sterngaze | open post

[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. ]

[The heated slide of Cardan's mouth against his throat makes Liem shiver with want, makes him bury his fingers in Cardan's hair as he tips his head to invite him to wander. It is a struggle not to shift in his lap, to not grind against him just a little despite the presence of firm hands gripping his hips. When he feels Cardan's teeth find his neck, Liem grips his hair with a gasp, and he cannot entirely keep himself from squirming.

He has to dig his teeth into his lip to keep his need from making itself even more desperately plain. Cardan has every reason to be smug.

He cannot rightly disagree with Cardan's assertion, no matter how he might intend it. Not when it gives Liem such perverse pleasure to be his: to let Cardan touch him as he likes, move him as he likes, tease and deny him as he likes, take him as he likes. There are very few things Liem would not grant his husband if he were to request them of him; at this exact moment, poised just on the cusp of Cardan finally fucking him, there might not be any.

He smiles a little, wryly, as his hand finds Cardan's cheek.

Even the welcoming slide of his husband's mouth against his cannot entirely muffle the sound of Liem's breathless eagerness as he lowers himself onto his cock. Despite his want, and what feels like endless waiting, it feels a little difficult to take him in without the slide of oil to ease things further — but he likes that too, grips Cardan closer with the arm looped round him as he makes himself take all of him. His nails dig wanting little crescents into the skin of his back.]

[ It's more overwhelming than Cardan imagined. He had gotten so good, over the months he's spent in their union, at pushing his need aside for more pressing concerns. Never in his life has he indulged his hedonism so little, for so long. Now, when he finally sinks into the tight grip of Liem's body, all his pent-up desire comes rushing through him, dizzyingly powerful. If his hands on Liem's hips go bruisingly hard, if every part of him tenses, it's because it takes everything he has not to hurry his husband beyond what is reasonable.

He gasps against Liem's mouth, turning his head so he can breathe; somehow, he had not foreseen that the sound of his husband's voice would be as dangerous as his own. Everything about him is dangerous now -- the soft touch of his hand on Cardan's face, the press of his chest against Cardan's... the bite of his nails wrings a choked-off moan and a full-body shiver out of Cardan, the pleasure of it so immediate it bypasses his self-control entirely. ]

Fuck-- Liem...

[ He's not usually like this, he tells himself, except somehow for every single time they fuck. It's impossible to maintain his arrogance like this, so he does the next best thing, tipping forward to bury his face in Liem's shoulder.

Cardan doesn't give him time to adjust. He can't. The hard hands on Liem's hips will leave him no choice -- Cardan needs him to move, needs him to fuck him. If he waits any longer, now that he's inside him, he will lose what little mind he has left. ]

[Now that they are here, now that he has Cardan against him, inside him, now that his breath is hot against his skin and his hands hard and demanding on his hips, Liem cannot care to be restrained any longer. He has been dutiful so often and so long, prioritizing the estate's reputation and well being, his father's wishes, his own affairs and those he's begun to plot with his husband. All important, in their own ways; all too vital to neglect for long. So he has neglected his desires instead, as he often does, and he has enjoyed far less of his husband than he would have liked.

He forgets, for the moment, the other reasons he has been reluctant to seek Cardan's attention. With the taste of him still on his tongue, Liem has no room for caution amidst the welter of frantic desire ruling his thoughts. He wants him now, like he wants him every evening upon waking and every morning before he falls reluctantly into sleep. He wants Cardan desperately, and he's so very tired of pretending he doesn't.

He doesn't know why it's so hard.

Liem's fingers find their way back into Cardan's hair as he moves, starts to fuck them both, the gentle hand cradling Cardan's head at odds with the one that drags desperately over his back. He's rougher, less careful than he should be — and he can't bring himself to care about it, any more than he can object to the ache of the bruising fingers urging him on. He can only shudder with want and pleasure both at the slide of Cardan's cock inside him, only murmur, helpless with need, as he presses restless kisses against Cardan's shoulder, his neck, the elegant shell of his ear.]

