sterngaze | open post

[ It’s not that Cardan shouldn’t expect this kind of treachery and mischief from Liem — it’s that it’s always a little delightful to be surprised by it. Anyone else would not get away with teasing him like this, even good-naturedly, and yet: his own expression remains evenly matched with Liem’s in the exquisite mildness of his regard.

Except for his eyes, which sparkle with cheerful malevolence. ]

Husband, [ he will drawl, drawing the word out like a promise, ] if I didn’t know better, I would accuse you of trying to provoke me.

[ Instead of distracting him, but— the less said about that, the better. Cardan smiles, languid, and reaches over to lay his hand over Liem’s, fingertips sneaking under his sleeve to slide over the bare skin of his wrist. ]

But since you have offered advice, let me hear it.

My spouse has grown so impertinent. How should I punish him?

[The ill will captured in Cardan's gaze, belying his mild expression, sends a thrill travelling all the way down Liem's spine. It's a delicate balance trying to attract his husband's menace without earning his ire. He only wants the one; after all, one of the benefits of providing Cardan the excuse to torment him is that it seems to put his husband in delightfully high spirits.

The other benefit is that Cardan is so wonderfully good at it.]

How troublesome for you, [he murmurs.] Well…

[He regards Cardan intently, thoughtful. He did promise his advice after all; he wouldn't wish to disappoint. The fingers against his wrist are a small but pleasing distraction — reminding Liem of just how little freedom they actually have to touch at present, by virtue of just how public their current circumstances are. They cannot very well get up to anything exciting in the midst of a crowded tavern.

… Or can they? As he considers, his gaze turns a little more coy.]

You intend for us to linger here a bit longer, yes? We have barely done more than sit down, after all.

It would be very frustrating for me if you were to make me desperate to take you home in the meantime.

[ Cardan smiles wider, and pulls Liem's hand fully within his grasp, so that he may lift it to his mouth. He presses his lips to the backs of his fingers, warm breath brushing against fine leather. ]

You mean you aren't already?

[ He's stalling a little. It's not a particularly simple task in a room with this many people. In a grand hall with immense tables and long tablecloths, they could have perhaps gotten away with some nonsense, but none of those things exist here -- and though there are shady corners aplenty, the table close to the fire is not in one of them. No one save the barmaid has approached them, but he is yet aware of the stares in their direction and the whispered, curious conversations. It's not particularly unlike being anywhere else, granted, only the quarters are closer than usual.

But he does have magic to ease his task.

He considers Liem, wreathed in amber light and delightfully unencumbered by business. As much as he enjoys watching his husband's noble profile bent over some logistical problem, this is how Cardan likes him best: when Liem's focus is solely his to command and enthrall.

Cardan grins, bright and sharp, and then -- very carefully -- presses teeth to the fine leather of Liem's glove. He wants to pull it off.

And though the tables beside them may sport some slight surprise, they seem a little dazed at it -- a bit slow on the uptake. Certainly, there are not nearly as many shocked gasps as there should have been. Maybe. Cardan doesn't know what the baseline level of debauchery for a place like this entails. Either way, his glamour persists -- making them interesting but challenging to focus on, like an acquaintance whose name you never remember. ]

[A laugh escapes him, soft and brief, as his husband looks at him from over his leather-clad fingers. Cardan does a good job of playing the handsome, charming prince, even when he most often uses his proximity to Liem to make him frustrated. He's done a terrible job of becoming resistant to his husband's mischief; if anything, it charms him more now than when they were first wed.

It's just that Cardan being a menace does nothing to make Liem any less compelled by the warm curves of his mouth or the impenetrable dark of his eyes. He wants them both on him, however his husband will grant them.]

Ah, Cardan. [A crooked smile flirts with his lips.] You've seen me desperate.

[The glass before him rests half-empty and forgotten on the table as he moves his hand just enough to better accommodate the tug of the glove from it. Liem can't help but glance over Cardan's shoulder, at the nearby table of bar patrons who had been watching them on and off since they arrived — but their interest seems to have waned at just the right time. In fact, though the bartender glances briefly their way, he can't see a single person maintaining the stares he'd felt on him before.

Which is good, because there is only one stare he cares to be the subject of just now.

Admittedly, his willingness to help his husband discipline him doesn't seem to imbue him with a particularly penitent air. When Cardan tugs the leather from his fingers, he uses the opportunity to cup his cheek with his bare palm, still cool despite their table's proximity to the hearth.]

