sterngaze | open post

[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.]

[ Liem leans in, and Cardan still watches him, breath hot in his throat, thrumming with anticipation-- and when Liem's lips press to his chest instead, it's all he can do to exhale and pretend away his impatience. His hand finds its way into Liem's hair, ruining its neat coiffure, which gives him a little satisfaction. But not for long. It does not escape him that they have oft found themselves in the opposite of this configuration, and the reality of Liem's mouth travelling steadily down towards his cock makes a sudden, savage longing flare to life within him.

...but Liem only removes his trousers, true to his intent. Cardan swallows, unsteadier than he'd like to admit, and helps in the process not at all, instead choosing to fall back on his elbows. The warmth of the flames is lovely on his bare skin; he feels the tickle of fur against the backs of his thighs and exhales again, slowly. ]

Are you asking me to enumerate?

[ But his voice is soft. Once Liem is done with his pants, Cardan will wiggle his toes at him, demanding, then crook two fingers of his upturned palm in further invitation. ]

Come here.

[The fingers in Liem's hair feel especially fine like this, with his hands, his lips, and his attention so ardently occupied with his husband. It's impossible not to consider putting his mouth on him in earnest, tasting him as he somehow never has, despite his regular enjoyment of Cardan's blood. He has certainly thought about it on more than a few occasions.

But he is not feeling quite cheeky enough to indulge in what he hasn't asked for. He simply sets the trousers aside, and follows the beckoning of Cardan's fingers instead, crawling back atop him so he is straddling his husband, looking appreciatively down at him, gilded and lean and framed against the backdrop of the rug.]

Only if it pleases you to do so.

[Liem is an accomplished man; he has collected just as many bad traits as good ones, he knows. He would not have said that a habit of denying himself too many pleasures was one of them, but then he suspects many of Cardan's opinions on such things are quite different than his own.

He doesn't wait to see if Cardan is tempted to answer, instead dipping with a sigh, hand splayed over warm skin to cover his beating heart, and finally, hungrily catches his husband's mouth in his.]

[ If Cardan had a list of complaints at the ready, they evaporate readily when Liem kisses him. He arches into it, even as his hands smooth down Liem's back to pull him in, closer to Cardan's body. Liem's weight on top of him feels like relief, like a balm against his overheated skin, for all that it only stokes his desire.

But then, he's unsure if Liem could do anything that wouldn't. ]

I was wrong, [ he will murmur, between heated kisses, ] what I married was a tease.

[ Which is hypocritical, but that's certainly never stopped him. The arms around Liem tighten -- Cardan wants to turn, to flip them so that it's his weight on top of his husband's, pressing Liem into the plush rug. So he does, and that feels like relief too.

He braces himself on his elbows so he can look down at his husband properly, loath as he is to pull away. ]

A man who makes me want him incessantly, [ he'll continue, deadpan, ] and then buries me in paperwork for weeks on end.

[ Even if the paperwork is often for his sake. Even if no one ever asked him to help Liem in his other work.

It doesn't matter, anyway; Cardan isn't truly complaining. He just needs something mundane as a buffer against his savage longing, never extinguished no matter how many hours of intimacy they manage to snatch away. He needs it to not show plainly in his face, in the too-quick cadence of his breathing, in the way his eyes seem unable to leave Liem when he's in the room.

Not that he thinks Liem will be fooled by his bitching, either. ]

[The feel of Cardan's hands on his back, pulling him close as he arches into Liem's kiss makes the yearning ache low in his belly flare desperately hot. He'd managed some semblance of patience while he'd stripped his husband of his clothes, but the feel of his body warm and hungry against him — his to touch, his to undress, his to taste, his his his — makes everything else slip from his mind without a single struggle. He sighs into Cardan's touch, ardently seeking his mouth each time his husband pulls away — to speak, to breathe. It is only when Cardan rolls them over to press Liem into the rug that he allows him to pull properly back, following him only with heavy-lidded eyes as he looks up at him.

It is funny that Cardan should complain of Liem making him want him, when Cardan has been doing nothing else since the moment they were first married. But then, it had always been Liem who insisted on resisting that bait, for reasons that have become more difficult to stay true to as the trap of his husband's touch becomes more and more alluring.

And of the two of them, Liem is the only one who was professed an enduring fondness for frustration.]

Am I neglecting you, husband?

