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[ Cardan scoffs, though he's grateful for Liem's joke. It gives him a way to hide his feelings at the knowledge that his husband is coming with him. It's stupid and weak to gain comfort from this -- from the husband whom he barely knows, who is in far more danger in Faerie than Cardan would be. Balekin would never let him hear the end of it. Balekin won't let him hear the end of it, actually, because his brother isn't stupid.

He's glad anyway. He reaches over to touch Liem's cheek with his gloved hand, his look considering. ]

We'll be keeping the tailors busy.

[ Of course they'll need new clothes, and Cardan intends to supervise Liem's. But-- he sighs and pulls back his hand. ]

It is appalling that you've gotten me to talk about such dreary affairs here. [ As if it's Liem's fault to begin with. ]

Besides, I can see the hill. Come.

[ He doesn't wait for an answer before urging his horse into taking off. The faerie steed is faster than regular horses and sure-footed even in these low-lit conditions, its silver-shod hooves flying through the snow as if they were made only for this.

Cardan raises his face to the brush of snowflakes and lets himself feel relief, if only for a moment. ]

[Liem would much rather think about fashion than about anything else regarding their trip to Elfhame, and he returns Cardan's regard with a glimmer of genuine anticipation. Meeting Cardan's relations promises to be nerve-wracking, as does navigating the court that his husband seems so cautious to let him near. Updating their wardrobes for Elfhame's High Court just sounds exciting.

In any case, they needn't dwell on the future just now. Liem spurs his own mount on as Cardan's dashes ahead, making for the broad, snow-covered hill now rising up out of the cover of the trees. Despite the snow and the gloom, their journey here has been much swifter than he'd anticipated. These faerie steeds are quite fine indeed.

He arrives on Cardan's heels, reining in his horse at the edge of the tree line. He is much more familiar with the sight of this clearing as it is now, hidden beneath a snowy blanket, though the sight of fiery leaves still peering out from beneath their cloak of white is novel. Liem pauses a moment to let the view greet him, his gloved hand resting idly on his mount's neck.

His husband is right, of course. It is lovely.]

Ah. The snow is still untouched…

[The hillside is devoid even of animal tracks: just one smooth, uninterrupted sheet of glittering white. He is tempted to linger here, appreciating it from beneath the trees as the snow falls softly around — but he is more tempted to dismount and see just how thickly the snow has fallen here, so he climbs down to feel the snow crunch beneath his boots.]

[ Cardan follows suit in dismounting; he will reach for Liem's reins, unusually helpfully, so that he can tie both their horses to a nearby tree. He presumes they might stay here for a little while, as before.

As he works the knots into compliance, he'll takes the opportunity to watch Liem rather than the large tree. His husband looks different in these surroundings -- smaller, perhaps a little lonelier, his slim silhouette stark against the blanket of white. But he also seems a little more at ease, just a touch less worn out by the myriad responsibilities he shoulders: towards his father, the household, towards Cardan himself. Cardan still cannot figure out why Liem insists on burdening himself this way, but--

No matter. He'll bend a little to stroke his horse's soft nose... and then duck lower, using her body to shield himself from view. Half a breath later, he steps out from behind her, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and winds up to chuck a snowball straight at his husband's head.

...well, surely Liem didn't expect him to refrain from mischief altogether. ]

[As before, the chance to bring Cardan here — into the forest, to one of his favourite places — does much to ease the cares from Liem's shoulders. He surrenders his mount's reins easily, lingering for a moment to watch his husband with the horses, before he turns to trek along the side of the hill. He is tempted to lie down right there on the hillside and watch the snow come down atop him, but he hasn't yet even wandered the hill properly, so for now he resists.

Pausing halfway towards the summit, Liem starts to turn back toward his spouse, but he stops short, tilting his head slightly as though listening for something. A moment later, Cardan's snowball slaps into his hair.]

