sterngaze | open post

[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.

[ At that, Cardan chuckles, though his gaze on Liem is intent and unerring. He pulls the tip of that finger into his mouth, bathing it in heat and the tease of suction, a mirror of another thing they did on that forest excursion. For a moment, there is only this: Cardan's black stare and his lazy fellating of Liem's fingers.

Then he pulls away, and his smile curls against Liem's damp knuckles. ]

You are far too dressed for that.

[ And he had wanted Liem dishevelled, half-clothed and aching in his fine suit, but he wants so many other things tonight. Just now-- it's to step back, to pull himself away, painfully, from the touch of Liem's thighs and the proximity to his mouth.

His fingers unfurl from Liem's last. But the smile never leaves, nor does the intent stare. It considers Liem thoroughly, from the tips of his ears to the white throat with its already fading bruise, the exciting glimpse of chest allowed by the shirt, the trim line of his waist and the length of his legs--

Only to flick back to those pale eyes again. Cardan leans against the arm of the couch. ]

I wish to see you nude-- [ His head cocks gently towards the bedroom. ] --and waiting for me.

[ There is something velvet-soft in his voice, though it is not at all entreating. Part of him can't help the feeling that he's playing with fire, given how often they've suffered interruptions. But this is no stranger's parlour, and there will be no enemy knives aimed at them until at least next nightfall. Here, he wishes to take his time. ]

Will you?

[Liem doesn’t bother to disguise the way his eyes linger on Cardan’s mouth when he pulls away to smile at Liem over his knuckles. He drags his gaze heavily from it to meet Cardan’s eyes, pleased, anticipatory, his own lips parted very slightly.

His assessment seems rather conservative to Liem. He is so eager to let Cardan rule his thoughts, he doesn’t think his clothes would present much of a barrier at all.

An immediate example: the way Cardan’s stare manages almost to distract him from the sting of losing his warm, tempting presence from his half embrace. Liem feels pinned under it, scrutinized as though he were on display just for him. He finds himself in no hurry to slide down from the cabinet, even though his fingers itch to land again on his chest, and his lips feel cold without Cardan’s mouth on them.]

Yes.

[He does slip back down to the floor now — and despite his hungry yearning to seek one more kiss before he grants Cardan’s desire, he stops himself from chasing after him to close the space he’s put between them. He returns his smile instead.]

As you wish.

[He sounds gracious, rather than obedient. But he does do as he’s asked. He disappears through the bedroom door and swings it gently closed after him — though only most of the way.

It’s a simple matter to undress, considering the haste with which he put his clothes on to begin with. His partially undone shirt slides free in a few brisk movements, uncovering what looks more like a fresh, somewhat angry scar than a wound received earlier that night. His trousers take slightly longer to remove, but only because he takes an indulgent moment to palm himself through them, letting out a slow, quiet breath, before wriggling his hips free of them as well.

Already, the sudden lack of confinement is a relief.

Then he makes his way to the bed — his trim, tidy angles, his lean muscles and pale limbs and narrow hips — and he prowls onto it and stretches out as though he wasn’t already ready to die of impatience. As though Cardan wasn’t already the only thing on his mind, and his absence didn’t simply make it easier to think about all the places Liem wanted him to touch him.

And he waits.]

[ As usual, Cardan has half a plan cobbled together out of various needs. The first of these is that he doesn't think he could easily fuck Liem on the cabinet and suspects he could not have carried him to bed without the risk of dropping him, which would have been rather unattractive. The second is that he thinks a little absence will help him fill Liem's thoughts more effectively.

The third is that he desperately wants the Nevermore he's slipped into the robe's pocket before returning to the sitting room.