[The animal longing for his kiss has not receded, but he makes himself simply look at him, from where he's lying caged blissfully beneath his body. His fingers lift to brush against Cardan's cheek instead as Liem's eyes curiously search his expression.]

You are not buried in paperwork now.

[ Cardan is glad for his ability to smooth his expression, though nothing can hide the intent way he's looking at Liem. It's a strange moment -- his breath is loud in his ears, interrupted only by the occasional crackling from the fireplace and the soft thump of his tail against the floor. He fights the urge to turn his head, to brush his mouth against Liem's palm -- and then gives in to it anyway, his eyes sliding shut. ]

No, [ he murmurs, and leans down to find him again, mouth brushing aimlessly over the line of Liem's jaw, ] I suppose I am not.

[ And then why waste more time thinking about it? Instead, he could draw his fingers over the contours of Liem's body, press himself into the space between his thighs, indulgent and aching with longing. They are not in some crowded bar, confined to a small table; when he slips his hands up Liem's shoulders, over his arms, nothing should stop him from pinning both wrists above Liem's head -- well, nothing except for Liem, were he so inclined. ]

Then let me bury myself in you instead.

[Liem cannot help but think, as he looks up at his husband, watches him tip his head to brush the warmth of his lips against his palm, that Cardan looks softer this morning than he has often seen him, at least during his waking hours. Perhaps it is the fire's warm light touching his skin, or the ease that half a night's freedom has lent him. Even though Liem has not restrained himself from teasing his husband in these past couple hours, he cannot say Cardan has seemed especially vindictive, even earlier, in the bar.

It is a world apart from what he would have expected from him in the first weeks of their marriage, when his new groom had been so regally cloaked in spite and pride, all sharp, bitter edges hidden behind silken poise. He cannot say he wasn't already attracted to him even then, but the murmur he presses against Liem's jaw, soft and meandering, makes his breath tremble and catch in his lungs.

He is not remotely inclined to resist the warm transit of Cardan's hands over his skin, even when he takes the hand from his face so he can press it instead against the rug over his head. Liem far too caught by the shivery thrill of the hands on his wrists, of his husband's body stretched above his, of the press of him between his thighs, enough to pull a soft, wanting sound from him, a little helpless with it.]

You can, [he murmurs.] Whenever you like.

[ Cardan cannot help but think of the fantasy Liem had shared with him. He still doesn't have the patience nor the reserves of blood to recreate it here, but still, it stays in his mind's eye: the thought of Liem captive and taut with desire, arranged as if on display. He looks like that now, and when Cardan fits one hand around his husband's slim wrists, he cannot help the shiver of something primal and hungry rising through him.

He may not have the patience for much more foreplay, either. Liem's murmur sends a greedy heat through him; his hands tighten in their hold. He hadn't expected his husband to refuse him, of course, and yet his invitation feels intoxicating, like a strong draught gone straight to his head.

Cardan will kiss him again, sweet and thorough and so indulgent that he's going to have to gasp for breath a little when he pulls away. His freed hand slides down between them, fingers splayed over Liem's hip--

And then he huffs out a laugh, startled with sudden realization. ]

Ah, to be brought low by my own hubris.

[ By which he means, of course, that he had entirely forgotten the need for lubrication.

Thankfully, the solution to the problem is not particularly remote. It does necessitate him pulling away -- and so he does, with a grin full of promises and a lingering kiss to the corner of Liem's mouth. He will sit up, turning away from Liem and towards his discarded jacket, in the pockets of which he will rummage.

They have had so few opportunities recently; he has taken to being prepared. ]

[For all that the drinks he'd had at the tavern had barely even warmed his throat, and for all that he hasn't touched a drop of blood all night, Liem feels drunk on something when Cardan leans in and kisses him again. He arches against him, dizzied by his taste and his warmth and his scent, desperate for the slide and press of his body. The frantic beating of Cardan's pulse drums in his ears as his husband finally pulls away, and only the intoxicating grip on the wrists pinned above his head keeps Liem from pulling him back again so he can smear heated kisses over his throat.

He looks so impossibly charming when he laughs. Liem doesn't understand it.

He's smiling, soft and amused, when Cardan kisses his mouth again.]

Or your impatience, [Liem muses, tilting his head to follow his husband as he reaches for his jacket. Although Cardan has released him, has had to in order to search his pockets, he doesn't move from his place on the rug, stretched out in anticipatory stillness with his wrists lying just above his head.] And mine.

