sterngaze | open post

[It’s for the best if Liem doesn’t have to consider the possibility that he could have become subject to the geas at some point without his knowledge. It won’t serve him any to have his paranoia increased any further, particularly since even the news that he should no longer be at the spell’s mercy does nothing to grant him any sense of relief.

The fact remains that someone motivated enough to send an assassin and canny enough to bait a trap with her life has designs on both him and his husband, and he still doesn’t know the first thing about them.

This is both completely expected and entirely new territory for him. Compared to his venerable father, Liem is an appealingly easy target, and this wouldn’t be the first time someone has tried to use him to — he assumes — access Iago. But usually those attempts come his way from amidst tangled sheets or over pleasantries and sips of wine. This is the first time someone has been ambitious enough to grab for him with magic. That is deeply unsettling; it makes him want to drain his glass and follow Cardan’s example with a bottle of his own, though he resists the urge to do so.

The fact that the attempt led with a try for Cardan’s life is not unsettling so much as wildly, woundingly unfair. That he would struggle so tirelessly to win some shred of Cardan’s regard only to see him killed in front of him is a joke too cruel to even consider; his eyes go flinty as he slams the door on that particular thought.

Carefully, he sets his glass down on the cabinet.]

Cardan. Who do you know who has both the means and the motivation to have sent that assassin?

[ Cardan huffs out a mirthless laugh. He has plenty of enemies in the High Court, but none of his childish quarrels would warrant such effort. No, this is plainly about higher stakes. Which has to mean: ]

Only my relation.

[ He doesn't actually need to run down the list. It's not like he thinks Liem has grounds to question his judgment, and he is relatively sure of whom he suspects.

He'll do it anyway because the answer unsettles him, and he wishes to stall. ]

My father is too busy neglecting his duties. Caelia hardly has the brains for such a scheme, and Rhiya is uninterested in politics.

[ Which leaves only his three oldest siblings, who have been vying for the throne for all of Cardan's young life. ]

Balekin is more like to think me a useful pawn than a problem to remove. [ Besides, his brother isn't clever enough for such a plan, either; for all of his menace, Eldred's first-born leads with brutality first and foremost. ] I suppose that leaves Elowyn, whom you have met, and Dain, who is poised to be my father's heir.

[ It could be Elowyn. She would certainly have the means, and he's not fool enough to believe she's above murder. But--

Cardan sighs and closes his eyes. ]

But this reads like Dain's plan. I have not known Elowyn to be so cavalier in sacrificing her people.

[Liem listens quietly to the list of immediate relations that Cardan runs down. It's a predictable enough collection of names; who else but his own family would be invested enough in his death to seek it even after he's been married off to some vampire lord beyond Elfhame's borders?

But he is disturbed by how unsurprised Cardan seems at the attempt. He had not previously imagined that the youngest prince of Elfhame would be a compelling target for assassination, especially since nothing about his behaviour thus far has led Liem to suspect he harbours any designs on his father's throne. He is about as far from relevant to Elfhame's court politics as a prince could possibly be, and Iago's retribution is nothing to be courted lightly; his reputation hinges on it.

And yet, here they are, discussing tonight's attempted assassination.]

And why, [he says slowly,] would your elder siblings consider you to be a problem worth making an enemy of my house to remove?

[ They are getting into the portion of this family explainer for which Cardan desperately needs another drink, which is notable because he still has an unfinished bottle. Well, it will have to do, and his spouse will have to wait a few seconds while he imbibes.

Afterwards, he'll examine the dregs in the bottle instead of looking at Liem. ]

All royal children have the stars read at their birth. Mine foretold that I would destroy the crown.

[ Just that little thing. A twitchy little smile plays around his mouth; it pairs with the restless loops made by his tail. He finds cause to regret not putting on a robe. Having to explain the prophecy is oddly embarrassing. He's never had reason to tell anyone about it -- either they already knew or didn't need to. ] Among other things.

[ Now he'll glance up, though only briefly, as if trying to gauge Liem's reaction. ]

I suppose no one saw fit to share this part of my dowry with your house.

