sterngaze | open post

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. ]

[Liem doesn't rush his husband in the fulfillment of his forfeit. The immediate jump in his heart rate is clear enough indication of why he might wish to take those steadying breaths — that, and Liem's memory of every other time he's ever had free reign over Cardan's throat. And he has no wish to torment his husband unduly; so he simply watches Cardan's unfairly beautiful face as he takes a moment to gather himself, the calm of his features belying his speeding pulse.

Somehow, although Liem meant to choose a forfeit that would tease his husband more than himself, he finds that even this brief activity does not spare him from his wanting. When Cardan's eyes meet his again, the look in them pierces him straight through, making a wildness surge in his chest.

But when he dips his mouth to Cardan's throat, the kisses he presses against it are gentle. He brushes cool lips over the heady beat at the side of his neck, threading careful fingers through his hair as he scrapes his teeth lightly over sensitive skin. It is not exactly comeuppance for the tender way that Cardan had delivered his last forfeit, but he would be lying if he claimed that it had no bearing at all on the care he takes as he kisses his way up his husband's throat.

The bruise he sucks against it is simply indulgence — but then, he did ask to have his way with Cardan's neck. And he's certainly not going to drink from his husband in a place like this, no matter how oblivious the surrounding humans are.]

[ It's a little torturous, the gentle sweep of those cool lips over his skin, the tantalizing whisper of teeth -- a threat unfulfilled, he notes with some dismay, though he hardly expected otherwise. Cardan's hand clutches at the edge of the table; the fingers of his other dig into the muscle at Liem's back, a little punitive.

The little gasp that escapes him when Liem sucks a mark onto his skin seems too loud, even in the crowded room. For a moment, his composure frays; a patron at the table next to them looks up and blinks as if startled -- before glancing away, once more happily distracted by conversation. Still, he does not close his eyes again: they are steadfastly on Liem, his look unrepentantly challenging.

When Liem lifts his mouth from his skin, he breathes out slowly, seeking to calm the heat of excitement that has climbed up into his cheeks. His stare at his husband is undiminished in its sharpness, despite his flush. ]

...are you finished? [ Cardan asks, sounding as normal as possible for a man who has found himself prodigiously erect amid a crowded bar. Given his wildly hammering pulse, he imagines his borderline-bored tone isn't fooling Liem, but it is, in the end, the performance that matters. ]

[Although Liem's attention to Cardan's throat is unmistakably having the desired effect on his husband, he cannot conduct his campaign of gentle torment without teasing himself as well. He is far from immune to the taste of Cardan's skin, the harsh grip of fingers against the flesh of his back, or the wild pulse beating against his tongue and thrumming in his ears. And he is especially not immune to the feel of his husband getting hard against him as he continues to use Cardan's lap as his seat.

Really, he should be commended for having the restraint to stop where he does.

His husband looks admirably haughty, for all that the heat in his cheeks makes Liem want to bite them. He regards him just as steadily, valiantly suppressing the playful smile that wants to run rampant over his face.]

For now, [he agrees. The distinct threat of further forfeits hangs unspoken in the air between them.] I'll wager lower this time, of course.

[It could hardly be higher, after all. The possibility of a second ace looms saliently, but technically speaking, the rules of the game require him to guess lower or higher.

Besides, surely Cardan hasn't stacked the deck that much.]

[ Cardan has indeed stacked the deck that much.

Liem pulling away is a relief and a loss at the same time. This side of Liem reminds him of nothing so much but the evening when he'd stuck his icy hands under Cardan's shirt and almost stopped his heart with shock; it ought to make him nervous, both in its competition to Cardan's mischief and in how irresistibly charming he finds it. But then, when has Cardan ever been sober about risk?

He takes another moment to catch his breath, then unclasps his fingers from the table edge to turn over the ace of hearts. In the wake of Liem's for now, the mean little smile Cardan directs his way is full of savour for the moment.

His voice is all gentle, menacing admonishment. ]

You've paid so much attention to me, husband, and none to yourself.

Show yourself the same generosity of pleasure as you've shown me.

[ He leans back a little in his chair, putting a minuscule amount of distance between them -- it's hardly possible to do more with Liem's grip on him. ]

I want you to touch yourself.

[ And Cardan, with his glittering black stare and arrogant smile, wants to watch. ]

Edited (orthography) 2023-03-28 15:21 (UTC)

[Ah. He did stack the deck that much.