[He releases a slow breath, doing a credible impression of someone who isn't desperately aching for the return of the body that had been covering his. Although it is warm in front of the fire, and although differences in temperature have never bothered Liem, his skin feels chilled, bereft without Cardan's pressed against it.]

You compel my attention too easily.

[ Cardan’s tail — in fuller view, now that he’s turned away — moves in pleased little loops. Liem is right: he is dreadfully impatient. Already distance settles into him like an ache; his skin feels too hot without Liem’s cool touch against him. ]

Oh, surely not. You’ve successfully ignored me for a full month, once.

[ Though it’s different, and he knows it’s different. Something between them has shifted since then — changed, irrevocably, since the night of the failed assassination. There is an undercurrent of desperation in it, he thinks, the frantic feeling that this time is fleeting. Perhaps it’s how mortals feel, with their short lives and weak hearts, ever trying to outrun tomorrow.

For the first time, he thinks he understands why they make so many ill-advised deals.

He turns, small crystal vial in hand, and feels a thrill go through him at the sight of Liem still with his hands above his head, holding the position Cardan directed him into. For a moment, he lets his gaze roam over him, black pupils blown wide against equally black irises. ]

You stayed, [ he says, so quiet it might be more to himself than to Liem, and moves once more. His hand slides up from Liem’s hip to his flank to his arm, finding its place once more over his wrists; Cardan covers his body with his own, fitting against him like he was always meant to be there. His mouth brushes the silver at Liem’s temple, the gentle point of his ear, breath hot with his own desire.

The hand that finds their way between their bodies is equally hot, slicked with silken oil, slipping between Liem’s thighs to press up against his entrance. Cardan’s breath catches with that, too. ]

[Liem's eyes wander intently over Cardan's body as he retrieves the oil from his jacket pocket. They skim down his back, with its network of crisscrossed scars, linger on the flicking, pleased motions of his tail, and — when Cardan turns to regard him again, vial in hand — they settle again on his face. He meets his husband's dark gaze with a wry smile.]

Once.

[He had ignored Cardan, if that word could even rightly be used for his stubborn weathering of his husband's attention, for a month once, when Cardan had been less bold with his demands and less tempting with his promises. Keeping his husband from his mind had already been difficult enough then, when he was but a stranger and the intimacy he offered just a ploy in a game. In the time since, doing so has quickly become impossible.

The only movement he makes, as his husband regards him, is the tip of his head to one side, his cheek brushing the thick fur of the rug. Yes: he has stayed, and he has waited. Not patiently, but he has waited nonetheless.

The heated slide of Cardan's hands and mouth against his skin are all the reward he might have hoped for. Liem shifts beneath the electric thrill of his touch, breath sighing softly out as warm lips find his temple, the shell of his ear. And when oil-slicked fingers slide between his thighs, he has to force himself not to squirm immediately against Cardan's touch, eager as he is to have him inside of him.]

[ Cardan is ever greedy for the tight clutch of Liem's body; when his fingers press inside him, there is no helping the avid hunger that sparks through him, breathless and heady. His teeth slide against the elegant line of Liem's neck, a graze rather than a bite, caging the pant of his heavy breaths.

Then Cardan does bite him: in the crook of his neck, careful and deliberate, though he knows he will draw no blood. Still: he will busy himself with the valiant effort of sucking marks onto Liem's skin, for the hour or so that they might stay.

But then, fleeting pleasures are all the more precious for it. ]

Why did you? [ he will ask, between ardent kisses.

He can't help it. He wants to know. Once seems like such a long time ago, an eternity and a half, when things were so different they might as well have been different people entirely. And still-- ]

You'd half convinced me you were either shy or celibate.

[Liem cannot quite stop himself from moving against his husband when those hot, slick fingers press inside him, or when Cardan's teeth skim over and then bite the sensitive skin of his neck. His wrists move restlessly beneath Cardan's grip, wanting to encircle him, to roam his body and clutch him near. Already he misses the luxury of having Cardan at the mercy of his hands and his mouth, brief though it was.

But there is a kind of pleasure, too, in having his husband frustrate his desires. Hunger simmers just beneath his skin, flaring hot with each ardent kiss Cardan sucks against his throat and with each silken slide of his fingers. A stifled groan, wanting and impatient, becomes a breathless chuckle at the words breathed against his skin.]