Cardan. God, Cardan…

[Even after every other time they've fucked, his hunger to have Cardan come — inside him, on top of him, against him, wrapped around and gripping him tight — shocks him with its intensity. It rules his thoughts, even as his own pleasure builds to ruthless and dizzying heights, blocking out everything else. He needs it like blood, hopelessly and compulsively, beyond any ability to be sated.

Not that this will stop him from trying.]

[ As it turns out, Liem usurps any sense of self-control Cardan might have possessed. He feels feverish with need, helpless against the flood of it; his breathing is already frantic, and they have barely started. His entire world has narrowed only to Liem: Liem's soft mouth on his skin; Cardan's name on Liem's breath; the delicious rake of nails down Cardan's back, the spark of pain so good it makes him hiss and arch into it; the way Liem feels, the unrelenting cling and drag of his body around Cardan's cock, tearing gasps out of him every time Liem takes all of him.

He thought he could weather it. He always had before -- had always been careful, deliberate in caring for his partners' pleasure, even when his lovers meant nothing to him. But he'd wanted to fuck Liem since he'd pressed Cardan into a tree, with snow in his hair and his eyes alight with predatory instinct. It has been hours of wanting -- and before that, weeks of fleeting, desperate touches, hasty trysts when they could find an hour of time between meetings and papers.

He miscalculated. He'd waited too long, wanted too desperately, and now he's far too alight with need, too overwrought to finish what he had started. He can feel the pleasure building in his body, too easily stoked, too eager for release. ]

Liem--

[ His hands tremble with the effort of easing up their iron grip; desperation colours his voice, and he cannot bring himself to hide it even so. ]

Liem, I can't--

[ He bites his own lip, hard enough to taste blood. He doesn't want it to end, not like this, not yet. But how is he meant to stop the inevitable? The pleasure searing its way through him is as inescapable as a lighting strike; he can feel it rising in him with every movement of Liem's body against his, with every sound, touch, and breath full of his husband's scent. ]

[As he moves against Cardan, chasing the pleasure between them, the greedy want in Liem builds until he's half mad with it. Each fevered gasp that escapes Cardan's throat, each racing beat of his heart, each press of his body against him makes Liem feel wild, at the mercy of his own need — and for once, there is nothing and no one to bring him to heel. There is only the warmth of Cardan's skin, and the scent of him, drawn in with each helpless, frantic breath. There is only the desperate sound of his own name on Cardan's lips. He could not abandon his heedless pursuit of bliss while it hovers just within his grasp, even if he wanted to.

And there is nothing he has ever wanted less.

It does not matter if Cardan eases the demanding grip on his hips; Liem's grip on him remains covetously tight, and his hips still move against him with unfettered desire, as irresistible as spell-born compulsion. The unsteady breaths pulled from him with each stroke are still strained with need. And he still cannot drag his lips from their caress of Cardan's skin, even as his need overtakes him and he can think of nothing but meeting the hot, relentless torrent of his pleasure head-on.]

Don't, [Liem breathes against his neck, against the mess of crimson smears his mouth has made of it. Don't stop. Don't hold back. His lips are too busy trailing kisses down to his shoulder to form the words. He feels rabid with warmth and want; desperate to sink his teeth into something. There's a reason he shouldn't, and yet—

Ecstasy shudders through him, heedless, and he bites with a muffled whine as his climax overtakes him.]

[ Don't, Liem demands, and Cardan has no words to tell him that he can't do anything else. Nothing and no one could stop the pleasure taking hold of him, sharp-edged and so keen he's not certain he can bear it. Not even Liem, who is the sole cause of Cardan's intemperance--

The bite of teeth into his shoulder is shocking. With how reticent Liem has been to sup on him in the first place, with how careful he seems in not taking more than needed-- Cardan groans against the burst of pain, his eyes wide and astonished, taking in none of the ceiling's splendid moulding even as he arches back against the tub's edge, his hips bucking sharply up into the exquisite sheath of Liem's body. He wants it, of course he does, just as he always wants Liem's teeth and his predatory grace and his bloodlust, no matter how ill-advised it may be.

