sterngaze | open post

[For all his frustrated want and all his impatience when Cardan had been touching him in the bar, once they are alone in that quiet study he rarely has time to visit, cushioned on the fire-warmed rug stretched out before the hearth, Liem is in no hurry to rush his husband toward a particular conclusion. The quiet solitude of the room and the heated slide of his husband's mouth on his do much to draw the restless ache from his bones, leaving him without a care for anything but the man next to him, the soft sigh of his breath and the covetous wandering of his hand down Liem's flank.

There are many things he might wish to spend his time on just now, but every one of them begins and ends with Cardan. And given that he now has him at his pleasure, hungry for his touch and his kiss, how could Liem be anything but content?

For a long moment, he is only concerned with exacting his husband's promise from earlier, and kissing him until Cardan's soft breaths turn to gasps. He winds an arm about his shoulders, fitting himself closer against him as he kisses him with a slow and measured indulgence, carding his fingers gently through soft, raven-black curls. He has not often had the luxury of touching his husband without any underlying urgency, whether from haste or from desperation — but he does so now, refusing to let the responsibilities of tomorrow encroach upon their waning night. Although his kisses are hungry, he takes the time to savour them, until he finally breaks off his leisurely assault and pulls back.

But it is only to shrug free from his jacket, and to lean back against the rug's plush surface so that he can pull Cardan down atop him.]

[ Cardan, for his part, does his best to ignore his pesky need for air for as long as he can. It's fine, he imagines, to feel a little dizzy; is that not what the poets describe romance to be like? Dizzying and breathless, heedless of reason -- and he certainly feels like his already meagre attachment to reason dissipates whenever Liem is like this in his embrace.

Not that there is anything unreasonable about kissing his lawfully wedded spouse.

Still, he sighs into the feeling of Liem under him, shivering only slightly when his hips brush against his husband's. Cardan is still breathing a little fast, and the colour has stayed high on his face, but the look he directs down at Liem only mixes smugness with pleasure. ]

You are indulgent tonight. [ His hand curls over Liem's cheek, thumb tracing the curve of his mouth. Cardan will dip down to kiss him again, though he doesn't stay this time: his lips stray to Liem's jaw, smearing warm kisses over cool skin even while his hands divest Liem of his tie pin and loosen the knotted silk around his throat. He is indulgent himself: even though impatience simmers in his blood, even though he aches for Liem's touch on his skin, this does not feel like a thing he ought to rush. ]

Am I to have you right here, then, Liem?

Edited (it was bugging me lmao) 2023-04-05 16:14 (UTC)

[It would be difficult not to be indulgent when he finally has Cardan to himself like this: away from Iago and the house, away from Gusairne and the many responsibilities endlessly calling to him from the cabinets and shelves of his study. It is so rare for Liem to have the time he would wish to soak in his husband's presence, and give his attention to the way their bodies fit together, to the way the firelight reflects in his dark eyes, to the quiet sound of his voice and to that green, growing scent that has become so comfortably familiar. He can only tip his face gently into the touch of Cardan's hand, and slide his own palm around his waist, letting out a soft sigh as his husband's kisses wander, warm and unhurried, over his jaw.

He is so helplessly, hopelessly lost in his wanting for him. When he is working, the feeling is a distraction, picking at his concentration regardless of how he tries to set it firmly aside. Now, with Cardan's fingers undoing the tie at his throat and Cardan's lips murmuring close to his ear, his thoughts are full of only him, and he doesn't know how he's meant to stand it if he has to suffer another night without him here like this.]

Yes, [he breathes. Yes, he is being indulgent. Yes, he wants Cardan to have him here, in the quiet of this private place that he hasn't dedicated a morning's ease to for the better part of a year.

