sterngaze | open post

[It is not often that Liem gets to be a dreadful tease. He had not been anticipating the opportunity to be so with Cardan, who is so prickly and sensitive to enjoyment at his expense, and he is reluctant to push his husband too far on the heels of their argument, still wary of his stung pride. This is, after all, meant to some extent to be a reconciliation.

But the undisguised want jolting through Cardan's pulse and breath and body is addictive; Liem cannot help but want to coax more of it from him. Even the growl of his objection makes desire flare through him, naked with frustration as Cardan's irritation is. He nips lightly at his jaw, not denying his accusation at all, to distract himself from the alarming amount of satisfaction this brings him.

And he hums, pleased, against Cardan's neck, hands sliding shamelessly over his ass and the backs of his thighs as he grinds against him.]

House. [He doesn't bother to raise his voice.] The fire, please.

[On the wall facing one side of the bed, the wood resting in a broad stone hearth flares suddenly with warm orange light, flickering behind its decorative screen. Liem's eyes regain their normal hue — though he closes them regardless as he dips to the side of Cardan's throat, to suck a kiss against the skin there.]

[ Cardan has to squint against the sudden inflow of warm light; for a few moments, he’s almost as blind as he was without it. It’s always a little strange to watch the house respond as a living thing, in this land where most magic is sparse and well-hidden. But there is little time for contemplation of this nature — not with the persistent assault of Liem’s mouth on his throat, apparently determined to leave as many marks as he can without biting Cardan.

He breathes out, a little shaky, and tells himself that asking for it would be tantamount to defeat. No matter how much Liem’s indulgent, thorough exploration of his throat is making Cardan want to squirm, his skin thrumming with excited anticipation, Cardan doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of pleading, and especially not so soon.

But it is difficult to focus even on his resolve. It is difficult to focus on anything that isn’t pleasure. His hand splays against Liem’s chest; the other brushes a strand of hair behind his husband’s ear. In the golden light of the fire, it strikes Cardan how handsome he is, even disheveled and on barely any sleep.

He arches a black eyebrow, doing his best to project imperious, cool impatience, even while nude and obviously turned on. ]

Are you so thorough with all your breakfasts?

[ It is, perhaps, ruined a little by the breathless quality of his voice. ]

[Even without the aid of any drugs at all, Liem has no trouble getting lost in the pleasure of tasting Cardan's flush-warmed skin and teasing his anticipation relentlessly higher. He is enamoured by every shiver and every breath his touch elicits, entranced by the racing pulse trembling against his lips. Keen as his desire to finally taste his husband's blood is, his hunger for this is just as desperate, and has been waiting just as long.

Cardan is not the only one who has been subsisting on naught but fantasies.

The mark on his neck looks handsome in the light of the newly lit hearth. Liem nibbles pensively at it, skims down Cardan's throat with a feather-light glide of teeth, seeking a tempting spot for his bite — one where it will look just as pleasing. He pauses with his fangs poised against Cardan's neck, their points pricking against the tender skin.

But instead of biting down, he withdraws the press of his teeth entirely.]

Cardan.

[His hand finds Cardan's neck, slides around the back to cup it as Liem tips his face up to speak against one pointed ear, with soft, steady emphasis.]

I don't fuck my breakfasts.

[ Cardan feels strung tight like an instrument waiting to be played, ready for the touch of sharp teeth, for the sting of pain and the spark of desire that always follows, fever-hot. He feels them, tantalizingly close, and holds the breath in his throat--

Only for Liem to retreat.

Cardan's hands on him clench down-- half thwarted need and half annoyance. He nearly whines with it; he definitely grits his teeth with it, his jaw gripped with frustration. It's truly impressive how tense and wound up Liem has managed to get him, when by all accounts, Cardan should be melting into a blissed-out puddle.

Still, he lets Liem touch the nape of his neck, and he determinedly doesn't shudder when his mouth moves against the flushed, sensitive shell of Cardan's ear.

What he does do is turn his head and look at him, dark eyes heavy-lidded with want. His fingers untangle from Liem's hair to skim along his cheek. He wants to push them inside Liem's mouth, to touch those fangs.

He doesn't, because he doesn't want to draw his own blood on accident. ]

No?

You should start.

