sterngaze | open post

[ He makes a soft, wanting sound when Liem's fangs finally press into his skin. It's an immediate shock, so pleasurable he feels his knees go a little weak with it, and his fingers tighten where he grips Liem's thigh. His husband wasn't wrong: Cardan is too frustrated with need already. The problem is that he's not entirely sure having Liem bite him will widen the gap, not with the way the touch of his mouth seems to stoke Cardan's desire ever higher.

Liem's embrace is warm, but he shivers into it anyway. Cardan's fingers slide into his wet hair, urging him to stay close, to stay right there. He cannot think of a time when he didn't want Liem's mouth on him, on his throat or his mouth or wherever else it pleases Liem to put it. Never could he -- the proud, cold prince of faerie -- have imagined that being supped on would be such a singular pleasure.

His pulse is deafening in his ears. His thoughts are empty of all other plans, all the tricks and demands he may have thought to put in Liem's way-- for now, there is only the greedy mouth at his throat and the scent of his own blood, dizzying in their intensity. ]

[Eager and impatient as Liem has become, the pleasure of Cardan's hot blood filling his mouth rolls over him with enough intensity to make him groan. He expects the heady pleasure of it by now, knows to anticipate the impossibly vibrant flood of life that hits his tongue, but no taste and no warning can suppress the immediate, frantic need for more that swamps him as he drinks.

It doesn't seem right that Cardan's blood should be so much more desirable than that of human men, when the histories of humans and vampires are intertwined so closely and by comparison the fey folk are barely more than strangers. He doesn't understand it, but neither can he summon the restraint he would wish to possess around his husband and lover, whom he's drunk from again and again over the past month.

His grip on Cardan tightens jealously, even as he feels fingers slide into his own hair; but right now, the irony of his husband thinking to keep him close is lost on him. He cares only for the taste of Cardan's life on his tongue and the pleasing presence of his hands; the music of his breaths and his pulse; the warm, green scent of him. He cannot have enough, of him or of his blood.

But he must stop drinking regardless. And, impossible though that task may seem, he forces himself to tip his face up, to smear bloody kisses against the pale skin of Cardan's throat. His hands curl gently against the lines of his back, as his mouth curls with a sigh against his jaw.]

Mm. God, no one has any business tasting like that. [He licks at a smear of blood on his neck; if anything, he makes it worse.] If the others knew they'd all want to fight me for you. How absolutely baroque.

They should want to fight you for me regardless, [ Cardan protests, though not even his easy arrogance can hide the warm pleasure in his tone nor his wolfish, satisfied grin. With how much mischief and disorder Cardan certainly brings into his husband's life, Liem's compliments are a rare pleasure -- more so because of how convinced Cardan had been that Liem wasn't interested in his blood at all.

He hadn't expected himself to be so interested in those sharp fangs on his throat. Cardan's attraction to danger had always been pronounced, but he could not say that he'd ever yearned to be someone's meal before. Maybe it's that Liem is so achingly gentle in every other way; maybe it's how he reacts to Cardan's blood, his quiet noises of pleasure and strange abandon in the wake of a bite. Now that he has them, he cannot imagine giving these things up -- not their thrill nor their sharp-edged intimacy.

No matter how many dizzy spells they might earn him.

He turns his face so he can find Liem's blood-smeared mouth and lick the taste of himself from his lips. They are going to be a mess, he realizes -- soaking wet, covered in petals and stained with blood. Which reminds him: ]

You are far too dressed, [ he breathes, accusingly, against Liem's mouth. This seems downright criminal since he was dumped in the bath before Cardan, who had at least shown the decency to discard everything but his trousers. Cardan will shift, pulling out of Liem's grasp to consider him, his black gaze sharply critical.

What Liem is, actually, is unbearably attractive. Still, Cardan tangles his fingers in the tie and tugs on it as if indicating its presence as the principal offence. ]

You should correct that.

Hmm.

[Liem can't say he likes the idea of his vampire peers all seeking an opportunity to win his husband away from him — or worse, the idea that Cardan might wish to be won. It evokes a little twinge of worry, despite the seducing hum of fresh-drunk blood swimming through his head and buzzing beneath his skin. His brows draw together in a small frown.