The hand at Cardan's waist tugs gently at his shirt, coaxing it free of his trousers so that Liem can slip his hand beneath loosened fabric to find the small of his back; brush cool fingers from the trim line of his waist to the gentle curve of his spine. His other arm loops again around Cardan's shoulders, tracing the shape of them beneath his clothes. Regardless of when or where he is, he always remains hungry for the pleasure of his husband's body tucked within the circle of his arms; here and now is no exception.

He looks up at Cardan from his place on the rug, expression intent, fingers just brushing the nape of his neck.]

You wear the firelight beautifully.

[ Cardan's eyebrow twitches up; his grin is sharply delighted. ]

If only I was wearing less of everything else.

[ There is something about the intent look in Liem's bright eyes that makes pleasure curl unaccountably in his chest. It makes him feel like a magical thing, something wild and strange, having come out of a forest to disrupt all of Liem's civilized plans.

If Liem is trying to charm him, then it's working a little too well.

Silk whispers over the collar as he pulls the tie free of Liem's neck. It's still wound around his fingers when his hands find their way to his husband's slim hips, curl around their familiar angles to shift their bodies -- just so, so that the next time Cardan moves against him, the delicious shiver of friction makes his breath stutter and his eyes slide half-shut. He leans low to press his mouth to the thin fabric of Liem's shirt, right over the hollow of his collarbone, inhaling his ink-and-blood scent -- except that he smells like Cardan now, which makes him ache with a deep possessiveness too.

He moves again, arching his spine against the gentle caress of Liem's fingers, and shivers again with the languid pleasure of it. He's pulled back enough to look down at Liem, to watch the light play with his sharp, elegant features and thinks-- You too. As beautifully as I ever could.

The silk of the tie burns into his palm. He exhales on a persistent thought, and the quicksilver smile twitches into place again. Under his shirt, his coiled tail moves, bumping up against Liem's hand. ]

...shall we have one last wager?

[Cardan's smiling little lament brings a slight lift to Liem's brows. His hand slides just a bit higher up his husband's back, bringing the hem of his shirt with it.]

That can be arranged.

[He certainly agrees that Cardan would only look more handsome clad in naught but the golden light from the hearth. And, eventually, he does mean to see him thus.

But he is not in a hurry, and his husband continues to provide very compelling distractions — such as the hands that settle against his hips to reposition them beneath Cardan, rousing a flutter in his belly and a soft hum in his throat as his husband moves against him. For a moment Liem tips his head, pressing his cheek against dark, glossy hair, shifting his hips into the slide of Cardan's body and breathing in the quiet pleasure of his closeness. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Cardan's mouth stamps a small and seductive warmth against his skin.

When he pulls back again, Liem's fingers slide round from the nape of Cardan's neck to brush against the angle of his jaw. He smiles at the restless bump of his husband's hidden tail against him.]

Tell me the wager, Cardan.

[ He tilts his face, pressing his mouth against the tips of those cool fingers. Liem feels good: his hands feel good, and his leisurely rumpling of Cardan's clothing feels good, and the soft, easy expression on that so-serious face-- well, it makes something sharp and a little panicked rear up inside Cardan, but it should feel good, too, is the point.

He pushes the feeling down; instead of panicking, he will shift on top of his husband, hand splayed against Liem's side, so that he may reach inside the breast pocket of his suit. ]

A riddle. Here, in my hands, is a thing I've kept close to my heart. [ With a flourish, he will reach into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out-- one last card, the face of which he will keep hidden even when he turns it over in the grasp of his fingers. His eyes find Liem's, and though mischief is dancing in them, it is overlaid with a cool interest. ]

Guess which suit it wears, and the win is yours.

[Liem's eyes follow Cardan's flourish with the lazy intensity of a cat watching fish dart around a bowl, with nowhere to hide and nowhere to escape to. He has discovered an enduring pleasure in watching his husband do things with his hands. Like his husband, they are clever, and handsome, and a little unpredictable: just as pleasing to watch in action as to be subject to.

One eyebrow lifts slightly at Cardan's riddle. But I am only wearing half a suit, now, he is not quite cheeky enough to say. Perhaps his experience in the bar has chastened him.]