Because I mistrusted your intentions.

[And he was not inclined to make Cardan's task easier by giving into his whims in service of whatever mischief he might have had planned. Which, as it turned out, was a reasonable suspicion to have. In the end he had tripped right before the finish line, so to speak, but nonetheless…]

And because I didn't want to let myself touch you until we'd resolved our disagreement.

[ Cardan's eyebrows twitch upward; the first answer makes sense, but the second is thoroughly puzzling. Their disagreement, as Liem calls it, had been about rejection in the first place; he does not see how Liem could have solved it by denying him his touch.

How lucky that they are past that unfortunate stage in their acquaintance. He chases that delicious little groan with the curl and spread of his fingers, insistent on being exactingly thorough. He wants them again, those desperate breaths -- wants the taut strain of Liem's desire, wants the triumph of being the one who teased it out of him. For some moments, that is all that occupies his focus.

Still, eventually he will lift his head, careful not to put undue pressure on the deceptively delicate bones of Liem's wrists. Cardan wants to look at him; when his eyes search Liem's face, his frown is caught somewhere between desire and bewilderment. ]

And which one of us were you punishing?

Ah—

[Liem's breath slides out of him again, caught a little off-guard, as Cardan continues to make a determined pursuit of his want and his pleasure. If his husband must get the better of him, this is the game he prefers to play; the difference between those first weeks of their marriage and the ones that came after is that he is happy to give Cardan his desire and even his desperation, when his husband's victory doesn't come at his own expense.

Though even on occasions when his desperation has been paired with frustration and denial, ultimately he must admit to liking that, too. At this point, he doubts that there is anything he wouldn't happily suffer at Cardan's hands, so long as his husband's lips were still warm and wanting on his skin.]

You ask this now?

[Liem can't summon much proper incredulity when he is kept so rapt by Cardan's touch, but he manages at least a little frown of his own, for the fact that Cardan has leant back up to ask a question like that in the midst of sex.]

It wasn't meant to be a punishment.

[Perhaps this is one of those areas where Liem's idea of courtesy is simply bewildering and annoying to his husband, but he doesn't see why they should need to revisit it while they're so distinctly occupied.]

You told me this puzzling thing now.

[ Nevermind that Cardan had asked the initial question. Though he has to concede Liem's point -- there are better things to occupy his thoughts with. It's difficult to cast his mind to that first, drawn-out month of dancing around each other with coy touches when he has Liem right here, gloriously bare, his in almost every way that counts.

He sighs and presses his mouth to the slant of Liem's collarbone, his jaw. It's a conciliatory gesture -- or would be, were he not to grin his sharp little grin and murmur forebodingly, ]

But you are welcome to keep your riddles, husband. So long as you stay.

[ There is an emphasis on the last word -- a gentle tightening of Cardan's hand on Liem's wrists before it disappears altogether. He means, instead, to touch them both, and the shiver that rocks through him when his fingers wrap around both their cocks is that of a man who has gone slightly too long without touch. His teeth press into his lip before he catches his composure on a ragged breath, tail trembling behind him.

So long as Liem stays. So long as he offers Cardan his wrists, the tight clutch of his body, and a myriad of other things Cardan has no right to demand of him. ]

[Liem cannot be cross with Cardan when his touch remains so impossible to ignore, and especially when his lips dip down again to press against his skin. He does not see how he has told any riddles for his husband to puzzle over, but by the way his head tips against the plush fur under the attention of his mouth, he is content to forget it until another time, when his mind isn't so immediately occupied.]

Mm. I'm yours to command.

[The murmur is meant to be a little flip, but it comes out too soft and too breathless to seem anything but sincere. And even when Cardan's hand slides between their bodies to wrap around them both, even as Liem's fingers clench and clutch at nothing and his breath catches in his chest, he keeps his arms just where they are, wrists resting just above the tousle of his hair.

This, finally, is just what he'd wanted when he'd brought him here, to this house, to this study. This is what he's wanted almost every time he's had more than a fleeting moment alone with his husband: that sharp, covetous look, that unhesitating demand for more of him — his obedience, his body, whatever he has to give. Cardan had promised to let him worry about restraint, and that is just fine, because Liem doesn't want his husband to be restrained when it comes to him. He wants his demanding touch and his hungry mouth and his intent, unwavering regard.

