his lungs. This time he will not stop. This time he only arches into the touch at the back of his neck, his eyes on Liem's face, still every bit as feverishly intent. ]

...come, then. Come for me.

[ He doubts it's going to take either of them very long. Not at the merciless rhythm he's setting. Already Cardan feels jittery with it, with need and anticipation both, with the heat rising in his body-- ]

Let me see you.

[ And though he'd meant it to be another demand, it comes out softer than he intends. ]

[It doesn’t take very long at all.

It doesn’t take long for the slickened touch of Cardan’s fingers to throw Liem’s breathing into a disarray of shallow, sporadic pants; it doesn’t take long for his irritation to surrender to frantic, greedy want; it doesn’t take long for the relentless pumping of Cardan’s hand to shove him right to the edge of his climax, so suddenly after his denial that Liem’s head is left spinning.

His eyes keep wanting to flutter closed, but he keeps them open until the last moment, hungry for that implacable, intent look on Cardan’s face. He wants to see him, too — wants it desperately, despite the way his skin feels ready to ignite under the attention of his gaze.

Then that frantic pleasure overtakes him and he tips his head back into the grass, fingers trembling as they clutch harder at the back of Cardan’s neck, at his back, hips bucking hard into his hand as he does just as he’s asked; he comes between them with a low groan, unwilling and unable to wait any longer.]

[ If there's any reason that Cardan doesn't come immediately, it's because he's too distracted. It's Liem's face, it's the tension in that elegant body, the cadence of frantic breaths that he doesn't need except that he must, now, and it's because of Cardan, it's Cardan's hand that's coaxing those sounds and movements and frantic little touches out of him, and it's--

It's so arousing he might just forget to breathe, too.

In the end, it's the fingers on his back -- biting into sensitive, scarred skin -- that push him right up against the edge, right as slickness spills between them, wet on his fingers. He makes a noise that's somewhere between a groan and a whine, and presses forward, burying his face against Liem's cool neck. There is so little space between their bodies that those last few desperate strokes happen by sheer force of determination. He bites the juncture between Liem's neck and shoulder, if only to muffle the sound that threatens to rise out of his throat, and then he's shuddering through his own orgasm, Liem's taste still on his tongue.

It will take him a few seconds to calm his thundering heart. A moment to push himself up, though his muscles feel shaky. To look down at Liem in all of his sex-mussed glory and grin a satisfied feline grin, and then blink and glance up at the sky--

At which point Cardan will start to laugh. ]

[Somehow, even after Cardan's proven willingness to use them, Liem isn't expecting the bite of teeth gripping the crook of his neck. He meets the strangely bloodless experience with a gasp, and his arm slides further around Cardan's shoulders to clutch him closer, feeling the wild beat of his heart beneath the lean angles of his back; it's an oddly discordant combination.

Also strangely foreign is the sensation of a living, warm yet utterly non-human body lying on top of him as he lets his breaths subside and the shivers of tension gripping his body ease. He can still feel Cardan's heart bumping against his ribs and feel his breath warm against his neck. Strange as the experience is, it's actually… nice. It's very nice.

But not so nice that he won't let Cardan push back up to look down at him. That's nice in its own way: the flash of a grin on that lovely, wicked face, the interesting way the moonlight falls over his unclothed frame. Liem offers a small, pleased smile in return — a smile that skews a little wry when Cardan looks up and begins to laugh.

For a moment, he just lets him, regarding his sudden mirth with quiet bemusement. He murmurs, after a moment:]

That's not the reaction I usually get.

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