sterngaze | open post

[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—]

[ Liem tells him he's lovely, and Cardan cannot help but grin, surprisingly charmed. He's not readily susceptible to compliments, but something about Liem's is strikingly earnest. It makes Cardan feel like magic, like a prince from a fairy tale, and not one of the ones that end in punishment and misery.

Which is silly, but he can't bring himself to care.

Though maybe it's Liem who has the real magic, because for the first time in their marriage, Cardan simply does as he's told. How can he not? He can't stop his breaths from staggering, hard and quick in a rising crescendo; he can't forestall the inexorable sweep of pleasure through his blood. And everywhere, all at once: Liem's gentle mouth and his unrelenting touch, inescapable, all-encompassing. He wants only this. He wants for it never to end.

But the wave of pleasure sweeps him, and he can only shut his eyes and clutch Liem close, all of his considerable strength focused on keeping him just-- right-- there--

And if his name is on Cardan's tongue, then he can hardly be held responsible for himself just then. ]

[Drinking Cardan's blood had been intimate — deeply, unassailably so — and addictively pleasurable, beyond anything he'd done with any other partner. But watching Cardan like this, holding him while he alone gives in to pleasure's demands, is compelling in a way Liem almost doesn't know how to describe. It feels rare, like a moment he's chanced upon and might not ever see again. His gaze remains fixed on Cardan's face, enchanted and insatiable, as he comes with Liem's name on his lips.

It seems impossible that the evening they'd spent on that forest hilltop was barely more than a week ago. Liem still expects the tenuous contentment settled over the two of them to evaporate at any moment — but unlike on that night, he is no longer under any illusions about his ability to stay aloof from his husband.

His blood high makes ignoring it impossible: the man in his embrace is terribly, hopelessly, unfairly irresistible. He can't stop noticing his beguiling scent, or the unreasonable allure of his warm, lean body, or how the sight of even the smallest and least trustworthy of Cardan's smiles makes him feel somehow short of breath. He wants to start kissing him and never stop. He wants to wrap around him and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing and the scent of him filling his senses.

He has failed, so spectacularly badly, not to fall for his husband. The fact that this is completely in character for him doesn't make it any less devastating. He has a full-blown crush on Cardan Greenbriar and he can absolutely never, ever admit it.

That doesn't mean he stops kissing him, of course. Liem still kisses him again as he holds him, wandering slow and lingering over his jaw, the side of his neck. He'd like to keep kissing him, but he can feel dusk fade to full dark outside, and he knows that sooner or later he will need to get up, to arrange for a night's worth of absence if nothing else.

The fact that this will grant him some small time away from his too-appealing husband does not make him at all happier.]

Well, Cardan. [He attempts nonchalance, his breath is soft against his husband's pointed ear.] Should I still be concerned? About being eaten.

[ For a little while, Cardan is in no shape to do or say anything particularly witty: he must remember how to breathe, first of all, and then release the death grip he has on Liem. His eyes remain closed even as he shivers, pleasurably, into the kisses his husband brushes against his overheated skin. He feels a bone-deep satisfaction, like an itch that had been scratched after months and months of discomfort.

The only direct response Liem will get is nonverbal. ] Mm.

[ It sounds mostly like assent, though to what?

Another few measured breaths see Cardan opening his eyes to look at Liem, his black eyes languid. Even this takes effort, though it’s worth it: Liem is still disarmingly handsome, particularly in his mussed, post-coital state. Perhaps it is Cardan’s wishful thinking that makes him seem a little less tired— but if so, he will take his self-deception as a welcome luxury.

Despite his better judgment, Cardan is going to move. He slips off of Liem’s lap, immediately ruing the loss of contact — though not for long, maybe. He will throw himself onto the pillows, momentarily heedless of the healing gash on his back or the awful state of its bandages, and reach to tug Liem towards him. His fingers trace the line of Liem’s sharp cheekbone; the look in his face suggests he’s trying to solve a puzzle he’s a little too sleepy for. ]

Stay a while longer.

[ Not long. Not the rest of the night, certainly — Cardan isn’t arrogant enough to think that feasible. But he’s loath to let go of his husband just now, when the stars are yet barely showing through the rosy veil of dusk. ]

[A nonverbal response is, Liem decides, probably one of the best he might have received, and he accepts it with satisfaction. He notes, in the calm quiet as his husband relaxes his grip and seeks a normal rhythm for his breaths, that his attentions have left a not-inconsequential quantity of bloody smudges on his husband’s mouth and jaw and throat. This, too, is satisfying, and when Cardan opens his eyes to regard him, the look he aims back at him is quietly pleased.

He has never wanted to get up and go to work less in his entire life.

Which is part of the problem, of course. Cardan should really be resting, and although he would be delighted to stay in bed, rest is far from Liem’s mind when he looks at him now. His blood is still humming with that which he took from his husband, and he cannot imagine lying with him without succumbing to the desire to map more of him with his lips, and with his hands. An unwise occupation, for Cardan’s energy and for his own ability to focus on anything but touching him.

Unfortunately, he is not currently in a good frame of mind to be making wise decisions.

He acquiesces easily when Cardan reaches for him, for all that indecision is written into the lines of his body, and remains in the restless attention of his eyes as he’s tugged nearer. And at the touch of fingers at his cheek, he lets out a soft sigh and closes his eyes, nestling more comfortably against his husband’s body.]

A little while, [he agrees.] Though I’ll need to put myself back in order in not too much longer.

[If he doesn’t sound enthusiastic about it, it’s because he’s not. But needs must; he couldn’t stay in bed all night without someone coming to seek his attention, regardless. And there are some matters that do require his attention, at least briefly.]

[ It’s as much of a concession as he could have expected, and Cardan isn’t going to complain about it. From the night of their wedding, he had known Liem to be dutiful to a fault; he can hardly blame him for needing to tend to his work, especially since Cardan plans to be absolutely useless for the rest of the night.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to make Liem’s duty easier. As his husband settles in against his body, Cardan will wind an arm around him and use the other to pull the covers over them. His tail, for once, seems to be on the same page as he — it, too, curls loosely over Liem’s waist, the soft tuft whispering over the small of his back. It feels like— contentment. His limbs are pleasantly heavy, as are his eyelids. They hadn’t had much sleep, either of them, he realizes — and ignores the brief pang of guilt at the thought of Liem working through it anyway. Well, what good would it do his husband to have Cardan crabby and inattentive, even if he showed up to the office in his current state?

No, better to take what moments he can to rest, and trick Liem into doing at least some of the same. His fingers find their way into soft brown hair, petting contentedly as his own breath and heartbeats slow. Cardan’s eyes slide shut. He knows he should get off his back, but he doesn’t particularly want to, and it doesn’t hurt, anyway.

It takes him an alarmingly short time to start drifting off into sleep. ]

[Liem has quite often found Cardan’s nearness distracting during the long weeks of their acquaintance. Often it has seemed clearly intentional on Cardan’s part, paired with an undercurrent of menace or at least petty mischief, and his preoccupation has seemed justified by his husband’s deliberate provocation.

He does not have that excuse now. Cardan’s embrace is warm and comfortable; Liem is wrapped cozily in the feeling of being held, the soft tickle of the tail draped over him and the idle stroking of fingers in his hair. Scant hours ago, he had fallen blissfully asleep to the slow and gentle beating of Cardan’s heart, wrapped tenderly around him just like this.

Scant hours ago, he had not just drunk Cardan’s blood.

It’s not consideration that has Liem stroking idle fingers over Cardan’s skin as he listens to him breathe, but simply a needy desire to touch, still unsatisfied even now. His skin feels electric where their bodies touch; the steady beat of Cardan’s heart in his ears only makes him wish to press his mouth to the warmth of his chest and tease that gentle pulse frantic again. He still, still can’t think of anything else, and only his awareness of his husband’s exhaustion keeps his touch comforting and his mouth safely to himself.

Even so, he stays longer than he should. Even though lying here like this is its own special kind of teasing, to no real end, Liem is still loath to tear himself away, to leave his husband alone so he can attend what small amount of work and delegation needs to be seen to before the sun rises again. Night has well and truly taken hold before he forces himself to slip out of Cardan’s grasp and disappear into the adjoining rooms to wash and dress.

He does it alone, and when he calls a servant to help him shave and to style his hair, he allows him entry no further than the front room.

The business of the night takes him longer than he’d hoped. Gusairne tries to interrogate him about every aspect of the duties Liem has relinquished, and it is coming up on midnight before he sets foot in his rooms again. He can’t imagine Cardan has been up since he left, so he instructs the staff to bring food to their sitting room — something uncomplicated, on a tray, so he can bring it to their bedroom if his husband refuses to get out of bed. He knows intimately that Cardan could get up to eat if he wanted to, but he’s not convinced he’ll be bothered, especially since he doesn’t know what that mystery drug might do to his appetite.

For the time being, he lets himself back into their bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him and leaning against it to pull off his shoes. Then he goes about the business of trying to rouse his husband, so he can put something in his body that isn’t drugs.]

[ Cardan dreams of smeared grey shapes and the scattered flapping of bird wings too close to his face. He had stirred, briefly, when Liem had excised himself from his embrace, but not for long-- watching his husband leave would not have made the bed seem smaller or less lonely.

And he is tired. Tired enough to curl up in a nest of sheets and give himself over to his dreaming. Tired enough that someone's presence only registers once the bed dips with another person's weight. For a moment, he assumes it's a servant, before his sluggish thoughts catch up with reason: no servant would dare come so close to touching him.

He had moved back onto his stomach as Liem was leaving, though it is barely possible to tell: the only part of him that peeks out from the duvets and pillows is his hair and the point of one pale ear. Now, however, he will stir, still too weary to be alarmed, lifting his face and expecting to see-- well.

Certainly not his husband, looking sharp and put-together as ever. For a moment, Cardan's body is thrown into confusion: as strangely as time stretches in a dream, it doesn't feel like-- ]

Is it morning already?

[ He cannot say he feels particularly well-rested. What he feels like is pulling Liem into bed and keeping him there for another night or two, responsibilities be damned.

He extends one sleep-warm arm from his duvet cocoon, intending to do just that. ]

[Liem debates briefly whether to simply let his husband sleep, when his silent entry causes no stirring from the depths of their shared bed. Certainly neither of them had caught much sleep during the day, and the speed with which Cardan had drifted off before he got up suggested he well needed it. On the other hand, he's aware that his husband hasn't eaten anything since their dinner at the Count's manor, although Liem has since supped from him.

He decides to at least inquire. He always feels better after a good meal, after all.

Because Liem is a realist, he takes off his jacket as well before coming to the bed and sitting down next to his sleeping husband. But he is not quite ready to be pulled straight back in with him just yet; he catches Cardan's reaching hand instead, lifting it so he can press a kiss against his warm, uncallused palm.]

No. It's not quite midnight.

[He keeps Cardan's hand caught in his own as he looks down at the face peering sleepily out from the covers, lit only by the dull orange glow of the untended hearth. Does he seem a little paler than usual, or is that simply the look of sleep clinging to him?]

Are you hungry at all? I know it's been a while since you last ate.

[ Cardan is starting to realize that he's suffering from a rare affliction: whenever his husband's lips touch any part of him, no matter how tired or alarmed or inconvenienced he might be, his treacherous heart skips a beat. If there is a cure for such a thing, he has no thoughts on what it might be.

More kissing, he hopes. He draws in a breath and curls his fingers to the shape of Liem's cheek, which is more smooth than it was this morning. His husband is answering his question, he realizes, and Cardan ought to stop being distracted by his mouth and pay at least some attention. Probably.

Liem's answer makes him blink, then frown, then push himself into a sitting position, letting the covers pool at his waist. ]

If it is not yet midnight, [ he starts, slowly, as if arranging the words in his head, ] why are you here?

[ ...had he slept through the day and into the next night? No. Surely not even Cardan can manage such an excess of languor on accident. Maybe Liem merely thinks Cardan so convalescent that he must be checked on every few hours. ]

[This is at least the third time now by Liem’s reckoning, maybe the fourth, that his husband has been bewildered by his decision to do something nice for him. He wonders briefly if this is going to be an ongoing pattern; if suspicion lies so close to Cardan’s bones that he cannot help but mistrust any attempt at thoughtfulness aimed his way. Though rather than his suspicion, perhaps Liem should be laying blame at the feet of Cardan’s fatigue on this particular occasion.]

I’ve finished my work. Such that couldn’t wait.

[The look he aims at Cardan as he emerges from the covers stops short of being solicitous, but he does note the severely bedraggled state of the bandages covering his wounded shoulder. He doesn’t know what the house doctor might say about that; all he knows is that his husband still smells as he should, so he assumes his wound isn’t doing anything untoward. Ultimately, Cardan does not really look to be in need of tending. He just looks tired and rumpled and exquisitely edible.

Liem is, however, aware of a certain similarity he’s noticed between the two of them. His husband’s care for his own physical needs has often seemed haphazard to Liem, like he can’t be bothered to worry about such mundane things when he’d rather be drinking and involving himself in Liem’s business. Hypocritically, he’s displeased by the idea of leaving Cardan alone with himself when he’s tired and suffering injury.

He says, sensibly,]

I’m here to keep you company. And to see if you want lunch.

[ It's hard not to draw parallels to the day at the stables, when Liem had strolled in and announced he'd cancelled meetings to romp through the woods with Cardan instead. He's as blind-sided by it now as he was then -- perhaps more so. Whenever Cardan had to retreat to nurse his wounds in the past, he would do so alone. He had always thought it preferable to having someone else witness his most pathetic moments, anyway.

But if Liem had wanted to gloat about Cardan's injuries, surely the most opportune time has already passed.

Still, he's caught between discomfort -- because it's unnecessary, and because he doesn't want to owe Liem for unnecessary things -- and a strange, insistent delight. He had taken it for granted that Liem would leave and come back in the morning, at which point Cardan would have composed himself into some semblance of being awake. To have him back is novel, and unexpectedly flattering.

At least, Cardan will choose to take it as such.

As usual, he takes refuge in audacity most easily. The grin he directs Liem's way curls with sharp licentiousness, even as his fingers travel down to hook into Liem's collar.

Once again, Cardan will attempt to tug him closer. ]

Is your intent to nurse me back to health, husband?

[ Of course, Liem has expressed no such desire, but he's here, and he appears to be trying to get Cardan to eat, which is basically the same thing. ]

[This time, when Cardan attempts to bring him nearer, Liem allows himself to be tugged close. His husband looks and smells much as he did when he'd left him, save that the blood-scent on him has gone flat — but fortunately, although dishevelment has not lessened Cardan's allure, the intervening hours have returned to Liem his ability to function in the face of it.

His nose brushes Cardan's as he leans closer, gently conversational.]

Do you wish for me to?

[Is that what he's come here to do? He hadn't had such a concrete intention in mind when he'd given the night's matters over to Gusairne, or when he'd directed the servants to bring food to their rooms. He'd simply wanted to be thorough. He'd simply thought that Cardan shouldn't have to be alone.]

I cannot say I have much experience with nursing.

[He probably has about as much experience as Cardan has interest in it, as he doubts his husband has much tolerance for being fussed over.]

Nor I with being nursed.

[ Unlike Liem, Cardan has failed to acquire any additional immunity to his husband in the interim. When Liem leans close, when his face brushes Cardan's, his only defense to the little thrill that sings through him is to go on the offensive. He runs his hands down the front of Liem's shirt and turns his head just enough to breathe a kiss against his jaw, almost as if by accident.

Then he posits that if Liem is concerned about his appetite, he ought to feed Cardan by hand.

That lasts him about half a breath, because as soon as food touches Cardan's tongue, he realizes he is ravenous. He forgets his fine manners, for a moment, forgets flirtation, too busy devouring the tray of refreshments. He cannot remember feeling this feral about food since he'd been a child in rags, stealing fresh buns from the palace kitchens.