[ In truth, Cardan has all but despaired in his ability to be anything but indulgent towards Liem -- no matter how hard he tries to be menacing, it's never quite landed in the way he's used to. Thankfully, Liem doesn't seem to have many complaints. And if he's entirely honest with himself, he would not want a spouse who was afraid of him the way Elfhame's flightier courtiers have been.

He likes the cadence of that startled laugh, besides.

Of course, Liem is right. Cardan has seen him desperate, and it's difficult not to picture it now -- the way Liem's longing lights up his face, how his breaths turn to gasps -- it only stokes his impatience, makes desire dance up his spine, which may not be a good thing in a game of endurance.

The glove lands on the table, immediately forgotten. He turns his face to press a languid kiss to the pale skin of Liem's wrist, lingering there, though no pulse greets the warm caress of his lips. From there, his mouth wanders upwards over Liem's palm. He'll kiss each elegant fingertip as he considers his quarry, turning an idea over in his head. ]

Finish your drink, [ he'll suggest, though it is not a request. ] And come sit closer to me.

[It is easier than Liem had imagined to tune out the surrounding hubbub — overlapping bubbles of conversation and the occasional flicker of movement from a curious glance their way — when Cardan’s lips are wandering over his skin. He is far too absorbed in the way his husband’s kiss lingers against his nonexistent pulse to waste his attention on trifles. For all that Cardan has not been shy about kissing him whenever they have the opportunity, even the most chaste touch of his lips manages to make his skin alive with longing.

He is also helplessly pleased, in a way that could become dangerous if left unchecked, to hear his husband give him instructions — and he doesn’t entirely understand why. He would have thought, as they became more familiar and the act ceased to humiliate him, that the thrill would become less also. And yet…

Liem blinks, flicks his gaze down to his forgotten drink glass as though surprised to see it still resting before him. He imagines one is not really meant to shoot down half a glass of whisky in one go, but human standards are not his, and he doesn’t hesitate to do so. Leaving both his glass and his glove abandoned on the table, he circles it to claim a seat next to his husband.]

Is this what you envisioned we would be doing, [he murmurs,] when you suggested we stop in and experience the local culture?

[ Cardan watches Liem drink, the corner of his mouth twitching up at the speed with which his husband takes care of his drink. He will lean close to listen to Liem's question, as if he needed the proximity to overcome the din of voices around them. He doesn't, but it doesn't matter; he only wanted the excuse to brace his hand on Liem's thigh, fingers splaying out in an indulgent caress. ]

In a way.

[ He doesn't pull back. Instead, his gaze finds someone just beyond his husband's shoulder -- a man with a curly copper beard looking glumly at the cards in his calloused hand.

Cardan reaches over and past Liem, his body pressing close as he leans more heavily on his husband. He waggles his fingers, voice luminous with magic. ]

You. Your game is finished. Give me the deck.

[ The man's eyes go unfocused, his smile a little dreamy. Obediently, he collects the cards from the table and places them into Cardan's proffered palm. Then the conversation at the nearby table resumes as if the game had never happened.

Now Cardan pulls back, releases Liem, quick fingers busying themselves with shuffling the cards. ]

Let us play a game. A simple wager: I will flip a card, and you will guess whether the next one will be higher or lower in rank.

[ Which should be fun for Liem, surely, given all the statistical probabilities he'll get to puzzle out. Cardan continues: ] If you guess correctly, you win. Otherwise, the round goes to me. The winner receives a forfeit of his choosing.

Naught that would extend beyond the realm of this tavern, naturally.

[ Naturally. Ordinarily, such a game would be weighted in Liem's favour, given his win relies on knowledge, while Cardan's is wholly dependent on luck. That would be fair and more than fair, which is why Cardan intends to cheat.

Already, the order of the first few cards in his shuffled deck is not what one would call fortuitous to an informed guess. ]

[It is a testament to Liem's patience that he doesn't become distracted immediately by the presence of fingers splaying over his thigh, or by Cardan's body leaning across his own. At his husband's request, he'd offered his advice on how best to punish him for his impudence — but he never promised that he would make it entirely easy for him. After all, the challenge is surely part of the fun. While his husband might not be fond of work, he does sometimes seem to want to do things the hard way.

Liem follows him with his eyes as he collects the cards from the next table and begins shuffling. His eyes fall naturally to the nimble movements of his husband's fingers, with their dancing jewels and their dancing cards. A smile curves lazily at the corners of his mouth.]

Naturally, [he agrees.] I accept the terms.