Ironically, this is exactly what he'd wanted. Liem can hardly be cross with Cardan's blatant mischief when he'd made a menace of himself in part so that his husband would feel compelled to ensure he couldn't win. Even his playful threat of future forfeits had been in service to this goal, which makes Cardan's smugness especially thrilling.

It is much more satisfying to receive comeuppance when it's been properly earned.]

Oh dear, [he observes ruefully.] How unlike me, to be anything less than completely thorough.

[It's not true at all, of course. Liem is never so egregiously neglectful as he is with himself — but he needs the moment, to work himself up to actually touching himself in the middle of a crowded bar. Even if none of the humans present are paying them any mind, it's still more shameless than he's used to being, and Cardan surely knows it.

He is loath to part himself from his husband to allow him the distance he needs to watch properly. Liem loosens his hold only slightly as he sits back, takes a steadying breath of his own, and slides his hand between them. The lack of touch to himself up to this point hasn't prevented him from becoming distractingly hard; when he slides his touch heavily over his confined erection — indulgently, even; Cardan did direct him to be generous — he has to bite down on his own lip to maintain some semblance of composure.]

[ He has to bite back the impulse to laugh at Liem's assessment, blatant lie that it is. Not that it's easy to tell whether Liem means it -- for all that Cardan thinks (thought?) that his husband would make a terrible liar, his dry tone makes him difficult to read.

Sometimes Cardan wonders if he's being taken for a ride more often than he suspects.

But that's a worry for another time. He settles against the chair, hands splayed over Liem's thighs as if to trap him in his perch atop Cardan's lap. His thumbs stroke along the inner seam of Liem's trousers -- an absentminded caress, a little inconsistent with Cardan's taskmaster mien. Then again, he is at least as punitive as he is greedy: greedy for the way his husband responds to his own touch, for the press of those teeth on his lip -- much as Cardan wishes they were on him instead -- for the cadence of his breaths and the tension in the lithe body atop his own.

For a long moment, he allows himself to drink those things in, indulging in the seductive pull of desire, the easy heat that it sends through him. Then his smile twitches into something broader, sharper -- and he leans forward just a fraction, just enough to brush his fingertips over the top of the deck. ]

We don't have to wait. Keep yourself busy, but give me your next wager, husband.

[Liem considers it a bad sign — or maybe it should be a good sign, by some metrics? — when Cardan feels no need to await the completion of his forfeit before moving on to the next. He has some suspicions about the value of the next card in the deck in relation to the last one, and wonders just how far through the deck they're actually going to be able to get at the rate they're progressing.

He'd told Cardan he should make him desperate, and his husband seems to have gleefully taken the suggestion to heart.

Although Liem isn't trying deliberately to stall, his answer doesn't come immediately. He is too preoccupied with his husband's nearness, with his scent, with his sharp and self-satisfied smile, with the brush of his fingers over Liem's thigh. It is all too easy to want him when they are like this, and to make himself impatient even through the barrier of his trousers when he has Cardan's eyes on him.]

You know there is only one wager I can make. [His accusation is breathless. He does not bother to turn his gaze back toward the deck.] Lower.

[ It's the ace of diamonds, naturally. Cardan barely glances at it -- why would he need to when he is the one who had put it there? It's only wasted time he could spend looking at Liem, who shouldn't have to check either: Cardan's unshaken arrogance is more than telling. What -- like he was going to release his husband from his clutches now that he has him where he wants him? He would not dare disappoint Liem so.

No, his helpless, breathless frustration is exactly what Cardan is courting. And it looks breathtakingly good on Liem; Cardan has to resist the urge to curl his hand over his husband's pale cheek, to trace hungry fingertips over the line of his mouth, his jaw. He doesn't, but for a moment longer, he will watch Liem, his eyes narrowed in consideration. ]

Since your hands are busy, [ he will drawl, finally, unhurried and unrepentantly smug, ] I shall occupy your tongue.

[ His hands have settled back onto Liem's thighs, comfortable in their perch -- even if Cardan still yearns to touch him more, to draw his fingers up his husband's legs, to feel his arousal through the layers of clothing. But that would, of course, defeat the purpose. ]

Tell me of a fantasy you favour when you are left at the mercy of your own touch.

[Liem has always thought that arrogance looked unfairly good on his husband. He wears it like it was made for him, something that would seem vain and ostentatious on anyone else, but makes him look every bit the prince. It sends a shiver down Liem’s spine, to be caught in that smug black gaze as he touches himself at his husband’s demand.