He retrieves the little vial from where it's tangled with the discarded fabric, uncorking it. The powder inside has an odd, multi-dimensional quality -- shimmery gold shaded with violet, strange to look at for very long. Cardan doesn't bother; he just dips his fingertip in the drug and puts it on his tongue. It hits nigh immediately: a lovely, spreading warmth, an ease that loosens the tight hold of his shoulders and paints away the burning ache where stitches pull at raw skin. For a little while, he will only stand there and breathe with the relief of it. Nevermore makes everything more, makes colours brighter and pleasures more intense. The pleasure of anticipation, for example -- and the thought of Liem waiting for him, just a room away, coils delightfully in his stomach, shivers over his skin. He lets it build, enamoured with his excitement-- with the thoughts of what he is going to do once he gets there, with how he will touch his husband, for once, in their marriage bed--

He breathes out slowly and slips the vial inside a trouser pocket.

When he steps into the bedroom, it is with another bottle -- all the better to wash the taste of gold from his mouth. There is no trace of unease left in his movement; he has kicked off his boots, and his bare feet are silent on the bedroom floor. He takes himself to the foot of the bed, unhurried. For a moment, he will only look; the half-lidded gaze he directs Liem's way has something devouring burning within it.

He wants to crawl into the bed; he wants to trap Liem within the cage of his arms; he wants to shuck off his trousers and be, finally, shockingly naked together, skin against skin; he wants to press Liem into the sheets and make him gasp for air he doesn't need-- As usual, as always, Cardan wants so many things.

But what he says is, only: ]

Come here.

Edited 2022-12-17 04:10 (UTC)

[Liem does his waiting reclined against the cushions, thinking about the last few minutes he’d just spent in the sitting room and very deliberately not thinking about any of the night before that point, for all that Cardan was involved in all of it. The memories only threaten him with dread, and a hopeless fury he doesn’t know what to do with — so instead he fills his thoughts with warm breaths and Cardan’s voice close to his ear, with his husband’s promise and the tantalizing threat of his indecision, indulging his own feeling of delicious, shivery want until his mind is in no danger of wandering.

He wants a great many things, which tonight he tells himself are all one thing. He wants Cardan: Cardan’s weight atop him, pinning him against the sheets; Cardan’s hands sliding warm and brazen wherever they please; Cardan’s terrible, frustrating, irresistible mouth hot on his skin. He wants to lose himself in the strange, green scent of him and in the restless, animal beat of his heart, until he forfeits all sense of time and forgets that there has ever been anyone else but him. He wants this most of all, and his eyes drift closed on a hungry sigh as the emptiness in the room begins to feel especially keen.

Maybe the memories of this morning will be enough to distract him from their troubles in the coming nights. And maybe, if he is very lucky, the next time Cardan is on his mind, he might persuade himself to dwell on something other than the shape of Cardan’s smile when it is only mischievous instead of imperious or mean, or the memory of moth dust glittering in his hair, or the quiet look of him still at rest when Liem first wakes in the hours before dusk.

But he probably won’t.

When his husband slips into the room, Liem’s eyes flick open, and he has to stop himself from sitting up like a hound hearing his master’s approach. He gathers himself slowly instead, and at Cardan’s invitation, he slips from his place on the covers and pads over to where his husband is waiting, to rest cool palms against his chest. Fleetingly, he recalls the first time they’d stood by this bed, clothes and walls alike kept jealously between them.

Now he tips his face up at Cardan, sliding one hand up to cup his neck as he regards him. He looks different: more at ease, in a way that he’s not willing to attribute just to the bottles of wine that Cardan has already demolished.]

Have you decided? [His voice is a low murmur.] Where you wish to start?

[ Cardan asks, and then Liem is there; in his current state, it feels like revelation, like an answer he was asking for all this time. He cannot remember what it was they were ever fighting about, nor why it was necessary-- not when he can drink in the elegant lines of Liem's body instead, not when he is there, and willing, and Cardan's alone.

For a moment, he is perfectly still. Liem's fingers curl against his skin, and Cardan breathes in, suppressing a shiver of anticipation at the cool touch. He feels warmed from the inside by the same pleasant golden buzz that had carried him into the room; it makes it all the more impossible not to focus on his husband's touch, not to want his hands all to himself.