[So easily. Also easy: the way he drapes himself over his seat, one arm sneaking around his spouse while he has him close; the languid flicker of his eyelashes as he slides his gaze from Cardan's hands back to his face. Not at all the look of a man wary of impending discipline.

He expects Cardan to cheat, of course. He can tell that the slide of the cards around the deck is not entirely random, and he knows that wagering against a crooked dealer is a fool's game. But Cardan is not the only one guilty of indulging his husband.

And besides — he wants to play.]

[ Liem's gaze on his hands makes a little thrill pass through him, making his heart skip a beat; he doesn't take his husband for an unobservant man, and his watching Cardan shuffle is risky. But, surprisingly, Liem does not comment; he only agrees to Cardan's demands, and in a way that makes Cardan suspect he had set the stakes a little too low.

But then it makes sense that Liem doesn't haggle, given that Cardan is only giving him what he asked for. Judging by the uncommonly relaxed way he positions himself in the chair, Liem knows it too. Nonetheless, it is impossible not to be charmed by Liem's physical closeness, by the indulgence of the arm around Cardan; for all the public functions they attend as a married couple, there is rarely much chance for intimacy. He leans into it, companionable -- well, as companionable as a man can be while playing a trick on another.

So then: he will place the pack of cards onto the table and pull the first from the top, flipping it face up. It is the four of clubs.

He raises an eyebrow, glancing at Liem with expectation, fingers hovering over the deck. ]

[The way that Cardan leans into his half-embrace makes a smile tug at Liem's mouth as he watches him work the deck. It feels comfortable — even easy. As though every spare minute they manage to snatch for themselves isn't hard won. As though he holds his husband all the time, instead of just in the hours they share between the sheets of their bed. For all that he would never visit a place like this of his own accord, he feels more content now, at this stolen table, with these stolen cards, than he has for weeks in his own house.

It remains to be seen how long that contentment is going to last; his husband did profess a desire to punish him, after all. But he still cannot summon much apprehension for the prospect of "losing" at their little game. He is too beguiled by Cardan's warm weight against him, by that lovely profile that doesn't remotely belong in such a common, mundane tavern, and by the quick, clever motions of his elegant hands.]

Hmm, I see.

[The four of clubs; there are only eight cards below it in a 52-card deck — assuming aces are high — and there are 40 cards above it. It occurs to him, rather belatedly, that on the chance his husband should draw two of the same value in a row, the round will always be his — and also that he might accomplish this very easily and very often if he has good control of the deck.

Liem can only be glad that he has no real stake in actually winning.]

I will venture: higher.

[ Cardan says nothing, but his smile is a little too pleasant and the way he looks at Liem is a little too intent, like he's waiting on a trap to be sprung.

But when he turns over the next card, it reveals only a jack of spades. If Cardan is surprised by this, it doesn't show; indeed, neither his blood pressure nor his breathing will betray much of a reaction. He will glance at the card and shrug as his smile turns a touch self-deprecating.

Well, they cannot all be winners.

The same hand that flipped the card now brushes warm fingers over Liem's cheek, bringing them to a gentle curl under his chin. ]

The round is yours.

[ He's leaning close again. It's not entirely strategy -- there is something delightful about carving out this private space in this crowded room. It feels more poignant to have his husband all to himself here, where anyone could see or approach them. They won't, of course -- Cardan has made quite sure of it -- but that doesn't make any of it less exciting.

Cardan wants to kiss him, but a wager is a wager, and it would not do to get distracted too quickly. ]

What forfeit will you have of me?

[The sight of a jack is not too surprising. The odds were in Liem's favour, supposedly — and despite Cardan's mischievous fingers, he does not suspect his husband of playing so dirty that he'll never win a single round. It would become predictable after a while, he'd think, and defeat the purpose of the game.

But the self-effacing turn of Cardan's smile does look quite handsome on him, no matter how sincere it might actually be.

He is quite tempted to kiss him; almost irresistibly so, as warm fingers curl beneath his chin and his husband leans close enough for him to feel the soft brush of his breath. It would be trivially easy to relax against him and catch Cardan's mouth in his — though it might then be difficult to stop.

But he is nothing if not used to self-denial, and he simply tips his face just enough to brush his nose against his husband's.]

I want you… to tell me a fantasy you've had of me.

[ Cardan huffs out an amused breath at Liem's valiant resistance, but perhaps it's for the better. He doesn't imagine there is much in Liem's forfeits that wouldn't further his overall goal; as it turns out, he is correct.

