sterngaze | open post

[ Cardan's face doesn't change. The way his eyes trail down from Liem's frowning face to the hollow of his throat, his collarbone, the drape of the robe over his bare chest-- all of it is opaque and unemotional, disinterested in the human servants and their hollow, gaunt faces. Only the tail splashes against the water, twitchy. ]

Yes, [ he says, as if he wouldn't prefer to avoid this particular subject altogether. He has never liked the servants -- their vacant stares are creepy, and the way they are actively dying at every point in their existence makes it worse. But that's an embarrassing thing to admit to; he continues to affect boredom instead. ]

Don't feel sorry for them, [ he warns, as if it will make a single shred of difference, ] they have made their bargains of their own free will.

[ As Cardan will, later tonight. He continues to not want to think about it. What he wants is to reach out and touch Liem, to draw his hands over his flank, his hip. To pull him close and bury his face in his scent, at least while they wait for the bath.

Instead, he lays light fingers against Liem's waist and looks up at him, searching that frown. ]

[There are many things that Liem could say about Balekin's treatment of his human servants; he could say that it is wasteful, that it is needlessly cruel, that it rather tellingly suggests a certain glee at having power over others, whose flagrancy Liem finds rather vulgar. He had not been expecting to like Cardan's erstwhile caretaker, but still Balekin has managed to surpass his expectations, and not for the better.

But he has been confronted with this scenario more than he'd like in his visits to other vampires' homes. Distasteful and, admittedly, discomforting as he may find it, he cannot say he is especially surprised.]

Somehow that does not compel me.

[His low murmur is distinctly dry. There is no bargain he can conceive of that would not render the fate of those humans just as abjectly pitiable as he might otherwise suppose. And for all his endorsement of Cardan's deceit of Balekin, there is no degree of blasé attitude that can ease the twitchiness Liem feels at the idea of escorting his husband back into this man's home.

He moves closer at the warm touch of Cardan's fingers, sliding his hands up his husband's thighs as he steps into his space.]

It is senseless — but so is dwelling on it. Regardless, I will not be swayed by the offer of servants who already stink of death. My duty is not to them, but to you.

[ Even as he shivers, pleasurably, at the slide of cool hands on his skin, Cardan is immediately distracted. My duty is to you strikes him like a stiletto to the ribs -- first a keen spike of warmth and then the brutal realization of just how foolish it is to feel this way. He knows his husband well enough by now to know that Liem means the words, but he would mean them regardless of whom he was married to. It's not Cardan himself that he's dutiful to, in the end, just the obligations of his marriage.

But that's a stupid thing to get hung up on when it is already more than he ought to expect. ]

Your duty is to staying out of trouble, [ he'll counter, unnecessarily. Liem is not a man particularly taken to getting into trouble, and he has, so far, performed admirably in keeping his nose clean. And although Hollow Hall is not without perils, they are more often of the violent kind, which Liem is unlikely to be subject to nor in much danger from. That, at least, is a relief. ]

...and being as insufferable as you can manage. [ He'll tangle one hand in the sleep-mussed hair at the back of Liem's head, rifling affectionately through the short strands. And even though he has already acknowledged the foolishness of his thoughts, the half-smile he gives Liem is helplessly charmed. ]

[Liem had never thought to see the night where Cardan was the one warning him to stay out of trouble. As if Liem wasn't one of the most reserved and cautious vampires Cardan knew — probably one of the most cautious people he knew over all, frankly. The admonishment makes the corner of his mouth twitch up, a little charmed, even before Cardan continues. Liem's thumbs trace idle paths along the sharp slant of his hip bones as he dips his head, content with the feel of warm fingers tangled in his hair.]

The latter, I can agree on.

[He doesn't exactly want to alienate all the guests at Balekin's party, but if Balekin's temper is anything like Cardan's, he suspects that won't be necessary. And even if it is, he is more invested in ensuring that his husband's discussion with his brother goes well than he is in beguiling the pleasure-obsessed faeries at this event.

Leaning closer, he catches Cardan's mouth in a cool, unhurried kiss. The bath is not quite done filling yet; he has no reason not to indulge.

Softly, he adds,] But if my aim was simply to stay out of trouble, I would not be here with you.

[ Liem may have miscalculated in letting Cardan lure him so close. When he leans down for a kiss, he may just find himself trapped in the cage of Cardan’s arms, in the press of his bare thighs. Despite the wisdom of Liem’s directive to hurry, Cardan cannot help but want to tempt him back to bed, or else towards another diversion outside of it.