[ And though he'd meant to go for a smug little smile, it comes out a touch too serious instead. ]

[When Cardan's gaze finds his, Liem is looking at him intently, like he's hunting for details about him he's never noticed before. He wants all of him: again. Still. It seems impossible to him that Cardan could conceive of him wanting anyone else, when he has dwelled so persistently in Liem's thoughts since the very night they were married.

His initial reply to Cardan's smile is simply to pull him closer.]

Only because it's you.

[And he kisses him, blood humming with leashed hunger, and slides his arm around Cardan's shoulders to keep him close. For a long, heated moment, he can do nothing but satisfy his want with the taste of his husband's kiss and the weight of Cardan's body pressed against his own. He leans back against one arm, taking Cardan with him, and rolls his hips against him as he lingers, insatiable, to kiss him again.

But even his own patience is being sorely tested now. He is drowning in the flutter of Cardan's pulse and the vibrant forest scent of him, and he wants nothing more than to bury his face against his throat, drag his tongue over his pulse and feel the throb of it beneath his skin before he tastes him.

So he does.]

[ Well, of course it's because it's Cardan. If he had truly suspected that Liem had been sleeping with the humans he'd fed on, Cardan would hardly have offered himself up. Rather, he'd like to think he'd be long on his way back to Elfhame, both his brothers be damned. His pride only bends so far.

Why, then, the strange flutter of pleasure in his chest?

Liem's words thrum through him, seductive. He makes a quiet, longing sound against his husband's mouth; for a moment, the promise of fangs retreats, and he doesn't mind because he's busy kissing Liem, busy moving with him and against him as their bodies shift together. It's addictive, this pleasure, this kind of helpless wanting. Addictive, the desire to press Liem into the sheets with the weight of his body.

He's braced himself against the bed, and his hand fists in the sheets when the maddening mouth returns to his throat. His breath seems unnaturally loud in the isolated quiet of their bedroom. ]

Liem.

[ He's not going to ask for it. He's not going to plead. But Liem's name slips out anyway, heavy with want. ]

[After all of his waiting, his teasing and his unhurried indulgence, it only takes the sound of his name, wanting on Cardan's lips, for Liem to find himself unable to wait any longer. No matter that he is still mad with the want to map his throat with kiss upon kiss upon kiss. No matter that he is, in the back of his mind, cautious of drinking from his husband when the gash on his back has not even healed. He is just as hungry for Cardan's pleasure as he is for his blood, and desperation drives him finally to claim both.

He sighs, luxuriating in the moment, before he sinks his fangs into Cardan's throat. His grip tightens about his shoulders as the initial thrill shudders through him, and for the space of a breath, he knows nothing at all but the thunder of the pulse beating in his ears and against his tongue. There is only the frantic gush of life against his mouth, down his throat, vivid and intoxicating in its thriving intensity.

The noise he makes is almost piteous with need.

He has to pause for a moment to marshal his composure, has to press his bloodied lips to Cardan's throat between hard breaths as he contends with how alive he tastes. He tastes of magic and of wild, green, growing things, and though there is nothing animal in the heat of the blood flowing from his veins, Liem is blindsided by his immediate, scorching desire to hold him down and drink him completely dry. His hand, fisted in the sheets, trembles.

Of course, he doesn't indulge the urge. He refuses to. But he is cautious as he drags his tongue along the trickle of blood flowing from Cardan's neck, and when he presses his mouth against the wound again, it is with deliberate, measured care.]

[ There it is-- that bright, keen spark of pain. It feels like more than that, somehow, more than just teeth breaking skin. It jolts through his body, down his spine, in a wave of helpless arousal. It feels more intimate than even fucking to have Liem's dangerous mouth on his skin, wet with Cardan's blood.

Not that fucking isn't also on his mind.

His tail lashes; the noise Liem makes goes straight to his cock. He thought he'd be composed about it. In his fantasies, he had imagined his hand in Liem's hair, cradling the back of his head, dignified in languid eroticism. Instead, Cardan feels a little like a wild animal, feral with desire just under his skin.

He can't wait. Is it bad form to drag his nails down Liem's chest, over a stomach already smooth and unmarked by violence? To curl fingers around his cock and stroke, waiting to hear his breath stutter again, to feel it against his own skin? None of the humans he'd watched had been active participants in their own predation; then again, Cardan is nothing like a mortal. Liem's careful, excruciatingly tender mapping of his throat had been nothing like any feeding he'd ever observed.