And it makes the stark red mark he’s stamped boldly on Cardan’s throat even more deliciously pleasing: a privilege no one else is fortunate enough to possess.

Liem raises an eyebrow… then lets his eyes sink closed with a hum after Cardan makes his next demand, and for a long moment he keeps them that way, simply teasing himself while his husband’s hands splay over his thighs and his scent pervades his senses. One image comes quickest to his mind, even after the months he’s spent with scarcely a moment to himself; it’s this one that he focuses on as he opens his eyes again to find Cardan’s, and this image that makes his breath come just a bit harder as he relates it while continuing to touch himself.]

I am alone with my lover. My wrists are bound, and I have had too much to drink; I’m not fit to concentrate on anything but indulgence.

[In the fantasy, he was presumably just at a party; where else would blood flow so freely? But the blood is really all that matters.]

My lover takes advantage of my intemperance to toy with me without mercy, bringing me to the edge of climax, and over it, again and again until I am beyond exhaustion. Sometimes I beg for respite, but no matter how weary I become, I cannot resist the temptation to continue.

[The fantasy doesn’t really have an end; he is always finished with it long before it gets to that point.]

[ Of course, Cardan isn't asking out of idle curiosity; besides the simple fact that he's greedy for all of Liem's perversions, all the time, he also intends for the answer to be instructive. They have so few moments of intimacy granted to them: all the more reason to make the most of the ones they get.

Even if he has no idea where he would procure such a prodigious quantity of blood, nor the hours upon hours he'd need to exhaust Liem's considerable reserves. Still, thinking of it sends a pleasurable little thrill through his blood, warm and intrigued. Not for the first time, he marvels at the ways they are so strangely well-matched: rarely has he met anyone who's craved torment as badly as Liem. ]

...hm.

[ Now his hands do move, dragging over the fine fabric of Liem's trousers towards his hips. His thumbs slide over the sharp vee of Liem's hipbones, following their guide up to his hips-- which may be a familiar scenario. Certainly, by the time he wraps one arm around Liem's back, his husband should recognize what's about to happen: Cardan is going to rise, picking him up.

...only to press him down onto the ale-soaked table, his body hemming in Liem's. This is more than a little obvious: and yet, somehow, no one looks their way even now, when Cardan's hand sneaks between their bodies to close warm fingers around Liem's wrist.

He intends to pin it against the table; his air is that of a man carefully arranging a scene. ]

Something like this, then?

Not that you've had any blood. [ As they are both no doubt aware. Cardan's easy smile is unconcerned with such trivialities. ] Nor are we alone.

[When Cardan's hands slide over his hips, the keen, hungry longing on Liem's face only grows sharper. The arm around his husband's shoulders tightens, keeping him close as Cardan rises to press him onto the liquor-stained surface of their table — something that should be mortifying, given the number of potential onlookers, but instead just makes him ache more fiercely against the fly of his trousers. A small gasp escapes him as Cardan cages him in.

Intent eyes, pupils blown wide, stay glued to his husband's face as his wrist is pinned deliberately to the table. The much-used wood is slightly sticky, but he doesn't even notice.]

Something like it.

[He's more than a little distracted by their new position. Liem breathes his reply as his eyes drift covetously down to Cardan's mouth.]

Liquor is a poor substitute — but at least I'm in peerless company.

You flatter me, [ murmurs Cardan, though he doesn't seem to be particularly moved by the compliment. It fades in comparison to the sharp, hungry thrill of having trapped Liem under him, against him -- to the look of those dark eyes with their barely-there ring of blue. For a moment, it's all he can do to drink him in, and beneath the layers of his clothing, his tail twitches in barely-contained excitement.

Somewhere to the left of Liem's hip, there is a rumpled deck of cards, the stack teetering precariously and yet still somehow intact. Cardan spares it no attention. ]

The next three forfeits will have been yours, [ he admits, not bothering to explain how such a thing is possible in a game with just four aces, ] and I mean to use all of them at once.

[ The disadvantage of the small table is that he cannot pin both of Liem's wrists above his head -- there is simply not enough surface. The image of his husband pulled taut and wanting beneath him is bewitching for its unattainability, but Cardan does not dwell on fantasies when Liem is right here, before him, solid and waiting.