He's never been very wise about the things he desires, anyway.

There is nothing he can do against the spike of sensation. His wet hand slides into Liem's hair, pressing him close with desperate need; it's all Cardan can do to keep moving as his husband tightens around him. It's enough pleasure to make a man lose himself, and he does, he does, feeling himself unravel even as he cradles Liem urgently close.

Whatever desperate noise he makes is lost to the sound of his own blood thundering in his ears.

It takes him a long time to catch his breath. Longer still to even consider opening his eyes, which had fallen shut sometime between the bite and what was ostensibly an orgasm but felt rather like a highly personalized explosion. He doesn't want to move, nor does he feel like relinquishing his husband, whom he's still holding on to like Liem will disappear if he doesn't. He wishes to consider absolutely none of the things that continue to exist beyond the bathtub, beyond his husband's skin against his own, or the intriguing twin aches emanating from his throat and his shoulder.

He will, eventually, recover enough energy to pet Liem's hair, though so lazily that it is more of a suggestion than a proper caress. ]

[It's well that Liem has occupied his mouth as Cardan bucks against him, caught in the throes of that urgent, irresistible pleasure. He has tasted too much of him, become drunk on the lush vibrance of his veins, and the enchantment of it, of him, fills Liem with thoughts too foolish to speak aloud. He can only blame the seduction of the blood warming him from within for the helpless contentment that the feel of Cardan's hands on him brings, or the way the word mine bumps at the back of his teeth when his lips brush bloodied skin.

He wants to stay here like this forever, in this warm, dreamlike place where he can pretend that this is enough — that he is enough — and that it is not debts and promises that keep Cardan by his side, within the reach of his embrace. The fantasy is dangerously easy to entertain at times like this, with his blood singing and his senses full of his husband. But even under the weight of bliss that makes his eyelids feel leaden and his body feel as insubstantial as clouds, he cannot quite let himself believe his own fancies, much though he might wish to be deceived for at least a little while.

And he does not lift his face from its cozy press against Cardan's shoulder until he is confident he can open his mouth without saying something he'll regret.

Though first he must recover the wherewithal to move his neck.]

Cardan, [he murmurs from the vicinity of Cardan's collarbone. He probably has blood all over his face at this point; it's a good thing he's already in the bath.] Did I say that I'm grateful you dragged me outside to look at the snow?

[ For a moment, Cardan doesn't answer; he's too content, and also -- still buried inside Liem, which means that even the most minor movement makes him ride out a sensitized, pleasurable little shiver. It is astounding that Liem still feels so good, now; astounding also that Cardan could have had him so thoroughly and still feel the insistent pull of want curl in his belly.

It's never going to be enough, he's realizing. No matter how much of him is touching Liem, no matter what they've done, he will ever want more. ]

You did not.

[ He supposes he could make the effort to open his eyes. His hand slips down from its place in Liem's hair to draw along his cheek, smearing the red streak he finds there. That makes him grin because it's funny: never before has he left a bath dirtier than when he'd entered.

A brief touch to his own throat confirms that this, too, is rather bloody. He cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of concern over it; instead, his fingers sweep down Liem's warm flank to settle once more at his hip, this time far more gently. ]

Are you?

[Draped over Cardan as he currently is, contented by the wandering inspection of his fingers and the way they are still fit so perfectly and pleasingly together, Liem finds it hard to summon any reason to move from exactly this spot. He imagines that the temperature of the water will eventually become uncomfortable for his husband, but that concern is not pressing enough to roust him from his lazy occupation of Cardan's lap.

He meets the grin that Cardan directs down at him with a slow, pleased smile.]

Yes.

[Yes, he is grateful. Not for the chance to see the fresh snowfall, so much as for the rare opportunity to forget the circumstances surrounding their marriage, and spend time with his husband as if he were simply a man that he liked and wished to be close with. He has not had the luxury of being so carefree in far too long.