And for all his fussiness and caution, Cardan cannot remember a single time that Liem denied him this. ]

[Liem doesn't intend to drink very much of his husband's blood. He is conscious of the blood that he'd already lost on the previous night, and excruciatingly aware of how easy it would be to forgo discipline for a little while and simply drink himself senseless. The temptation lurks just beneath his thoughts, waiting only for his attention to wander.

And it is already threatening to stray. The drag of nails down from his chest makes him clutch tighter at the sheets, trails of pleasure alight beneath his skin. Each shift of Cardan's weight in his lap ripples tantalizingly through him; each thump of his pulse against his mouth makes him ache with want. He becomes aware, as long fingers close around him and stroke a moan from his lips, that being disciplined means a different thing when it comes to imbibing blood of this potency.

Between Cardan's elfin nature and his heated, impatient touch, Liem is drowning in him already.]

Oh—

[He gasps against Cardan's neck, his hand finding his husband's face, to cradle one side of it as he smears a trail of kisses back up to his jaw. He already doesn't trust himself to drink any more, and he needs something to do with his mouth.]

[ Cardan takes that moan for both his tithe and assent -- which is well, because he doesn't want to stop jerking Liem off. He's as greedy for the sounds of his pleasure as he is for the bite. Maybe it's because he knows, with certainty, that this is his alone, that none of the stupid humans who'd fed his husband had ever witnessed such a thing.

Strange; he's rarely known himself to be this possessive before.

When Liem moves away from the wound on his neck, Cardan's exhale is shaky. ]

Was that-- enough?

[ He's part curious, part wistful -- already missing the irresistible feeling of Liem's cool mouth soothing his blood-hot skin, the strange pleasure of giving of himself. Cardan doesn't know how much blood he can spare nor how much Liem might usually drink, but what he has had seems like precious little.

And he already knows Liem to be bad at taking.

Not that this will stop Cardan from finding his mouth. There is a strange thrill to tasting himself on Liem's lips -- to claiming him, again, for his own. ]

[Liem is grateful for the pleasant distraction of Cardan's mouth on his. He is grateful for the irresistible temptation of it, for how the caress of his lips makes his nerves sing with satisfaction and makes desire tremble over his skin. He would rather be transfixed by Cardan's touch than by the lifeblood flowing from his veins — even if he can still taste its savour on his tongue, and scent its fragrance beckoning him back to his husband's throat.

Because, as dizzyingly enticing as he finds his blood, he doesn't wish to take more than Cardan can spare. And, immersed as he is in the pleasure of his touch, he doesn't wish to become so lost to sensation that he can no longer care for his husband in turn. Nonetheless…]

No, of course not.

[He murmurs against his mouth, unthinkingly caressing one handsome cheekbone. Enough is not a word that dwells within the lexicon of vampire concepts; desire is something to be appeased, quieted with offerings of blood and triumph and achievement. It is never truly satisfied.

He still wants — even as he kisses his husband again, greedily, his hips restless beneath the stroke of his hand: distracting himself from one desire with the heat of another. He will push himself back upright so he can slide a hand up Cardan's flank, up his chest, to slide his fingers through the blood still weeping from his neck and pull back to drag his tongue over them. And sigh, breathless.]

It could never be enough, Cardan.

Edited 2023-01-28 18:21 (UTC)

[ That's not the response he expects from his oh-so-restrained husband; it draws him up a little short. Voicing his surprise has to wait, however, intercepted as he is by Liem's kissing him, distracted as Cardan is by his taste and his hands and the eager way Liem moves under the slide of Cardan's fingers.

Liem draws his hand over Cardan's skin, and Cardan has to fight the urge to offer himself up again, to tempt him back. He watches Liem's tongue drag over his bloody fingers, fascinated, and feels an odd kind of excitement.

No, of course it could never be enough.

Nothing ever is. He turns his face and kisses the palm cupping it, hiding his pleased little smile against it. ]

I can think of worse ways to go. [ Which is maybe not a reasonable thing to say, but surely Liem doesn't think Cardan a reasonable man. He drags his mouth up the length of Liem's fingers, pressing hot, breathless kisses to his fingertips. ]

But perhaps not tonight.

[Liem feels a strange lurch in his chest when Cardan presses his lips against his palm and speaks so blithely of his own death. It is too soon after the assassin's appearance and too soon after Cardan's attempt to excise himself from Liem's life; a wild loneliness flares in him at the thought, at the press of hot kisses against his fingers. He shoves it rudely down before it can show on his face.