And what am I to do with such a victory?

[His arm, sliding back around Cardan's waist, gives him a possessive little squeeze. Does he not already have what he might wish for right here? He surely has no need to wager with his husband for anything else, no matter how alluring his look of mischief is. Especially considering how much a novice he is at riddles, it seems he mostly just stands to lose from a wager like this one.]

Perhaps I have no need to wager any further.

You do.

[ He says it with the absolute certainty of a man who can speak naught but truth. Cardan taps the card to his chin idly, surveying Liem. The arm around him is surprisingly persuasive; it should be easy enough to discard the card and continue his affectionate exploration of his husband's mouth, throat, of the expanse of skin still hidden under his clothing--

But Cardan cannot help being what he is. ]

Not for my forfeit, perhaps. You seem averse to asking me for things that cost me. [ The only one of Liem's asks that had skirted uncomfortable was the question about Liem's most alluring feature, and at least in part because Cardan had made it so.

Still, the look he gives Liem is unwavering. ]

But you are soon headed to a land built entirely on riddles, and so you ought to practice. Your next taskmaster may not be as indulgent as me.

[For a moment, Liem simply regards his husband, smiling a little at his absolute confidence that he must play. Perhaps Cardan is right; riddles and games have never featured heavily in Liem's day-to-day, but they are common fare in the place he's soon to visit. How can he do business with the folk there if he will not even wager with his own husband?

He does not know how much he really believes that letting Cardan fox him with card games will develop his skill with riddles, but then, he wasn't really intending to refuse his husband to begin with. He just wanted Cardan to convince him; whether it ended up being with bribery or reason was of little import.]

Should you have been tutoring me in this, too? It's rather late to start now.

[They are not even weeks away from their departure at this point, and Liem will hardly have the time to play games during much of the interim. Even now, as he takes a moment to consider Cardan's riddle, its meaning eludes him. His answer is bound to be nothing more than a blind guess.]

Very well; you will have your wager. I'll guess… spades.

[ For a moment, Cardan only watches him, his expression deliberately inscrutable. Liem's criticism of his teaching is not unwarranted; it's just that in the busyness of every other preparation, it had not occurred to him to test his husband on this until now.

But then, they were always going to be underprepared. He does not show Liem the card; instead, he places it down on the rug beside them, careful not to reveal its face. ]

Why spades, Liem?

[ Evidently, he does expect Liem to show his work. Still, he won't wait for the reasoning; his mouth dips again immediately, finding the hollow of Liem's throat. He'll decorate the delicate skin there with warm, unhurried kisses while his hands busy themselves with the buttons of Liem's waistcoat.

Sometimes he rues the Ironside fashion of too many layers and fastenings. ]

[In the moment between Cardan's question and the warm caress of his lips at Liem's throat, Liem's brows draw together in a faint scowl. He had not expected his husband to quiz him on this. If he is intending to take his job as riddle tutor seriously, he has chosen an inopportune time for it.

And yet, Liem cannot be cross when Cardan's mouth lingers warm against his neck. He tips his head back against the rug with a sigh, directing his gaze up at the study's ceiling.]

Why not Cardan?

[This wager is not like the last that Cardan proposed. Liem had at least had some way of guessing which way his husband might try to stack the deck; had he been picky about the terms, he could have likely won a few more forfeits off him even with his run of aces and kings. But Liem has no insight into this game; Cardan's riddle remains inscrutable to him.

It is not becoming any clearer to him now that Cardan is paying his throat such close attention. Beneath him, Liem moves his hips restlessly. His hand strays, aimless, over the lattice of scars on his back.]

There is no reason. I did not understand your riddle when I agreed to your wager, and I still do not.

[ Cardan's soft scoff catches against Liem's collar, stymied as it is by the shivery pleasure of the caress at his back, and then-- the heated, insistent curl of desire when his husband moves beneath him. He exhales again, slowly, but his measured tone will not change, even if Liem's impatience proves rather distracting.

