sterngaze | open post

[Liem is already drowning in his pleasure. His world has narrowed to the sensation keeping him captive: the slide of his husband's cock filling him again and again, the heat and press of his body, the sigh of his breath and the maddening drumming of his pulse. He presses gasps and kisses in turn against Cardan's skin, and when fingers find his erection with distracted, demanding strokes, he muffles a whine against the crook of his neck.]

Cardan.

[Every movement and every touch speeds him headlong toward his peak, so surely that he cannot think of anything else. All he can do is let his want pour through him, and out, from his hands, from his lips. He clutches tighter at Cardan's back as he fucks him closer to the edge. His breaths stutter and flood out in a helpless, pleasure-drowned rush.]

Cardan. Fuck—

[His mounting pleasure crashes into him, hot and keen and unrelenting. And even as it closes over his head, he remains greedy for more.]

Liem--

[It's an acknowledgment, as solemn as he can make it when he's this breathless and this overwrought. He wonders if his name is ever going to sound the same or if he will remember this every other time Liem says it.

It's just-- overwhelming.

The hands on his back are too much. His name on Liem's breath -- too much, all of it, far too keen and powerful and long-desired. He makes a noise -- too keen, too desperate, buried against Liem's mouth -- and feels himself tense and twitch with white-hot need as his orgasm overtakes him.

He fucks through it, unwilling to let go, unwilling to stop-- though the rhythm of his hips stutters with his whole-body shudder, thrown off-balance by the surfeit of pleasure. ]

[After so much waiting and wanting and teasing and denial, Liem can only ride out the tide of his pleasure as it sweeps him along. He can only arch, trembling, against Cardan, drunk on the feel of being taken and on the desperate sound his husband makes as he fucks them both through climax. Liem is still greedy for his desire, still covetous no matter how much of it he gets. It's been so long since he felt so wanted, the intensity of it makes his head spin.

He doesn't know what name to give the feeling that threatens him as his desperation subsides. He feels a lingering ache in his chest, and the terrible urge to say something foolish. Thoughts both greedy and sentimental crowd around his head: don't ever stop looking at me like that, and somehow more traitorously, you took such good care of me.

Instead, his hands find Cardan's face so he can kiss him again — tenderly, and finally with a semblance of patience — while he attempts to drown out the clamour in his heart.]

[ He's still breathless when Liem's mouth finds his own, unbearably gentle. Cardan feels like he's run a race: his heart is hammering heavy in his chest. It's too short a kiss because Cardan has to pull away forcibly to catch his breath.

He takes half a second to do just that and then leans in again, eager for the touch of cool hands on his face. The next kiss is hungry, still; though coming has taken the edge off his desire, it has hardly diminished overall. Unreasonably and impossibly, he wants it all again: Liem looking as he did, moving against Cardan as he did, his shivering and the arch of his body against Cardan's. He wants these, and he wants a million other things besides.

Such as: tasting him. Cardan pulls his hand from between their bodies, bringing it to his mouth to swipe his tongue over his own palm. The taste is strange -- unlike his fey lovers, there is nothing floral or herbal about it; still, he's fascinated by this, too.

His eyes are locked onto Liem's. ]

...I am not done with you yet.

[ It has the air of a threat, though the sharp little smile he directs Liem's way is only a little menacing.

---

He wakes to the persistent whine of pain in his back. Exhaustion weighs down his limbs; for several moments, it is enough to get him to ignore any and all alarm bells ringing in his head. Inevitably, however, persistently sharper pain pulls him further and further into wakefulness -- until he's blinking disorientedly into the now-familiar darkness.

What's not familiar: waking up wrapped around his husband, one arm slung over his waist, feeling him be very still. And cold. And decidedly non-breathing.

Half awake and rather groggy, Cardan feels a modicum of panic. His hand splays over Liem's chest as if that will suddenly fix this picture. ]

--Liem?

[ It comes out a little sharper than he means it to. He pushes himself up on his elbow, even though the pitch blackness of their bedroom affords him no advantage of sight. ]

[On another day, when Cardan's shoulder was not injured and heavy thoughts did not loom so immediately on the horizon, Liem might meet his husband's hungry kiss with another and another and another, until the heat of those kisses built again and thoughts of sleep became something for another day altogether. He is not ready to relinquish Cardan's mouth on his, or the promise in the sharp little smile aimed down at him.