But the question demands an answer. ]

Yes, [ Cardan says. His hand finds its way to Liem's flank; it will travel down, tracing over ribs and waist and hipbone as Cardan sinks to his knees. At the parlour, an eternity ago, this had been his promise when he'd pressed his mouth to fine fabric and breathed in Liem's scent-- and he wishes to keep it, wishes to overwrite the memory of pain and peril with something else.

The bottle is stood on the floor, forgotten. He has better things to occupy his mouth and fingers with -- like the angry mark left behind by the assassin's blade. He brushes his mouth against it with deliberate reverence, breathing against Liem's skin before he veers to press heavy kisses to the sharp slant of a hipbone. He'd removed his rings save for the wedding band; there is something naked in the feeling when he curls his fingers over Liem's cock, stroking over silken skin. ]

[In that first moment, as fingers and palm trace a warm trail down Liem’s flank, as Cardan sinks deliberately to his knees before him on the plush rug, relief blooms through Liem along with his hot shiver of desire. He has spent far too much of the last week futilely wanting Cardan’s touch, and too much of this last night fighting not to lose it. The feeling of finally arriving at this coveted conclusion is heady enough almost to be a drug by itself.

Now he drinks in the light skim of his hand, the gaze of those hungry eyes as though starved, and his anticipation eclipses every other thought in his head, just as he’d hoped. He recalls the eager press of Cardan’s hands against his hips, the warmth of his mouth through perfectly tailored — and now thoroughly destroyed — trousers, the fervent heat behind the promise he’d made. In the wake of that slide down his skin, Liem feels the tight knots necessity and obligation have bound him up in begin to ease.

And then unravel, all at once, at the brush of lips over the angry line of his healing wound. He remains still, but his eyes flicker wider, and strangely it’s not the injury but rather his chest that aches in the wake of that careful, deliberate kiss.

But he doesn’t dwell on that, can’t dwell on it as Cardan smears kisses now along the line of his hip, as his hand finds Liem’s cock and strokes. The breath in his lungs slips out, a soft and wanting sound, and he reaches one hand behind him to seek the reassuring solidity of the bedpost, even as his other hand slides up from Cardan’s neck to find its way into his hair. Need grips Liem tight, and leans its entire weight toward the promise of that wandering mouth and those long, bare fingers; having surrendered all his anchors to Cardan already, he is pulled helplessly in its wake.]

[ Cardan hasn't done this particularly often; it's hardly meet for a Prince of Elfhame to be caught on his knees, and the lovers he could trust had always been few and far between. But such concerns are far from him here: no one is like to disturb them, and the man held in the grip of his fingers has proved his loyalty rather extravagantly.

There is no need to bate his hunger. He tilts his head to the touch of Liem's fingers, a flickering smile brushing skin when Cardan spots that caught expression. He wants more of that, wants more of those surprised breaths, wants to drink them in and catalogue them like little secrets. It's probably dangerous to feel so possessive of these things already, but--

But if he can't be possessive of his own husband, then what's the point?

The fingers of his freed hand splay at Liem's hip, and Cardan is not entirely sure which one of them he's trying to steady. He's shivery, breathless himself with anticipation; his tail twitches against his thigh with characteristic restlessness. Much as it is his nature to tease, this time he is too impatient to fuck around much, too drawn in by the current of heady need that's built over the past week. Later, he promises both of them; right now, he wants to taste, to drag his tongue up the length of him, heat against cool skin. In all of their marriage, this is only the second time he's gotten to touch Liem like this; he plans to get well-acquainted.