Cupping Cardan's jaw, Liem tips his head just enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Tomorrow, as he must, he'll return to his duties and his cares. For now, he refuses to spare them even a single thought. As he pulls back, his thumb, sliding gently over warm skin, brushes the soft curve of Cardan's lip. He says, almost wistfully,]

… It's been years since the last time anyone threw snow at me.

[ The blood on Liem’s face lends him an odd touch of savagery; in conjunction with that warm smile, it makes something in Cardan’s chest flutter. He sighs against the soft brush of lips on his face, almost relaxed enough to let his eyes slide shut again, except that he wants to watch Liem. After all — Cardan sees him so rarely like this, soft-edged and bare of most of his worries.

The thumb on his mouth reminds him it’s still sore from where he’d sunk his own teeth into the skin; he inhales, softly, when Liem’s touch passes over the cut.

He supposes he can’t imagine anyone he knows throwing snow at Liem. Not the servants, nor the vampire gentry— perhaps Iago, when he was little? Cardan knows almost nothing about Liem’s childhood. Certainly it doesn’t seem likely, with where his relationship with his father seems to stand.

Maybe it was the lover Liem had mentioned, that evening after the attack. The thought displeases him; in the water, his tail curls, the wet tuft of it drawing along Liem’s bare thigh.

But all he says is: ] You were surprisingly martial about it.

[ Right before he parts his lips wider so he can drag his tongue along the pad of Liem’s thumb. His half-lidded gaze on Liem is deliberate. ]

[Despite his ease and his contentment, Liem’s gaze grows more intent as it lingers on Cardan’s face. It is an easy face to become absorbed in, especially when Cardan is so exquisitely dishevelled and charmingly relaxed, and especially when his dark, lovely eyes are trained on Liem. And not even the afterglow of a good fuck can keep Liem from wanting more of his husband, particularly when the heady thrill of Cardan’s blood still thrums beneath his skin, throwing every sensation into sharp, seductive relief.

His gaze drifts distinctly down to watch the drag of Cardan’s tongue when it slides against his thumb.]

Was it surprising?

[The goal of a snow fight is to win, isn’t it? Liem can’t recall a snowball fight he’s ever been a part of that didn’t devolve into a melee of wrestling and shoving snow down unguarded collars. Sometimes, in his later teenage years, sex was also a follow-up; in his experience, one thing tended to lead to the other, though he can see why it would be slightly different for Cardan.

Liem shifts, straightening with a shivery little exhale so he can look down at his husband as he pushes his thumb between Cardan’s parted lips. Beneath his lowered lids, his irises are thin rings of blue against a field of black.]

Surely you would not have preferred if I’d simply brushed the snow from my hair and carried on.

[ Liem shifts in his lap, and Cardan shivers again, any potential response dying on his lips. A few minutes ago, he had thought his energy utterly spent, but Liem makes a compelling case for the alternative. He is, suddenly, keenly interested in the slide of his husband's body against his own; though he's just come, he feels a heavy pulse of heat pang through his cock. His hands urge Liem closer-- ]

Mm.

[ There is little room for a more eloquent answer when he's busy sucking Liem's thumb into his mouth. And anyway, most of his truthful answers would have been obvious. Of course he preferred a reaction. Of course he liked the fight, even if he was sure to lose it. And though Liem's sharp focus had surprised him, surely Liem knows by now of his husband's penchant for danger.

Liem had looked good, sharp and dangerous in the snow; he looks better now, sex-mussed and dark-eyed, looking at Cardan like he intends to make a meal of him, still. Cardan tips his face down, his tongue teasing over the digit in his mouth, indulgent. Funny, how different it feels from his own spiteful, demanding exploration of Liem's teeth.

The corner of his mouth curls into a self-satisfied smile. ]

[It is impossible to behold Cardan like this — to straddle him within the circle of his arms, still full of him, still surrounded by his scent — and not ache to have more. More of his touch; more of his kiss; more of his heated, wanting looks. Liem swallows, hopelessly distracted, as Cardan sucks his thumb into his mouth, hands pulling him close. This is not the highest he's been after drinking blood, but he has had more than he might have on other nights, and it makes the throb of desire beneath his skin difficult to entirely sate.

