sterngaze | open post

[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.]

[ He makes a surprised sound when he feels Liem’s grip on him, pulling him forward. Cardan is not often the one being manhandled, in their marriage or otherwise; as every other time, he is surprised by the strange thrill of delight that goes through him at the insistent tug of Liem’s hands.

But then, he’s starting to think that there are few things Liem could do with his hands that wouldn’t delight him.

Still, he is determined to be a distraction. Even as he pulls away to breathe, his hand finds its way between them to wrap around Liem’s erection. Cardan strokes him lazily, belying his own breathless stare and the need that pounds through him with every urgent beat of his heart.

He likes watching Liem always, but he has found — of late — that he especially likes watching him work through problems of this sort, likes that specific mix of frustration and distracted want on his husband’s handsome face. He watches him now, a little breathless still, his gaze rapt beneath heavy lids. ]

[Bending his will to the matter of stripping off the last of his clothes is made rather problematic by his husband's determinedly distracting presence in his lap. The fact that Liem scarcely expected anything else does not make working around the obstacle of his husband's lean, exquisitely suited body any simpler — especially when Cardan reaches between them, to once again find him and return to the same lazy stroking that had so maddened him back in the tavern. Liem's grip on his thighs tightens for the space of a soft exhale as their eyes lock, and he struggles against the desire to simply pull him into another hungry kiss.

Then Liem leans forward, his lips brushing Cardan's jaw instead as he reaches past him to work his trousers further down his thighs. As he bends his legs up to accommodate his pants' transit down his calves, his lips wander down to the warm stretch of his husband's neck, decorating it with hasty kisses and unsteady breaths. There, as he sits wrapped around him, awkwardly maneuvering his trousers free from his ankles while Cardan's touch demands the significant majority of his brain power, he is struck by a mix of absurdity and surprisingly intense affection. He presses his smile against his husband's collar as he tightens an arm around him, shoving his trousers clear of one remaining foot with just its neighbour.

He does not straighten again to regard his husband until the fondness curving his mouth has subsided back to want — and then he does claim that hungry kiss, too impatient to wait any longer. Against Cardan's mouth, he breathes,]

Now you.

[ The awkward jostle of trouser removal makes him laugh, so soft it's more breath than sound, even as he tips his head back in deference to Liem's kisses. The assault on his neck is not wholly unexpected; still, it stutters his thoughts a little, that fervent mouth and those uneven breaths. He is never not delighted by Liem's cool breath brushing his skin -- because he doesn't need to draw any, and it feels like a little victory each time Cardan coaxes it out of him anyway.

He's helpful not at all, perched as he is atop his husband -- but surely that's only to be expected. Even if Cardan were a more cooperative man, the expanse of bare, moon-pale skin against his, the delectable shifting of Liem's body so close to his own -- it would all be distracting, and it is, and he simply cannot focus on anything other than touching his husband.

Liem conquers the pants, anyway, because he's competent beyond Cardan's ability to sabotage, and Cardan melts into the draw of his kiss easily, eagerly, pleased with himself and Liem and the warm yellow-tinted world in front of the fireplace.

At the demand, he will only laugh again and spread his arms in invitation, his hands arranged as if for a dance. ]

I am at your mercy.

[ He says it with the amused air of a man who is rather not expecting to be at anyone's actual mercy but his own. ]

[This — his husband's laughter, his amused and unhesitating invitation in answer to Liem's demand — is just what Liem had wanted, when he'd wished to undress Cardan himself. It is a skill, to frame the most reasonable request as an indulgence and the most submissive statement as a thing of power, and Cardan wields it with not just proficiency, but artistry. As he slides his own hands up to rest them on his husband's chest, Liem's small, fleeting smile is wholly charmed.]

What luxury, [he murmurs, earnestly, as his fingers find the silk at his husband's throat.

Undressing Cardan is both easier and more difficult than undressing himself. It is easier because his hands want nothing more than to be on his husband's body, and because working through the pins and buttons required to divest him of his layers is far more pleasing a task than shedding his own clothes. He places the fine silk of the ascot aside, and eagerly directs busy fingers to the task of unbuttoning Cardan's waistcoat, sliding cool fingers beneath to brush over the thin fabric between him and warm skin.

But it is also harder, because he wants to look at his husband while he does it, and he can't quite stop himself from returning again and again to his mouth, to claim soft, lingering kisses there. And it's harder because, for all that he wants to take his time, having Cardan's body to undress at his pleasure makes heat pulse impatiently through him, and makes it all the more difficult not to rush.

But he does his best, because Cardan looks exquisite here, like this — and it is not often that he has the leisure of doing whatever he likes, with his time or with his husband.]

[ Cardan is good for Liem -- for the most part, because Cardan is never truly good, for anyone or anything. But he behaves well enough not to actively impede his husband's work, though he will hardly be barred from touching him -- for running hungry, eager hands down his bare flanks, to his hips, his thighs-- He sighs at the caress over his chest with something that is strangely close to relief. Liem's hands are a balm on his heated skin, and yet strangely electric for all of their coolness. Cardan wants them everywhere. Desire coils insistently in his belly; the tail, in turn, curls over Liem's leg, as restless as its owner, the silky little tuft at its end whispering over Liem's skin.

In the end, it's Cardan who is more impatient. He's not very good at this kind of waiting -- the kind that requires him to sit still. He wants to be in his clothes or out of them, but most of all, he wants to get back to having his way with Liem. Now. Yesterday. Possibly always. ]

Liem, [ he will breathe on the tail end of one of those impossibly gentle kisses, long fingers winding in Liem's hair so he cannot pull away. ] It's only a suit.