And so he will. And so he does. He gets his first taste and then his second, lips and tongue discovering the shape of his husband's cock, his breath coming hot and fast. It's easy to close his eyes, to lose himself in the taste and texture of Liem's skin, except that-- he doesn't, and the look he directs Liem's way is deliberately obscene, shamelessly presenting the pink of his tongue as it drags over the head of his dick. ]

[Now that Liem has Cardan here, kneeling before him and savouring him with look and touch, making pleasure from the ruins of the night, all Liem cares to do is drink him in, in every way he's permitted to. His head tips gently to one side as he immerses himself in the heat of his husband's mouth and the slide of his tongue, shivers running up his spine with each gorgeous stroke. His fingers card through that raven hair, find the shell of one pointed ear and trace it softly — because he can; because Cardan is here, and his; because the caress of his mouth has only made Liem covet him more.

He has neither the desire nor the ability to take his eyes from him. The regard that Cardan scorches him with pierces him through and holds him captive, making Liem feel profoundly naked: perceived and itemized — but the electric thrill of embarrassment at being seen is twinned with desperate pleasure. If anyone deserves the right to watch him as he comes undone stitch by stitch, it is the husband he's promised himself to again and again — and Liem is certainly coming undone. Behind him, he grips the bedpost harder as he leans more of his weight into it, trying not to squirm under Cardan's attention. The drag of his tongue over his tip makes Liem's breath catch in his throat.

He has never had his dick sucked quite like this before, in this way that makes him feel like Cardan has already laid claim to everything he has to give: every look, every shiver, every breath. He finds that he wants him to have all of it, and he hopes Cardan feels smug about it once he's done. He hopes he hoards those scraps of him like a jealous dragon, and comes back looking for more.

Again, and again, and again.]

[ He feels everything too keenly: the caress of Liem's fingers over his ear, the shift of his body as he reacts to Cardan's mouth, the minute changes in his breathing. These things settle in him, hot and intoxicating, satisfying even as they stoke his impatience.

Over and over, he's surprised by how little it takes for him to desire so much.

He'll lock eyes with his husband just before he takes him in his mouth. Slowly, carefully, taking time to get used to the feeling, to the weight of him on Cardan's tongue. He remembers Balekin and his sneering disdain for the lovers who serviced him, and he thinks, not for the first time, that his brother had been wrong: this feels nothing like debasement. It feels like power.

He doesn't look away. He doesn't look away as Liem's cock slides past his lips. He doesn't look away when he takes Liem as deep as he can, breath fast and shallow in his lungs -- nor when he starts moving, his fingers working the shaft where his mouth can't reach. He doesn't look away because he wants to see Liem, is greedy for his honesty, for vulnerability, for bareness beyond simple nudity.

Maybe it's too much to ask from a man who has already given him more than Cardan deserves, but he's ever intemperate, and he wants it so keenly -- wants everything. Even if they don't love each other, even if everything between them is borne only of Liem's strange commitment to duty. It makes no difference.

Cardan wants all of him anyway. ]

[Liem rarely cares to offer his partners more than his submission: conditional and temporary, a novelty for them and a pleasure for him. That minor thrill is enough for him, and it’s all play, in the end — simply a way of enjoying a blood high and interrupting the routine of his nightly duties. Those who try to wring something more from such trysts are inevitably disappointed: usually for his own good, and sometimes for theirs. Almost never has he let himself want more than that simple exchange.

Except that he does want more. He can’t meet Cardan’s gaze or contend with his touch without craving it, without wanting, foolishly, to give this strange, temperamental man things he hasn’t earned and couldn’t possibly expect. The slide of lips and tongue around his cock pull a low, longing sigh from him, and hearing that is what makes Liem slide his eyes closed finally, unwilling to see his own desperation reflected back at him in Cardan’s black gaze. But he doesn’t try to stifle the way his husband’s attention sends shivers of pleasure up his spine, or the way his breath comes in shallow, urgent pants that echo the rhythm he’s setting between his thighs.

Even if it’s foolish, and embarrassing, he still wants Cardan to possess him. He’s still overwhelmed with the greedy, unruly desire to entrust himself to him completely, to come apart just for him, and give his husband not just his nakedness, but his vulnerability. His thoughts are filled with Cardan already, with the insistent touch of his hands, the wet heat of his mouth, the memory of that hot, unflinching look.