But such luxury is not theirs to command, and although he does not know that ruined is how he feels, the call of a few hours of sleep is more tempting when he can spend it nestled against Cardan's chest. How he went so long without availing himself of this pleasure, he does not know. He has known no more peaceful aid to sleep than the steady beat of his husband's heart.

***

Liem wakes to the splay of warm fingers over his chest and a shifting of weight beside him. The sudden touch makes his heart jump against his ribs, just once; he tenses, and his eyes snap open, dull red in the lightless room, like twin embers of a faded fire. They flick around the dark as he turns his head, landing unerringly on Cardan's face.]

Cardan…?

[It takes him a moment to register that they are still alone in the room, and that it is quiet and still. There is no immediate danger, nor obvious concern. Wakefulness returns his faculties by degrees, but he doesn't relax yet, still unsure of why he's been roused.]

What is it?

[ The glowing eyes are a little disquieting; they are one of those features that remind Cardan, a little too keenly, that he's in bed with a natural predator.

But at this specific moment, he feels relief above all; his own eyes close on his exhale, the hold of his shoulders relaxing a fraction. Of course: cool, still, and devoid of breath is just how Liem is. Unfortunately, this does not make waking up to his corpse-like stillness less alarming. Some part of Cardan examines whether he ought to feel embarrassed, then decides that such a thing is absolutely beneath him; in fact, this is Liem's fault altogether. ]

You ought to cease making me think you are dying.

[ It must be evening, or close to it, but the thought of rising and attending to business proves deeply antipathetic. Instead, Cardan will sigh and plop himself back down, pulling Liem close so he can bury his nose in his sleep-mussed hair.

He figures he has about a minute or two left to enjoy this before the whine of pain becomes too irritating, or his husband remembers he has work to attend to. ]

[Liem frowns beneath the room’s cloak of darkness, watching Cardan exhale with apparent relief. Some of the tension leaves him when he sees Cardan relax, but the answer he gets to his question does not immediately clarify anything.]

Dying?

[He echoes the word, perplexed and still a little concerned, and slides an arm around his husband as he lets him pull him closer. Liem blinks, lashes whispering against his chest. Why would he be dying? Was he twitching in his sleep? He doesn’t remember being pulled from any bad dreams.

It takes him a little too long to puzzle out that the problem was likely that he wasn’t doing anything at all. For him, total stillness during rest seems like the most natural thing in the world. When the realization does find him, he huffs out a gentle breath, a little amused by the swiftness with which Cardan has sought refuge in accusation.]

You would know if I were dead, husband. There would not be so much left of me to hold.

[Now and then, Cardan wonders if he should have tried to learn more about vampire physiology. But there had been no handy texts on such a thing in Faerie, and he has not seen fit to ask the estate servants questions about what their masters might look like in death.

Funny, too, that it's Cardan's turn to keep as still as possible, little as it might assuage his stupid shoulder and its stupid, inconveniently slow-healing throbbing.

Now that they're both awake, he supposes conversation is as good of a distraction as anything. And besides, as annoyed as he is by Liem's (uncalled-for) amusement, the caress of his breath on Cardan's skin remains delightful as ever. ]

You have an interesting way of soothing my worries. [ Which is to say: he does not particularly like the sound of that, either, even if it's a little unfair to make that Liem's fault.

But since they're already talking about it: ] What do you mean?

[Despite Cardan’s always-ready temper and the unspoken threat of distant relatives now lurking beneath the blanket of his exhaustion, Liem finds himself soundly lulled by his husband’s nearness. His warmth and his scent and the gentle thumping of his heart make fine comforts to a mind dragged so abruptly and uneasily out of sleep. If he has any regrets about his cool and convincingly unliving manner in sleep, that he cannot grant Cardan the same pleasure is foremost among them.]

Are they yet in need of soothing?

[There is a dry curiosity to the question as his fingers trace gentle circles over the bare skin of Cardan’s back. He cannot deny that it would be disturbing to wake up embracing a corpse, but the instinctive horror of a body that is still and cold eludes him. It makes Cardan’s concern seem solicitous, despite his irritation.]

I did not realize you had grown so fond of me already. I am well, Cardan.

[Such a caring side his husband has.]

My kind do not linger in the flesh upon death. Our bodies turn to ash very quickly — in less than the length of time that’s passed since you woke me.