He won’t let Liem pull away from the kiss, either, chasing him with another, hungrier one. He’ll kiss his husband, and then he’ll bite him, teeth grazing over the soft skin of Liem’s lower lip. ]

And what kind of trouble would you like to get into, Liem?

[ His hands find their way into the robe, slide over Liem’s bare skin to find the small of his back, fingertips tracing up the line of his spine, covetous and a little restless about it. It feels like, since the very first moment of real intimacy between them, they have been trying to outrun a deadline: there is always a banquet, a meeting, a sunrise to end their time with each other. For once, Cardan would like to enjoy his marriage without the urgency of passing hours in the back of his mind.

It won’t be tonight, but for a few stolen moments, he wants to pretend that it could be. ]

[Liem may have made an unwise move in drawing close enough to his husband for a kiss, but as ever, he cannot find it in him to regret the warm hands that slide beneath his robe or the hungry mouth that chases his when he thinks to pull away again. Even in the strange, too-real land of Cardan's birth, he alone remains the thing that is most alluring, most distracting. Heat flares in Liem's belly and behind his eyes when Cardan's teeth graze his lip; despite his husband's warnings, he cannot help but think that Cardan presents the most salient source of trouble he is likely to encounter even here. Any others, at least, he could more reliably turn away.

It is hard to break the spell that Cardan's restlessness and his want cast over Liem — most of all because he does not want to break it. He wants to fit himself back against his husband and take his time kissing him, without a thought to the other matters that always, inevitably crowd in on their private moments. That desire simmers beneath his skin, shivering along the path of Cardan's fingers, impossible to ignore.

And it is with painstaking restraint that he leans in further, his jaw scraping Cardan's as he moves to brush his lips against his ear. One arm reaches past him to turn off the low roar of the water, making his murmur suddenly loud against the silence.]

The kind that keeps me by your side, of course.

[ Cardan doesn’t know when Liem started saying things like this, nor when it started making him feel the way that it does— that painful little thump of his heart against his ribcage, fitful as a captive bird. He doesn’t know what to do with it; he knows only that he absolutely cannot show his reaction. His face stays impassive, his eyes fixed on a vague point over Liem’s shoulder. Still, he can do nothing about the way his hands tighten on his husband, nor the way his treacherous breath skips a beat.

His shiver is a little delayed, only a little for show. After all, the quiet rumble of Liem’s voice still feels pleasant, and the brush of his unshaven jaw will never not be novel — it’s just that Cardan is a little distracted from it.

As always, he takes refuge in insolence. His smile is slow and curling and more than a little wicked; he’ll turn his face so he can press his mouth to the place where Liem’s jaw meets his ear. ]

I think you have rather cornered the market on that kind of trouble.

[ Sometimes he wonders just how lonely Liem must have been, to give so much up for a man like Cardan. A selfless man would tell his husband that he could do better; a selfless man would not have remained married in the first place.

Cardan is not a selfless man, so he only breathes out and slides his hands down to cup Liem’s ass in his hands, indulgent with the feeling of his closeness. ]

[Liem still doesn't know what to make of the way Cardan's breath catches at his words, or the way his hands tighten their covetous grip on him. Is it excitement? Relief? It's obvious to Liem that his husband doesn't want to make an official appearance at his brother's home, doesn't want to have the discussion with him that they crossed the sea for. Perhaps the task would be all the more harrowing, conducted alone.

For a quiet moment he simply wraps his arm around his husband and delights in the lingering warmth from the kiss at his jaw, and the irrepressible pleasure of having Cardan's hands on him. He has been spoiled by the evenings they've spent together here in Faerie. The luxury has only made him covet more.]

Mm. Just one of the benefits I claim as your lawfully wedded spouse.

[Despite his habitual inability to let his troubles fall onto other people's shoulders, to him, there is romance in the notion of making Cardan's troubles his own. Briefly, he stoops to press a kiss to the join of Cardan's neck and shoulder.

Then, with a small, somewhat wistful sigh, he straightens again.]

Best we don't allow the bath to get cold.

[ Cardan sighs with the heaviness of an individual extremely put-upon by fate and duty alike. He, too, will rise — bringing him even closer to Liem, trapped as he is between his husband and the tub. His hands sweep up, still unhurried, to trace Liem’s flanks, his chest, to flirt with his sharp collarbones and then flick upwards to push the robe off of his shoulders, so that it may pool at his feet.