No matter how much of Cardan's desire he has, he ever remains starved for more.]

I know.

[ He says it with the solemnity of an oath. He can't even be arrogant about it -- not when he's like this, strung taut with need, every sense full of his husband. The conversation recedes into irrelevance; what does it matter that they didn't fuck for a full month when he's about to have Liem all to himself?

He's not patient about it. He'd wanted to be -- wanted to tease, to fuck Liem open and spread him with his fingers until he was pliant and sweet and desperate for Cardan's cock -- and yet. Liem's soft acquiescence has pressed on some wanting, ardent part of him, responsive as a bruise. He permits himself one more luxurious stroke, another-- and then his hand pulls away, clutches at his husband's hip instead. ]

Liem, [ he says, as he withdraws his fingers from inside him. It's not quite warning and not quite question; he only wants Liem to look at him.

But then, he always wants Liem to look at him.

How greedy they both have become. He dips down to bring his face close, arm braced just above Liem's shoulder as his other scrabbles for the vial of oil again, finding it in the plush fur of the rug. ]

[Of course Cardan knows: that Liem is his, that he can ask whatever he likes of him. It should be obvious from the way Liem arches into his stroking, the way he melts against the rug as Cardan works him open, the way his lashes dip heavily and his breath slides unsteadily from his throat. His husband could demand anything he pleased, and he would gladly give it to him, just for a smile or a word of praise.

That should be no secret, while they're like this. But he doesn't stop being Cardan's when they're both properly clothed and busy with other matters, and perhaps Cardan knows that too.

A soft, bereft gasp slips from him, a little surprised, when Cardan pulls free already — and he feels simultaneously like his husband has only just started touching him and like he cannot possibly go another moment without Cardan inside him again. Liem's heavy-lidded gaze lights on him as soon as he hears his name, glittering with fire-light and a hungry excitement as Cardan leans down again to where Liem is stretched obediently against the rug. Despite every temptation to act to the contrary, he leaves his wrists where they are, and simply tips his face up to ghost his lips against the corner of Cardan's mouth.

A little impatiently, he breathes,] I want to touch you.

[ He looks-- Cardan sucks in a breath, caught a little off guard by him. Liem is so lovely like this, with his usually neat hair tousled and the flickering light warm on his skin, but it's the look he gives Cardan -- that hungry, wanting stare -- that makes need flare hot inside him. It makes his heart pound with his impatience all over again; it makes him want to tell Liem all the soft, fragile things he shouldn't speak out loud.

And still, a smile flickers on his face, impossible to contain. ]

You are touching me.

[ After all, are they not chest-to-chest, but a breath apart from each other? Are Liem's lips not whispering over his skin? For just another moment, Cardan stays there, watching him, drawing out the tease just one moment longer.

Then he shifts, oil-slick hand sliding up Liem's leg so he can position himself between his thighs, his cock slick with the oil, pressed against him -- but not in, not yet. His eyes search Liem's face; he doesn't move. ]

Be specific, Liem.

[ And if affection curls around the words, if it ruins a little of his stern taskmaster tone, so be it. ]

[Amusement and frustration war in Liem as Cardan smiles down at him, poised on the very edge of giving him what they both want. He can feel the heat of the body stretched over his, tempting him to arch up from the rug, to slide his arms about his husband and fit himself against him more fully. The oil-slick slide of the hand up his thigh sends a shiver of want racing down his spine, spiking low in his belly as Cardan presses against his entrance.

He wants more of his husband — wants his cock inside him, wants the press of his body and the slide of his hands and the hungry heat of his mouth. When Cardan makes him wait, impatience twitches his brows together — but the absence aching through him is shadowed by a helpless affection, softening his groan into a sigh.]

I want to touch more of you, you pedant.

[Despite himself, he's caught by the intent look that Cardan drags over him. It makes answering him with any sophistication challenging, occupied as he is with the temptation to take Cardan's face in his hands and kiss him until he's left gasping. Even that wouldn't unsteady him as much as having to weather that regard, which makes him feel like his chest has been cracked open and laid bare for his perusal.

His wrists shift against the soft fur beneath him, restless, almost desperate.]

I want to touch you with my hands. I want to hold onto you. I want to have you.