But only for a moment. Only until Cardan's mouth once again finds his, distracting him thoroughly with the desire to kiss him again — and again and again, preferably. Even given the heat of the bath alleviating Liem's chill, Cardan's mouth is temptingly warm, and the murmur against his lips feels intriguing. He presses another kiss against his bottom lip before Cardan pulls away, disappointingly, leaving Liem achingly bereft.

The aching becomes a little more pronounced when Cardan tugs again on his tie.]

If you insist.

[His voice is low and pleased as he lifts a hand to work open the knot of silk at his throat. It's a little challenging — its sudden soaking has made the fabric shrink — but he persuades it undone and then begins with the buttons of his shirt.]

[ Cardan wants to watch... he always wants to watch. He likes seeing Liem work and watching him deftly avoid having to talk about himself at dinner parties, and the meticulous process of his getting dressed each evening, and the little frown he sports when something doesn't quite go his way.

He attributes the current, fleeting one of those to some degree of jealousy and feels a small thrill of pleasure at that, too.

But most of all, Cardan likes to watch Liem in moments of intimacy. His husband is not a particularly expressive man, in a way Cardan guesses is learned rather than innate -- or at least some combination thereof. Something about the neat control with which Liem comports himself makes Cardan hungry for the glimpses of emotion underneath; he savours these moments, greedy as a dragon with a hoard. He wants to see Liem's desire and his impatience and his pleasure, and if in moving he provokes some of Liem's frustration -- well, that's fine too.

So, he moves. He pulls away with a lingering touch to Liem's jaw, his mouth-- with a lingering pang of yearning. Already he wants to lean in and kiss him just one more time, and another, and another-- But Cardan wants to see all of him, and he doesn't want to get in his way, which will almost certainly happen if he stays where he is.

He will settle into the opposite side of the tub, collecting more petals as he moves, and watch Liem's graceful fingers make work of his delightfully translucent shirt. ]

[Staying where he is, keeping his hands on-task at his tie and his buttons, is difficult when Cardan is within arm's reach — and it is still difficult when he glides back to the tub's other edge to watch. Liem is more interested in the long lines of Cardan's body, more interested in the soft curve of his mouth, more interested in the trickle of blood running down warm, damp skin than he is in buttons and fabric. The intent way that Cardan watches him as he retreats does not make Liem's attention any less divided; his focus wants to drift, skipping ahead to what plans his husband might have for him once he's done.

But he still has to attend to the here and now. Though his eyes remain coyly on his husband, he flicks open the row of buttons marching down his shirt, exposing hints of chest and stomach that, truthfully, were hardly obscured to begin with. His shirt is hardly especially tidy after their treatment of his outfit, but he tugs the remainder of it loose from his trousers, and shrugs free of both it and his waistcoat, letting them fall wetly to the floor along with his jacket.

Freeing himself from his waterlogged pants takes only a few moments more — which is fortunate, considering how desperate he's become to be rid of them. Once Liem has peeled the uncooperative fabric from his skin, he slides closer to his audience, regarding Cardan with an assessing eye as he slides a hand up his leg.]

Now then… might you like my assistance, as well?

[ Cardan uses the opportunity of distance to remove the rings from his fingers -- one by one, dropping them somewhat thoughtlessly onto the floor until the only bands left are his wedding ring and the one with the royal signet. He's still watching Liem's hands rather than his own -- watching the fabric peel away from pale skin and gorgeous muscle, button by button. Liem is never quite so beautiful as when he's just supped, with crimson stains on his lips and the air of indulgence still clinging to him. Every heated beat of Cardan's heart pulses aches through the wound on his neck; his skin feels alight with it, even within the bath itself.

It teases at his patience. When his husband is finally bare, finally close -- when Cardan feels that hand slip up his thigh -- he decides he is done with waiting. He reaches for Liem -- hands on his hips, bare fingers splaying over his ass to pull him into Cardan's lap, and he nearly sighs with relief at his weight, at the slide of skin against skin. The stolen warmth of Liem's body is strangely intoxicating, unusual after how used Cardan is to his normal temperature. ]

If you would, [ he answers, disregarding the fact that being in his lap will make removing his trousers substantially more difficult. Why would he worry about logistics when he can kiss Liem instead?