[ Cardan opens his mouth to say I am not fond of you, and -- to his continuing irritation -- finds that he cannot.

This in itself is startling. He doesn't mislike Liem -- his husband is attractive, committed, honourable, and hard-working in a way Cardan finds surprisingly fascinating. But that doesn't mean--

Well.

He sighs and shifts idly against the touch of cool fingers. Part of him wants them higher up, all the better to soothe angry, iron-singed skin; another part of him realizes this would be unwise.

He doesn't know what to feel about Liem's explanation, either. Would it be less horrifying to wake up to a corpse than a fine smattering of ash? Cardan isn't sure he wants to devote much time to the thought. ]

I see.

[ And he definitely does not wish to address the matter of his worries further, thank you. ]

Any other idiosyncrasies you have been hiding?

[Liem allows himself to feel a little smug when Cardan opts to ignore his first bit of commentary without reply. It might be uncharitable of him to tease about worry genuine enough to cause Cardan to wake him up, but it was Cardan who chose to treat his own concern like an inconvenience Liem had done him. Although he's certainly just irritated his husband further, his mouth curves against the warm skin of his chest.]

Idiosyncrasies? A number, of course — though I would not say I've been hiding them. You can find mention of many in our folk tales and legends.

But I suppose it would be naive of me to expect you to remain ignorant of such things.

[He would have liked to believe that Cardan would spend the entirety of their marriage, which has already outlasted his more pessimistic expectations in length, never needing to know about the particulars of a vampire's eclectic collection of weaknesses. But even before he was married, Liem's life was never completely free of conflict, and their future only promises to become more challenging.

Nonetheless, he is not keen to illuminate his kind's vulnerabilities so freely. It goes against his every instinct, even though his husband has already been dangerously honest with him about himself. Still, he has been given honesty he never expected, and he owes it in return.

Well. Cardan already knows of a vampire's most salient traits: their relationship with blood, and with the sun. He has been introduced also to the importance of invitations, the uselessness of a mirror in Liem's daily life, and the speed at which a vampire can recover from injury. But the extent…]

You were concerned when I was injured, but if you ever have cause to watch a duel while you are here, you will see worse. Even a silver blade cannot truly kill one of my kind, in most cases.

[He has to allow a bit of a grey area for beheadings. Technically the wound itself might not be fatal, but it is a simple thing to toss a severed head out into the sun. And regardless, there's not really any coming back from having one's body chopped off.]

A strike to the heart is the traditional end to most duels. Amazingly painful, but not fatal.

[ He both feels and hears that smile; his own mouth tightens. For nearly anyone else, this kind of amusement at his expense would have resulted in painful retribution, but Cardan finds he cannot muster much actual heat at the moment.

Which will not stop him from breaking his self-imposed stillness to trail fingers up Liem's spine to the back of his head. Yes, yes, what a fool he had been, worried about such a thing as a stab wound to the gut. He will certainly not be so silly again.

His fingers tug idly at a couple of short strands of hair caught between his fingers. Then they move on to trace the point of Liem's ear, then down over the sweep of a carefully trimmed sideburn. He gets sidetracked, momentarily, by the rough feel of stubble on his husband's jaw -- Cardan doesn't grow facial hair, nor do most of the elves he knows, no matter their age.

He'll stroke against it, fascinated, before finally finding Liem's shoulder -- to urge him onto his back so that he may lean over him. If Cardan's a little stiff about it, it's only to be expected. ]

This has always been quite beyond me.

[ He can't see Liem beyond the eerie glow of his eyes. Then again, as long as Liem can see him, he doesn't mind. ]

Taking on pain you don't like. [ His half-smile is a little acrid. ] And to what end?

[Liem is to be commended, he thinks, for not getting distracted from his explanation while Cardan's fingers wander up his spine, through his hair, over the side of his face. He would certainly much rather be paying attention to that bit of pleasure than telling his husband how much violence he needs to suffer before it's actually worth getting worried about. It disturbs him to think that this knowledge may become pertinent again in the future.

He is reluctant to surrender his position snuggled against Cardan's chest, especially considering how little joy their current topic of conversation is bringing him, but he submits to the urging hand at his shoulder nonetheless. When Cardan leans over him, the expression on his face makes Liem feel his weariness more keenly.]