[ He laughs again, unreservedly delighted at the ire he's coaxed out of his oh-so-patient spouse. He likes Liem like this -- likes that, even though he's cross with Cardan, he has not moved, hasn't relinquished his adherence to the rules of the game. Never would he have expected his stiffly formal groom to be so permissive of Cardan's mischief.

It looks dazzlingly good on him, that frustrated self-discipline. ]

More of me than you already command?

[ He doesn't wait for an answer. The hand on Liem's thigh tightens; Cardan's hips shift as he finally, finally presses inside him. For a few breaths, all thoughts flee his head entirely, drowned out by tightness, by friction, by the pleasure of having all of Liem. Suddenly he, too, is hungry to have those cool hands on him, soothing his overheated skin. He swallows hard, his breathing ragged against Liem's jaw; his eyes cannot help but slip shut.

When he can look at his husband again, the smile is gone. In its place is a desire he feels is too obvious, too earnest and naked, and yet-- ]

Touch me, then.

[ It's not permission so much as demand. ]

And you may have whatever you wish of me.

[There is likely no degree of vexation that could make Liem fail to appreciate the laugh he coaxes from his husband, even if it is a little bit at his own expense. Delight just looks so good on him, like moonlight breaking through cloud cover — especially because, of late, he has had so little time to delight Cardan as he would like. And in their day to day, which has proven so fatiguing to his spouse, there is little to be delighted by.

And still, even in the midst of this moment they have stolen for themselves, he is greedy for more. Of course the answer to his husband's question could only ever be yes.

But even that is driven from his thoughts by Cardan finally pressing into him, the hard heat of him making Liem's eyes flicker wide and his breath catch in his throat. The instruction keeping his wrists above his head suddenly seems beyond intolerable; it is not enough to simply have Cardan atop him as he fucks him open. The need to hold him claws its way out of him like an animal.

Liem's hands find their way to him before he has even finished speaking: running over his shoulders, curling in his hair. He finds his breath again, brushes it in unsteady murmurs against Cardan's skin, in between kisses to his mouth, to the line of his jaw. It is all he can do, drowned as he is in him.]

This, Cardan. Just this.

[ Liem is right: it is just this. It's the touch of familiar hands in his hair; it's Liem's mouth, gentle and restless against his; it's the way he looks when Cardan slides inside him, as if he'd done something astonishing. When Cardan moves in Liem, it's less choice and more compulsion, a pull so inexorable he could not have stopped it any more than he could have stopped breathing.

It's a good thing Liem's hands are in his hair; if they hadn't been, if they had still been crossed above his head, Cardan would have wanted to twine his fingers through Liem's. Instead, they curl in the soft fur of the rug, restless.

He doesn't hurry. He doesn't want to hurry -- he intends to press Liem into the soft rug and feel the entire gorgeous landscape of his body beneath his own, and he wants to fuck him into said rug so achingly slow and deliberate as to drive both of them a little insane. He wants to stretch this moment out-- as if making it last will forestall the forward march of time and the relentless rise of the sun in the sky. For the first time in what feels like ever, Cardan feels something akin to lucky. To be here, warm and safe and luxuriant, to have every nerve in his body singing with pleasure, to have Liem look like that, feel like that-- it is more luck than his cruddy deeds have earned him, certainly.

But he'll take it anyway. He'll take it fiercely, and he'll hold on for as long as he can, selfishly and without remorse. ]

[The heat of Cardan's body fitted against his is ever a balm to Liem's frayed, taut nerves. He yields to him with a sigh, submitting to the caress of his mouth and the slow, luxurious friction of Cardan moving inside him. Like a summer storm, warm and vibrant and capricious, he saturates his senses — and Liem steeps himself in him readily, letting Cardan press him into the rug and have him one deliberate, unhurried stroke at a time.

It is sweet torture to draw this out slowly for once. He cannot entirely restrain the restlessness of his hips moving against him, or the soft, aching murmurs of his want, pressed against the elegant column of Cardan's throat. Cool fingers caress the nape of his neck; a gentle hand smooths covetously over his back. But Liem does not beg him to hurry, because as much as he craves the feverish heat of Cardan's desire, he does not want their intimacy to end, and be claimed again by the necessities that rule the rest of their waking hours.

He is not done holding his husband, or pressing those lingering kisses against his skin. He is not ready to relinquish the only sweet thing he has found time to indulge with Cardan in weeks of living with him. Because his husband so clearly wants for tenderness, and he so wishes to give it to him.]

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