sterngaze | open post

[ 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. ]

[It's just as Liem had said: the forest around them may be shrouded in a blanket of snow and frost, but Cardan remains enticingly warm. The heat of his mouth is shocking even compared to the warm stroke of his hand, and Liem makes a soft, helpless noise at the insistent pleasure of it as his lips and tongue slide along his length.

It is a struggle for him to keep his fingers politely gentle in Cardan's hair, when they are still so eager to touch — to find the warm skin of his neck or the delicate shell of one pointed ear. He has little room in his mind for anything but the mounting ache of his want, for the thrill of Cardan's touch as he mercilessly stokes his arousal. It matters little that Liem wasn't intending this purpose for their forest excursion; Cardan has always had a talent for demanding his desire, whether Liem has the liberty to spare it or not.

He certainly cannot attend to anything else now. His breaths come short and heavy between frost-chilled lips, and he trembles beneath Cardan's hand as he struggles not to squirm under the weight of his growing want. His fingers still their restless wandering through his husband's hair, curling as, with an unsteady exhale, he feels his climax begin to overtake him.]

[ He loves those fingers in his hair, though some part of him wishes their grip was harder. He's seen their strength in action; it's difficult not to wonder what it would feel like to get Liem to forget to hold back. When they curl into a grip--

He exhales, swallowing an unbidden moan, feeling the sensation go straight to his cock -- woefully neglected and still firmly inside his trousers. But there is no time for that: he has matters to attend to.

For example: pulling back so that his tongue drags up the underside of Liem's cock, tracing a path to the very tip. His face tilts upward; he wants to see Liem's face, wants to show him the shameless invitation of Cardan's mouth and his pink tongue, insouciant and obscene.

Insouciant, if not for the hungry, sharp way he looks at his husband. ]

[It's only scant minutes ago that Liem was pouncing on his husband with his snowy weaponry, feeling very pleased — for getting the better of him, and for the opportunity to be playful for a short while, before the twin shackles of his duties and his reputation caught up with him. He had not anticipated this hurried tryst beneath the snow-laden boughs of a convenient tree; perhaps if he had, he would not have walked so brazenly into the trap of Cardan's arms.

Or perhaps he still would have. He's certainly in no hurry to escape it now.

Pleasure sweeps through him, hot and shivery and inescapable, as Cardan pulls back with a drag of his tongue to look up at him. He can no more withstand the hungry look in his eyes than he can the slick heat of his mouth or the slide of his fingers, nor does he wish to. The hand braced against the tree clutches tight, fingernails biting into soft bark, as he comes, breathless and caught tight in his husband's gaze.]

[ It's shocking: the spill of Liem's seed on his waiting tongue, both because it's cold as the snow and because Cardan had never, ever allowed anything like this with any other lover. His eyes widen with it: with the hot, heady thrill it sends through him, with the look on Liem's face as he shivers through his orgasm. Cardan's incessant need to provoke his pleasure and his fluster alike is starting to seem like magic; perhaps it is some latent vampiric trait that neither of them knows about.

Except he's met many other vampires and felt this way about exactly none of them.

He exhales, his breath rising as steam between them, and wipes absent-mindedly at his mouth. Rocking back on his heels brings the poor maligned tree to his attention. His eyebrows twitch upward, intent on distracting himself from the hot itch of need that seems to have found its way into his body. ]

...why do you always hold back?

[ It's relentless, Liem's consideration of him. Cardan wishes it weren't. ]

[One of the nice things about being largely unaffected by the cold is that Liem need not hasten unduly to put himself to rights after his husband has finished with him. He can simply lean against the tree while the thrill of pleasure quiets and his breathing subsides, and if his layers are still undone and all askew, then at least he barely notices the purchase his dishevelment has given the night's chill on his person.

His eyes close for the space of a slow breath. Once he has recalled some of his composure, he opens them again and looks back down at his husband.]

Is that a grievance, or a genuine inquiry?

[Either way, he's not particularly driven to delve into the matter of why he is the way he is. It is far too uneasy a subject for him to waste his few truly idle moments considering. And if, the rest of the time, he is simply too busy, so much the better.]

[ Cardan will rise, too openly self-satisfied to wince outwardly at the snow sneaking inside the tall lip of his boots. His knees feel a little wet, but brushing them off will have to wait; he has smug looming to do.

He takes Liem's question as a complaint, which gives him leave to ignore it entirely. His right hand -- gloved again -- finds Liem's face and retraces the line of his mouth. ]

I like your teeth. And your hands.

[ His smile is sharp, still hungry -- but then he hasn't gotten off, and won't for a while, since he does not mean to cut their adventure short. ]

You could stand to be rougher with both.

[It is difficult not to become distracted by the return of Cardan's fingers to his face, even gloved against the cold as they are. Every time his husband touches him, Liem has to rein in the urge to press into his hands like a cat wanting to be stroked. He is aware that he often doesn't stifle the impulse entirely — sometimes not at all.