So he does not bother with temperance, for once. His other hand slides up, smearing through the blood on Cardan's skin as he traces fingers along his shoulder and neck, over the lines of his jaw, the sharp point of one elegant ear. He wants to see him; wants to drink in the sight of him, to sup on it like he's already drunk the life in his veins. And he wants to move against him again, to grind his hips against him for the sheer indulgence of it — so he does, with a soft, hungry exhale as he devours him with his eyes.]

Dishevelment looks so good on you, [he murmurs, sliding his fingers into Cardan's already sex-mussed hair.] But then… everything does.

[ Liem grinds against him and Cardan's grip tightens in surprise; the delicious friction tears a heated little sound from his throat, involuntary and wanting. His eyes lock on Liem's gaze, meet his hunger with Cardan's own intemperate wanting. At this moment, with Liem's weight on top of him, with those gentle hands whispering over his face, his ear, Cardan cannot imagine any part of himself he would not offer up to him.

He releases Liem's finger from his mouth, pulling away with one last, languid swipe of his tongue. The look Cardan directs his way is not languid at all, and neither is the impatience in his voice. ]

You, [ Cardan will tell him, leaning forward until his mouth is millimetres from Liem's, mere breaths away, ] are being a tease.

[ Which is Cardan's job, clearly; it Cardan who should be rolling his hips against, into Liem -- so he does. This time he is at least prepared for the heady, hot shiver of lust over his sensitized skin, nearly too intense to endure. He does it again, his breath stuttering. And again--

He's going to fuck Liem again, he realizes. He might fuck him in this bathtub, maybe without so much as pulling out. Even though they both had just climaxed, even though they should wish only to curl around each other and rest.

It's already been a few minutes and already he cannot think of anything else. ]

[Whatever reply Liem means to give to Cardan's reprimand is aborted for the moment, replaced with a soft gasp instead as Cardan rolls his hips up, into him. Pleasure shivers insistently through him, chased closely by a spike of lust that steals his breath. He had meant to tease a little — had wanted to see that heat and hunger reflected in his husband's face — but sensation that had been self-indulgent moments ago becomes dangerously seductive with Cardan as its instigator. He can't help but meet each roll of his husband's hips, shivering and greedy for the drag of him against his body, nor can he resist the urge to slide his tongue over Cardan's lip and then pull him closer to catch his mouth in a heated kiss.

Never mind that only minutes ago he was still reeling from climax, scarcely and to scrape together the will to move so much as a finger. Never mind that they've both been operating on barely any sleep for weeks, and dawn is already beginning to threaten the white-shrouded landscape outside. Now that he has capitulated to his want, he cannot imagine reining it in again.]

And yet, [he sighs against his husband's mouth, sliding the damp pad of his thumb over his cheek,] for my behaviour, I am rewarded.

[It is a reward fit to drive him to distraction, eager as his body is to respond to the press and slide of his husband moving against him, but he cannot help but want it. More than rest, more than dignity and self-restraint, he wants to let his husband tease him into desperation and fuck him again. Wanting Cardan has ever been unwise — and that has never made Liem any more able to resist wanting all of him regardless, no matter how much he might wish to limit himself or how much trouble his wanting brings him.]

[ It's unreasonable, he thinks, that kissing Liem feels so lovely -- particularly when his husband is being greedy and insistent about it -- when they have so little time for it on the regular.

Unreasonable and unfair altogether. ]

I am a fervent supporter of mischief.

[ Especially, he thinks but doesn't say, from terminally serious men with too many troubles on their daily ledgers. He grins his quick, bright grin and bestows a kiss onto Liem's eminently serious nose. ]

Even at my own expense.

[ His hands move, trailing over Liem's skin under the water. He wonders if the hard body under his touch is a result of martial training, though he has never seen Liem engage in such activity; then again, he has no idea what his husband does late in the afternoons when Cardan is still fast asleep. Sometimes he thinks he'd like to know, but dragging himself out of bed is difficult enough, and he's become a thoroughly nocturnal creature during his time in vampire lands.