He had taken two cards from the deck before they had left the bar, for reasons that had been largely sentimental. Now, he reaches into his pocket for the other one. ]

Spades, [ he will say, deliberately placing the second card -- the jack of spades, face up -- beside the first, ] is rather more my suit than yours.

[ He doesn't offer further explanation of this concept immediately, focused as he is on finishing with Liem's (finely made, attractive, and extremely annoying) waistcoat. Once that is done, he will start with the shirt, eager to expose more of his husband to his touch. But he does keep talking -- even though revealing his own puzzle feels a little uncomfortable, like explaining a joke. ]

I said the answer was in my hands, but I only needed one to hold the card. What have I had my hands on this entire evening, Liem?

[ Those hands that now splay against Liem's chest, even as Cardan's mouth smears indulgent kisses over his collarbone, following the trail of exposed skin. ]

[A soft, brief huff of amusement escapes Liem as his husband graciously explains his riddle. How right his first inclination had been, even though he hadn't seriously considered that errant thought relevant to Cardan's question. Perhaps he should have given it a little more attention.

But still — it just hadn't been neat though to satisfy him. Was the card in Cardan's hand only a distraction, then? He isn't willing to discount it as such, and in that vein, he still doesn't understand why a playing card suit might fit Cardan any better than it would him. If understanding the double meaning was meant to clarify anything about the card now resting face-down on the rug, Liem has failed to see it properly.]

The more you explain, [he observes, a little breathless as Cardan's mouth finds his collarbone and his hands splay over his chest,] the less I understand.

[Or perhaps it is that the more of him Cardan kisses, the less he understands. Liem wouldn't discount this possibility at all, although he isn't nearly undressed enough at this point for that to actually pose a significant problem.]

What suit is mine, then?

[ Cardan will glance up, one eyebrow arched, before he reaches out to reveal the first card. ]

The king of clubs, [ he'll recite in the measured rhythm of a lecturer, kisses punctuating his sentences as he works his way down the buttons of Liem's shirt ] is a man of business, loyalty, and ambition. He is wed, and -- in your case -- burdened with maturity beyond his age. And, not least-- [ He'll glance up again; a smile tugs at his mouth just before he presses his lips to Liem's sternum, with not entirely serious reverence. ] --he is almost excruciatingly sensible.

[ The tail, having escaped its prison of shirt thanks to Liem's interference, coils behind Cardan in pleased little loops. He props himself up on his elbows, staring up at his husband's face.

It's rather obvious by now that Liem is no fan of cartomancy, but Cardan would not have expected him to be: it's half magic, half parlour trickery, which puts it squarely in Cardan's domain. ]

It would be a poor riddle if it did you the favour of being straightforward. But it had two answers, and you did not need to know this one to come up with the other.

[ By which he means: Liem should have simply pointed to his suit. ]

[Would that Liem could receive all his lectures in this manner. The deliberate punctuation of Cardan's kisses travelling down his chest guarantees his keen attention — mostly for the pleasant cadence of his voice and the warm caress of his mouth, but Liem succeeds in absorbing what he says nonetheless. He cannot recall having ever been so rapt to receive instruction on anything before.

As Cardan speaks, Liem's eyebrow lifts.]

I did not know playing cards could tell stories.

[Any more than he had known that stars could tell stories. He peers down at Cardan, indulging the temptation to run a thumb along the shell of one pointed ear, and he thinks that for all that his husband often rules his thoughts, he has not been nearly insatiable enough when it comes to discovering things about him. It is, as Cardan said, that stubborn reluctance of his to step on his husband's toes — a reluctance that has only ever seemed to bring him grief.

Much as his desire to play by the rules surely will, regardless of his husband's attempts to cure him of it. He considers, for a moment, Cardan's advice.]

You want me to try harder to get the better of you.

[To be more interested in winning than in playing fair.]