It's ridiculous for him to feel panic over a bit of flirtation. It would be more ridiculous for him to admit it.]

You can't go yet.

[His lips twitch in a suggestion of a smile as he leans in and dips to press his lips carefully against the front of Cardan's throat. His fingers curl reflexively against the warm skin of his chest, dragging his nails along it as he tries to calm the unsteady mess that his breathing is rapidly becoming at the mercy of his husband's insistent stroking.]

I haven't… tasted nearly enough of you…

Ah-- [ He swallows, hard, at the blunt nails leaving red marks on his chest. When Liem had tipped forward to bury his face against his throat, he had half expected to feel the sting of teeth once more, and the hot thrill that goes through him doesn't cease just because they never materialize. He doesn't press the issue. Truthfully, as much as he wishes to tease Liem with more provocation, it feels unwise to do it so soon after the hard-won intimacy of his bite.

Cardan's arm slips around Liem, eager to cradle him close. He doesn't want his husband calm -- he wants to feel him unravel against his own body, wants to hear every unsteady breath and feel every tremble and clutch of his hands.

That, and one other thing: ]

So long as you sup on no one else.

[ Because surely Cardan can be enough. Because though it feels like a foolish thing to demand, he wants to claim this for himself. Knowing what it's like, knowing what those humans feel--

Surely Liem cannot expect him to be fine with it again. ]

[When Liem leans close to press another kiss to Cardan's throat, the scent of blood clinging to his skin is almost heady enough to tease him higher by itself. He lets out a frustrated breath, fingers clutching at his husband's shoulder, his chest, as he nuzzles against his neck. He's not used to feeling so overwrought from drinking so little; he doesn't know if it's because of Cardan's blood or the drug in his system, but he cannot think through the unrelenting pleasure of his scent, his touch, his nearness.

It is making prudence difficult.]

Ah—

[He sighs, smears another kiss against his husband's throat. He shouldn't agree to a request like that. How can a single man, no matter how potent his blood and how unflagging his health, sustain a vampire's thirst week after week? It will wear him down, in the end.]

Cardan…

[He wanders back, pressing both kisses and gasped breaths against his skin, toward the puncture wounds on Cardan's neck. His hand slides around the nape of his neck to clutch him closer as he drags his tongue once over the bite, squirming with helpless pleasure. He cannot imagine never tasting it again.]

You'll regret demanding that of me.

[ Liem is making a lousy argument, teasing at the bite like he is. Cardan doesn't expect it; he flinches a little, with the addictive pleasure-pain of it, the skin sensitive under Liem's ministrations.

Cardan notes that he is not saying no, either. Maybe Cardan ought to be concerned -- truthfully, he has no idea where his limitations lie in this arena. But he doesn't want to be concerned, and he doesn't want to be sensible. He wants Liem, and Liem's fangs, and Liem's hungry kisses on his heated skin. ]

Leave my regrets to me, husband.

[ The tone is smiling, oddly gentle -- even if it is also a little strained with need. Cardan hadn't bothered touching himself, but with Liem so close to him, it is difficult not to crave friction, movement, anything. But that is a problem for the near future. Right now-- ]

I have so rarely had the luxury of choosing my own.

[ Just as Liem hadn't. And just as Liem has chosen to put himself between Cardan and death, it seems only fair that Cardan should get to do the same, even in some small, symbolic, and overtly sexual way. ]

[Liem does not understand why Cardan is choosing to die on this hill. Of course Liem desires his blood — but what could it matter to Cardan if his husband drinks from humans as well? What could be more natural, or more unremarkable, than a vampire claiming payment in human blood? Surely he cannot still be jealous, and the consequences of claiming this prize have the potential to be dire.

And yet there remains no hesitation in Cardan’s manner, and Liem does not have it in him to convince him. He groans in frustration, because right now, swamped as he is with relentless need and this heady excess of sensation, he cannot even bring himself to try. He can only press himself into Cardan’s hands, wound wire-tight as his own helpless desire shoves him gasping up against his peak.]

Fine.

[Fine; no one but his husband will know the press of his lips or the kiss of his fangs. Cardan’s wish, like his regrets, will be his to enjoy.

It seems a foolish deal for both of them, but Liem has already made multiple foolish promises to his husband. What’s one more?]