Strategizing is his husband's strength, anyway. ]

[The faint, surprised sound that escapes Liem as Cardan pulls him close becomes a huff of laughter, soft-edged and breathless with wanting, as he's settled into his lap. His hands splay over his husband's torso, sliding over wet skin as he presses nearer to seek his mouth. Hunger lives in the scrape of his teeth over Cardan's lip, and in the way his hands drag down to find the waist of his pants.

He is not in any state of mind to figure out how to wrangle them off, but he's already offered his assistance; he can't very well back out now.

Besides which, the ardour with which he wants to feel Cardan against him is enough to scatter every other thought from his head.

It is strange for Cardan to feel warm for once instead of fever hot, and almost as strange for Liem to feel the slide of bare fingers against his flesh instead of beringed ones. He is used to feeling Cardan's bare hands on him only in the all-too-brief moments between retiring to bed and succumbing to the pull of sleep; the touch of them now feels unexpectedly intimate, makes his chest ache with a bright and fierce longing as he drowns himself in his kisses.

He's not particularly artful in his war against Cardan's trousers. His hands make quick enough work of his fly, but the way he shoves his fingers between waistband and skin and drags his hands down his hips smoulders with impatience — not least of all because he cannot settle his weight properly against his husband while he's undressing him like this. Cardan is not the only one who does not wish to wait any longer.]

[ To what is probably his discredit, Cardan does very little to help Liem's efforts. He's too focused on his closeness, on the expanse of bare skin that he can finally -- finally -- explore, on chasing Liem's mouth and the tease of his teeth. Still, the release of his fly does prompt a relieved sigh from him; he has, after all, been piteously hard for what feels like several eternities. It's only that Liem has a way of sidetracking him even from his body's demands.

Once that is done, he sets out to distract his husband as much as possible. Cardan's intemperate hands skim his ass, whisper over the tender skin on the insides of his thighs -- urging him to spread, if only because Cardan wants to see him so. It feels different, touching him under the water: everything is slick and warm, somehow a little dream-like. Long fingers will wrap around LIem's cock, stroking languidly, as if Cardan wasn't already feverishly hot with wanting; his mouth finds the column of Liem's throat, licks droplets of water off his collar bone, unhurried and deliberate in his exploration.

It is strange to be wed to a man and yet feel like he gets so little of him for himself. Strange to be so greedy for their time together when they spend every night coiled around each other; dangerous, probably, to like him as much as Cardan does.

But he knows no recourse for it save for this: the slide of skin on skin, mouth on hungry mouth, in the quiet moments they can snatch away together. ]

[Liem tries earnestly to complete the task that he volunteered to take on; he tugs Cardan's trousers down past his hips, as far as he can get them without shifting back from his husband's lap. He hasn't entirely figured out his next step, but that doesn't stop his hands from wandering Cardan's thighs, vaguely intent on stripping them of the rumpled fabric still standing between him and bare, warm skin.

The issue is that his husband seems intent on robbing him of most of his coordination and all of his wits. He is hopelessly distracted by the journey of Cardan's mouth over his skin, by the glide of fingers between his thighs and along his cock. Liem lets out an unsteady breath, very nearly a moan, leaning back on hands clutching his husband's thighs as he tries not to drown altogether in the warm, silken slide of sensation. It hardly matters that Cardan isn't touching him with any particular urgency; pleasure still rolls over him insistently enough to make concentrating on anything at all almost impossible.

Though in any case, the heat of Cardan's blood warming Liem's veins is persuading him not to care about anything else regardless.]

It's rare, [ Cardan murmurs, doing his best to sound pensive, ] to see you so distracted from a task.

[ Though he can hardly stop the way his mouth curls with satisfaction against Liem's skin. Much as he enjoys the eternally controlled, dutiful side of his husband, this is still the way Cardan likes him best -- lost in pleasure, thrown off his focus by Cardan's touch. It brings him a savage sort of satisfaction to be the cause of Liem's absentmindedness; he would trade many business successes for the pleasure of feeling the weight of those hands on his thighs, of hearing that heavy breath.