Once he's done gorging himself, sleep becomes inevitable. Still, even with his eyelids leaden and his limbs sinking into the sheets, he does his best to trap Liem there with him, draping long limbs over him before slipping back into slumber. He will sleep for some time longer, and when he wakes, he is sure that morning is no longer far off.

He knows he should get out of bed and knows just as well that he doesn't want to. For some time, he will put it off, busying himself instead with a lazy inventory of his husband's face, fingertips tracing along the lines of Liem's brows, his nose, the hollow of his throat--

But eventually, Cardan sighs, pulls his hand away, and asks, ] Can your house run me a bath?

[ Though he's generally not averse to being covered in traces of licentious activity, even he has to admit that he feels stickier than he prefers. ]

[Cardan's suggestion puts a smile on Liem's face, for its novelty as much as for the charming intimacy of it. He can't remember if there was ever a time that someone asked such a thing of him. Most of the times he's shared any kind of meal with a lover, their snack had been in the form of a person.

He is happy enough to grant Cardan's wish; happier still to see him demolish the tray of food sent from the kitchens, even if he does fall upon it like a starving animal. If Liem had harboured any uncertainties about whether his husband actually needs food as mortals do, they are soundly erased. He makes a mental note to be more proactive about ensuring that he isn't the only one who ends up fed when he sups on his spouse in the future.

With his work seen to and his worries about his husband's hunger quieted, Liem allows himself to be lured back to bed for a much-needed nap. He wakes burrowed so snugly between Cardan and the pillows that he cannot even properly draw breath, so it's just as well that he doesn't need to. But although he shifts to a slightly less suffocating position, he is in no hurry to drag himself once more out of bed and into his clothes.]

Yes, [Liem answers, not yet bothering to open his eyes.] Hot water, at least.

[Unfortunately the manor is not magical enough to tip any flower petals or scented bath products into the water, so if Cardan desires such things he'll need to do that himself. Personally, Liem considers a bath that's just filled with water to be a little spartan, but for the time being, he asks the house to tend to it. The sound of pouring water comes muffled from the direction of the washroom.

He feels a little groggy — probably a symptom of napping while the sun isn't even up, if he had to guess. Liem gives his husband a gentle squeeze around the waist before blinking his eyes open and pushing himself onto his elbows to ease back into wakefulness. He regards Cardan for a moment through the dark.]

Would you like any assistance?

[ In the past few hours, Cardan has gotten used to emoting through pitch blackness. It's not so difficult when he can read where his husband is by the glowing embers of his eyes.

When they're open, anyway.

He'll sit up reluctantly, rolling his injured shoulder with a frown. It's still a little sore and stiff, but it no longer feels quite so raw underneath the rumpled bandages, which he will reach for and start unwinding as he waits for the tub to fill.

His considering stare finds Liem's. ]

If you help me bathe, [ he points out, reasonably, ] we are liable to end up fucking again.

[ Not that this would be an unwelcome thing. It's got to be close to morning, and no work meetings will demand Liem from him in the immediate future. He doesn't want to think about the serious conversations they should have, nor about Dain or the foolish things they've promised each other. If it were up to Cardan, he would simply ignore this whole sordid affair and spend as much time as possible squeezing pleasure out of his remaining months in this world.

But Liem has decided to throw his lot in with Cardan's cursed one, and now he -- quite despite himself -- feels responsible. ]

[Liem huffs out a small laugh at the sound of Cardan's observation. The idea of fucking in the bath sounds alarmingly tempting right now, and given their activities for the last day, he has to admit that he's been in the kind of mood to give in to temptation. It would be much easier than addressing the more serious matters that still demand their attention.]

Well, I cannot disagree. And we have other things yet to do tonight.

[Seeing as tonight is already almost over, it would probably be for the best if he got dressed. Feeling put together might not stop his eyes from lingering over Cardan's every movement, but it's hard to feel especially confident in his self-control when he and his husband are nude in the same room.

But he slides over to the side of the bed and goes about lighting the candle there before he attends to anything else.]

Perhaps another time.

[On a night when they have fewer pressing things to discuss — if that night ever actually arrives. For now, Liem rises to investigate the idea of becoming clothed.]

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