Wh—

[He whirls, bringing one hand up to brush at the back of his head as icy powder slides down his collar. He fixes his husband with an incredulous grin.]

What nerve.

[Ambushing his husband from behind? Cardan really is shameless — and overbold. Liem stoops to scoop up a pile of snow, packing it into a throwing-sized ball.]

Stay put for a moment, husband.

[So Liem can pelt him more easily.]

[ Fleet of foot and splendid of coordination as Cardan may be, he has no illusions about being overmatched in this battle. For one, he imagines Liem has had more experience in snow fights than he. For two, Liem has demonstrated a frightening amount of focus when it comes to facing down an opponent.

Suffice it to say the element of surprise was necessary. And how magnificent a surprise it is; his laugh rings through the snowy trees as he watches his missile hit its target, exploding magnificently against Liem's bare head.

For a half-breath, he wonders if the reaction he'll get is annoyance -- but then Liem's grin slices through the twilight between them, and Cardan's teeth flash in return, delighted as a cat with a bird. ]

No, I don't think I will, [ he'll call back, already dashing behind a tree. The thick layers he's dressed in -- and the unfamiliar obstacle of calf-high snow -- are an impediment, but exuberance will carry him through.

Though not for long, he imagines, as his quarry is undoubtedly approaching. Best to have another missile at the ready. ]

[It's for the best that Cardan is uncooperative. Liem would have felt unsporting throwing a snowball at an unmoving target — and it will be so much more satisfying to knock his hat off his head if Cardan is making an attempt to evade him.

But the open hillside is a poor place to wage a snow war from. Snowball in hand, Liem bounds back down the slope toward the trees, eyes fixed on Cardan's hiding place with predatory alertness. He wants to get that hat, and happily, his husband can't stick his head out to catch sight of him without bringing it into view.

But he isn't going to simply wait for Cardan to make another move. Liem plunges into the cover of the trees, circling around with his eyes peeled, ready to launch his ammunition at the first opportunity. And he keeps circling, trying his best to pin Cardan between himself and the open clearing.

He wants to make it harder for him to retreat without straying out into the open — because once Cardan has thrown another snowball, he's going to scoop up a double handful of snow and come right for him.]

[ The problem, Cardan knows, is that he has no patience. He has spent it all on the ride here, planning his ambush and biding his time until Liem turned his back and let down his guard. Now that he's gotten in his one shot, he's aware that he's likely to get pummelled.

No matter: hiding is boring. He's going to emerge soon enough, stepping out from the tree to frown at the wood-- the cold has dulled his sense of smell, and the acoustics make sound tricky, too. By the time he has spotted his husband, a mere breath or two later, it is too late, and he knows as much.

He sputters when his hat goes flying, anyway-- then shakes himself off, whirling around to return the favour, though Liem has no hat, and Cardan is aiming rather for the rest of him so as to find a bigger target. ]

What if I catch cold, Liem?

[ ...although, despite the icy droplets of melting snow dripping down his collar, he is at no risk of freezing. Quite the opposite: there is a flush in his cheeks and a shine in his eyes. His breath fogs the night air. ]

[Liem makes a game attempt at dodging the snowball that Cardan flings his way, but he is more interested in dispensing the reward his husband has earned with his mischief than he is in avoiding further projectiles. Snow explodes against his coat as he darts closer, his eyes shining in the low light.]

That, [he says, dipping past a tree and scooping up another pile of snow to pack onto the loose clump in his hand,] would have been something to consider five minutes ago.

[That would have been the time for Cardan to lean on his husband's gentle and caring side, as well. Presently, in the hushed forest with its ethereal coat of white, with snow stuck to his coat and the back of his neck, he is more interested in running Cardan down and delivering his comeuppance.

The lump of snow he has collected is not packed densely enough for accuracy or distance, but Liem has no intention of attempting to throw it. He simply glances down at it, hefting it slightly in his hand, and looks meaningfully at Cardan before dashing right for him in order to introduce the snow personally to the back of his unhatted head.]