Not even the fact that having his trousers half off looks stupid is going to stop him.

He has other priorities, anyway: like pulling back to watch Liem with an instigator's toothy grin. Wet and nude and distracted, he looks fantastically sexy; it sends a pang of need through Cardan, enough to have him draw a steadying breath of his own.

Cardan wants to fuck him; the hand that isn't stroking Liem curls on the curve of his ass, possessive. He wants to take him right here in this bath while he's warm and pliant under Cardan's touch--

But not yet. He tries to rein in his impatience, to keep his touch steady and unrelenting. The glint in his eye is predatory. ]

...surely you are not giving up?

[Liem has had the pleasure of being in Cardan's lap all too rarely in the months since they were married — something that seems absurd now that he's here. It seems unbelievable that he doesn't end up like this at every party they attend, straddling his husband so that Cardan can place his hands wherever he pleases, with his neck for once within convenient reach of Cardan's mouth. The other concerns that tend to occupy him on those nights seem inconsequential in the face of the murmur against his skin and the fingers teasing him well into the realm of desperation.

Liem has his touch and his desire, and the feline attention of a man who knows he can do with him whatever he likes. What could be more important?

His eyes, when he focuses them on Cardan's face, are heavy-lidded, his pupils blown wide.]

Of course not.

[It comes out on a short, breathless sigh as he drags his fingers back up Cardan's thighs, grabbing at folds of pushed-down fabric. He's made a shamefully small amount of progress getting his pants off, entirely because of the frustrating amounts of distraction his husband is providing — but more than anything, Liem wants him to keep going. And even though pleasure makes him squirm against the unrelenting slide of Cardan's hand, he manages to tug the trousers a little further down his legs.]

It…

[He continues to mutter as he keeps Cardan's gaze, shoving the soaked garment down his legs by feel alone. He's obliged to lean back inch by inch as he reaches further behind him, and regards Cardan with his head tipped up, almost defiantly despite the naked lust in his expression.

He lies, fervently:]

It isn't even difficult.

[ The lust-drunk look in Liem's eyes makes Cardan take a single sharp breath. ]

...am I keeping you from your task?

[ Malice curls honey-sweet over the words, belying the rapid jump in his pulse. Had he not been playing the villain, he might have let it take hold -- might have allowed his desire creep into his voice. He watches Liem arch back with an acrobat's grace, the tension building in the beautiful lines of his body, lean muscle in sharp relief against pale skin, and feels want settle heavy into the pit of his belly.

His little smile is mean. ]

...shall I stop?

[ He will. He does, though his hand doesn't quite pull away -- fingertips still poised against Liem's erection. He'll draw them up its length slowly, the touch so feather-light it might as well have been an errant water current.

Though he is not without pity. Cardan's other hand slips down to Liem's thigh, pressing down to anchor his husband in his lap; he will helpfully draw up his legs, too -- although it is less out of concern for his husband's pride and more because he cannot imagine anything more stupid than ending up with trousers bunched around his shins. ] ]

[He can't help it: when Cardan stops stroking him, pulls away all but his fingertips, a quiet whine escapes Liem's throat. Unhelpfully, his clutch at Cardan's legs tightens as he pauses what he was doing altogether; frustration makes the loss of his husband's touch far more pressing than his halting attempts to remove the last of his clothing.]

Cardan—

[Frustration colours his voice as he readjusts his hold on Cardan's moving legs. He has never met anyone so talented at making his life difficult, nor anyone whose touch he desired so much. The frustration would be more bearable if he was at least touching more of him, but his current task makes touching Cardan properly rather impossible, at least in his current orientation.

Hastily, he shoves the bunched-up trousers further down until he can strip them from his husband's ankles. He considers abandoning them to float at the tub's other edge, but the mean little smile on Cardan's lips makes him think better of being anything less than thorough. The trousers slide over the tub's lip to slap wetly onto the tile.

When he straightens again, his hands find their way to Cardan's face like birds returning home to roost. His kiss is starved.