Besides, there are many paths to the same goal. ]

I want you, [ he purrs, each word a softly-edged threat, ] to keep absolutely still.

[ Right before he dips his head, teeth finding the bare side of Liem's neck. His free hand slips between them to undo the fly of Liem's trousers; feverishly hot fingers press inside, wrap around his erection, their stroke mercilessly indulgent. ]

[To Liem's credit, the only surprise he betrays at Cardan's assertion about their game is in the slight widening of his eyes. Had he been paying more attention to the cards, perhaps he'd have seen this coming; the aces haven't been simply loitering around on the table this whole time, after all. But instead, he realizes ruefully, he has seen one trick coming, and patted himself on the back only to walk face-first into another. The revelation would be enough to make him laugh, if he hadn't been so plainly instructed to keep still.

But a grin still stretches across his face for just a brief moment, as he looks up at the husband who, a year ago, he'd barely even heard of. Rude of him, Liem thinks, to hide away in Elfhame all his life when he could have been putting Liem in his place long before now. He very nearly says so.

Then Cardan's teeth are on his neck, and Liem forgets his delight in favour of the hot, eager thrill coiling in his belly as clever fingers find the fly of his trousers. The brazen impropriety of letting his husband touch him atop a bar room table makes nerves prickle beneath his skin, but not a murmur arises from the tables flanking theirs, even when the sudden, heated stroke of fingers over his erection makes Liem bite his lip again to muffle the hungry, wanting noise that threatens to escape him.

It is very hard not to squirm into that merciless touch; he is taut with the effort of it, trembling beneath his husband in his single-minded dedication to stillness. It is hard also not to slide his free hand, the one not pinned by Cardan's own, up his neck and into his hair, not to clutch at him as if he were the one keeping his husband captive. Even here, in this tavern that is ripe with the scents and sounds of carousing humans, it is hard not to abandon himself completely to Cardan's hands and Cardan's mouth. He wants everything that his husband has to offer, no matter how much it might cost him.]

[ He feels the tremble in Liem’s lean body, trapped so neatly beneath his — feels his tension and his effort, the determined discipline his husband so excels at. Liem is ever intent, ever focused; to have that considered attention on him is more intoxicating than Cardan would have imagined.

It’s an impossible thrill, too, to have Liem beholden to his whims and caprices, as serious about obedience as he is about neatly filed taxes. Cardan pulls away to look at him, spread on the shabby table like an elegant sacrifice, and feels a sharp hunger shiver through his veins.

Were the venue of their outing slightly different, he might have fucked Liem right there. He is tempted, still. Alas— ]

Very good, [ he drawls, somehow both affectionate and condescending at once. ] But that is only two forfeits.

[ Keep still and let me touch you. And what else?

Cardan’s expression is threateningly self-satisfied. ]

I want to hear your voice.

[ Gasps, or moans, or curses. The Export and Import Permits Act of 1785, if Liem is so inclined to recite it — whatever it is, Cardan wants it, wants to hear desire on Liem’s tongue as he strokes him off in his ruthless, merciless rhythm. ]

[The loss of Cardan's body pressed close and Cardan's mouth against his neck makes Liem huff out a short, frustrated breath when his husband pulls away to regard him. He returns his gaze, looking up at him with furrowed brows and faintly flushed cheeks, his tie still askew from when Cardan had used it as a leash, and he clutches at what vestiges of his composure he still has left.

But it is difficult when Cardan looks at him with that keen, hungry stare, and tells him very good in that tone that makes his flush just a little deeper even as it sends lust spiking straight to his cock. It's dangerous, the way the sound of just a few words can make Liem so desperate to do exactly as he's told.

Dangerous, also, that what Cardan wants is to hear his voice. His mind becomes a foolish place when Cardan is touching him; if he gives himself leave to speak aloud whatever thought enters his head, he fears what nonsense might spill out. It occurs to him, for the first time since his husband proposed the rules of their game, that he should probably be a little nervous.

But it is much too late to be having such thoughts now.]

Your wish… [he murmurs, between breaths that drag heavily from his lungs. He does not really have to speak all that much — not when his frustration and his want spill so readily from his throat in the face of Cardan's merciless stroking. The sounds pulled from him turn steadily breathless, alive with desperation even as he does his very best to keep his body still. Even so, he does groan into the noise of the tavern:]

God… god damn it, Cardan…

[ Liem looks tremendously enchanting like this, his face pinked and his fine suit disheveled, pinned by both Cardan’s grip and his command. Enchanting and exhilarating both — and there is something in his expression that makes Cardan wonder whether Liem might not have followed his commands even if he hadn’t been constrained by the game’s forfeits. Would he have given himself over to Cardan just like this — letting himself be toyed with and teased without mercy, bending to the indignity of his husband’s arrogant demands?