It depends on the person. I'm not much of a duellist, and I dislike the spectacle of it. But sometimes, conflict isn't possible to avoid.

[He is not, he knows, being asked just about duelling. But what is he meant to say? That it is already too late for him to avoid pain because of his marriage, regardless of his decision? That he would prefer to lose his own life than become exactly like his father, who would sacrifice anything to come out ahead and never bat an eye?

Well. Perhaps he should say that last part, given whose house Cardan is in. Despite how afraid he is to even discuss his father with his husband, especially now.]

I've always been my father's pawn, Cardan. Just once, I would like to be permitted to choose for myself what my own life is good for.

[ He's surprised. It will show in the upward twitch of his eyebrows; he stares down as if he could read Liem's expression in the dark. ]

I did not take you for a contrary man.

[ What he means is: I thought you were too dutiful, but that seems like a cruel thing to say in this circumstance -- and Cardan, quite unlike his nature, does not feel like being cruel just now.

He wonders if this means that Iago would have chosen not to keep him around. Well, why should he? Surely he values his son and only heir more than he does some spoiled prince whose purpose in his household is mainly ceremonial. Pleasant as his relationship with Liem's father is, Cardan would expect no different from any duke, fey or vampire.

He finds himself wishing he could see Liem's face. But it is too much work to light a lamp or a candle, and the darkness feels muted and comfortable -- like a cocoon, insulating them against the troubles of the outside world. His fingertips find Liem's jaw again, then his mouth, so that Cardan can dip down to kiss him.

It's neither assent nor reward, he tells himself. ]

I still think it is foolish. [ His forehead presses against Liem's; Cardan is unwilling to lose him in the pitch black again. ] But I am a contrary man.

[ So maybe this is something he understands. ]

[Liem has been contrary only very infrequently in his life. Resisting his father's wishes has never gone well for him, and there is no aspect of his life that Iago doesn't insist on having a say in. At best, he finds himself forced into compliance regardless, as he had on the day of their wedding. At worst, he finds himself wishing he'd never resisted to begin with. He has learned by now not to waste his objections on matters of little importance.

He does not consider his husband's life to be of little importance.

It is strange and a little bewitching to watch Cardan hold his gaze while he seeks his mouth with his fingertips. He does not look unsettled by his relative blindness, by the sight of red eyes peering at him from the dark — just as he has never seemed nervous about being married to a man like Liem, who is never truly without a weapon and who always smells at least a little of fresh blood.

When he dips to kiss him, Liem slides his fingers into his hair, as if to keep him there.]

It is foolish.

[Liem closes his eyes; the twin embers wink out. He can admit it now, in the quiet and the dark, when Cardan is not staring him down, insisting that he would be better off without him. He can admit that he is foolish to keep his husband here on the gamble that he will be the equal of a faerie prince he has never met. He would not do such a thing if he felt that he had any other choice.]

You do not know how foolish. We cannot go to my father for help. We cannot even let him find out that someone in Faerie is seeking your blood.

[ Cardan laughs, though there is a healthy dose of gallows humour and little else. He had meant to pull away again, to finally roll out of bed and retrieve the vial of Nevermore from his trousers, but Liem's fingers tether him in place.

Some part of him is too lured by the thought: him and Liem facing down the world, even against impossible odds. Just for a moment, in the velvet darkness of their bedroom, he can picture it -- trusting Liem unreservedly, the odds being improbable rather than impossible. He wants it. Of course he wants it; no one has ever fought for him when it wasn't profitable to do so.

It's just too good to be true, and he cannot bear the eventual disillusionment. ]

I had surmised as much through our game of subterfuge.

[ Had it been less than a day ago? It feels like it's been weeks. ]

Though if they keep finding it, you may have to convince him that you've developed a taste for sadism. [ Because surely he would smell Cardan's blood on him, as would any other vampire. ] Or I, a taste for duelling.

[ He's joking, because it's absurd. ]

[Liem has been open with his husband about his contentious relationship with his father since the night they were wedded, though since then their interactions have always sported at least a veneer of pleasantness. He knows that his unwillingness to trust Iago with this matter is obvious, but he doesn't think that Cardan understands what the consequences would be if they were to be found out.

He feels him laugh, and wonders if it aggravates the injury to his back, given how incautious they were with it after the doctor left. Cool fingers slide down his neck to his shoulder, but they stop shy of the dishevelled bandages covering his stitches.]