This time, the murmur against his lips is soft with wanting.]

Cardan…

[ It is rare for Cardan to find his efforts in being horrible so richly rewarded, but Liem is so good at encouraging his misbehaviour. Cardan lives for the moment when his frustration takes hold, when that little whine colours the air between them, when his own name leaves Liem’s lips — even if he cannot be sure whether Liem means it as a curse or an incantation. It’s fine, either way. So long as he’s on his husband’s mind—

And he has been successful at that, judging by the soft hands on his face and the mouth on his own. He’s happy to draw Liem close, to wrap a possessive arm around him and kiss him breathless, even if such a thing is a fool’s errand with a man who doesn’t need breath. ]

Well done, [ he purrs, valiantly ignoring his own ardent need. The problem with frustrating Liem, he has realized some time ago, is that it requires Cardan to weather some frustration also. It’s difficult, in times like this, when all he wants is to feel his husband’s body against his own, when he’d do much to get relief from his aching want. Still, Liem’s desire and his frustration alike are too rewarding not to court; Cardan is willing to sacrifice for their sake.

He wraps long fingers around Liem once more, a reward for a task complete. His mouth cannot help but wander again, smearing over Liem’s cheek, his jaw, one gently pointed ear. ]

I want to fuck you, [ he will murmur, even though he imagines this isn’t news to anyone involved. Still, he cannot help the way his voice is a little rough with wanting. ]

[The relief of having Cardan's lips on his is enough to have Liem melting against him for an almost-painfully blissful moment, seduced by his kiss and by the arm wound about him, holding him close. He cannot recall ever being as content as he is now: tucked within the curve of Cardan's embrace, with praise purred in his ear and the silken slide of pleasure toying relentlessly with his breath.

Even the insistent, distracting ache of his desire seduces him; it is so ardent and so wholly, helplessly Cardan's to command. Just like all the rest of him — a trade Liem is more than willing to make for the pleasure of his husband's undivided greed.

He squirms again beneath Cardan's touch, his breath catching in his throat, when warm fingers close about him once more. Liem's hand flies up to tangle in soft raven hair, keeping him close, keeping that terrible, beautiful, dangerous mouth right there. He wants desperately for Cardan to keep touching him, even though the relentless pleasure of it steals his breath and shreds his patience like so many cobwebs. He also wants Cardan's impatience; the rough murmur in his ear shoots straight to his cock, making his fingers tighten in his hair.]

You can have me as you wish.

[ In moments like this, Cardan cannot imagine why they ever bother doing anything else -- why he puts on clothes, leaves their rooms, or completes any work when he could be enjoying his husband like this. Every worry seems inconsequential; all he wants is to stay wrapped around Liem in every way available to him, to feel the clutch of those fingers in his hair and breathe his scent, less winter and more blood now. That, too, bewitches him: smelling his lifeblood on Liem feels like a more visceral claim to him than almost anything else within Cardan's power.

Almost.

Cardan breathes Liem's assent in, lets it roil through him in pleasant anticipation. His fingers sweep down the elegant line of Liem's spine, unable to draw the wait out any longer. Already he knows he will have to temper his eagerness, regardless. Though he doubts he could actually hurt his husband, loosening his body up in the bath, without oil to ease the slide of Cardan's fingers, will necessarily require some patience.

His mouth wanders down to Liem's neck, his shoulder -- fervent, hot kisses aimed at distracting them both as Cardan presses, slowly, into the tight clutch of his body. ]

[Anticipation follows the path of Cardan's fingers as they trail down Liem's spine, coaxing a shiver of pleasure from him. He has been wishing to have Cardan's hands on him since they walked back in the manor door, and for hours before that, and for much of the past month besides. The commonality between all the occasions on which he is able to get what he wants is that they all end far too quickly; even now, after having Cardan to himself for half the night, he finds himself wishing that sunrise would not approach with such relentless swiftness. Not when he is so far from ready to relinquish his husband to sleep, no matter how needed it might be.

But then, who could be satisfied, being wedded to a faerie prince only to spend most of the time in his company focused on paperwork?