Liem's prompt draws a small, thoughtful hum from him. He will pull back, at least enough to look at his husband. It takes him no time to think of the answer, but then he has a rich bank of fantasies to pick from. ]

Sometimes, when we're at a party and you're busy letting some dull viscount talk you up while I'm bored out of my mind-- Often, in that circumstance, I imagine slipping under the table, undoing your trousers, and putting my mouth on you. No one notices, though sometimes you have to explain my absence. And maintain your conversation, lest the dull viscount catches on.

[ His smile is placid, as if he's relaying a nice story about the weather. ]

I'm mean about it. I don't let you come; not at the event. Sometimes we fuck in the carriage on the way home and sometimes not at all.

[ Which is the most fantastical part of this story: even Cardan is neither spiteful nor patient enough to keep his hands off of Liem for such a long time. ]

[Cardan's amusement makes a smile threaten Liem's patient expression, but it's the fantasy he chooses that overcomes it — gradually, as he paints his lewd picture. Liem gazes contemplatively into his husband's dark eyes and imagines just that very scenario: having to occupy the attention of some over-important business associate, and explain away Cardan's absence while his husband amuses himself by making his job infinitely more difficult. Even if his conversational partner doesn't catch on, the risk of Liem slipping up and embarrassing himself remains threateningly likely.

Just the idea makes lust coil, demanding, in his belly. The expression curving his lips isn't quite smug, but it is pleased.]

I like this story.

[Even the added unkindness of his husband's denial after all his mischief, though that is surely not any kind of surprise by now. It is even similar to some fantasies that Liem has himself had, when he cannot stop his mind from wandering in Cardan's direction — but admittedly none ever entertained the possibility of his husband keeping his hands off of him during the ride home, even if only to torment him further.]

We could stand to make more efficient use of some of our carriage trips.

[On the way home, especially.]

But I will venture… higher, again.

[A bold guess; this time the odds don’t lie in his favour.]

[ Cardan reaches for the card without looking; his eyes are still on Liem, watching his face. His husband is reticent with his emotions -- Cardan has learned to be careful in his observation, to note a quirk of his mouth here and an unnecessary breath there.

That fails to explain why Liem's smile causes a touch of yearning to pulse through his chest. The desire to kiss him has not truly abated, either; Cardan is starting to remember that his close contact has ever been as much a danger to himself as to Liem. He has to distract himself from it by looking over at the table, though he already knows what he's going to see.

The card he's turned over is the king of hearts. Liem wins again. Cardan's eyebrows rise. ]

How usual for luck to forsake me.

Well, husband, what will it be?

[Liem’s brows rise slightly, a faint mirror of Cardan’s, when his husband reveals the third card. He regards it for a moment before sliding his gaze sidelong back to his spouse, his expression light.]

And how unusual, for me to find myself in its favour.

[Surely the odds of his bold guess being correct were quite small, but his strong start continues for a second round. It is rare for him to be blessed much by luck; the Talbotts’ patron is one who prefers to leave his faithful to their own devices. As such, he’s inclined to take his fortune where he can get it.

Which is to say that he does not intend to waste the forfeits his husband has so generously offered him — and he is in no hurry to do Cardan’s work for him when the forfeit is his to choose. Even if he desires his punishment just as sincerely as his husband does. Liem hums contentedly as he leans closer to brush cool lips against Cardan’s ear.]

Tell me something about myself that you find most alluring.

Mm. [ It is difficult to feel cross about it when Liem's breath caresses his ear, sending a welcome shiver down Cardan's spine. Automatically, his hand rests on his husband's waist, wishing to keep him there despite the tease of his touch. Cardan's eyes close.

He's fairly sure that, at the moment, he's the one being punished, though he cannot say he particularly minds.

He will tilt back his head and weigh the demand -- in particular, what the wording compels him into. There are many things about Liem he finds alluring, but when they are talking about those that are most so--

The smile that slices across his face is a little impatient. The hand at Liem's waist pulls away; a moment later, it will join its twin on either side of Liem's face, framing it between Cardan's palms. He remembers how strange it was for him -- that very first night, upon discovering no mirror in their rooms -- to realize that his husband had never truly seen what he looked like. And so... ]

Sometimes, when you are a little overwhelmed with pleasure, you get a look that's-- [ He pauses, as if considering; his thumb brushes over Liem's cheek with absent-minded affection. ] --soft. A little unguarded, like you've been caught by surprise.

It's almost unbearably attractive.