[ Still, he doesn't move to take it off himself. Liem's demand had been specific in its wording, too; Cardan would not take from him what he'd asked for. ]

[It was self-indulgent of Liem to demand of Cardan that he be allowed to undress him. A silly little thing for him to want, when he has had no shortage of opportunities to explore his husband's body, and perhaps greedy to ask for given that he had most definitely lost their final wager—

But Cardan had asked, and Liem has had more fantasies about this than he cares to admit. What concession is it, really, to grant him this indulgence?

He cannot truly take his time — he is too eager for the warmth of his husband's skin beneath his hands — but he is deliberate as he unbuttons first Cardan's waistcoat and then his shirt, trailing his fingers attentively over the planes of his husband's body. He would follow the trail of exposed skin with his mouth, as well, if not for the fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him caught just a breath from Cardan's lips.

There is a smile in his voice as he lingers there for the moment, hands sliding beneath the undone layers of shirt and waistcoat to splay up Cardan's chest.]

Would you deny me this one small pleasure, Cardan?

[His hands travel up to Cardan's shoulders, where they find the layers of his clothes and begin to slide the lot of them down his arms — at least, as far as they will go, with his husband's hands still on him.]

One might think you wanted me to rush.

[ If Liem gets far enough, he will feel the tight, tense flex of Cardan's abdomen with the deliberate breath he takes. The look he gives Liem from his close vantage point isn't particularly playful -- nor particularly readable, really. He can't say he doesn't understand the pleasure of undressing a lover -- has he not done the same to Liem before? -- it's just that somehow he hasn't expected his husband to care about this.

And he's feeling thoroughly teased, besides. The gentle touch of Liem's hands, the yearning kisses -- they are not enough, could not possibly be enough when Cardan feels so shivery and alight with want. It would only be just for the man responsible for this teasing to reap his just desserts.

And yet-- ]

You do deny yourself too many pleasures.

[ His tone is a little arch, as if Liem's asceticism is a burden on Cardan. Still, he will slip his hands from Liem's hair to hold them down at his sides, obediently unobstructive. ]

I suppose I shall not add another to the list.

You indulge me so, husband.

[The warmth in Liem's tone easily withstands his husband's sass, and he leans closer, dipping his head to press a kiss against Cardan's shoulder as he slides his sleeves fully free of his arms. Cardan is right, of course — but this morning, he has no wish to deny himself anything. The only one allowed to deny him things for the present is Cardan — and it seems he has caught him in a permissive mood, so Liem is free to skim his hands down the tapestry of his back and fit them around his slim, still-clothed hips. Desire throbs insistently through him as he smears a cool, breathless kiss against his neck, for a moment simply holding him against him.]

Indulge me a moment more, won't you?

[And he moves, pressing Cardan back to sit once again the plush fur of the rug, shifting back himself and onto his knees as his hands slide down one leg to find one booted foot. Liem does not simply unlace it, but coaxes it onto his lap, heel resting on his knee and sole against his bare thigh. His hands are attentive to their task, but his eyes find their way back to Cardan's own even as he dutifully works to free one boot, and then attend to the other.]

Mm.

[ He can't help the way his eyes slide closed when Liem's mouth finds his shoulder, his neck-- can't help his little shiver at the travel of hands over his back. It distracts him enough that he doesn't even complain at being directed, folding himself easily back into the rug. He will lean back on his hands; it's not like he can currently use them for anything meaningful.

No, Cardan can only watch, and so he does: intently, openly, the hungry interest in his eyes keen on following Liem's clever fingers, on watching firelight play with the sharp, elegant lines of his body. It makes him yearn to touch Liem, and his fingers curl in the plush fur, helplessly bereft.

It's the warm inflection in Liem's voice. It's the careful, deliberate tenderness of his kisses on Cardan's skin, burning still even though the touch itself is long gone. It's the vulnerable press of his bare skin against the heel of Cardan's boot -- Cardan is utterly disarmed by it, somehow, and it makes him want to press hard fingers into the sharp jut of Liem's hipbones and bury himself inside him until none of this matters.

But he promised he wouldn't, so he only stares, tense with want and strange, tender anxiety. ]

I have wed such a stubborn man.

[Liem is pleased to be the stubborn man that Cardan has married. Even if they both still have difficulty understanding each other, even if his insistence in this area does nothing more for Cardan than draw out his anticipation, satisfaction still curves his lips as he cradles his husband's bare ankle, setting aside one boot and then repeating the process with the other. Winning even such a minor concession as this, when it is from a man as contrary as his husband, feels like a victory.

And he cannot deny the thrill that follows Cardan's booted heel resting against his bare skin, or the allure of that taut, intense stare. It pulls him closer, until he's fitting himself between Cardan's legs, leaning over his body as his hands slide up his thighs. He almost closes the gap between them again, lured by the promise of that perfect mouth.

He teases gently,] Ah— but what about my flaws?

[But his mouth finds Cardan's chest instead, as he moves to undo the fly of his trousers. He is in no hurry as he trails kisses down his stomach; the frantic ache of his own want seems only just, given his indulgence. It's a fair price to pay for the chance to linger there a moment longer, his breath brushing Cardan's skin and his thumbs tracing the angled bones of his hips, before he finally pulls his trousers down his thighs and, steadily, free from his legs entirely.]

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