Cardan cannot tell the answer, but then he hadn’t willingly followed orders since the age of thirteen.

And anyway, there are better things to focus on. Such as: Liem, giving him the thing he wanted, and the sounds of need that spill from his usually reticent lips. They shiver through Cardan — each one slipping down his spine, hot and keen. Inside his own trousers, he’s achingly hard; only the patience he has cultivated over the past months of marriage keeps him from ending the game right then.

Instead he will lean close, mouth brushing over the shell of Liem’s ear with a warm, indulgent chuckle. ]

Would you say you are desperate now, Liem?

[ Smugness curls over each syllable, and even then, still: that’s ever-present warm affection, impossible to excise from his tone, not that he intends to.

His fingers still on an upstroke, waiting for the answer. ]

[Liem's world shrinks very quickly as Cardan teases him further, narrowing to the warm fingers sliding over his cock, the warm body leant over his own and the warm voice purring smugly in his ear. Desire toys just as rudely with his expression as Cardan does with his body; he cannot help the abject longing that resides in his gaze whenever it finds its way again to his husband's face.

And he does look a little caught off-guard; a little lost, as though he doesn't know what to do with himself in the face of his husband's pitiless attentions. All of him aches with the force of his wanting. Even if he were not commanded to remain completely still, he has relinquished too much of his control now to do anything but yield to Cardan's eyes on his, or the brush of lips against his ear. He can only whimper, breathless, as the hand stroking him grows still.]

Yes, [he says. He is desperate. If not to be allowed to touch his husband, then at least to take him somewhere that isn't full of people who have no business seeing either of them like this. It hardly matters that Cardan's spell keeps the humans' attention focused elsewhere; he doesn't want to settle for relying on magic to pretend he has his husband all to himself. Liem doesn't want Cardan's focus to be tied up in his enchantment; he wants it to be tied up in him.]

Yes. Cardan, I want you in my bed.

[His bed at the townhouse, that hasn't been slept in since before they were married. Surely it's more appealing than a sticky bar room table.]

[ Cardan had thought to be a stern taskmaster in this, if nothing else: if Liem wanted to be desperate, then it should only be fair that Cardan pushes him past the edge of even that. That he be made to beg and writhe and tremble for Cardan's mercy, rather more insensate with pleasure than he can currently boast of being. What kind of punishment would it be, after all, if Cardan just caves to whatever Liem asks of him?

But the words I want you in my bed still shake his resolve. They tempt him, too seductive not to imagine -- Liem spread on silken sheets, Cardan's alone to devour, without the stink or noise of mortality around them.

He exhales slowly, once more in search of composure. Cardan's face dips, mouth pressing to the spot below Liem's ear, tracing a line of slow, considered kisses down to his collar. The hand on Liem's cock resumes its rhythm -- though this, too, is languid, as if they have all night. ]

And what will you do, Liem, once you have me there?

[ He's stalling. Liem has already won. He just doesn't need Liem to know it quite so directly. ]

Ah—

[Liem’s breath sighs out of him as Cardan’s mouth wanders deliberately down the side of his neck. He can’t resist the urge to tip his head slightly under the considered attention, lengthening the line of his throat just a little in invitation. There is too little of him exposed between his ear and the stiff line of his collar; yet one more reason for him to wish them both back home, where his husband might be persuaded to undress him properly. He wants Cardan’s mouth on more than just his neck.

There is an insistent and perhaps embarrassingly honest part of him that thinks whatever you want in immediate answer to Cardan’s question. There is a limit to how permissive even Liem will be in a place like this, for all that he has invited his husband’s mercurial attentions here. But in the privacy of his townhome bedroom, he imagines he would grant Cardan anything he demanded, no matter how greedy his desires.

Still, their visit here has made him greedy, too.]

Kiss you until you make me stop, [he murmurs, covetously.] And get my hands all over you, besides.

[ Cardan laughs despite himself, muffled against Liem's throat. He's pleased about the way Liem reacts to his touch, about the offer of his throat to the hunger of Cardan's kisses. Pleased, too, about his surrender to Cardan's demands, even unreasonable as they are.