[ Cardan laughs, the sound sharp with the edge of his surprise. It's the only thing that stops him from leaning into that caress of cool fingers at his ear. ]

Of me? Of course not.

[ No, he wants Liem to fall head over heels for every trick Cardan plays. If there are faeries who prefer a fight where the stakes aren't weighted in their favour, he doesn't know them. Probably because no faerie that stupid could possibly survive in Elfhame.

He exhales with a sigh; his hands find their way back to Liem's chest, restless as he sweeps both shirt and waistcoat fully open. ]

I want you to understand that we fey live and die by our words.

[ The hands travel back down to Liem's hips, and Cardan's intent stare is obscured by the fall of his hair as his lips follow in their lead. His hot breath brushes over Liem's abs, along with his warnings. ]

That we seldom speak the truth so much as a truth.

[ He'll look up, shaking his curls out of his eyes so he can lock his gaze with Liem's again, and there is something predatory in his lean, hungry stare. ]

And that you should listen carefully if you don't wish to be devoured.

[ His hands have not been idle in their quest to reveal more skin; they had already undone the fly of Liem's trousers, and now they push the fabric down his hips. He holds Liem's gaze for one moment longer, and then tilts his face down, eyelashes coming to rest on his cheeks.

He wants him. He wants Liem's taste, wants the pleasing, heavy weight of him on his tongue, wants those cool hands in his hair. Besides, it's instructive.

Cardan elects to drive the point home by swallowing him up all at once, with little warning and no preamble, just the heat of his mouth and the thrum of his insistent, wanting pulse. ]

[Liem wonders how much use this lesson will really be to him, when they find themselves in Elfhame only days from now. It is one thing to know that faeries are slippery with their truths, and another to weave that knowing into his perceptions and his ways of thinking. Vampires do not often bother with such technicalities, concealing truths within other truths; it is simpler to just hide that which they don't wish others to know behind a plausible lie.

And in any case, he does not care to put the lesson into practice just now. Just as his husband does, Liem would rather he be caught in his tricks and made to suffer his caprices, whether or not such a desire is actually wise. He has wanted it since Cardan played that first, spiteful trick on him months ago, and his wanting has only grown with his own unwise attachment to him.

Besides which, it is already much too late for him to put Cardan's guidance to use. He is far too absorbed in the murmur of warm breath against his skin and the hungry look in his husband's eyes when he glances back up at him, and he has already failed his riddle quite soundly, besides. He murmurs,]

I'd think my wish quite plainly obvious.

[Just as obvious as the rapt attention with which his eyes follow Cardan down to his hips, and just as obvious as the eagerness with which his erection springs free when his trousers are pushed down from them. Liem lets out a small, caught gasp when Cardan swallows him, his fingers flying to bury themselves in his hair.

Of course he doesn't wish to be devoured by any of the folk in Elfhame. But here, at the mercy of Cardan's hands and Cardan's mouth, there is nothing he desires more.]

[ There is nothing he can quite say to that with a mouth full of cock, so he only intones an amused little hum, fielding the pleasurable little thrill at the sound of Liem's gasp.

He has come to like doing this. He likes the way Liem tastes, the silken slide of him, the eager grip of hands in his hair -- all of these only stoke Cardan's hunger, low and simmering in his belly, biding its time. Every soft noise he coaxes from his husband is shockingly exciting, a point to a scoreboard of Cardan's own making. He's always enjoyed his partners' desire, but rarely quite so single-mindedly as this. Maybe it's just the familiarity of time and togetherness, or maybe it's that Liem seems to take so little time for diversions without them being forced on him.

These are victories, at any rate.

He's careful to pin Liem's hips against the plush rug -- less because Cardan doesn't trust him and more for the thrill of control, of having Liem neatly handled under the grip of his hands and the slide of his mouth. For the next little while, Cardan devotes himself wholeheartedly only to this: to caging his husband in his hands and having his way with him, in this private space filled only with their breathing and the soft sounds of pleasure. ]

[If Liem had his way, he would spend all morning here like this with his husband, and the dawn would stretch on forever to accommodate them no matter how much time they devoted to their intimacy. He wants nothing more than to linger here in Cardan's possession, for him to do with as he pleases, and forget about the world altogether in favour of his husband's warm, indulgent touch.