[ He remembers it most keenly from that first time in their bed, even drug- and pain-addled as he'd been. He remembers it because it had filled him with desperate hunger and strange tenderness at the same time, both overwhelming in their intensity. He remembers it because only a fool would forget such an expression.

That's probably not what Liem wanted him to say, but such is the problem with wishes: sometimes, they don't turn out as planned.

Cardan's smile grows a little crooked. Well, it's a little embarrassing for him, too. ]

...Does that answer satisfy you?

[The slide of the hand around Liem's waist sends a warm little shiver beneath his skin, cozied up to his husband as he is. The game provides a convenient opportunity for him to murmur into Cardan's ear, and the taste of liquor on his tongue is all the excuse he needs to wrap an arm around his husband to keep his body comfortably against him. For now, he resists the temptation to indulge any more — at least until his husband demands it. But he is well pleased by the chance to watch Cardan consider his answer from the intimacy of their casual embrace.

Pleasure is shot through with surprise, however, his eyes flicking abruptly alert, when warm hands slide over his jaw to frame his face. Not even the sharp, impatient little smile on his husband's face can distract him from the idle brush of the thumb caressing his cheek, or the devastatingly considered answer he ends up receiving. Stillness overcomes Liem as, for a moment, he struggles against the yearning ache that throbs in his chest: the want for his husband's tenderness. For even a scrap more of it, as long as it's Cardan's. It is all he can do not to let his breathless, animal longing show on his face, along with the sudden blush of rather un-vampire-like colour that blooms there.

It is so easy for Cardan to afflict him so. He should have known better than to make a demand like this.]

Well…

[He lifts his fingers to one of the hands on his face, curls them around it as his gaze slides away from Cardan's crooked smile, down to the cards on the table. A smile of his own twitches over his features, but despite his best efforts, he knows it's apparent that he's been rattled.]

It is what I wished for, after all, [he says, which is no kind of answer whatsoever.]

Show me the next card. We will see if luck continues to favour me, if I wager higher a third time.

[He is shooting for the ace.]

[ A very faerie answer; if Cardan weren't busy being smug, he would be impressed. He's not particularly given to chagrin, and it certainly cannot last in the face of the look Liem gives him nor his gently pinked cheeks. He presses his fingertips to it, feeling the incongruity of still-cool skin where one might have expected heat.

But it's no hardship. Cardan is warm enough for both of them.

Liem's demand has him huffing out an amused breath. He pulls his hand from his husband's face with a bit of reluctance -- but the game must go on, cards need to be flipped, and so on. He's not entirely sure whether Liem has caught wind of his con or if he's deliberately trying to lose-- but in either case, his guess is close. Only: the ace is the card after this one.

Instead, Cardan flips: ]

The king of clubs.

[ Satisfaction curls around his mouth, like that of a cat with a belly full of bird. ]

One king is peer to another. This round goes to me.

[ He wastes no time thinking about forfeits. He has known what he would ask for since he'd flipped the first card. Even as close as they are sitting, it is not quite enough; then again, when has anything ever been enough when it comes to this? Cardan will curl indulgent fingers around the silk of Liem's tie and tap his own thigh with his other hand. ]

Come here.

[ And when he does, Cardan intends to kiss him, slow and wanting, and not stop until he's had his fill.

That's not, strictly speaking, part of the forfeit, but surely kissing his husband needn't be something he must bargain for. ]

[Cardan is welcome to both his amusement and his satisfaction; after all, he had only given Liem exactly what he'd asked for. All Liem can do in the face of the smiling look he feels directed at him is to direct his attention to the cards instead, and resist the urge to lean his cheek into the warm press of his husband's hand.

If he is surprised at all by the second king or the implications it has for the rest of the game, he doesn't show it. His smile turns a touch satisfied, even, as though at the appearance of something expected, in danger of becoming overdue.]

Like attracts like, [he observes.

And when Cardan's fingers close around his tie, he responds obediently to his direction, abandoning his seat to slide onto his husband's lap. As ever, a warm little thrill climbs his spine as he settles his weight against him, lets Cardan draw him close so he can catch Liem's mouth in his.

He had intended to reward his husband only as much as his forfeits required, but thoughts of restraint flee his mind when Cardan's lips find his. Liem melts against him with a sigh, sliding his fingers into soft black hair to cradle him close. For a long moment, he forgets about trivialities like breathing, or the humans in the bar around them, or the cards still lying on the table. He is much too absorbed in the heated caress of his husband's mouth as he wraps himself hungrily about him.]