Except it doesn’t, because Cardan catches it, meaning to steal it for himself. ]

You had better get in, then, lest you show up looking like a lumberjack.

[ That’s a generous way of decribing Liem’s evening whiskers, but Cardan has never yet let truth keep him from exaggeration. ]

[Despite his own suggestion that they should attend to readying themselves for their outing, Liem allows himself to linger another moment in his husband's grasp, letting Cardan's fingers wander up his flanks and chest in that idle way that makes him wish he could just melt into his touch altogether. His own fingers still loiter at Cardan's slim hips as the robe slides free of his shoulders, leaving him almost as bare as his husband.

Cardan's suggestion makes a little grin flicker over his expression, a brief flash of sharp teeth.]

No lumberjack has ever looked like this.

[He leaves no room for doubt, because he has none. Even if Liem has never seen his own face, he knows with full certainty that no human logger has ever possessed the air of refinement and danger that is his birthright.

But he nevertheless obeys Cardan's direction, lifting his forearms free of the robe and sliding into the tub like an exquisitely sculpted ice cube slipped into a drink.]

[ The flash of teeth does something to him he never quite knows how to categorize -- that mix of sharp thrill, heady desire, and the feeling that he's tangling with something ancient and ravenous, even though Liem is no more ancient than Cardan himself. ]

Arrogance is so dangerous on you, [ he'll opine, sliding himself into the garment. Their height difference is such that Cardan rarely gets to steal Liem's clothing, and he's not wont to pass off an opportunity now. And, unlike his spouse, he even goes through the formality of tying the garment shut, as a proper bath attendant might.

Well, a proper bath attendant with bare feet and peony petals from last night's revel still tangled in his hair.

It should have humbled him: attending someone else in this way. Theoretically, he could have demanded a servant help Liem get ready, but letting a Faerie servant near his husband's throat seems foolish, and besides-- Cardan doesn't hate it. In the few days they've spent in Elfhame, it has become an oddly comfortable routine.

And anyway, surely a man can be forgiven for wanting to touch his own husband.

Usually, he's not quite so up in Liem's business in the earlier part of his bath, but today, Cardan desperately longs for something to keep his hands busy with. So he settles in, just behind Liem, and reaches for one of the endearingly fussy soaps Liem insists on using. ]

Let me.

[ The last time he did this, it ended with mixed results. Given that they are heading to Balekin's estate, that seems appropriate. ]

[Liem finds himself thoroughly unsurprised to see his jewellery-thieving husband slide the robe around his own shoulders once it has slipped free of its original wearer. Somehow the habit is a little charming to him; magpie-like. A desire to claim things associated with Liem for himself, even temporarily. As if it is not enough to take liberties with his husband; Cardan has to amuse himself with his husband's things, too.]

I shall endeavour to wield it judiciously, [he says lightly as he sinks into the heated water. This time, he politely doesn't ask to whom the danger would be.

By now, Liem reaches automatically for the modest collection of soaps at the tub's edge, having become used to the slightly more spartan routine of simply bathing himself upon rising in the evenings. He pauses when his husband's hand cuts in front of his, beating him to the bottle for which he'd been aiming — and, after only a brief pause, he allows his hand to fall.

As he settles back slightly, he murmurs,] A rare pleasure for me. You're not thinking of making us late after all, are you?

[ Cardan raises his eyebrows at Liem's (entirely warranted) suspicion. ]

Are you accusing me of seducing you under the guise of washing your hair?

[ He makes it sound like a delightfully ridiculous thing for Liem to suggest, even though he has made such a play before, and successfully at that. It is, perhaps, a little softened by the press of his mouth to the crown of Liem's head. ]

Very well, you suspicious creature. I promise on my dubious honour as Elfhame's prince that I shall only hasten our efforts to be insufferably early.

[ Since he cannot defy his promises, especially ones uttered so formally, surely that should assuage Liem's worries.

The pleasant scent of jasmine and amberwood floats in the air as he uncorks the bottle and lathers up his hands. Soon, those hands slide into Liem's hair, setting about the first of the many haircare steps his husband demands. ]

Consider, for example, that I'm not in the bath with you.

[How very like his husband, to speak his accusation with such brazen incredulity when they both know him to be guilty of just that very mischief in the past. Liem expects that — he expects Cardan to toy with him; he doesn't expect the press of lips against his wet hair before Cardan makes his theatrical little promise. He can only be glad that he is facing away from his husband, so he doesn't have to worry about the flicker of emotion that passes, soft and warm, over his face in the wake of his touch.