[As Cardan pauses to drain his bottle further, Liem watches, and he waits. There is some puzzle piece that he's missing here: something that Cardan has avoided speaking of before now. He's a little afraid to find out what that missing piece might be.

But whatever he might have been expecting, what Cardan shares with him is worse. Liem stares at him, as aghast as if he'd confessed that he'd smuggled a bomb into Liem's home amongst his trunks of clothes and books.

For one dreadful moment, he wonders if his father did know about this and had just never deigned to mention it to him — if he had somehow been the only one kept unaware for the past month and a half. Then his sense catches up with his shock, and he realizes his father would never be so uninvolved in Cardan's time here if that were the case.

But if he doesn't know yet, he absolutely cannot be permitted to find out.]

They must not have, [he says, with an attempt at even-keeled interest, like people tell him about their personal prophecies on a regular basis.] I did not know there was such a tradition. Is that… the sole reason?

[He's really hoping "among other things" just covers mundanities like whose hearts he's meant to break, or his drinking victory against that troll he mentioned the other week.]

[ This time, Cardan does look at Liem, and if he was avoidant before, he is the opposite now: his black, intent glare bores into Liem's face, and there is something hard and searching in it. Whatever the first admission may have cost him, this costs far more. And though his husband has proven steadfast and stalwart in defending him, though Liem has been unerringly patient with Cardan's caprices and compliant with most if not all of his demands, though they are bound to each other by oaths and duty--

Though all these things are true, Cardan cannot say he wants to trust Liem with his more difficult secrets, even now.

But there is also the question of debt. Liem took a knife for him and, worse -- had almost gotten ensnared because of him. So, eventually, Cardan will sigh, and he will put the bottle down, and he will say it: ]

The prophecy intimated some things about the benefits of spilling my blood. But I do not know if my siblings know this portion of it. It is more likely they are seeking to preserve their inheritance.

[ Already he regrets sharing this. It feels rather like being exposed in the middle of an ice storm.

He's eager to leave the feeling behind.]

...regardless, I see no need for you to be involved in this. The treaties are long signed; our union need not remain. You should not have to field further attacks once I am gone.

[ That doesn't feel much better, but it is at least a little less vulnerable. ]

Edited (wording) 2022-12-12 02:11 (UTC)

[Liem meets Cardan's stare warily, feeling like he's wading blind into a mire with no knowledge of what might lie at the bottom. He's liable to get dragged into something he'd rather stay out of, and that ultimately doesn't need to concern him — but whatever intrigue his husband is at the heart of, if he's involved, then by default Liem cannot avoid being so also. He has no choice but to walk in deeper, to try to find his way through.

Except, Cardan insists on giving him a choice. It is the choice to turn around and head back the way he came, to forget what he knows and cover up the night's troubles, to bury his memories of Cardan somewhere out of the way so he can go back to his tidy, predictable life without needing to work around a husband he never wanted in the first place. It is a perfectly reasonable choice, and he should probably take it.

Liem stares levelly at him, standing very still, without a shred of emotion on his face.]

Where then will you go, once you have released me from my vows?

[The words, like the expression, are quiet, unweighted by either relief or anger. Even though he might well be relieved to not add "sons and daughters of Elfhame" to his list of enemies. Even though he might well be angry that his husband hid this knowledge from him for almost two months while he tried to build their marriage into something that they might both be willing to tolerate.]

What do you intend to do?

[ Putting aside the fact that the one who would have to dissolve their marriage would be Liem, this is not quite the response Cardan was imagining. He had expected Liem to take the offer or else to protest for the sake of something stupid, like honour or the integrity of his entirely non-binding vows. The lack of appreciable reaction puts Cardan on edge. He is reminded, uncomfortably, of his little prank in the bath, of the way Liem had shuttered his expression then.

Which makes no sense since Cardan thinks he's being uncharacteristically selfless in his offer. He raises an eyebrow. ]

I suppose I would go back to being Balekin's pet menace.

[ A fine enough answer, and probably indeed his best choice. For all of Balekin's many cruelties, being back under his wing would provide a measure of safety, and it is familiar enough a gauntlet.