He has no thought for work now. Liem runs his nails along Cardan's scalp and down the nape of his neck, another wanting sigh escaping him as that hot, ardent mouth wanders his neck and shoulder, making his skin hum with pleasure. His whole body feels alight with it, keen and wanting and so oversensitized it's difficult to keep his hips still as Cardan presses inside. Even the sharp scent of blood overlaying the softer smell of skin and scented bathwater is titillating, enough to tempt Liem into dipping lower to drag his tongue over the trail of crimson trickling from his husband's throat.]

[ He does not expect it, somehow, when Liem’s mouth returns for the blood on his skin; it sends the same sharp thrill of wanting through him as the first time, even though there is no prick of teeth. From what Cardan can surmise, his husband has been tenaciously temperate about how much of his blood he will take— to the point that Cardan isn’t entirely certain he’s getting enough. Though he supposes neither of them know how much might be too much, either.

Having Liem lap up more of his blood is so rife with erotic danger it nearly makes Cardan squirm. He doesn’t — squirming is beneath a prince of Faerie, even a disgraced one — but the low, cut-off moan that escapes him is inevitable. The truth is that Liem could take whatever he wanted, in any quantity he desired, and Cardan would not utter a word of objection. Never before has he offered anyone such liberties with him.

It’s probably for the best that Liem doesn’t know the extent of Cardan’s perversion.

He closes his eyes to the onslaught of sensation, to the tongue on his throat and the nails on his scalp— when they drag down his neck he shivers, hard, the muscles in his shoulders tightening with anticipation. ]

Keep going, [ he demands at the edge of a gasp, though his voice is as unrelenting as he’s ever been with Liem. Liem, who is in his lap, who’s being fucked open by Cardan’s fingers, and it takes all of Cardan’s self-control to be slow and patient about that.

So he won’t be patient about Liem’s touch in the meanwhile; it is only fair. ]

[Regardless of how long he stays with him, Liem is probably never going to find the diversity of Cardan's reactions any less fascinating, or any less thrilling. In some ways he is so intemperate — he seems free with his anger, and with his amusement — but in other ways he holds his restraint tighter than even Liem does. Then it's the jump of pulse or breath that betrays him; the lash of his tail; the way tension wanes and waxes through his body, his jaw, his hands. Liem is just as bewitched by the impulses he is free with as by those he disguises; in either case, he inevitably wants more.

The sound of that moan rolls right through him, and for a moment Liem's fingers bite a little harder into the skin of Cardan's neck. He forgets that he'd wanted Cardan's blood so his husband might torment him more thoroughly; for a bright, hungry moment he only wants to drag his tongue all the way up to the wound on his throat, to hear the desire on his breath and feel the thrill in his pulse as he drinks himself truly senseless.

But he is already close enough to senseless as is, already drowning in his husband's scent, in the press and shiver of his body, in the patient slide of his hands. Even at that languid pace, he feels wound helplessly tight with need, spellbound by warm hands and warm lips. He presses his mouth to Cardan's throat instead, against racing pulse beneath unbroken skin, as he drags clutching fingers over the back of one shoulder, sliding his other arm around so he can do the same along his spine.]

I want you, [he breathes, nuzzling against the line of Cardan's jaw.] You're making it very hard to wait.

[ He still has his eyes closed, though perversely, this only makes him feel touch more keenly: the hard press of Liem's fingers, their drag over the sensitive skin on his back-- they leave searing lines of pleasure over his back. He sinks teeth into his lip to keep himself from gasping with it, to force himself to stay composed a little longer.

It must be the blood. It must be Liem's mouth on his throat and the knowledge of what they have shared in the hour past. What other explanation exists for how frenzied Cardan feels underneath his forced calm?

And yet-- Liem speaks, and his eyes slide open, half-lidded, to accompany the slow curl of his smile. ]

Impatience looks good on you.

[ It does. It always has. He tilts his head to watch Liem's face now, though it is rather inadequate in terms of distractions from Cardan's wild desire. Each time his fingers press inside Liem, Cardan's breath wants to stutter with the torturous tease of it; it takes all he has to keep his hands steady. ]

It makes me want to court it longer.