Though it is difficult to be entirely patient, regardless of the quiet of the fire-lit room, and regardless of the unhurried attention that Cardan gives to his cock. His breaths want to come quicker, coaxed to impatience by the heated slide of Cardan's tongue and the firm pressure of hands pinning his hips. Initially he watches his husband, as charmed by the look of him as by the irresistible prison of his hands and mouth, but even when Cardan's attentions make his head tip back with a breathless moan to rest against the fur beneath him, he can still see his husband all too well in his mind's eye.

He has been wanting his mouth on him since before they even stopped into the bar, and their game did nothing to ease his desire. Despite his wish to spin out their intimacy as long as possible, it doesn't take long at all for his pleasure to build upon itself until it threatens to spill from him altogether, regardless of his attempts to rein himself back from the edge. His fingers tighten their grip, and beneath Cardan's hands, his hips tremble with the effort of their stillness.]

Ah— Cardan…

[ He loves this most of all: when he can feel the strain in Liem's voice, in his body's hard, trembling tightness under his hands. The hard grip of Liem's fingers in his hair goes hot and heady to Cardan's cock, and his next breath must be careful, measured, lest he moans right against the one in his mouth.

Which wouldn't be a problem, except: he's not sure he wants Liem to come yet.

He pulls away, careful to be only slightly obscene about it, though the tip of his tongue does curl insouciantly over the tip of Liem's cock one last time. He pulls back, his mouth a little swollen for his efforts and his eyes half-lidded, to look Liem in the face. This time, his hands stay on his husband's hips; there is no forbidding hold to stop him from orgasm.

Satisfaction curls around Cardan's smile and his question alike: ]

Do you want to come, Liem?

[ And if he doesn't-- well, that problem will be his to solve, for once. ]

[It is a special kind of torture for Cardan to pull his mouth away but still leave his hands just where they are, steady on Liem's hips, keeping him held neatly in place. The last, lazy stroke of his tongue nearly undoes Liem altogether; he doesn't bother to answer Cardan's question, busy as he is clawing at the edge of orgasm with what feels like the very tips of his fingers, trying not to slip over. He very deliberately doesn't look at his husband, forces himself to think about anything else at all besides the wicked man he's given free rein over his body. Only the fear that he might make Cardan moan after all keeps his grip on his hair from becoming punishing.

It is a long, perilous moment before he allows himself to release a slow, unsteady breath, opening frowning eyes to regard his husband again. He slides his hand from his hair so his thumb can trace over the damp curve of Cardan's mouth.]

Not yet.

[His clothes aren't even fully off; Cardan's still almost fully dressed — and woefully untouched. This is not the kind of hurry with which he wishes to pursue his climax, at least tonight.]

[ Cardan’s wait isn’t patient — though it’s fascinating, watching Liem wrest with himself, watching the tension ebb and flow in that beautiful body. But for all that he’s richly rewarded, he’s not patient. He can’t be — he already wants to press his mouth back to Liem’s skin, to force more of that trembling resolve and those harsh breaths. It is a little torturous to just watch him, bathed in warm firelight and exposed to Cardan’s touch, and be able to do none of the things he so fervently aches for.

But he waits anyway. And when Liem’s frowning gaze finally meets his, Cardan’s is utterly unrepentant. He smirks, catching Liem’s thumb between his lips — just before he drags his tongue over the length of it, deliberately obscene. ]

Oh?

And what would you like to do first, then?