Even so, though his trembling lashes do lift, he cannot quite summon the shamelessness to meet it again.]

[ Cardan has some trouble telling if he's doing well, though he assumes he is not doing badly. Certainly, the dick in his mouth is hard; certainly, he hears the change in Liem's breath, sees the trembling and the quiet tension building in him. Certainly, Cardan is enjoying himself -- every time he takes Liem deep, every reaction, every little noise makes him strain more against the confines of his trousers. Rarely before has he reacted quite so keenly to someone else's pleasure, and yet -- here he is, kneeling on the floor, achingly hard even though no one has even touched him yet.

When Liem closes his eyes, Cardan takes it as a victory.

But when those eyelids flutter open again, when Liem refuses to meet his eye, Cardan's eyebrow twitches up. He will pull away with a drag of lips and just the barest scrape of teeth against the ridge at the tip-- Though his hand keeps stroking, tight and merciless, unwilling to give his husband any significant amount of relief. It's only that Cardan needs his mouth free for a moment. ]

Why, [ he will ask, breathless amusement curling around his voice, ] are you embarrassed?

[ Surely if anyone should be abashed, it would be Cardan. ]

[Cardan has stoked Liem’s need hot enough and urgent enough that when he pulls his mouth away from his cock, frustration adds a plaintive edge to Liem’s groan at the torturous slide of departing lips and teeth. It’s tremendously unfair of Cardan to ask anything at all of him while he maintains that relentless friction, especially since the only portion of his brain not busy with the hand stroking his dick is currently wishing devoutly for the return of Cardan’s mouth. This leaves precious little for Liem to devote to actually being coherent.]

Cardan, [he mutters, faintly aggrieved, between ragged breaths.] You’re a menace.

[This is probably not the answer to Cardan’s question, though it very well could have been. Liem glances back at him automatically when he speaks, but it’s easier to stare at his mouth than it is to actually meet his eye. He’s more than a little worried that if he looks Cardan full in the face, all the terrible, vulnerable little wants inside him will spill right out of his throat.

Because Cardan is right, he is embarrassed, and being questioned about it only makes the feeling more demanding. The words twine seductively around him, making him feel hot and restless and helplessly aware of his husband’s eyes on him. The fingers in Cardan’s hair curl a little tighter, but the gesture is too gentle to be a reprimand.]

Because. [As he flicks his eyes back at Cardan’s, the slide of fingers over his cock makes him sound needier than he intends.] Today, you may have any and all that you like of me. And I want you to be greedy.

[ The designation of menace sends a hot little thrill of pleasure through him. Cardan cannot help looking smug. Even if Liem's groan had made him regret pulling away, even if he's unbearably horny about it, impatient by nature--

He wants to be a menace. He wants to be so menacing and terrible that Liem can think of no one and nothing else.

The follow-up answer draws a soft, wicked laugh out of him, even as he shivers at the grip of Liem's fingers in his hair. ]

Only today? You ought to be more careful with what you wish for.

[ The tail lashes, once; Cardan's little smile is full of teeth, and the hunger in his eyes is entirely inhuman. Of course, it is too late. Like in any good fable, by the time the warning comes, the hero has already transgressed, has been tempted, is fated to be led astray. ]

My greed is not so readily tempered.

[ The hand at Liem's hip pulls away; instead, Cardan will press his fingertips to Liem's stomach, just above the place where he was stabbed-- and push, lightly but insistently, urging him to sit on the bed.

So that Cardan can lean over and swallow him up again, and this time he grants Liem the mercy of closing his eyes. ]

Edited (words) 2022-12-23 16:40 (UTC)

[The toothy little smile that Cardan threatens Liem with spikes a surge of aching want straight down his spine, and makes him think: Oh. It was a mistake to look at him again. That villainous grin is so terribly, unabashedly predatory; he cannot help but be completely charmed by it, cannot help how the hot feeling beneath his skin grows more intense at the touch of that black gaze. He’s not sure if it’s the smile of his dreams or his nightmares, but either way the image of Cardan looking up at him just then is fit to haunt his sleep.