[It feels a little like being hunted. Just on the edge of unsettling, though not quite -- because if Liem wanted to do him harm, surely he would not have chosen such a medium.

Cardan grins, entirely unapologetic. ]

I did consider it.

[ He also doesn't even attempt to get out of the way.

It's cold. Snow is cold -- he can feel it even through his boots and gloves, could feel a little of it when the snowball hit his head, but that is nothing compared to the shock of a significant portion of it sliding against the bare skin of his neck. He makes a startled, aborted noise, his shiver involuntary. But he moves, too: twisting around, using the range of his longer arms to reach for Liem's waist, trying to pull him flush against his own body. ]

Edited 2023-02-08 01:52 (UTC)

[Liem would have liked it a little better if Cardan had tried to get away, if he'd run or tried to fend off Liem's generous helping of snow before it was delivered to his neck. It would have made for a more tempting target, and he's a little disappointed when his husband makes no move at all to avoid his fate.

But he's too riled up at this point to relent. He dumps the chilly clump directly against Cardan's hair, and he accepts the small, startled noise his husband makes as his due.

And when Cardan twists to grab him and pull him closer, Liem redirects the angle of his movement so that when he's pulled flush against his husband, he can push him back against the trunk of a nearby tree with a playful little growl. He leans against him, one arm resting against the bark beside, and slides his wind-chilled nose against the line of his jaw.]

Brazen of you, to ambush me in my own woods.

[ He doesn't expect to be shoved against a tree, but it only pulls another surprised laugh out of him. And then a shiver, this time a little harder, though his hold on Liem only tightens. For a moment, he has cause to rue their disparate body temperatures for multiple reasons at once. ]

You are cold.

[ Not that this will be news to Liem. Not that it matters because Cardan isn't letting him pull away; in fact, he sounds more smug than not. As far as he's concerned, this trip is already a rousing success -- because playful looks good on Liem's typically serious face, because Cardan's used to a little chill, anyway. His hand sweeps up Liem's back to cradle the back of his head, even as Cardan smirks down at him. ]

And all woods are a little bit of the Fair Folk. Even yours.

[Cardan seems even warmer than usual, chilled as Liem's skin is by their excursion. Liem has to resist the urge to nuzzle his scarf out of the way and press his face against Cardan's neck, which he manages only because his husband is already shivering and he'd rather not chill him too much in quick succession.

Also, he thinks if he put his face there given its current temperature, it might seem more like an assault than a gesture of affection.]

Is that so?

[He hums, sliding a gloved hand along Cardan's flank and wishing there weren't about five different layers of clothing between them.]

You do seem at home in them. To some extent, I was just attributing that to escaping the house.

[Anyone would be more at ease without work to fret about and Gusairne's scowling visage to dodge. Certainly that's Liem's experience, and he appreciates the chance to be alone with his husband when they're both in good humour and have no demands on their time. He hasn't had that particular pleasure since they properly began their current venture.

After a brief moment, he adds, sensibly,] I'm only going to get colder the longer we're out here, so if you want to kiss me, you should do it now.

[ Luckily, most of Cardan is warmer than usual -- between the exertion of running around, however brief, and the thick coat and scarf, he still feels quite toasty even under Liem's onslaught. Although the tips of his ears are rather chilled.

He would explain about the woods-- about magic and how it sings to him from everything that grows and flows and crawls along the ground, even now when said ground is frozen and most of its creatures are dormant. He could talk about all these things, if only he weren't immediately distracted by Liem's sober advice. ]

...am I bargaining for my release?

[ His gloved fingers find Liem's chin, tip it up. He doesn't look very interested in getting released when he leans close -- nearly close enough to touch. ]

Though I think you underestimate my tolerance for cold.