[ It's a good thing that illusion magic comes quite naturally to Cardan; even though he is immediately distracted by the neat fit of Liem's body against his, by the cool fingers in his hair -- even though want flares suddenly within him, much more intense than he'd accounted for -- the glamour never wavers. The conversations around them go on undisturbed; the barmaid makes cheerful rounds, avoiding their table.

Maybe that's why. Maybe it's the fact they are out in the open, surrounded by people, that adds to the heady thrill of Liem's mouth on his. Cardan's hands slide down Liem's back, wrapping around him in an odd burst of possessiveness. With all the games and secrets, with all the things unsaid, this has ever been the most honest thing in their marriage.

It's bad strategy to indulge in it like this, but Cardan cannot bring himself to care. For a long time, there is only Liem, and Liem's hunger, and his scent and his taste and his touch. When Cardan finally pulls away, he's breathless and intent, his voice a little rough with longing. ]

Your wager.

[ His hand slides from Liem's back to hover over the deck, but his gaze never strays from his husband's face. ]

[For Liem, who has no need to care about anything in the bar aside from his husband, the temptation of his kiss and his embrace and his beguiling forest scent, so out of place in their current surrounds, is enough to overwrite any other cares he might have had — at least for the moment. He kisses him until Cardan, for whom breath is a necessity rather than an indulgence, pulls away, and even then he considers going after him to paint kisses over his jaw while he's catching his breath.

He doesn't — barely. Liem regards his husband from his position tucked against him, his arms looped affectionately around Cardan's shoulders, bare fingers wandering over his nape. He is closer now to the desperation he'd suggested Cardan inflict upon him, if only because maintaining the patience for their game becomes substantially more difficult with his husband wrapped around him. But they can do better than just impatience.]

Higher, Cardan.

[Somehow, he manages to drag his eyes from his husband's face to glance expectantly back at the cards. If he is still going to attempt to win, and he does still want to, just barely, he should at least look at the deck.]

I would like to see an ace.

[ Cardan turns over the ace of spaces. This time, he doesn't even bother with the show of looking at it; instead, he will use the opportunity presented by Liem's glancing backwards to press his warm, hungry mouth to his husband's unguarded neck, trailing ardent kisses up to his magic-rounded ear. His lips move against the delicate shell of it when he speaks, a low rumble in his throat. ]

I am yours to command.

[ Though there is nothing submissive in his tone -- and why should there be? Liem may be issuing the terms of his forfeit, but he's still given himself over to Cardan's greedy hands and possessive embrace. He's still spending time here, in this grimy human tavern, and not bent over some mahogany desk, brokering deals of a different kind. Cardan does not intend to waste the opportunity.

It feels a little strange. Even with the constrained terms of the game, this is more trust than he'd normally offer anyone; it's more trust than he'd felt the last few times he'd offered Liem his obedience. But those offers have been borne out of spite, which is rather far from his mind now, distracted as he is by Liem's closeness. ]

Hmm…

[The mouth wandering up his neck pulls a hum from low in Liem’s throat, soft and eager, along with that little thrill that travels up his spine. The arm around Cardan’s shoulders squeezes him a little closer. Given the distraction that his husband seems keen to make of himself, Liem isn’t sure how much longer he’ll have the wherewithal to actually make any real effort in their little game.

Which is fine; he has been as successful over the past four turns as he could have dared to hope. Even if his luck ends here, he’s pleased enough that his assessment of his husband’s strategy has proven accurate, and he has proven himself not completely simple to fleece.

He turns from the cards again, unhurriedly, waiting another moment to pull back from the lips brushing his ear — and directs a look at Cardan that is just as playful as it is warm with affection.]

Let me have my way with your neck, husband.

[ Cardan's look at Liem is nonplussed, one black eyebrow twitching upwards even as his heart speeds with familiar anticipation. It's dangerous, this, and in more ways than usual, because there is the matter of his concentration. Unlike the other forfeits Liem had demanded of him, this is likely to be at least as distracting for him as for his husband. Cardan is already impatient; he has been impatient since he'd first kissed Liem, and every minute he spends with his husband wrapped around him eats at his composure even further.

But a forfeit is a forfeit.

He breathes in and then back out, slowly -- steeling his thoughts, weaving extra threads of glamour into the magic already in place around them. Another breath, steadying himself until he's confident that the touch of Liem's mouth won't tear right through his illusions. Then his eyes slide open to focus on Liem's face, half-lidded and imperious.

He tips his head backwards, deliberately, making an offer of his throat. ]

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