It's a little mean of his husband to touch him so liberally when Liem's skin is only getting more chilled as they linger outside. He imagines his kisses will be truly icy in another half hour or so, and if his husband were to shiver when he kissed him, he'd prefer if it weren't just from cold. The look in Liem's eyes as they return Cardan's regard is alive with undimmed interest, for all that the edge of need has faded from it.]

Mm.

[The tone of his acknowledgment is thoughtful. The curve of his lips is, despite himself, still a little charmed.]

Well, I am loath to deny you. I'll try to remember.

[ He lets that look sear through him, lets it feed his impatience and his anticipation, and finds he's not cold at all. Under the layers of clothing, his tail is restless, coiling and uncoiling beneath his shirt. He finds, despite himself, that he's tempted to go back to the house after all, where he could sup on his husband properly, without the pesky issues of weather or clothing getting in the way--

But even if he coerces Liem into taking off the rest of the night, the house's secrets and responsibilities weigh on both of them. He wishes to see his husband in this rare, unburdened state for a little while longer.

So he will let go, smile, and lean against the tree to steady himself in the cool air. ]

Shall we ascend the hill, or have you more snow to shove down my collar?

[ Hopefully not the latter. He has to admit the dampness is uncomfortable. ]

[Liem’s smile stretches wider, teeth flashing for a moment in the pale light, when Cardan leans back against the tree. He would not say that Cardan has learned his lesson where forest ambushes are concerned, but if his intention was to dump snow down his coat until that condition was satisfied, he thinks his husband would run out of both body heat and patience long before he managed to achieve anything of value.]

Not at all. I wouldn’t want to get carried away.

[He will go about fixing his clothing instead, though he hasn’t much heat left to lose at this point. Regardless, he makes sure his coat is done back up, and when he stoops to retrieve his discarded gloves and clothe his icy hands, he retrieves his husband’s hat as well, swatting snow off of it as he straightens.

Briefly, he considers putting it back on Cardan’s head, but a glance makes him re-evaluate the amount of reaching he would need to do to accomplish this. He settles for offering it back to him instead.]

Your hat, sir.

[ That smile is dangerous, and Cardan knows it's dangerous, but if his heart skips a beat at the sight of it, it is from a sensation wholly different from fear. Or maybe not-- maybe there is always a bit of peril in attraction, especially when the relationship is so treacherous and doomed as theirs.

Regardless, now -- with the snow dancing above and around them, with the magic of the night yet far from exhausted -- is hardly the time to be morose. He resists the urge to kiss Liem's smiling mouth, to tease them both just a little longer. Instead, he will watch his husband straighten himself out. It's charmingly fussy, both because he doesn't need the protection and because they are in the middle of a wood, with only each other for company.

He'll take the hat without comment. It goes back onto his head at the same jaunty angle as before. His ears remain cold.

They are still cold several hours later when he steps inside the manor, exhaling with relief at the warmth that caresses his face. He is flushed, his curls a little icy with snowflakes, and he feels rather more chilled than he had intended to be. As servants divest him of his snow-covered outer clothing and soggy boots, he will glance over at Liem, still annoyingly unaffected by the weather. ]

You had better not be thinking of paperwork, husband.

[ It's late -- or early, in mortal terms -- but if that has meant anything to Liem before their awful little plan to take down Dain, it certainly doesn't seem to now.

Still. Cardan's mouth curls, shamelessly suggestive. ]

I have uses for you yet.

[ Those uses involve him stalking toward their rooms, with the clear assumption that Liem will follow suit. ]

[Somehow, Liem makes it through the rest of their outing without succumbing to the urge to inflict Cardan with his icy kiss again, despite the romance of the snow-shrouded forest and the pretty flush in his husband's cheeks. He has to be content with the beauty of the night and the freedom of their forest jaunt. It reminds him a little of the first weeks of their marriage, when he'd spent his nights trying stubbornly to ignore his interest in his new spouse — except that both of them are far better company tonight then either ever were while stuck in his office.

The snow has made a game attempt to coat Liem just like the rest of the wood by the time they return to the manor. He's dusted off his shoulders, and his hair is dishevelled with his efforts to shake the worst of the snow from it, but there are still flakes melting here and there as the house's warmth washes over him, thawing his eyelashes and the tips of his ears.]

But we've left it untended all night, [he observes innocently, his expression sober as he follows his husband back towards their rooms.] If we leave everything for tomorrow, I'll have to rearrange my appointments again to fit in everything important.

Surely, [ Cardan will point out, irritation tugging at the edges of his tone, ] naught is as important as preserving your marital bliss.

[ He had discarded most of his layers, including his jacket, in the interest of getting as warm and un-damp as possible; with his shirt disheveled from running around the snow, the tail has snuck out from under his clothing, making a rare appearance outside their rooms. Cardan does not appear to notice.