When he subsides back against the edge of the bed, it’s with an eager little shiver that even his self-aware embarrassment can’t manage to suppress.]

I am so tired of being careful.

[Really, it doesn’t even matter if Cardan’s greed outlasts the sun. Liem had told him today, but only because he hadn’t wanted to admit that he doesn’t expect his desire for Cardan to be sated after one day in his possession. His distraction as that hot mouth once more envelops him is a relief, because it keeps him from having to confront the truth: that feeding this particular hunger will probably only make it more demanding.

It takes very little after that for the tight, intent slide of fingers and lips and tongue to push Liem right up against the edge of his peak. His hand twitches restlessly over the nape of Cardan’s neck as desperation begins to colour his panting breaths, but it’s the sheets behind him that he clutches at. What voice he has left is simply a breathless murmur.]

Ah— Cardan…

[ He doesn't want Liem to be careful either. Cardan wants him reckless and a little desperate, walking into the trap of Cardan's hands and mouth and bed, giving himself to someone they both know he probably shouldn't trust. He wants Liem's shivers, and he wants his helpless hands, and he wants him to wind strong fingers in Cardan's hair again, to pull him in as if on a leash. Of course, Liem doesn't. Cardan's husband is nothing if not considerate, even when Cardan doesn't particularly want him to be.

He isn't going to give Liem the thing he wants, either.

He's tempted to. He wants to let those frantic breaths hit a crescendo. He wants to see it again-- Liem coming undone under his hands, Cardan's name on his lips-- he wants it ardently, with a keen yearning that surprises him. And yet, and yet, when he does hear his name, he will only-- pull away.

Pull away, and slip his hand up Liem's cock, the clasp of his fingers just firm enough to stop him from coming. ]

Not yet.

[ His own voice comes out low, rough with wanting. ]

[For a hot, bright moment, Liem's world narrows to just Cardan's hands, Cardan's mouth, and his own relentlessly mounting pleasure. He feels consumed by it, so close to his peak that he can't help but be tipped right over.

Except.]

Oh—

[His eyes flutter open, the edge of a whine colouring his sudden exhale as Cardan slides his lips free of his cock. The sudden absence of him feels like theft. The fingers at the nape of his neck do clutch tighter now, and Liem's hips buck once, helplessly, against the hand now thwarting his climax.

That restless, needy breath turns to a groan of frustration.]

Cardan.

[ Cardan tips his head back, into the grasp of Liem's hands, and surmises the whole of him: the hard cock, straining against his grip; Liem's trim stomach with its still-angry mark; the rarity of his chest rising and falling; his sharp-featured, handsome face beset with thwarted want, those bright blue eyes set against strange darkness.

The self-satisfied smile curls around Cardan's mouth once more. ]

Liem.

[ The pressure of his fingers is inexorable, though it will also be added by the sudden press of his hand at Liem's hip, urging him to stay down. The tail is curling, now, back-and-forth, as lazily smug as the rest of its owner. ]

Was there something you wished for?

[Liem is so unbearably horny. Even as his desperation begins to ease as the immediate threat of his climax slides reluctantly past, he's still left aching and bereft, greedy for touch beneath his husband's self-satisfied regard. His body misses those clever hands and that treacherous mouth, so that he already can't think of anything else.

It doesn't help that the smug look Cardan is giving him, paired with the firm pressure of the hand on his hip, is making him feel well and truly handled. He knows perfectly well that right now, his husband may toy with him precisely as much as he likes — and from the look on his face, his husband knows it too.

The knowledge only makes him squirm.]

I wish you would make me come.

[It comes out on a heartfelt sigh. He's been doing quite a lot of wishing this morning — but every time Cardan touches him, every time their eyes meet or his breath brushes Liem's skin, a new want appears to pile atop the others. He just can't stop desiring him, any more than he can resist the unyielding demands of the hands keeping him in place.]

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