[ His hands will release Liem’s hips, finally; instead, Cardan will sit up on his knees, looking collected save for the rumpled state of his shirt. His touch will slip along Liem’s thigh, down to his knee, until he finally finds the laces of his elegant shoe. It’s turning into a bit of a pattern — taking off Liem’s footwear — but if they’re going to spend some time, he supposes he might as well get his husband fully nude.

Besides, the idea of Liem spread on the fur rug and bared for his delectation is heady; it pangs through Cardan with heavy heat, insistent. His black gaze on Liem is alight with hunger. ]

[Heat flutters threateningly in Liem's belly at the drag of Cardan's tongue along his thumb, and it takes another moment after his husband has asked his question before he can marshal the focus to actually answer it. His attention is still ruled by the warm press of Cardan's hands on his skin, the slide of his tongue and the devastating temptation living in that self-satisfied smirk. Even as his husband sits up and Liem's hands fall back to the plush rug below, he can imagine all too easily how that mouth would feel, returning to his skin.

He pushes himself up onto his elbows as he follows the trail Cardan traces down his leg, and when he returns his gaze to his face, it is with a quiet, intent hunger.]

Everything.

[He says it simply, without a trace of irony. Of course his desire for his husband isn't limited to what is practical, or even what is possible. He has had many dull meetings and late mornings to consider what he would rather be spending his time on.

But of course everything is not an actionable answer to give to Cardan's question. Liem pushes himself fully upright, finding the cuff of one sleeve and unbuttoning first it, then the other, but his eyes remain on his husband. Dispensing with the rest of his clothing is of only fleeting importance, because—]

I want to undress you.

[ He blinks. For a heartbeat, Cardan's face will show a touch of surprise before he gets a hold of himself. It's not that the ask itself is unusual -- it's just that it's a little rare for Liem to demand anything at all, even when Cardan has asked.

And besides, the intent focus in his husband's eyes is liable to make a man feel a little pinned. He holds that gaze for a few breaths longer before allowing himself a small, secretive smile. ]

Very well.

[ And since Liem has so helpfully sat up, it's easy to lean in and run his mouth over the sharp line of his jaw. The need Cardan feels is an aching, alive thing, tuned so finely to his husband that he doesn't think he could help reaching for him, even if he'd wanted to. It's strange--

Well, the time for rumination is hardly now. His mouth quirks. ]

But first, you.

[ He's helpfully undone Liem's shoelaces, which leaves him with few barriers to nudity -- which is well, since Cardan isn't going to be very helpful. Instead, he will take Liem's face in his hands, fingers curling around him like a precious, tender thing, and kiss him again. And again, and again, for as long as his breath sustains him.

It's Liem's fault. For looking like that, for sounding like that, for tasting and feeling the way that he does. ]

[Cardan kisses him, and Liem thinks — fleetingly, before he ceases to think of anything at all — that his husband could not have seduced him better if he'd schemed for just that purpose from the moment of their first meeting. A more suspicious man might think perhaps he had; all it takes now is the touch of warm hands on his face and the caress of Cardan's lips on his own to rouse that yearning ache in his chest, to make him melt into the promise of that secretive smile and that tender touch and wish for things he shouldn't. His heart has ever been his most exploitable weakness.

How easy it would be for his husband to take advantage of him now, with the trust he has won after only a few months. And how little Liem can bring himself to care.

Even absorbed as he is in kissing his spouse, it is simple to shrug free of his waistcoat and shirt, and to discard them off to one side, leaving him bare right down to his hips. It is slightly more difficult to toe off his unlaced shoes, given how loath he is to divert his attention, but the sharp little boots do make it off with some effort, followed by his socks.

But there's no amount of half-assing that's going to get his trousers off without taking much too long, and looking ridiculous besides. Sliding his hands consideringly down his husband's waist to his hips, Liem releases a small, thoughtful hum — and scoops him close by the thighs, right into his lap, with a wanting sigh. It's an extremely distracting place for Cardan to be, to be sure, but given the choice between treating his husband as a sexy obstacle and simply removing him from his lap, there is really only one choice he can make.]

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