The appendage is twitchy as usual, mirroring his feelings — also as usual. Of course he’s not surprised that Liem would want to spend the remainder of the night hunched over papers, but that doesn’t make the notion any more appealing. Less so, even, because the past few hours of furtive glances and casual touches have done nothing to alleviate his treacherous longing for his husband’s touch, and it really is a funny joke that he, of all people, should end up in this specific trap.

He is decidedly not laughing.

If nothing else, the quick pace of his steps does do much to warm him back up; the fireplace in their sitting room should do the rest, and he will plant himself in front of it immediately upon entry, closing his eyes and holding out his hands to warm his chilled fingertips.

Perhaps, he reconsiders, he could persuade Iago to let him build a shelter in the wood, one with a fireplace and a mountain of blankets whereto he could kidnap his stubbornly workaholic husband. ]

[Liem observes the twitching tip of his husband's tail as they make their way through the manor halls, and thinks better of teasing him further. He hasn't forgotten the magical effect the snow seemed to have on Cardan's mood; he's in no hurry to sour it again so quickly upon their return, not when they've both spent so much of the past weeks tired and overworked.

For all that Cardan seems fond of mischief and revelry, Liem has not often judged him to appear especially happy.]

You're right, of course. [He accedes, his tone untroubled.] You may make use of me as you like, husband. I have little patience for paperwork just now, in any case.

[But when they reach their rooms, Liem disappears through the door to their bedroom, leaving Cardan to seek the warmth of the fire. After a few moments he reappears with a small, soft towel in his hands, and comes up behind his husband, where he's rooted himself in the hearth's glow, to gently dry his hair where damp is still clinging to it. Since the back of his neck is the simplest to reach, he begins there, working his way slowly up towards his crown.]

[ Cardan’s eyes blink open, surprised by the unexpected touch to his nape; still, it takes him only a moment to relax into it, tipping his head into Liem’s careful hands. The tail swishes against Liem’s legs, restless, before curling against his thigh — as it has every time he has been close in the past few weeks. As always, it is rather unconcerned with keeping Cardan’s secrets.

It’s always a little strange, to be taken care of. He will twist a little to look at Liem, heedless of the wet state of his own hair. It’s not like either of them is particularly dry. But with Cardan’s hands returning to pleasantly toasty, and his husband allowing himself to be commandeered into indolence, he finds much of his good humour returning.

His fingers splay over his Liem’s waist; it’s difficult not to want to touch him constantly, now that they finally have a hard-won moment to themselves. ]

What do you have patience for?

[It is difficult to resist the urge to snuggle against Cardan's back while he busies his hands with the towel in his hair. Liem is inclined to agree with his husband's sentiments — or at least those of his tail: it would be nice to just wrap around him entirely while the fire toasts them both. He is aware, however, that although his clothes have begun to return to something approaching room temperature, the chill from his body would start to seep through if he pressed himself against Cardan for long. He really needs a hot bath before he's ready to cuddle anyone with a pulse.

But he can manage this: the simple chore of rubbing the lingering chill and damp from his husband's hair. The way Cardan relaxes into his touch makes contentment soften his expression; when Cardan turns to look at him, he envelops one pointed ear in fluffy fabric and rubs it gently.]

I have patience for this.

[For taking care of his husband, which he has so few opportunities to do. He shifts a little closer, letting his chest brush Cardan's back as he reaches with one hand to rub warmth into his other ear. His other hand slides down from its home in the towel to skim down Cardan's shoulder.]

As I would for any excuse to be close to you.

[It's tempting to lean up and press a kiss against his husband's jaw — but he resists the urge. Instead, Liem simply dips his head to brush his lips over his shoulder, hand slipping down so he can wind his arm around his husband.]

What do you have the patience for?

[ He’s a little squirmy about the touch over his ear — now that he’s been restored to warmth, the tips of both ears are bright pink and pulsing with the thrum of renewed blood flow, hot and almost painfully sensitive to touch. Still, when Liem moves closer, Cardan makes an effort to keep still, to keep his breath even. Though the tail shivers against his husband’s thigh, he only makes a quiet noise under his breath, half-swallowed in his effort at self-control.

It doesn’t prevent his eyes from falling half-closed, nor the careful exhale at the brush of Liem’s body against his, at the feather-light touch of his mouth over the thin fabric of Cardan’s shirt. The chill seems to cling to him, still, Cardan notes; he smells like winter.

Liem’s question makes him laugh. ]

I rarely have patience at all.

[ But he doesn’t move, the way he wants to, to coil himself around Liem and taste the memory of snow on his skin. He has waited for so long already, and his husband seems to have a plan; Cardan can stand the simmering tease of his own anticipation for a few minutes longer. ]

…though perhaps I should invent more excuses for you, if this is to be my reward.

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