It is stranger that no one has scented blood on you before now, [he admits grudgingly, looking back up at his husband. He's reluctant to bring up what is surely such a frequent point of gossip around Cardan, but it would be disingenuous to do otherwise. Probably their biggest saving grace until now has been that no one in their circles would have cause to know what fey blood smells like or how quickly one of the folk heals from a bite.]

But regardless, yes, it would be best if we exercised more caution in the homes of other families. This is not the circumstance in which I wanted to discover what it smells like.

[ Cardan's smile goes brittle when Liem brings up the matter of-- not his blood, he supposes, but the specific circumstance in which they all should be smelling it. Liem might feel him tense, his back muscles pulling tight despite the painful throb it fosters.

He will pull away to sit up, his back to his husband. ]

And what am I supposed to do about that, Liem?

[ Another time, he would approach this (painful, humiliating) subject with more finesse. But he didn't expect to be discussing the manner of his husband's remaining rejection just now, and he doesn't feel like smoothing over its edges. ] I can hardly press your fangs to my throat and make you drink, nor is my pride so exhausted as to beg you to bite me.

[ It's as good a time as any to finally slip out of bed in search of his trousers. He has traversed this room in the dark often enough not to have issues finding the foot of the bed, where they lie; discovering his pocket with the vial takes a little more time. ]

[Liem feels Cardan tense immediately, and when he pulls away, he watches him go with a frown. He pushes himself up, first onto his elbows, then into a full sitting position as his husband slips out of bed.

He has misunderstood something — again, or perhaps still, given that Cardan had already seemed irritated when this subject came up a week ago. He had supposed that his prickliness was due to the sting of this subject following him all over court, in a way that was probably inconvenient for his pride. It would not be the first, the second, or probably the last time that his husband was short with him because of something Liem could not control. But he suddenly suspects that this time Cardan is irritated at him specifically, which is unsurprising in a general sense but on this occasion comes completely out of nowhere.]

What do you mean by that? [Liem asks, a little frustrated. He watches his husband’s progress as he searches the dark for… something. His trousers, evidently, or something inside them. The tension suddenly filling the air between them doesn’t prevent him from appreciating the long lines of his nude body as he feels his way around the unlit room.]

The last time I pressed my fangs to your throat, you reprimanded me sharply for it.

[And it was extremely hot, don’t get him wrong, but not the kind of unambiguous consent Liem prefers to receive before biting someone warm-blooded, especially someone who, to his knowledge, has never been bitten before.]

[ If Liem’s tone makes him pause, it’s only for a moment. He has found the pocket; a few seconds later, he lets the trousers drop from his fingers, as the crystal vial is safely in his hand.

Cardan’s face is carefully controlled when he looks back towards the bed, to the beacon of Liem’s voice and his eyes in the dark.

What a strange situation he has landed himself in. ]

I told you not to tease if you were unwilling to commit.

Evidently, you were so — or we would hardly be here, nor would I be dodging a million courtiers asking me questions I cannot answer.

[ …he’s frustrated. It’s frustrating. He’s good at obfuscation, but even Cardan finds it difficult to deflect direct queries, not to mention that it’s humiliating to have to pretend away the fact his husband doesn’t desire his blood. If there is some reason Liem sounds confused, he does not want to think about it; it’s easier to assume Cardan is right about this. Hope is the worst kind of poison. He had told Liem as much on the night of their wedding, and meant it. And what reason does he have to believe that Liem might want to bite him, at this point, when he seems well-content to sup on humans?

It’s depressing to think about. He unstoppers the vial and shakes a generous portion directly onto his tongue, not bothering with any measuring nonsense. ]

[Not for the first time, Liem feels like he and Cardan are using the same set of words to speak to each other in entirely different languages. He remembers the way in which Cardan had challenged him, even goaded him, he'd thought, when he first skimmed his teeth over his neck. And yet, he'd seemed so skittish about the subject, so defensive. He'd seemed more interested in fighting with Liem than in receiving his bite.

As he watches Cardan retrieve a vial of some shimmery powder and look back at him, impassive, he feels his own expression slide automatically shut — as if the dark didn't already make him inscrutable enough. But he is frustrated, and, more than that, he cannot help but feel a little stung that Cardan seems to find his desire to accommodate him not just worthless, but insulting.]

Yes, you did.

[He watches Cardan tip some of his mystery drug onto his tongue. He has to assume the powder has pain-killing properties; the only other obvious possibility is that Cardan just doesn't currently wish to be around him sober.]

I will be honest, Cardan: tetchy and defensive are not qualities I seek when I wish to know that my lover wants me to keep going. You have made me a villain for wanting to treat you like a partner instead of a possession, and I still don't know why.

[ Cardan hasn’t felt particularly vulnerable, despite his functional lack of sight — not until just now, anyway. They are entering uncomfortable territory, however, and despite the soothing warmth of Nevermore melting on his tongue, he cannot help but feel a little more naked all of a sudden.

Liem isn’t wrong. Cardan is both tetchy and defensive, and he has assumed that his partner would bend over backwards to read between the lines of his reaction. Perhaps it is not entirely Liem’s fault that he hadn’t.

That doesn’t mean Cardan is inclined to be conciliatory.

He swallows the powder down, corks the bottle, and wipes his mouth, deliberately careful about each. Then he leans his good shoulder against a carved bedpost and faces down his husband, ignoring the fact that he cannot see him. ]

Very well.

Then let me be clear.

[ He says this with a face that suggests he’s giving away nothing at all. ]

I want you to bite me. I wanted it then and I want it now. I will likely get off on it when you do.

And it pisses me off that you are spending your time with humans instead.

[ He’ll toss the vial with apparent confidence that it will land beside his pillow, which it does. ]

Does that suffice, or do you have other complaints on offer?

[When Cardan finally faces him down and makes his grievances plain, Liem spends a long moment feeling completely bewildered by the revelation of his jealousy. Vampires are of course a jealous lot, and he has had to field possessiveness from a number of even his casual lovers, but never before has his diet been a source of conflict.

Then again, never before has he taken a lover who had blood that he might want to drink. But still: he knows quite well that many humans regard the idea of being bitten with horror rather than excitement, and a large percentage of those who feed the courts’ vampires never have the opportunity to offer either their opinion or their permission. To him, the idea that Elfhame’s youngest prince would not only let him drink his blood, but feel offended by his reluctance to broach the subject, borders on preposterous.

He doesn’t even look at the vial that lands beside him on the bed; he is too busy staring at his husband.]

You had me convinced that you were just nervous.

[He tries to keep the astonishment from his voice, but he truly wasn’t expecting this outcome, after he’d already convinced himself that it was his hasty advances that had made Cardan so defensive in the first place. What else was he to think, when he had every reason to believe that no one had ever bitten him before?]

I never meant to snub you.

[ Cardan has cause to be thankful for his practice in being put on the spot. There is no way for him to read the long silence from the bed without seeing Liem’s face, and so all he can do is cross his arms and gaze back, tail twitching impatiently at his side.

Then Liem does speak, and it is Cardan’s turn to stare. Despite himself, his face goes through a range of emotions: surprise, then incredulity, then finally irritation. Liem means him to believe this?

His glare could strip the bark from an oak. ]

When have I ever been afraid of you?

[ He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead he will step unto the bed, then kneel, reaching forward until he finds Liem. From here, he moves up, fingertips tracing along his husband’s body like a guide. He wants to be close. He wants to trap Liem against the sheets or the wall and— do what, exactly?

Cardan imagines he will figure it out once he’s there.

His expression remains absolutely thunderous. ]

[Liem isn't sure what kind of reaction he'd expected, or even what he'd hoped for when he told Cardan about his mistaken assumptions. Mostly, he'd simply felt that he was obligated to be forthright, considering the honesty he'd managed to wring from his spouse. He hadn't wanted Cardan to think that he was being spiteful, or simply uninterested.

Though when Cardan skewers him with his glare, even through the blind dark, he cannot truly say that he is surprised.

He doesn't retreat from his husband's wrathful approach, but simply waits, letting Cardan find his way to him over the sheets and up his body. He remains seated just where he is, and if Cardan insists on it then he will allow himself to be pushed back down against the pillows, but he is more interested in watching him move through the dark than in capitulating to his stare. He looks fantastically angry.]

I didn't say afraid.

[His cool fingers skim up Cardan's thighs to splay over his hips. He wonders briefly if that too is a mistake.]

And I didn't mean of me. But husband, even if I had ever made you afraid, I wouldn't expect you to show it.

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