[ His gaze is deliberately imperious for a beat, two, before the smile turns a touch crooked. ]

Though it is to my detriment, given how much I wish to be inside you.

[It would be nice if Liem could affect a predator's cool smugness while he sups on Cardan's blood, but he's under no illusions. The lifeblood sliding sinuously through him magnifies every pleasure with which Cardan threatens him, from the insistent press of fingers inside him to the treacherous temptation of his smile. Each touch and kiss and look and breath pierces right through him while he's like this; impatience is the least of what must show on his face just now.

Especially because Cardan looks so irresistible wearing that mix of lust and hauteur. Even were he not already touching him, that alone would make Liem ache with desperate want.]

Oh, don't say that, [he murmurs between heavy, unsteady breaths. Though the tone he aims for is coy, the look on his face is helplessly eager, lust drunk. He could hardly be anything but, caught as he is in Cardan's touch.] I can only take so much.

[He clutches a little tighter at his husband, regarding him with the ardour of a moth beholding a candle flame, even as he fights the urge to close his eyes against the relentless surfeit of sensation rolling through him.]

Besides… I don't want to make you wait.

[ It's that look, in the end, that will break his resolve. Liem is so serious, so focused, so tightly composed at all times save for when they're touching-- and Cardan cannot help but feel a savage thrill at having pulled this out of him. He wants to see this needy, hungry expression again and again. Already, he is too possessive. Already he wants to believe that he's the only lover who ever got Liem to wear an expression like this, even though he knows how selfish and pointless a thing that is to want. But reason is no barrier to the greedy wants of Cardan's foolish heart, and he doesn't want to be reasonable anyway. Not when Liem is pliant and warm in his arms, when they finally have the moment to themselves.

He isn't entirely sure his husband doesn't want him to keep teasing. Still, Cardan breathes out, a little shaky, and pulls his fingers from the tight clutch of Liem's body. The hand stroking him withdraws, too; both of Cardan's palms settle over his husband's slim hips, slow and deliberate in their hold. ]

No?

[ He means to be arrogant about it, and he is, but desire curls around the word nonetheless. Despite his best efforts, Cardan grins -- wolfish, not cold at all. ]

Were you not just goading me into tormenting you?

[ Oh, he has not forgotten. If Liem thought he'd heard the last about that little game... ]

[For all his ardour and all his eagerness to have Cardan inside him, Liem still breathes frustration in a sharp huff when the fingers slide from him to find their way instead to his hips. He misses Cardan's touch immediately; feels overwarm and achingly bereft without it, liable to ignite at the slightest touch. Futilely, he closes his eyes and takes a deep, unsteady breath in an attempt to find at least one of the wayward fragments of his composure.

He lets out a soft chuckle at Cardan's question.]

So I was.

[That was before he'd tasted Cardan's blood; before he was naked and frantic with need in his husband's lap. He'd still some semblance of patience left then. He'd wanted it gone — and now, it is.

And yet, the arrogant turn of Cardan's voice still sends a wanting shiver relentlessly through him.]

But you don't have sole claim to wanting everything all at once.

[ Cardan will always delight in having Liem's neck within easy reach; he leans in, now, to smear his mouth over the pale skin of his throat. He wants to stall just a little longer, to deny them both that which they want -- wants to make Liem wonder if he's getting it at all. After all, it would be no good if his surprisingly masochistic husband thought he had Cardan wrapped around his finger.

That, and it's only fair that he bites Liem at least as often as Liem bites him.

Still, impatience burns in him, and he knows he cannot deny it much longer. His grip on Liem's hips tightens-- ]

How lucky, then, that I have sole claim to you.

[ At least nominally. At least in this way. Despite the conditional nature of it, Cardan only sounds smug. His hands urge Liem up, much as Cardan rues the loss of his weight from his lap; still, he takes an indulgent pleasure in urging Liem to spread his thighs, in maneuvering both their bodies into place, and then -- after one more breathless, hungry pause -- in urging him down, steady but certain, onto Cardan's waiting cock.

And if he catches Liem's mouth in his, it's because he's been waiting so long, so patiently, that he needs something to occupy him lest his voice betrays the truly embarrassing extent of his wanting. ]

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