[ And to prove it, he is indeed going to kiss Liem. The chilliness of him is novel, like this; it does interesting things to his taste, to the familiar curl of interest in Cardan's belly, the same that arises whenever Liem is close. But then he's come to terms with the fact that there truly isn't much Liem can do to diminish how attractive Cardan finds him.

It would be very troublesome if anyone else only knew about it. ]

[Liem's face tips easily at the light insistence of fingers at his jaw, and he looks up at Cardan, amusement playing over his lips. His husband does not seem especially interested in being released; he seems rather more interested in touching him, which has truthfully been the case for as long as they've been acquainted. His mouth, when it dips to meet Liem's, is distractingly warm.

As ever, Liem pulls away from his husband's kiss with reluctance. It's a testament to his work-mindedness that he's ever able to get things done with Cardan in the same room, considering how impossible it is to ignore his appeal. His gloved fingers curl around the back of Cardan's neck, keeping him close.]

What makes you think I'm intending to release you?

[He brushes the chilly tip of his nose against Cardan's, his tone conversational. It doesn't seem very consistent to go to the trouble of hunting him down only to let him go again.]

It seems foolish to bargain away what I already have.

Oh?

[ Intrigue curls around the word; he tilts his face to press his lips to the corner of Liem’s mouth, his cheek. ]

Then am I to be your prisoner? …And what would you mean to do with me, Liem? Use me to satisfy your fiendish urges, perhaps?

[ He sounds markedly more interested than appalled at the prospect of this. Cardan’s fiendish urges lead his hands to sneak underneath Liem’s coat and jacket to trail over his back, his waist, his gloved fingertips dipping under the edge of his waistcoat. He thinks of the pleasure of disheveling his oh-so-put together husband, and grins wider. ]

It’s cold for me. But you are hardly so encumbered, hm?

[ Though if there is still chill in the air, Cardan seems to have forgotten to care about it. ]

[Liem doesn't usually lean towards such villainous characterization, particularly in his personal relationships, but he finds it difficult to object to Cardan's assertions when his skin still feels warm from his kisses. He does not want to fuss over the direction of his husband's teasing; he would much rather tug the leather from his fingers so he can card them through his hair.]

It's not especially warm, [he admits. His unique physiology does not prevent him from noticing the distinct crispness in the air or the chill of the snow still clinging to Cardan's scarf. But he is far more interested in his husband than he is in the weather.] You are, though.

[Even when he tries to avoid touching too much of Cardan's bare skin, he's drawn in by the warmth of his breath against his face, of his hair under his fingers and the press of his body even through their clothes. He sighs, fingers curling in Cardan's hair, at the slide of gloved hands roaming beneath his jacket.

And he finds Cardan's mouth again, so he can brush close and nip gently at his lip.]

Warm, and tempting… Maybe I would be a little fiendish.

[ Cardan's laugh is little more than a huffed breath against Liem's lips. The cold hands in his hair feel intriguing; he is ever happy to be touched, though it does remind him of the snow still lodged against his collar.

He cannot bring himself to care. Instead, he will press closer and kiss his husband again, sweet and wanting. ]

You were doing a fine job of it earlier.

[ He had not expected himself to be so outmatched; then again, Cardan's athleticism is rather more suited to feats of dance and revelry than war games in the snow. Besides, it was Liem's enthusiasm for victory that had truly blindsided him. He had rather anticipated getting away with his mischief the same way he gets away with everything else: by being brazen and also royalty.

Of course, Liem has little reason to care about the latter. ]

...though not as good as me.

[ His gloved fingers find the line of Liem's hips, the curve of his ass -- intent on keeping him there when Cardan grinds against him, slow and indulgent, uncaring of the chill in the air nor the layers of clothing between them. His mouth curls, shamelessly self-satisfied, even as he dips his face to paint kisses over the bare skin of Liem's neck. ]

[It was easy for Liem to let the thrill of a hunt sweep him up when Cardan was hiding in the trees, throwing snow and making himself such an enticing target. He had been perfectly eager to enact his snowy judgement and claim the spoils of his victory, however temporary. But the sweetness of Cardan's lips on his is intensely distracting; he cannot stay full of mischief when all he wants is to wrap around his husband and kiss him until his lips are just as warm as his.