But that's not why he's laughing. ]

What about me, husband, [ he will ask, affectionate amusement threaded through his voice, ] makes you think I'd stop you?

[ He knows not why he would want to. What better way to spend an early morning than kiss-drunk in Liem's bed and in his arms? Cardan isn't the one who is concerned with mundane things like responsibilities, nor with strategies and plans. He has spent most of his life being a creature wholly ruled by desires, and he is not particularly inclined to stop now.

So he will kiss Liem again, even as the hand around his wrist slips away to slide under his shoulders instead, so that Cardan may pull his husband up to sitting, tucked tight against his own body. For all his talk, he will pull away first, leaving Liem to deal with unrumpling himself while he collects the cards from the table. ]

[Maybe it's naive of Liem to think that there would be a limit to how much kissing his husband would wish to fill his morning with. Cardan has not proven himself to be a man much concerned with moderation even if, by Liem's reckoning, he does seem to prefer being at least nominally in control of their activities. And admittedly he also has proven himself susceptible to persuasion — at least the kind that Liem tends to do in their bedroom.

Even so, he cannot regret his answer — not with his husband's laughter muffled against his throat, curving the corners of Liem's mouth.

When Cardan kisses him again, pulling him upright and into his embrace, Liem delivers a taste of what he'd promised, his newly freed hand finding Cardan's face to trace the line of one elegant cheekbone as he sinks indulgently into their kiss. He's not persuaded to pause, even to properly dress himself again, until his husband finally pulls away to gather up the borrowed deck of cards. Only then does he relinquish his hold on his spouse and begin setting himself to rights.]

If nothing else, [he comments, sliding down from his seat on the table,] then that recurring need of yours to catch your breath.

[ Fittingly, Cardan's laugh is little more than soft exhale. ]

You may kiss me breathless whenever you like.

[ After all, he has come to enjoy few things so much as the pleasure of Liem's kisses, of how he seems to melt into Cardan's touch, pliant and lovely. It is one of the few ways, Cardan has noticed, in which he can reliably pull his husband's focus from his work, and he tends to abuse it rather mercilessly.

But now that he's pulled away, he does not want to distract either of them further. He is keen, suddenly, for the quiet of Liem's townhouse and a bed that's just theirs and which isn't soaked with drinks besides. He drops the deck of cards in their owner's pocket, with enough gold for two weeks' worth of pay; once he's done that, and deposited the payment for their drinks on the table besides, he will turn to Liem, impatient. ]

Shall we?

[ Nevermind that he hasn't bothered pulling on his gloves, and his coat is only draped over his shoulders. Surely the promised townhouse cannot be that far. ]

[Liem goes about the business of putting his clothes back in order with a smile on his lips, his eyes drifting now and again over to his husband, who seems suddenly in rather a bit of a hurry. For someone who agreed so readily to the prospect of making Liem impatient to leave, he appears a bit short on patience himself. It's a little charming; Liem hadn't really meant to tease his husband when he'd suggested his punishment, but tormenting him has ever seemed to rob Cardan of what little patience he had to begin with. He'd be hard pressed not to enjoy the effect it has on him.

Once he's judged himself about as un-rumpled as he's going to be, at least in a crowded bar while both he and his husband are hasty to leave, Liem pulls on his discarded glove and shrugs himself back into his coat. The look he aims at Cardan, who is even more carelessly dressed for the cold than he, is quietly affectionate.]

Let's leave these good people to their drinks; may they find in them more enjoyment than we have.

[But he does step around his husband to lift the coat from his shoulders, so that Cardan might easily slide his arms into it. After all; it's nippy outside.

The townhouse is not terribly far, but it is certainly not in this rather humble part of town. A brisk walk through sparsely falling snow is required to bring them to its wrought iron gates, which are manned by a pink-nosed young man who scurries to let them in. The building is taller and narrower than the main house, and a little newer-looking: more manor, less castle.

Inside, however, it is much the same as home; clearly it has not been spared Liem's decorating preferences. And though the house itself cannot be commanded at Liem's whim, the servants are quick enough to scurry ahead and ensure that his rooms are suitably welcoming for the young master's return, with lit fires to banish the early winter chill. The slightly smaller rooms that Liem calls his own feel almost cozy compared to the ones he's been sharing with his husband until now, though they don't really smell like home.

But most pleasingly, they don't stink of unwashed men and cheap liquor.]

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