He just didn't think he'd feel so much dread at the thought. It seems that he is at a disadvantage: where Liem is still as a statue, Cardan is unable to quite keep the nervous twitch from his tail nor the tension out of his jaw. It makes him angry to be faced with that impossibly level, bright stare. Why should he be explaining his post-wedlock plans of all things? It is asking a little too much. ]

Why does it matter?

[ He doesn't care for the answer, and he won't wait for it. Instead, he will turn and stalk towards their bedroom, presumably in search of that robe.

That it turns his back to Liem is just a bonus. ]

[The nervous tension living in Cardan’s jaw, in the restless flick of his tail, makes a queasy feeling settle in the pit of Liem’s stomach. He has not known Cardan for very long, but the whiplash of his proposition to send him back to Faerie, after their night at the party, after trading Cardan’s mouth and hands on him for an assassin’s blade and Cardan’s fingers crushing his while his back is stitched up, makes the tired, bruised parts of him want to just… surrender.

He is so tired of caring, of trying his best, and getting nothing, not even acknowledgement in return. It is exhausting, and worse, it makes him think that maybe his father was right: Maybe esteem is something that can’t ever be earned, only taken. Maybe he is just a fool for wanting anything different.

But he cannot forget the comfort of falling asleep to Cardan’s breathing beside him, or the beguiling taste of his mouth, or the sight of him curled up in the stables with moth dust glimmering in his hair. He cannot forget the scars on his back or the bitter, unhappy way he speaks of his family.

It’s not an exaggeration to say that he would die rather than be the one to send him back there. Knowing the present alternative, he very well might.

When Cardan turns and stalks away, Liem reclaims his glass and drains it in one long swallow. He sets it down as Cardan sweeps toward their bedroom.]

I refuse.

[ It's not exactly unexpected. Liem's most enduring -- and irritating -- characteristic is his refusal to rise to Cardan's bait, time after time. Except this time, there is no bait; for once, he needs Liem to hurry up and take the offer before he's tempted to rescind it. Cardan knows too well where the limits of his own generosity lie.

He's not going to slow his steps. He's not going to react at all until he finds an embroidered robe to drape over his shoulders, mostly because he doesn't know what he needs to say, what magical key will unlock the answer he wants Liem to give. He'd like nothing more than to be pissy in return, to say something vindictive and pull his armour up around him once more, but he suspects it would only make things worse. If Cardan lashes out, Liem may only endure it, close himself off, and stubbornly refuse to cave to anything Cardan wants.

He settles for some measure of honesty instead. ]

I am not selfless enough to plead with you for this.

[ Which is as good as an admission of the truth: he doesn't want to return to Faerie. He doesn't want to leave this household, this court, this comfortable life where he enjoys a degree of freedom he's never before had.

And it is weakness, too, that he cannot bring himself to pretend otherwise. Still, he figures he'll have time to feel properly sorry for himself later, once he's convinced his husband to give up the title. ]

But you should reconsider. This is neither your fight nor your obligation, and whatever your reasons, they will not be worth the price.

[ He pauses, and huffs out a breath. ]

Besides, I would like to deny Dain the pleasure of having you.

[Liem uses the time Cardan spends in their bedroom to pour himself another glass, because he is not yet ready to abandon the pretence of moderation, even if he doesn’t have any illusions about this bottle making it back into the cabinet by the time he’s done. He is taking a rather deliberate pull when his husband reappears with a robe draped over his shoulders.

Perversely, this only seems to draw Liem’s eyes toward the parts of Cardan’s chest that are still unclothed.

He lets him say his piece. Cardan has been more forthright with him tonight than he has for most of the time they’ve been married, and that does make his lips curve slightly against the rim of his glass. Even if the circumstances are the worst they’ve ever been, it is nice to be offered what Cardan seems so reluctant to dispense.

But of course, it also serves only to make him stick more stubbornly to his decision.]

If someone bares his fangs at me, Cardan, that’s a fight. Spill some blood, call it a night, move on. Lay a snare for me, and try to have my husband killed? [He shakes his head, just a slight, slow movement.] That’s a war.

[If any member of the Night Courts tried the same, their house would be forfeit. Of course, if it was a vampire feud Liem would have to get his father involved, and Iago had a knack for retribution. He always added a certain flair to the whole thing, made comeuppance humiliating as well as final.

But in this instance, even without his father’s help to make things go more smoothly, Liem can’t stomach the idea of quietly washing his hands of the entire affair. He levels an intent look at Cardan.]

I don’t want you to plead with me to… to relinquish my claim and hand you meekly back to your family. I want you to help me.

[ Cardan's eyebrows shoot upward towards his hairline. For all that he has some idea of vampiric thoughts towards retribution, having spent a not-insignificant time schmoozing among their kind, this is the first time he sees Liem expressing such intent.

It makes something shiver down his spine, all the way to his tail, and he cannot tell whether the feeling is fear or attraction.

Nonetheless: ]

I am not going to help you wage war against Dain.

[ Even speaking the words makes his heart beat faster. Elfhame is hardly a safe place, the fey monarchy even less so-- but even against the background of their usual savagery, even against the cruelty of the brother who'd scarred him, Dain is still the person who terrifies Cardan most viscerally. Because he's vicious and ruthless, both horribly clever and vastly powerful-- and because all of Cardan's life, no one has ever believed his warnings about his father's presumptive heir.

He doesn't particularly expect Liem to, either. ]

You do not know what my brother is capable of. This is not worth it.

[ He bites the words out like they pain him. Liem doesn't know Dain, has not had a chance to be ensnared by him yet, and still Cardan doesn't know how to make him understand. ]

If you trust nothing else, trust me with this.

[ Funny: he had said he wouldn't plead, and here they are. ]

[Frustration creeps in around Liem's eyes and between his brows as Cardan persists. He has never before known his husband to try so hard to convince him of anything, and he doesn't quite understand why he's being so stubborn now. Perhaps he really does like his odds better in the dubious care of his eldest brother than wedded to a vampire lordling best known for being his father's quiet, unsociable right hand.

Admittedly, Liem has little of his own to brag about aside from a few decently successful business ventures — but that does not mean he is completely inexperienced. And he is not incautious.]

I can't do it without you.

[He has no connections to Faerie: no contacts to rely on, no favours to leverage, no knowledge of its courts or markets or traditions, no understanding of whom to ally with and whom to play off of whom. He cannot possibly expect to take down an older, cannier enemy by himself, in unfamiliar territory, and he has no means of gaining a foothold there — at least not without significant risk and expense. And in this circumstance, he can ill afford either.]

The choice you offer me is to dissolve our marriage entirely so you can return to Balekin's keeping, or to protect you indefinitely from an enemy who is not only much older than I am, but also poised to claim Elfhame's throne. Why? You surely don't expect him to just forget about you.

[ Cardan throws up his hands -- then winces, remembering there are stitches involved. ]

I do not expect you to protect me, you absolute stubborn fool.

[ There is clear exasperation in his voice, alongside a growing incredulity. Never before has someone tried so hard to refuse kindness from him, and he cannot think of anything that makes less sense. ]

I expect you to wash your hands of the matter, as you very well should -- as every sensible person would. Surely you must see that.

[ He's not going to answer Liem's question. No, he doesn't expect Dain to forget about him. There is a reason Cardan spends little time on long-term plans. But what is the point of telling Liem this? It's only depressing, and Cardan doesn't feel like thinking through the details of his inevitable demise.

And he does not understand why this has veered so vastly off-track. His eyes search his husband's face, as if he's trying to decipher a book written in a different language and moth-eaten besides. ]

I cannot understand why you are fighting me on this.

Because I promised that I would.

[Liem meets Cardan’s incredulity with crisp, steady insistence. His expression is still full of frustration, but his husband is right: he is stubborn, and he isn’t swayed by either Cardan’s exasperation or his appeal to Liem’s sense of reason.

He spent enough time agonizing over what was sensible in the days and weeks leading up their wedding. He’s already made all the decisions there were to make on the subject of their union, and he doesn’t intend to go back and retread that ground now.

Maybe another man, another vampire might consider it in light of this new information, but when Liem hears wash your hands of the matter, and sees Cardan's incredulity that he won’t agree, he can’t help but think that everyone else his husband has known would have done just that. And he shocks himself with the intensity of his own absolute refusal.]

Because you accepted my ring and my vows, and if you didn’t want me to make your enemies mine then you should have thought of that before you kissed me and joined yourself to my house.

[The wineglass clacks onto the cabinet; Liem gestures around the two of them, helplessly. His voice has lost some of its safe, tidy equilibrium.]

Why did you think I did anything I have done, if you imagined I would get rid of you at the first opportunity? My father insisted I wed you; nobody forced me to commit myself to our union.

[ Liem may as well have grown a second head for the expression on Cardan's face. It is pure, plain astonishment; he opens his mouth and then shuts it. What does one say to something like this?

What did he think? He'd thought that no vow was worth much unless tethered by magic. He'd thought their marriage a business deal, and not one that warranted dying for. Apparently, he'd thought wrong. ]

And you would doom yourself with my refusal to help you?

[ It's mind-boggling. Cardan cannot release himself from his own vows; only Liem can do that, and he appears to be denying Cardan's request to do so. Which means--

He reaches out towards Liem with both hands, and the jerky, abrupt motion makes the robe slip off his shoulders again. It pools to the floor, but Cardan is already stepping forward, his fingers fisting in the soft fabric of that stupid unbuttoned collar. It's all Cardan can do to keep from actually throttling him, ineffective as that would be. ]

I cannot believe, [ he mutters, helplessly, ] that you have found a way to hold yourself hostage.

[ And what is there left for Cardan to do? He shakes his head, still staring, and then... releases some of the tension in his hands to splay fingers on Liem's skin instead. ]

Fine. I give. You'll have what help I am able to give you, even though confronting my terrifying brother is the worst idea I've ever heard.

[For a moment, Liem suspects that Cardan is about to throttle him. He looks at his thunderstruck expression, his absolute disbelief in the face of Liem’s steadfast refusal to even consider abandoning their union, and when Cardan moves forward to fist his hands in his collar, Liem thinks perhaps he’s managed to frustrate his glib, poised husband completely beyond words. Or, given that choking wouldn’t actually accomplish anything, perhaps Cardan just intends to shake him around a little to take the edge off his exasperation.

But astonishingly, he simply admits defeat instead.

Slowly, Liem’s expression eases. Cardan may think this a terrible idea, and if he lets himself think about it too hard he might have to agree with him — but for this brief moment he allows himself a small glimmer of pleasure at being permitted to keep this one thing that he wanted. Even if he suspects Cardan would laugh outright to be earnestly called his.]

I’m open to alternatives. We don’t have to confront him.

[His hands find Cardan’s hips, skim cool and light up his waist. He is admittedly not thinking very hard about murder plots right at this exact moment; they’ve both been very busy tonight already, and that seems like something that should be given a significant amount of attention.]

As long as he ends up dead.

[ Cardan doesn't laugh -- he glares, not even bothering to hide how scandalized he feels. But for all his scowling, he breathes out too, slow and steadying. For all of his ire, his tail drags up the side of Liem's thigh, its tip in a pleased little curl.

It's a profoundly imperfect solution, and he is sure it will end in tears. It would be foolish to even hope they could succeed against his most formidable sibling. And still, and still, treacherous relief sneaks into his heart: if nothing else, he will not be returning to Hollow Hall. If nothing else, he's bought himself another few days, because surely Liem cannot intend to murder Dain this same week.

Speaking of: he will slide his hands up to Liem's face, tilting it up towards his own more earnestly. ]

For the sake of my rapidly declining sanity, do not speak of killing my relatives while you try to seduce me.

[ Not that the whisper of Liem's fingers over his skin isn't working -- but it's working rather despite the conversation, not because of. ]

[Liem does, at least, have the grace to look thoroughly abashed at the look Cardan directs at his upturned face. His hands pause their wandering over his husband's skin.]

Ah— I'm sorry, that was ghastly of me.

[Everything he has learned about Dain has impressed upon Liem the conviction that it would be foolish to leave him alive, even if there were some way to merely defang him… but even if Cardan is willing to entertain the idea, of course he doesn't want to do so now. The unwary juxtaposition of murder and sex also makes Liem think briefly of his father, which sends a small shudder through him.