It's easy to let his hands stray. He draws them up over Liem's chest and then back down the planes of his back, his hips, his legs. Cardan's hands run up the soft skin on the inside of Liem's thighs, splay over his hip bones -- fingers laying, feather-light, over the bruises he had left there. The bruises will be gone soon enough, he supposes, fading like a sigh in the wind. It's perpetually annoying that he cannot mark Liem the same way Liem marks him.

His fingers whisper over Liem's cock, the mere suggestion of a caress. ]

...I rather neglected to touch you. [ He was too busy losing his mind to remember, which is unlike him. Still, he doesn't sound rueful about it at all. The black gaze on Liem is instead coolly attentive. ] Though that certainly didn't stop you from coming.

[Liem cannot recall ever meeting anyone with a smile as lovely as Cardan's. Like his blood, it seems more vibrant, more intriguing, more full of promise than those of other men. Also like his blood, a taste of it only makes Liem want more. He would wonder if this was a faerie quality, but he already met no shortage of smiling Folk at their wedding; none of them had smiles as singular as his husband's.

Only Cardan's smile manages to make him feel breathless, when he has no need for breath to begin with.

Despite his fervour and his distraction, Liem's hands remain languid in their possessive wandering of his husband's face, his hair, his ears, his throat. A small smile curves the corners of his mouth, content past all shame, as he brushes his knuckles gently against Cardan's jaw. He exhales with keen-edged want as fingers whisper along his cock, but when he leans in again, the slide of his lips against Cardan's is itself barely more than a breath.]

I did tell you, [he murmurs.] I lose my patience when I drink. And… I may have tasted more of you than I really needed.

[It's just difficult to drink according to need when his husband tastes so intoxicating, and when he has such a pleasing reaction to having Liem's mouth at his throat.]

[ Another hitched breath accompanies Liem’s movement; for a moment, Cardan’s eyes flutter shut against that feather-light kiss, against the shift of Liem’s hips against his own. ]

As I lost mine. Or perhaps, more accurately, you took it from me.

[ Because it’s Liem’s fault, obviously, that Cardan wants him so keenly, all the time — mostly, Cardan imagines, because of how often Liem is unavailable. But surely even the most distant husband in the world could not provoke such longing if he didn’t feel like this or look like this, sharp-edged danger wrapped in softness. Not that he often sees Liem’s face look this gentle, even with Cardan’s blood still adorning his skin.

It prompts something tight to contract in his chest.

Long fingers wrap around Liem’s cock in earnest, setting about the task of teasing him back to hardness. Cardan himself is halfway there already, which seems like an achievement even for a man of his own rare talent.

He shivers again and then exhales, soft. ]

We do this too rarely. I shudder to think what depravity another wait like this will pull out of me.

[ It’s half joke and half promise, though the half-lidded gaze on Liem seems more considering than not. ]

[If Liem took Cardan's patience from him, he's not sure where he put it. He certainly didn't end up using it himself, at any point during his fevered pursuit of his husband's climax. He had been too busy drowning himself in him, and admittedly, although his reckless desperation has subsided, he is still every bit as loath to relinquish this rare moment of pleasure they've found for themselves. He covets Cardan's fond attention just as he covets his greed; either way, he is in no hurry to retreat to the embrace of sleep, regardless of how much they both might need it.

He just wants to stay like this, with him, for a while longer.

The stroke of Cardan's hand around his cock makes him sigh, and then squirm a little, deliberately, against his husband's hips. He slides a careful arm around Cardan's shoulders, avoiding the punctures bloodying one side, as he nibbles gently at his mouth.]

You'll make me curious with talk like that.

[It's not a strong argument for why Liem should be making more time for his husband, though the dearth of time he's had for personal desires of late has been the result of necessity rather than negligence. He'd be hard pressed to fit more in anywhere, unless they both gave up altogether on sleep — or unless Liem got over his aversion to fucking at parties.]

Then how will I ever concentrate on work?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject