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I love me some gen threads, especially funny or drama-filled ones, but I am also shamelessly here for shipping AUs. The general Liem-shipping vibe is "I want more than this, but I shouldn't & they can't possibly want me back," so if you're into that, I've got what you need. His default setting is very D&D-like high fantasy, but I'm comfortable playing him in modern fantasy settings as well. Pretty much any prompt can also accommodate Liem being a full vampire instead of a dhampir, if that's your thing.

Prompts for inspiration:
• Arranged Marriage: Liem's shady vampire family has arranged his marriage to you, but he seems a rather reluctant fiance.
• Bodyguard Shipping: It's Liem's duty to keep you safe and out of trouble, possibly despite your best efforts.
• Companion to Royalty: Reclusive vampire king Liem and YOU! Are you a gift from a local power? Sacrifice from the townsfolk? Or did you just stumble up the road to his castle during a storm?
• Enemies to Lovers: Maybe Liem is a foreign agent trying to sabotage your country or organization. Or maybe you're rebelling against the current regime and he's trying to take you in.
• Fake Dating/Fake Married: A relationship is your cover story while you're travelling for some secret reason. Gotta keep up appearances.
• Hunter & Hunted: Are you a hunter trying to track Liem down? Or a snack that proved more than he bargained for?
• Hurt (Comfort Optional): Whether he's hurt, sick, drugged, or just upset, two things remain constant: Liem needs help, and he doesn't want to accept it. But maybe you don't want to fix him anyway; maybe you want to make him worse.
• Living a Lie: Whether you're undercover on a mission, or you lied to cover something up and now you have to commit, you're stuck playing a role until you accomplish some secret objective — or until you can shake off your nosy company.
• Loss of Control: For whatever reason, one of you is struggling not to go berserk — or perhaps has already failed. If it's Liem, can you help him come back to himself, or are you the one pushing him over the edge?
• Out of the Frying Pan: The classic "tried to help someone in trouble, ended up with a new and possibly worse problem" situation. But at least you're in it together!
• Priest/Celibacy: Default here is that Liem is the priest, but it could go the other way. Smutty, or just laden with UST? You decide.
• Texting: Stupid TFLN-style text threads, my beloved...
• Random Scenario: For if none of the above tickle your fancy.

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[ His gaze follows the descent of that elegant hand, watches as Liem wraps fingers around his cock-- feels that groan pulse through his own, white-hot. Even if he had wanted to, he could not hold back, and he doesn't want to: each of his heavy, deliberate thrusts feels like a revelation, a rush of pleasure so heady he can barely think through it.

His forehead presses against Liem's, his temples damp with sweat, breath rushing out of him. ]

I have waited-- for so long... to get you like this--

[ Too long. So long that all that everything that threatens to leave his mouth is affectionate nonsense. Instead of saying any of it, he catches Liem's mouth in his. Need thrums heavy in his veins; his back burns with the scratches Liem left earlier, with the sharp bite of his nails, and he loves that too -- loves every mark his husband has ever left on him, especially after how reticent Liem has been to do so. Cardan wishes he could preserve them like trophies, for all that they will fade within a few days.

But even those thoughts are fleeting. Everything is swallowed up by pleasure, by how incredible Liem feels, impossibly tight and pliant and perfect in his arms. Cardan wants to hold him there -- with his hands and his feverish, hard kisses -- even as his desire builds desperately, higher and higher until it threatens to spill altogether. ]

[Liem doesn't have enough hands for this. He doesn't have enough hands to hold himself up properly and keep touching himself and touch his husband the way he wants to. He wants to pull that pale, handsome face closer and keep it there, at the mercy of his kisses; he wants to bury his fingers in that lovely dark hair; he wants to feel Cardan's frantic heartbeat beneath his palm instead of just drumming in his ears.

Instead, all he can manage is to hold on to his husband and tease himself senseless as Cardan moves against him.

The press of Cardan's damp forehead against his makes longing coil tight around his chest. He feels like a mess, his breathing erratic and his hips restless in his husband's grip, clinging to the last vestiges of his control with just his fingertips. As Liem offers himself up eagerly to the assault of Cardan's kisses, he can't think for the life of him why they both had to wait this long. Now that his husband has him like this, caught by his greedy mouth and his heated, insistent touch, Liem doesn't want the moment to ever end.

Even when the pleasure filling him up threatens to split him at the seams, and he has to muffle his helpless want against Cardan's mouth. He clutches desperately at his husband, pulling him close and keeping him there, right there—

And he spills over his own hand as he is fucked relentlessly over the edge of his peak.]

[ Liem has ever been a quiet lover — but then, Cardan’s husband tends to keep his feelings close to his chest regardless of how intimate the setting. In this reticence, they are more alike than most anything else. It makes it that much more gratifying when he gets Liem to drop his self-imposed silence, when Cardan knows it’s his own touch that’s responsible for the desperate noises muffled against his mouth. He swallows them like rare treasures, a dragon with a hoard of every moment in which he’s managed to ruin Liem’s perfectly poised restraint. There are not enough of them; there never will be, not if Cardan’s hunger for him stays this fervent.

He doesn’t want to let the moment go. Even when Liem clutches him close — even when he tightens around Cardan, even when his husband’s orgasm overtakes him — Cardan doesn’t let go. He holds on, wills himself off the edge by millimetres, willing to go just a moment longer, just a breath’s more of this blinding, overwhelming need. He doesn’t want to stop. He wishes to be forever caught like this, with Liem in his arms and the world at bay, inconsequential beyond the slide of their bodies.

That, and he is not entirely sure he will stay upright.

But it is inevitable. He grits his teeth and buries his face against Liem’s hair, his eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation, but he cannot hold back— it floods his senses, overwhelming and unrelenting, impossibly more with each forceful, desperate thrust, until he’s swept away in it, Liem’s name a desperate whisper on his lips.

As it turns out, his legs don’t give out after all.

He does not, however, move; for several moments after, Cardan can only shiver, still buried inside his husband, his senses full of Liem’s scent and his touch. His thoughts are blissfully empty of every worldly concern. ]

[Maybe it's the effects of Cardan's blood, or maybe it's the juvenile infatuation with him that Liem has been nursing, but a strange thrill races through him as his husband claws at the very edge of orgasm, and he feels something in his chest tighten at the hushed sound of his name on Cardan's lips. It feels like triumph, every single time, like he's won something precious that he had no right to expect. The feeling has him clasping his husband close, sliding his free arm around him without a care for the mess he's once again made of both of them, wrapping around him like the wings of a sleeping bat.

He can hardly do anything else, hiked up against the wall as he currently is.

If holding himself up were not such an active and necessary activity, he might actually doze like this, cozied around his husband, tangled up in his warmth and his scent, with Cardan still buried inside him. He's tempted to — but he can't properly relax without worrying that he'll just slide right down the wall. Regrettably, he has to stay reasonably attentive, and so he uses his time to tip his head up and nuzzle a kiss against Cardan's jaw.

It seems the best use of his mouth at the present moment.]

[ He will, eventually, become aware of Liem's hair tickling his nose, of his cool mouth on Cardan's jaw, and then -- in quick succession -- of his own arms growing tired. His tail moves again, tapping lazily against his thigh. His thoughts feel sluggish, like ants drowned in honey. Cardan wants nothing quite so much as to wrap around his husband and rest in--

Ah. They must still make it to bed.

Well, he is nothing if not stubborn. Though he will, this time, pull out -- inhaling sharply even at that slide of sensation and ignoring the absolute mess they've made between them. He considers slinging his husband over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but at this point, that might be too complex a maneuver for either of them.

So instead, he will make one last effort, wrapping one of his arms around Liem to cradle him close as he pulls away from the wall. From there, time is of the essence. Cardan crosses the distance to the bed the same way he has completed every other post-debauchery journey: one step at a time, swaying only a little bit. He will not be particularly graceful about how he dumps Liem onto the sheets, nor his own collapse in an exhausted, sweaty heap beside him.

The covers are underneath them, which seems like a crucial design flaw. ]

I don't suppose your house can [ he means to gesture vaguely to the predicament, but only manages a dismissive little wave of his fingers ] do something about this.

[Liem murmurs, soft and sudden, against Cardan's skin when he finally slides free of him. The amount of contentment he feels just now, clinging to his husband while he attempts to maneuver them both back to their bed, makes his eyelids feel heavy even as it coaxes a stubborn flutter of pleasure beneath his skin. His affectionate embrace around his husband is such that Cardan probably couldn't pry him free to wrangle him over his shoulder even if he tried.

It isn't until they reach the side of the bed that Liem reluctantly releases his hold and allows himself to be deposited gracelessly atop the covers. He lies sprawled there for a moment, feeling like he's being slowly absorbed into the bed itself, before Cardan's complaint makes a small smile twitch lazily over his features.]

House, [he says, rather more clearly than the sleepy murmur he should rightly be using.] Will you tuck us in?

[Silence stretches the length of a long breath. In the low-burning hearth, a sudden draught coughs an explosion of sparks against the decorative screen.]

Everyone's a critic, [Liem mumbles, and levers himself upright with a faint sigh.

Tugging the covers out from beneath the both of them is an inconvenient process, which he enlivens slightly by sliding an arm beneath Cardan's hips to free the blankets from his weight. He isn't shy about using his efforts as a convenient excuse to wrap around his husband again as he pulls the covers over them both.]

[ Cardan raises an eyebrow at the house's show of -- what? Protest? He's not entirely sure, having never successfully received a reply from it himself, much to his dismay. The reminder that it's always listening is a little annoying in that regard.

But he can't remain irritated about anything for long. He'll only sigh when Liem moves to rearrange them underneath the covers, cooperating to the minimum amount possible -- although he immediately assists in Liem's efforts to press close to him instead. His hand finds its way to the back of his husband's neck, rifling through the short hair at his nape; the other settles at his hip.

It's comfortable. Even with Liem's skin cooling against his own -- making the blankets rather a necessity -- Cardan is hard-pressed to think of a time where he's felt more thoroughly lulled into a sense of cozy satisfaction, at least as of late. More and more, their rooms have become a refuge, their bed -- the only place where he gets Liem all to himself.

He wishes he woke up by himself less often, but their sleep schedules have never lined up like that, especially of late. ]

Are you satisfied with what your mischief has begotten you, husband?

[ Liem's mischief, because Cardan is, of course, studiously ignoring his own. ]

[Liem lets out a quiet breath of satisfaction as he settles against his husband, his hands sliding against Cardan's chest and over the abused skin of his back. Pleasure still hums beneath his skin where they touch, and his senses are still distractingly full of his husband, and he is tempted to decorate Cardan's collarbones with kisses now that he is not occupied with other things, but the frantic desire that had gripped him earlier has finally subsided to a lazy, indulgent murmur.

Tomorrow, as every night, he will be hard pressed to relinquish his husband from his embrace in order to ready himself for work. But for now, he allows himself to cherish the warmth of Cardan's body against his and the idle caress of his fingers in his hair.

It is enough, for now. It's enough because any more would be a luxury he can't afford.]

Very, [he lies, and presses his lips against Cardan's chest.

Yes, it would be an impossible luxury to wish for more than this.

***

The next few weeks pass even more swiftly once they add preparations for a trip to Elfhame to their list of priorities. The winter solstice bears quickly down on them as Liem plays student to Cardan's role of teacher, updates his wardrobe, and makes arrangements for the time that he'll be away. He is kept impossibly busy, which may be why he doesn't think to question the way his husband seems to wilt under the added pressure. It is a gruelling schedule to keep to, even for him; if his spouse seems tired, it is only reasonable.

Winter has come by the time he heads into town to conduct some last-minute business before they must prepare to leave. He intends to sleep at the townhouse instead of rushing back to the manor, and he plans to sneak in a real estate tour in between legitimate business visits, so he insists that Cardan come along for the trip.

Besides, he has not yet introduced his husband to the city.

And if their business is not remotely scheduled to take them the entire long, winter night, who could blame him for wishing to spend some time freely enjoying his husband's company? He surely hasn't arranged things this way just to give Cardan a break, just as he surely hasn't planned their route to take them through the most sleepless district of town on the way back to the house. He simply goes about the night's business with the same brisk efficiency as always — which just happens to result in half a night's freedom beckoning them as Liem escorts his spouse down the narrow, tavern-lit road winding back towards the edge of town.]

[ Cardan has never dealt with this much cold for this long, and it is starting to wear on him a little. The house, at least, is well-insulated, thanks to the dearth of windowed rooms — even so, he finds it more and more difficult to drag himself from the warmth of his covers in the evening, and increasingly easier to lose an hour or two to napping on Liem’s office couch.

Tonight he doesn’t have that luxury; his husband insists he leave the house with him, and despite the weather and the film of exhaustion over the past few weeks, Cardan is hard-pressed to protest. He’s never been to a mortal town before. He’s never been to any town before. And for all that he wonders if they may not get sick of each other’s constant company soon, the thought of crawling into a cold bed at the end of the night is intensely off-putting.

He’s fully awake by the time they walk down the tavern street — more than fully, actually, given the four or so cups of espresso buzzing under this skin. The chill in the air helps, too, and he eyes the lit-up buildings with their strange, messy smells and cacophonous noises with a predatory gleam in his eye.

It’s one of the louder establishment that he will stop in front of, reaching for Liem’s arm to prompt him to do the same. ]

Husband.

[ Something like excitement curls around the word. Cardan smells abominably cheap beer on the crisp breeze and feels an odd yearning go through him. ]

I wish to visit.

[ He’s not asking if they can. Not quite. ]

[Liem, who has visited the nearby town plenty of times before, finds his enjoyment in watching his husband as they make their way down the darkened cobblestone street. Although his tail is not presently out and about, Cardan's intent interest in the sounds and smells filtering out from the establishments they pass is apparent in the set of his head and the gleam in his eyes. It is good to see him looking more alert, even if it may have been the copious amounts of caffeine that got him there.

Liem stops when Cardan does, following the direction of his gaze to a bar that looks and smells like it caters to a crowd more interested in cheap drinks and entertainment than in atmosphere. It couldn't be more different from the elegant halls in which they tend to spend their nights.]

We are going to stand out like cats at a mouse convention.

[He cannot imagine that everyone within won't immediately take notice of their entry; they are conspicuously well-dressed, and even more conspicuously inhuman. Creatures such as they do not often mingle with the lower echelons of humanity.

Liem raises an eyebrow.]

The people might feel they're liable to be hunted.

[ Liem has a point. Cardan has never really had to worry about frightening humans before -- the ones he has met have been primed to the supernatural in one way or another. He supposes neither of them looks particularly trustworthy like this. ]

...I can fix that.

[ He'll purr it just before leaning in to press his mouth to his chilly husband's, gloved fingers slipping into Liem's hair. Magic shimmers subtly in the air between them, and when Cardan straightens out, he does not quite look like himself: the tips of his ears are rounded, and his black curls have lost some of their lustre.

The same magic cloaks Liem, softening his ears and warming his skin tone from ashen to simply pale. The illusion is unlikely to fool either vampire or fey, but to ordinary humans, they should look like... well, perhaps not ordinary, given they are still devastatingly handsome. And maybe not quite fully human, given Liem's eyes. Cardan doesn't care to picture his husband with different eyeballs; mortals will just feel an inexplicable need to avoid his gaze.

Nonetheless, he grins, clearly pleased with himself. ]

Better?

[ They are still overdressed, though surely that's much less of an issue. ]

I could make it so they don't notice us, but where is the lark in that?

[ Incidental to the four or five cups of coffee in his system, he is a little too restless to be satisfied with observing. ]

[The fact that Liem doesn't see what Cardan kissing him has to do with their present conspicuousness doesn't dissuade him at all when he feels gloved fingers slide into his hair. He is very happy to use his husband to warm his lips some, particularly with that hint of mischief playing handsomely around his features. But then, he cannot remember a time when he has ever objected to being kissed by his husband, regardless of the circumstance.

He is in no particular hurry to pull back and regard Cardan's handiwork.

When he does, he is only slightly surprised to see his husband with rounded human ears and a more plausible level of lustre in his hair. It does not make him look convincingly human, at least in Liem's opinion — but for drunk humans in a poorly lit bar, it will probably be sufficient. He assumes something similar has been done to his own visage, which will make the both of them look, if not inconspicuous, then at least tolerably non-threatening.]

You still look implausibly handsome.

[The way Liem says it, it isn't meant to be a criticism. Briefly, he takes his husband's gloved hand in his own so he can escort him into the establishment.

It is a quaint novelty for him to need to pull open the door himself.

The bar's interior is just as crowded with drinking, chattering humans as the street noise had suggested, and dim enough almost to remind him of home — though the close, unpretentious atmosphere couldn't be more different. Liem immediately spots a number of people who might be tempting possibilities if he'd come here hunting for take-out, but fortunately for them, he's not here in search of a snack.

No, he's just here to — to visit, to indulge his husband, and to perhaps see what humans get up to while seeking enjoyment among their own kind.]

[ There is a thrill to stepping across that threshold. For all that he has had ample opportunity, Cardan has never explored a human settlement, had never been an intruder in their realm. It's a little exciting, but more than that -- it's the busyness of it, the chatter of overlapping voices, the messiness of ale-soaked tables. It's categorically unlike the sedate, elegant dinners he's been attending for the past few months. Though the music is far less enchanting and everyone stinks of mortality, this is far more like the kind of revels he's used to at home.

Like Liem, Cardan is surveying the room -- but instead of potential veins to sup on, he's looking for a place to sit, of which there are precious few. Well, all the better; he smiles dazzlingly at a barmaid passing by and wraps an arm around Liem's waist to pull him briefly close. This time, when he leans in, it is to murmur a warning: ]

Avoid touching iron; it will dispel my enchantment.

[ And with that, he will stride towards a little table close to the roaring fireplace. The fact it's already occupied is but a minor inconvenience; he simply suggests to the very drunk occupants, his voice sweet with glamour, that they are out of money and should be heading home to their wives. At least one of the patrons looks confused -- muttering that he doesn't have a wife -- but even so, he files out alongside the rest.

Cardan slides into his abandoned seat, radiating smugness. ]

[It is always a little amusing for Liem to see Cardan turn his arsenal of devastating smiles on other people, instead of being the target of them. He's watching the barmaid's somewhat flustered retreat when his husband pulls him close to murmur his warning — which does make him blink very briefly — and he decides that despite the stink of cheap drink and the overall lack of polish to be found in their surroundings, this human bar does possess a certain quaint charm of its own.

Or perhaps it is simply Cardan who brings charm with him wherever he goes.

He takes no prisoners with the patrons seated nearest to the fire, either. Liem waits for the last of the men to file past before he moves to undo his coat, still taking his own attentive stock of the taproom. (Somehow every single member of the bar staff manages to avoid his gaze, which he thinks is a little rude.) When he finishes with his coat, he almost follows by pulling his gloves from his hands as well — but he thinks better of it, simply shrugging free of his coat and draping it over the back of his chair as he folds himself into it.]

I can't recall the last time I visited an establishment like this.

[It has been rare for him to grace businesses that are marketed towards the common man, especially in recent years. Such visits aren't exactly seemly for one in his position.]

Are you pleased by your choice?

[ It's interesting watching his husband's deliberate care in navigating through a space like this. Liem wasn't wrong in assuming they would stand out -- no one else here is adorned in gold jewelry and calfskin gloves. Still, for all his foreignness, Cardan's sprawl over his chair is easy, worn-in. The lack of light fails to hide the smoked-on grime and grease of the space from fey eyesight, and some part of him delights in draping the immaculate lace of his shirt cuffs over a sticky tabletop. Maybe it's just that it feels a little obscene.

Besides, Cardan has taken supper in far worse places than this.

His look on Liem is evaluating. ]

It doesn't suit you, [ he'll say, which is not an answer. He flags down the same barmaid whose eye he'd caught earlier. The choice of refreshments is disappointing, but he'll order anyway; if nothing else, he wishes for the familiar weight of a drink in his hand.

Once that is done, his gaze returns to his husband. ]

Have you been in an establishment like this before?

[ He has a hard time picturing it. Without an untamed Faerie husband to drag him into trouble, what would have possibly compelled Liem to mix with his lessers so visibly? ]

Edited 2023-03-18 04:07 (UTC)

[Liem cannot disagree with his husband's observation. This is not the kind of place in which he usually spends any of his time, and his manner even as he joins Cardan at the table remains poised, alert; not because of the human company or the cheap surrounds, particularly, but nonetheless, he does not drop his cares at the door. Now, perhaps more than in other circumstances, the habit might seem especially out of place.

He watches Cardan place his order with the barmaid; places an order of his own as well, and this time it occurs to him to wonder if his husband did something peculiar to his eyes, for how studiously the woman avoids meeting them. Aside from her reluctance to meet his gaze, she seems as cheerful as he might expect from any waitress. More, even, for the benefit of her handsome company.]

Not exactly like this, [he says, once the barmaid has scurried off with her orders.] And not since I was younger.

[There had been the odd visit to bars in town when he'd been a youth — mainly to flex his meagre independence in a way his father wouldn't sanction. But he had lost the taste for that sort of thing some time ago. It seemed pointless: the empty posturing of a trapped creature wishing to feel the illusion of freedom.]

What magic did you put on my eyes?

[ He supposes he shouldn't be surprised Liem has noticed the barmaid's studious avoidance; perhaps he should have enchanted his own eyes, as well, and played it off as the peasantry's reaction to someone above their station. But that level of deception seems unnecessary, even if it would have been a little funny.

He waves a dismissive hand. ]

You would have looked bizarre with them changed. [ Uncomfortable, even. Cardan is too used to their piercing quality; glamouring the blacks of Liem's eyes would have made it feel too much like he was looking at a stranger.

He watches them now, his smile unapologetic. ]

They feel compelled not to look.

[ Unlike Liem, Cardan will strip off his gloves. There is not so much iron in their environs that he needs to worry, and besides -- his hands are chilled, and he would like to feel the warmth of the fire on them more intimately.

He clasps them, leaning forward to rest his chin on the weave of his fingers.]

Tell me more about your youthful adventures, husband.

[ He has difficulty imagining Liem as a youth. He would certainly not expect his husband to have ever engaged in the kind of wild nonsense Cardan got up to in his teenage years, but surely-- ]

I can't imagine you spent all your adolescence with your nose in books and papers.

[Liem raises an eyebrow just slightly as his husband waves one gloved hand. He had not considered how unusual he might look with differently coloured eyes; after all, he has only ever seen his in paintings, and infrequently at that. But he thinks of his father, tries to imagine his luminous golden eyes surrounded by white, and has to suppress a frown. Perhaps it would be strange. Even if it might ordinarily present a bit of an inconvenience for the humans present to refuse to meet his gaze, he has to agree that in this instance it's probably for the best.]

No, of course not. [His gloved hands rest on the table, one thumb running idly over the back of a knuckle. With the world's most sober expression, he says,] I had hands-on lessons, too.

[Where else had he learned to dance so precisely, or fight with such brutal efficiency? He had attended his physical lessons just as diligently as those in history or mathematics. But no — of course that is not what Cardan is asking after.

And yet, what is he to tell him? Truthfully, there was very little time during his youth that he did not spend attached to one tutor or another, especially after he became his father's sole heir. He spent little of his adolescence having anything that he expects a prince of Faerie would consider an adventure.

But perhaps it is enough that he did, sometimes, escape his father's watchful eye for a few hours on his own.]

I used to spend much more time in the forest than I do now. Some of it was more structured, of course — for hunting, and for holy nights — but I used to slip off by myself sometimes to see if I could find the wolves.

[It was easiest when they were singing, of course. He'd often had to trek back home disappointed after tramping for hours through empty woodland — but it was good to have something to look for, even if he didn't always find it.

The barmaid returns with their drinks; in lieu of any palatable-sounding wine, Liem has ordered a stout glass of whiskey that assaults his nose with the sharp smell of hard liquor. He wraps his fingers idly around it, pleased by the solidity of the shape in his hands.]

I got to be quite good at it. Though more than once I stayed out too late and had to lair in the woods until nightfall.

[ Liem's jest earns him an annoyed scowl. Cardan is about to open his mouth to clarify (snidely) that the details he's interested in are of the salacious variety, but Liem continues speaking, and he finds himself momentarily mollified. Granted, "spending time in the forest" isn't exactly the height of debauchery, but he would be dishonest to pretend he expected much different.

In truth, he is still surprised by the difference between the man he knows during work hours and the one whose bed he occupies daily. That this same precise, analytical husband willingly subjects himself to Cardan's nonsense is a miracle in and of itself. It makes Cardan want to push him just a little further each time, just to see how far Liem might indulge him and his intemperate desires for Liem's body and his time.

Which, he supposes, is how they ended up here.

His eyebrows rise as Liem continues his tale. He's aware there are wolves and vaguely cognizant that the wolves are special, but he's never particularly inquired beyond that. There just hasn't been time, and it's not like he'd ever seen them in the flesh -- having barely ventured into the wood, let alone by himself. ]

How scandalous of you. [ Missing evening lessons? Shocking. ] Your tutors must have been aghast.

[ Anyway, ]

What did you do with the wolves once you found them?

[When Liem samples the drink he's ordered, he is pleasantly surprised to find that it is marginally less offensive to his tongue than it is to his nose. There's no getting around the cheap quality of the liquor, of course, but then he supposes that's part of the charm of a place like this. There are any number of high end bars he might have taken his husband to instead, had that been their inclination — but instead, they are here. And since they are here, Liem contents himself with his mediocre whiskey.

His response to Cardan's assertion is a light shrug.]

I'm sure they had all been subjected to worse. My father was usually the one to kick up a fuss, more than my tutors; I was a good student.

[He'd always been attentive and diligent, so although his efforts rarely satisfied Iago, Liem's instructors tended to like him. As Cardan probably suspects, he'd been one of those boys.]

In any case — it depended on what they were doing when I found them. But likely what you'd expect.

[He says it like every over-achieving adolescent seeks escape from their unhappy family life by running around the forest looking for wolves.

Though he doesn't intend to mention that often, he used the estate wolves for their furry ears, which he used to pour his troubles into. They were ideal listeners: present enough to grasp the gist of his problems, but not clever enough to recall them with any accuracy or detail. And some of the more even-tempered ones could be persuaded to snuggle while he talked.

But that's not any kind of adventure, is it?]

Sometimes they were hunting, and I would just follow them. Or, if I caught them at the right time, we would wrestle. The younger ones especially tend to be quite playful.

[ As part of his effort to partake in local culture, Cardan has ordered a pitcher of beer. It tastes disgusting, of course, and there is absolutely no chance he will get any buzz off of it, but the taste of alcohol is at least comfortingly familiar. Though, having caught a whiff of Liem's drink, he considers that his husband may have made the wiser choice.

When he wrinkles his nose, it's both at the beer and the assertion of Liem's studiousness. ]

Of course you were, [ he mutters automatically. That much was evident from the moment Liem delivered his wedding vows.

Cardan isn't sure he had any expectations of what sort of activity might follow "looking for (and finding) wolves in the forest." Some light mauling? Certainly, the things Liem lists would not have been among his guesses. His eyebrows rise further as he listens; the idea of Liem following a hunting wolf pack is both intriguing and a little funny to imagine. Would he have just jogged along? Did the wolves get mad if he made too much noise? Though it does explain a little about the alert way his husband moves through a wood.

The wrestling just sounds cute. ]

Did you ever take anyone with you?

[ Well, he's curious. He'd figured out relatively quickly that Liem's social circle is nonexistent, and he's all but been told why, but a part of him wonders. If he has, Cardan is a little jealous of this person he probably doesn't even know.

Especially since he doubts his own ability to keep up with a hunting pack, though he's certain he'd be more silent at it than anyone else Liem has known. ]

[Liem smiles a little at the disgust on his husband's face when he speaks of his study habits. Just as Cardan hadn't had any trouble guessing that he would have been a diligent study, Liem is certain that Cardan must regularly have made his teachers vexed with him, even if he did manage to absorb what they were teaching.

He suspects that had he and Cardan been introduced ten years ago, they would not have gotten along. For that matter, he's not entirely sure how they get along with the frequency that they manage now. Momentum probably has a lot to do with it. A lot of the time, they're simply too busy to spend the energy on anything else.

But they're not busy now, and they seem to be doing all right.]

Into the forest? Sometimes.

[Liem keeps his fingers cupped close around his glass, sipping at it with the same measured diligence with which he approaches anything else that he intends to see through to the end. Perhaps by the time he reaches the bottom of the glass, he will have become accustomed to the flavour.]

Not especially often. My peers tended to want to visit town instead. [He quirks an eyebrow across the table at his husband.] There's not much to drink in the woods — not unless you're particularly taken with game.

[And some were — but most found hunting in the city to be far more engaging. Deer aren't especially good conversation.]

But not to find the wolves.

[ It takes Cardan a moment to realize that when Liem says drink, he doesn't mean the kind in his hands. One would think that with all the bloodthirst that surrounds Cardan, he'd have grown long accustomed to it, and yet-- it remains a little discomfiting, which is probably why the brush of Liem's fangs against his throat keeps its thrill time after time.

That, and he can only imagine the kinds of things he would have gotten up to in his teenage years, had he a taste for blood to go with his anger. It's a little alarming, though he doesn't consider most vampires his peers in their capacity for menace. No, Cardan imagines he would have been far worse than Liem's friends.

The beer's taste is little improved by sipping. Cardan frowns at his glass, then sighs, tips his head back, and downs the whole thing at once. Predictably, it does nothing for either his state of sobriety or his suddenly jealous mood.

Maybe asking Liem about who else has seen his forest was a bad idea.

He'll put his glass back down, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and lean back, considering his husband. For several moments, he says nothing, and when he does speak, it's softer than before. ]

What is it like for you? Wanting blood.

[ His gaze flicks to Liem's mouth, even though his fangs have been glamoured away. He lets himself stare at it anyway, his gaze half-lidded in the comfortable dimness of the tavern. ]

[In the silence that follows his answer to Cardan's question, Liem wonders if he has said something his husband didn't want to hear. Perhaps he would have preferred a story about the times he actually had ventured into town for drinks with a friend. Or perhaps that is exactly what he didn't want to hear at all, and Cardan's jealousy of Liem's drinking habits extends all the way back into the years before they ever met.

Though it seems preposterous to seriously entertain that notion. After all, surely Cardan cannot be so possessive of a man he married simply as part of a treaty, no matter how easily his jealousy is roused.

Liem does not know quite what to say in answer to his question, either. The only reply that comes to mind seems too obvious; surely Cardan must be expecting something aside from "it feels like need," but what else is there?]

What is it like to want for air?

[Maybe it is the same — a discomfort that builds to a need that threatens to become panic. Though the process is longer for blood-thirst, he has neglected his for long enough at times to know that it can make a person overwhelmed to utter distraction — and he's heard enough tales to know that beyond even that lies a wildness beyond the ability to reason.]

It is a want like any other, I imagine. Easy to ignore in some circumstances, and impossible in others.

[He considers for a long moment, taking a deep, pensive sip from his glass.]

But drinking is an indulgence as well as a necessity, so perhaps it is more like sex, if you could wither away from a lack of that. [His regard of Cardan is intent.] The want is just as bone-deep, just as compelling. Having a little will make one want more; having a lot will also make one want more, for different reasons.

[ Cardan doesn't think it sounds particularly like sex or breathing. It sounds like nothing so much as the need to drown himself in a bottle, itching under his skin whenever things go awry. Though at least, he supposes, he won't die without wine to soak up his sorrows -- not in any technical sense, anyway.

He will return Liem's intent gaze with his own; suddenly, the clamour and liveliness of the tavern seem secondary to those piercing eyes. He's not entirely sure that he wants to decipher Liem's meaning. Specifically, it is hard to tell whether his husband is coming on to him, or just implying that Cardan is withering.

...He has admittedly felt a little more wretched than usual as of late-- but then, he has never worked so hard in his entire life, not to mention any hour spent with Gusairne feels twice as long. Surely even Liem has to acknowledge as much.

It's not for lack of sex. It is, perhaps, for lack of sleep, given that the former is replacing good portions of the latter in his life, but some sacrifices are necessary.

He raises one black brow. ]

Are you accusing me of being sexually intemperate?

[ The smile he flashes Liem is a little delighted by the prospect. ]

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