He hums against Cardan's mouth, lazily amused.]

That wasn't fiendishness. [A smile softens his objection.] That was good, honest retribution.

[Retribution, and perhaps a bit of playful competition besides — but it was no more than Cardan had bought with his mischief. If Liem really wanted to be fiendish, he could sneak his ungloved hands inside Cardan's coat to warm them on his husband's skin. Truthfully, he's still a little tempted to do so, simply because it's hard not to want to put his hands all over him when Cardan's mouth is so busy wandering his neck. He sighs, pressing eagerly into the roll of hips against him, and his chilled fingers cannot help but slide down to cup the back of his husband's neck.]

Mm… but you wear villainy very well.

[ The chilled fingers on the bare skin of his neck draw a startled, sharp inhale from him... and then a sharp nip of his teeth on Liem's jaw. It's a little punitive. There is a distinct difference, Cardan is realizing, between engaging with Liem's cold touch on his own terms and being subjected to it without expecting it. He does not enjoy the latter quite as much; it makes him reconsider his plan of action, though not for long. ]

I have the benefit of long practice.

[ And also of relentless commitment. For example: he could stop teasing his husband. He could allow them both to enjoy the majestic snowfall and the fiery oak tree covered with snow; he could urge Liem back on his horse and depart to the warm house, where Liem's wandering hands would not present so much danger.

Instead, Cardan deftly undoes the fly of his trousers and slips his hand inside. At some point, he had managed to work off his glove, and the fingers that close around Liem are yet warm. He strokes insistently, indulgently, relishing the feel of him against his hand even with the chill on his husband's skin.

They had gotten so little time to themselves in this marriage; he's not going to give up an opportunity like this. ]

Ah—

[Liem lets out a sudden breath, a shiver racing through him at the sharp nip of teeth at his jaw. The spike of excitement doesn't make it any easier to force himself to withdraw the fingers chilling Cardan's neck, much as he'd like to avoid subjecting him to more icy surprises. As he clutches instead at the heavy fabric of his husband's coat collar, it occurs to Liem that he should really have left his gloves on.

He could not really be said to be trapping his husband against the tree any longer, so much as clinging to him while he leans against it.]

And now… I reap the fruits of your labour.

[He is, abruptly, a little breathless. For all the nakedness of Cardan's intentions, Liem still manages to be a little surprised by the slide of long fingers inside his trousers. He was somehow not expecting them to still be so warm, and he finds himself unprepared for how swiftly his playful interest turns to impatience under Cardan's insistent stroking.

He has spent too long of late wishing for Cardan's hands on him, and far too little time actually enjoying the freedom to put them there.]

Cardan…

[ This is what he wanted: Liem's fingers tangled in his collar, clinging to him; the little shiver and the breathless quality his voice takes on when he's aroused. Cardan has missed those things, and though this is not exactly what he intended for their sojourn into the snow, to say that it hadn't crossed his mind would be a lie.

His lips curl smugly against Liem's skin. ]

Yes, husband?

[ His gloved left cups Liem's face as he straightens out, the better to look at him. Since it's too cold for Liem to touch him, Cardan will have to sate his hunger with the way his husband looks, with the changes in his expression and the small sounds of need Cardan's fingers can coax out of him. He is, as ever, greedy: even now, he wants all of Liem's desire to be his.

His thumb traces the soft curve of Liem's lower lip; in a moment, Cardan will kiss him again. But right now, all he does is grin, openly satisfied with himself. ]

What's on your mind? Tell me.