Actually, that might just be jitters again. Dredging up the assassination attempt again has managed to revive what feels like most of the nerves he'd finally settled down over the course of the night, which frankly isn't helping him keep his thoughts in good order either.]

And I wasn't even considering your shoulder.

[He recalls Cardan's wince when he'd thrown up his hands, and the angry look of his skin by the time the doctor had finished with it. It probably still hurts abominably, and Cardan would surely benefit from the chance to rest it.]

[ Cardan doesn't want Liem's hands to stop; he wants those cool palms to find every aching, abraded part of him to soothe. The fact that he's now acutely aware of just how brutally efficient those hands are in the face of a threat does nothing to diminish his desire; if anything, perversely, he wants them more.

The tilt of his mouth is a little impatient. He moves -- in, fully closing the space between their bodies so he can press Liem against the cabinet, his arm braced against the wood. Touching Liem feels like breathing out, like a long sigh, like a way to forget everything that's just happened. ]

Oh? [ He's a little arch about it, even as his head dips down; Cardan's mouth finds the sharp angle of Liem's jaw, words rumbling against pale skin. ] What about it are you planning to consider?

[ It's not like the wound doesn't ache -- unlike some present company, he is yet made of regular flesh and blood. But if, after all this, his reward cannot be to bury his pain and fear and fury against Liem's skin, to breathe in his scent and sample his taste until there is naught else filling his thoughts -- then what, exactly, was the point?

Besides, more and more, sex seems to be the only thing about his husband that he can make sense of. ]

[Cardan does a good job of denying Liem the space he needs to have second thoughts about touching him. Caution and self-doubt are crowded out by the warm press of his body; restlessness finds direction with the slide of lips against his jaw. He leans his hips back against the cabinet, grateful to be faced — for the first time in hours — with a choice that doesn’t require him to fight with anybody, anything. Cardan offers him the opportunity to concede, to simply let go and give him what he wants — and this time he’s glad to accept.

Probably Cardan would have appreciated some of this tractability five minutes ago, but then Liem would have preferred if his husband hadn’t chosen the most aggravating moment possible to try being considerate. So they can both be dissatisfied with that interaction. For now, he reaches for a different reply than the one he’d initially been imagining, content to be redirected.]

… Only that it would behoove me to accommodate you more.

[He tips his head gently, inviting Cardan to direct his attention down the line of his neck. And he resumes his careful, deliberate exploration of Cardan’s lithe body, mapping the sweep of his flanks, the scar-laced landscape of his back. He’s had little occasion to observe the scars, and he suspects that questions about them would not at all be welcome, but even tonight — especially tonight, with one more mark added to that strange tally, the only one he avoids — he cannot help but want to touch. And he cannot help but be gentle about it. He murmurs,]

In light of tonight’s grievances.

[ Again, there is that strangely light touch, and still it makes him shiver with something he doesn't quite understand, some longing that's just a little painful. It's -- what? the second, third time? -- and Cardan breathes out against the line of his husband's neck, a little frustrated by his own reaction. ]

I am not made of glass, Liem.

[ Even if he is more fragile, even if he hurts and bleeds. Even if he cannot boast the predatory grace or speed of the vampire he married, whom he somehow remains married to despite every sensical solution involving their parting. And even if the wound throbs, that doesn't mean Cardan's hands aren't travelling down to the slim lines of Liem's hips, so Cardan can press against him and grind, sending delicious shivers of want through him. ]

I made a promise, in that parlour.

[ To ruin you. It occurs to him, darkly, that there are two meanings to it now. But he means to fulfill the first, and he means to be thorough with it, because if they only have so much time left--

Cardan's hands find the compact, muscular curve of Liem's ass, fingers splaying before he-- lifts him, bodily, onto the cabinet. He pays for that, too-- a sharp, angry, hot burst of pain from beneath the bandages that makes him grit his teeth and breathe through it for a second. But what does that matter? He wants this -- wants to step between Liem's thighs and smear his mouth over Liem's neck and suck an impossible bruise onto pale, unblemished skin -- wants to dishevel him, to leave him half-clothed and exposed -- wants to feel more of those hands and that mouth and those teeth on him, even if their promise is empty, even then--

He wants everything all at once, as greedy and impatient as he'd ever been. Behind him, the tail lashes with impatience.]

[As much as Liem does shiver at the touch of hot breath against his neck, as much as the friction of Cardan’s hips against his own makes him burn hot and clutch at his husband with less deliberation and more demand, he cannot imagine touching him without wanting to indulge the thread of tenderness weaving through his desire. He has ever been like this — one more reason to avoid the welter of blood and sex at less-restrained vampire parties, where tenderness has no place at all. But there is a perverse, aching little pleasure to be found in giving what no one has any right to expect from him, and he sighs against Cardan’s shoulder, betraying only breathless curiosity when he asks,]

What has that to do with anything?

[Then: that promise. Cardan’s grip slides round to find his ass, and oh, it’s a unique pleasure to feel Cardan’s back move beneath his hands while he’s lifted like this. Strangely thrilling, too, for him to shoulder his way through the obvious spike of pain to step closer again, to throw aside caution and comfort for the sake of that unrelenting, impatient want. Liem hooks a leg round his hip, tugging him closer, and feels that tail lash against it as Cardan sucks a mark into his neck. The noise he makes is every bit as restless and hungry as the mouth at his throat, and if this is how it’s going to be, if touch is to be the balm to soothe the hurts of the night, then Liem will slide one hand between them to wend it up Cardan’s chest, along his ribs, over the restless beating heart, tracing the sharp line of a collarbone.

The more sensible thing would be to say: It doesn’t have to be now. Ruin me later, when it isn’t going to undo all the doctor’s work.

But he doesn’t want to be sensible, and he doesn’t want Cardan to wait until later. Waiting until now has already been injustice enough, and besides; he was willing to bet his life on the chance to hold onto his husband for longer. Nothing is going to convince him to let go now.]

[ He's too distracted to answer the question with more than an exasperated huff. Liem is distracting -- his closeness is distracting; the strange, subtly inhuman taste of him is distracting; and despite Cardan's protesting, the tender way he touches Cardan is distracting too.

Although maybe it's hardly fair to call it a distraction when he's the only thing Cardan wants to fill his thoughts with.

He pulls away just enough to observe the mark he had made; the curl of his mouth is unmistakably self-satisfied, though he suspects the bruise will have faded all too soon. No matter; Cardan can always make more, and there are so many other things to delight in. Case in point: that noise Liem had made, the one that had travelled straight to Cardan's cock, shivery and delightful. Or the hungry, breathless kiss Cardan will steal from him, now that he can -- now that they're no longer stupidly dancing around each other for reasons he doesn't wish to recall. ]

I wish to do so many things to you that I don't know where to start.

[ So he'll start with taking that hand at his collarbone in his own, dipping his head so he can kiss those cool, clever fingers. Liem had done something similar to him when they'd dismounted from the moth, though Cardan is quite certain Liem's version didn't involve the obscene dragging of his tongue up the length of his ring finger. ]

[A week ago, Liem would have been a little embarrassed by the self-satisfied look Cardan aims at the mark on his neck, and especially by the shiver of anticipation it sends through him in response. He is keenly aware of his own impatient want, of the way his lungs are suddenly alive with shallow, restless breaths, of the hungry way he fits himself against Cardan's feverish body as their lips meet. A week ago, his irrepressible interest in having Cardan's hands and mouth on him was just a weakness for his new husband to use to distract him.

Well, it hasn't stopped being that.

Still, the week spanning from the evening of Cardan's apology to now has stretched miles. And — at least for the time being — Liem has flattened his sense of shame under the weight of using his own life to buy Cardan's cooperation in plotting a murder. He has none left for indignation or even a maidenly blush at the prospect of submitting to a husband he has only just begun to know.

Especially not when Cardan clearly has no shame at all about his own desires. The way he takes Liem's hand to dip his head toward it is bewitchingly gentlemanly; the drag of that hot tongue over his finger makes lust shoot straight to his cock. He says, for the second time that night:]

Good. [And:] I want you to rob me of the ability to think about anything but you.

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