[ He swallows Liem's acquiescence whole, like a snake with an egg; warm satisfaction blooms in his chest with it. Even though Liem's word is not bond-- even though he could easily go back on his promise -- something makes Cardan suspect that he will not. Cardan's husband has always been stubbornly true to his word.

He's only known one other person like that, and liked them far less.

Either way, in Cardan's world full of treacherous promises, this one seems more romantic than anything. He laughs, recklessly pleased, and shifts to press his forehead against Liem's. His grin has only a little mischief in it. ]

Liem.

Do you want to come?

[ Cardan wants him to come; he will never be tired of seeing it in Liem's face, nor of feeling the force of pleasure rock through his body. He wants to watch him-- and then he wants to do it again, and again, and again, though he suspects they may not have the time for such excesses.

Besides, surely Liem's good humour deserves a reward. ]

[For now, Liem's foolish promise earns him only rewards: the pleasure of Cardan's laugh, the gentle lean of his forehead against Liem's, the mischievous flash of his smile in the firelight. His husband's touch and embrace, which he has only grown more addicted to since he tasted his blood. More than anything else, he wants to stay like this, with Cardan holding him close, looking at him in that way of his that makes the rest of the world seem so unimportant.

It almost doesn't even matter if he's mischievous or gentle or cruel, or how much he demands, as long as he doesn't let go. But—]

Yes.

[He murmurs it between unsteady breaths, his hand sliding restlessly up and into Cardan's hair. Yes, he wants to come. He won't be able to think about anything else until he does — and he wants to. He wants to touch Cardan when he's not so frantic with need, when he isn't mad with the desire to simply hold him tight and lose himself in his scent and his pulse and the hot, unrelenting stroke of his hand.]

Please.

[He's about to come, regardless. Pleasure sweeps him up as cool hands clutch at warm skin, and he shudders taut against Cardan, leaning against his forehead with a sigh as his climax rolls through him.]

[ It occurs to Cardan that he's far too interested in this. He's always cared about his lovers' pleasure, has always drawn his own from it, but rarely with so much focus. He holds on to his husband with rapt fascination, eager for every shiver and every gasp, even as their torturous tease leaves him breathless and too keen.

It's difficult to mask it, to hide his desperate strain when they're this close. He's certain Liem can feel the frantic rhythm of his pulse and breathing. He feels the spill of come over his fingers and makes a soft, bitten-off sound with the heady pulse of arousal it brings forth. ]

...impatient.

[ But the accusation is soft-edged. He closes his eyes to the aftermath, trying to calm his racing heart. How can he say he minds Liem's impatience when Cardan himself is so full of sharp, urgent need? He wants to move against his husband -- wants to push him down and grind against the slick mess left on his skin, artless and animal, until he, too, comes. Cardan wants-- ]

I don't know how you are so tempting, all the time.

[ If he sounds a little helpless against the admission, it's because he is. ]

[He is impatient. More impatient than he’s used to being even at party trysts, after sharing a vein with a lover in private — and he couldn’t honestly have called himself disciplined on those occasions. But now he finds he can’t help it. He doesn’t think it’s just the potency of Cardan’s blood, although he has never been so keenly, achingly aware of his husband as he is now. What makes it worse is that, for all the pleasure in his touch, the sharpness of Liem’s desire for him hasn’t blunted at all.

He cannot miss the excitement in Cardan’s pulse and breaths, nor the aborted sound he makes as Liem finally comes. Even as his climax subsides, and his frantic urgency with it, he is still desperate for his husband's kiss; still desperate for more of those heated, unwilling sounds of his want; still desperate to feel him come undone against him.

Liem tips his face up and kisses him, impatient and breathless and shameless with it, dragging his teeth over Cardan's lip.]

Guilty.

[He would be more bashful about it if his husband did not seem so desperate for more of him. Liem presses another kiss to the corner of his mouth, dragging his hand over Cardan's chest to toy with his nipple.]

You do a good job of making it sound like you're the one who'd like to eat me.

[ It's almost as if Liem's urgency is poured into him instead; all he feels is fever-hot, unruly with desire. It's hard to keep it out of his face, to keep himself from moaning into the kiss-- and he can't, not entirely, when he feels the tease of teeth on his skin.

It's possible, Cardan realizes, that he's developed some novel preferences in his two months at the Talbott estate. ]

...Perhaps I would.

[ The tease of clever fingers on his chest demands retribution-- just as soon as he can bite back his overheated gasp and ease off the clutch of his hands on his husband. Rather than the haughty expression he wants, he has to settle for a crooked little smile, a little rueful. ]

It is not so unusual for my kind. Queen Annet has been known to devour her lovers when they displease her.

[ Cardan's hands draw up -- over Liem's flanks, the caress deceptively light despite how much tension his body is holding. ]

Which I will be if you don't touch me soon, Liem.

[ He could take himself in hand, he supposes, but he doesn't want to. As they've established all too clearly, he wants Liem: Liem's hands, his mouth, his surprisingly easy affection. Never would he have suspected that the quiet man he met at his own wedding would open up to touch so readily; it makes Cardan all the more eager for it. ]

[Even without the immediate demands of his own arousal to fuel his desperation, Liem cannot pull himself away from his husband for more than a moment. He is too eager to taste the desire in Cardan's kiss, to invite more of that intemperate greed living in his restless breaths and the hot clutch of his hands. His own hand smooths deliberately down Cardan's chest, his stomach, as he regards that crooked little smile.]

Your displeasure isn't what I wish to court.

[His questing fingers find the heat of his cock and close around it. Liem took his time to tease before he gave Cardan the bite that he wanted, but he has no desire to draw this out now. He claims another insistent, wanting kiss as he strokes him, and another, hungry for his desire, greedy for every unwilling concession to pleasure.

He has allowed Cardan reign of his body and his pleasure, eagerly and without regret — and, naively, he had thought he would be satisfied without the converse. But he is not satisfied; he is impatient for this too. And he wants Cardan's impatience as well.]

[ His hand slides into Liem's hair, eager to keep him there, eager for his kisses to swallow up the desperate sounds that escape Cardan's throat. Unfortunately, kissing Liem only makes everything worse: every time he does, Cardan feels the savage longing in his body burn brighter, like he's given breath to a flame.

It's a little alarming: how out of control he feels, how eagerly his hips rock into Liem's grip, how much he wants despite barely having been touched. He's never found the mixture of sex and drugs particularly dangerous, but then -- it will occur to him later -- he's never slept with anyone he'd recognize while under the influence. It feels oddly vulnerable, moreso because he knows too keenly that Liem sees and hears all of it: every hitched breath, every flutter of his eyelids, every needy arch of Cardan's body on the stroke of those cool fingers.

Thankfully, neither of them will have to be impatient for long. He'd been aroused since Liem's teeth first touched his throat; by the time his husband wraps his hand around his cock, he has few defenses left. Part of him wants to prolong this because he knows that the sooner they finish, the sooner his husband will turn to his duty, but-- ]

Liem--

[ But he cannot forestall the way Liem stokes his pleasure. He wishes to say something clever and funny about it, to play off how overwhelming the experience is, but his head is blank -- overtaken by the scent and feeling of his spouse, wrapped around each other as they are. ]

--soon.

[ That's all there is: pleasure upon pleasure, and a mounting, inescapable sense of urgency clawing its way out of his body. ]

[Liem did not realize until he had it how much he'd coveted the chance to give Cardan pleasure — just as he hadn't known how desperate his longing was for his blood until his teeth were in his neck. He hadn't let himself stop to consider these things before tonight. It was already so foolish of him to spend time wanting his husband at all, without dwelling on temptations his husband wasn't already waving beneath his nose.

But now that the taste of Cardan's blood is on his tongue and Cardan's body is arching beneath his touch, he cannot help but want those things, and the alarming thing is that he cannot imagine putting those wants away again. Cardan's blood is so impossibly more than that of mortal men — but even more irresistible is the desperate way Cardan kisses him, his sounds and caught breaths, the helplessly eager way he moves against Liem's hand. He is so alight with need, so abandoned, so—]

Lovely, [Liem sighs against his mouth between kisses.] You're so lovely.

[At all times, but especially tonight. His is the kind of loveliness that should rightly be unobtainable, but instead he is in Liem's lap, in his bed, letting himself be caught aflame at the mercy of Liem's mouth and Liem's hands.

He murmurs,] Come, then.

[He will pull him closer, arm around his slim waist, and kiss him again — on the mouth, on the jaw, tender and heated and insistent. He wants to feel him when he does, he wants his desperate breaths and the frantic beating of his heart, he wants the heat of him spilling over his hand as he strokes him relentlessly through his climax. He wants, he wants, he wants—]

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