[Liem's eyes find Cardan's as he tips his face back toward him, drinking in his visage to make up for the loss of the lips wandering his neck. He has felt so indecisive of late; usually he covets the sound of his name on a lover's lips above anything else, but more and more in the past few weeks, he has come to like hearing husband. Even if their marriage is simply one of convenience, he cannot help the pleasure that lights him, soft as starlight, at the prospect of belonging to someone. Of belonging to Cardan, for all that his husband doesn't even want to keep him.

But seeing as Liem hasn't given him much of a choice — here they are.

He regards his husband's grin, his own lips parting under the caress of his gloved thumb.]

You seem pleased with yourself, [he murmurs between uneven breaths. Like villainy, smugness looks very good on Cardan. He looks like he was born to wear it, and considering his pedigree, perhaps he was.

As ever, looking only makes Liem more eager to touch. He sighs, restless; his fingers tighten their grip on Cardan's coat.]

I want my hands on you, Cardan.

[ Of course he's pleased. By Cardan's accounting, he's more than winning this particular bout in the snow -- if only because Liem looks uncommonly relaxed in the moonlight, with snow in his hair and the scent of winter on him. Because Cardan likes seeing him squirm under his touch; because he doesn't mind driving himself a little insane with wanting, so long as Liem is too. ]

Do you?

[ His tone is musing, like the threat of icy hands is but a theoretical possibility and not something Liem has already inflicted on him. Cardan will lean forward again, brushing his mouth over the spot he'd caressed with his thumb, a murmur carried on his warm breath. ]

You'll just have to cultivate patience, then.

[ Particularly as Cardan is about to move most of himself out of Liem's reach.

The snow is cold underfoot; he imagines it will become a problem if he stays here too long. Right now, however, it is a blessing, cushioning his fall when he sinks to his knees. That -- and the quick half-smile he directs upward -- is the only warning Liem will get before Cardan dips forward to swallow his cock in the heat of his mouth, gloved hand curled on his hip to keep him right there. ]

[Of course, Liem doesn't expect to be able to touch Cardan now. If his hands weren't so frigid perhaps he could sneak them inside his husband's coat and touch him despite the cold, but in present circumstances that would be only a couple steps above dumping snow down his collar. He does simply have to be patient for now, impossible as that prospect might seem.

Judging by Cardan's manner, he's guessing that his husband has every intention of making patience difficult for him. Certainly the soft brush of his mouth against Liem's lip doesn't help; he makes a small, wanting sound as those warm lips depart again, too quickly. Already desire simmers, frustrated, under his skin, foiled by the night's chill and their layers of clothing, and every touch and kiss only serves to make it flare hotter.]

You tease…

[He mutters as Cardan sinks to his knees, but there's no real heat to it. Despite his frustration, he still doesn't want to lose the heat of his husband's touch — and for all that keeping himself restrained is driving him slightly mad, the perverse, masochistic part of him that enjoys such things embraces the opportunity to let his husband torment him a little. The fingers tangled in Cardan's coat find their way back into his hair, and Liem gasps, leaning his other hand against the tree's bark as Cardan takes him into the heat of his mouth.]

[ Cardan only hums his assent over Liem’s skin, busy as his mouth is with other tasks. Contrary to Liem’s accusation, he does not have a mind for teasing now — it’s too cold, and he trusts the heat of his mouth and his hands to be instrumental to his technique. He will take as much of Liem as he can, oddly fascinated by the cool slide of silken skin against the bed of his tongue. His hand — still warm enough, owning to just how well he has been bundled up — wraps around the base, stroking insistently in time with the first, determined bob of his head.

The frozen fingers in his hair make him shiver, through not from cold. When he glances up from under his lashes, the look in his eyes is somewhere between challenge and insistent, hungry want. He wants Liem’s small sounds and he wants his quick breathing and he wants the gentle grip of his hands to turn hard with need, and he wants to take all those things and make them his own. Like the greedy and intemperate creature he’s always been, Cardan wants everything, including those icy fingers on him — so long as Liem is touching him at all. ]

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