Instead, he gives a soft laugh, relaxing under the slide of gentle fingers through his hair. No — he never expects these little oaths from his husband, even temporary as they are. Why Cardan would place little pieces of his freedom so willingly in his hands, Liem doesn't know. For a man who is so unlike Liem, who rankles at the prospect of being compliant, it seems impossibly strange.]

You don't think it would be more efficient for the both of us to bathe together?

[His eyes are closed as Cardan massages the soap into his hair; his tone is mild, innocent, despite the hint of a smile on his lips.]

I think it would be far more pleasurable.

[ Despite his professed hurry, Cardan is thorough about Liem's hair -- if only because he expects his husband wouldn't stand for a sloppy effort. But there is a strange delight in this, too, in drawing soapy fingers through Liem's soft hair, in massaging tight little circles over his scalp, in trying to loosen some of the tight knots in the muscle at the nape of his neck. An unselfish kind of pleasure, which is a rare experience for Cardan indeed. ]

But unlike certain deviates in my acquaintance, my tastes are simple and modest, and so I do not wish for undue frustration.

[ His fingertips trace the shape of Liem's ear, a little wistful. He wishes they had time for more; he always wishes they had time for more. It seems that he must ever be content with far less.

He did promise, however, and so he can only sigh and press his fingers to the base of Liem's neck, urging him to tip forward. ]

[Though Cardan has volunteered his assistance multiple times now, Liem continues to be surprised by his husband's evident desire to attend him personally, and he is further plagued by a growing wistfulness at the prospect of having his hands on him in this way more than just once in a while. The smile on Liem's lips turns a little crooked; how impossible to please he is, wishing for more of something he has no business receiving to begin with.]

I would not have dreamed I'd hear my Faerie-prince husband say such a thing.

[It tickles him, particularly as his husband outdoes him in his indulgence in luxury in plenty of areas — though to be sure, it seems bathing is not one of them. Liem tips his head willingly at the press of his hand, his eyes still contentedly closed, and lets Cardan rinse the soap from his hair. It is another slow, unhurried moment before he straightens again.]

And still, I continue to play the insufferable party guest with an allergy to pleasure.

[He has not been particularly wild even by the standards of Eldred's court; he cannot imagine the revellers at Hollow Hall will be impressed.]

And they are wild for it.

[ It's true; nothing could have intrigued the fey of the High Court so much as Liem's aloofness and refusal to indulge. Some of the flightier ones will have undoubtedly dismissed him as a bore, but many more revel in a challenge. He will have enjoyed no shortage of proposals -- of various kinds, ranging from the hideously improper to the coolly businesslike -- every single night since his arrival.

Cardan thinks all of this very funny. Funny -- and oddly gratifying, knowing that, in the end, the only one who gets to be privy to Liem's indulgences is himself. No one else sees his husband's tousled morning hair or his soft, less guarded smiles.

Having Liem be stiffly formal with everyone else has engendered in him an odd possessiveness which he resolutely refuses to examine further.

He will reach for the next bottle, filled with a lotion meant to make hair soft as silk and shiny as spun moonlight. This, too, he applies to his palms first and to Liem's hair second, working it through the strands. ]

Your seneschal would be so proud.

[Liem never would have imagined that somehow, in this faraway land where most people don't even know his father's name, he would manage to enjoy just as much popularity as he ever had in Iago's court — more so, even, thanks to his current novelty. Back home it had been in fashion, among some vampires, to dabble with the same kind of restraint that Liem committed himself to, and indulge in pastimes that were, if not necessarily less indulgent, then at least of the kind that kept one's faculties keen. But it was all show, of course — and like his father, most of those who clove most tightly to the act tended to enjoy the wildest depravities outside of it.

That faeries who likely couldn't care less about his family name, and show no desire to even pretend at restraint would be so beguiled by him truly underlines, to Liem, just how starved for novelty they must have been.]

Perhaps, [he murmurs with dry amusement.] If he could summon the feeling from his shrivelled heart.

[Liem suspects jealousy and disgust would be more likely, mostly because the man would need to care about him to some degree in order to feel pride for his accomplishments, and he's certain that Gusairne has never cared for him even slightly.]

He would hate it here. I don't think he even knows how to enjoy himself.

[ Cardan quirks an eyebrow, considering this. He can imagine Gusairne easily enough, and he can imagine the repulsion on his already sour face all too well. And yet-- ]

I would not be so certain, husband. A man who denies himself is all the more at risk of temptation.

[ Maybe not the dancing, drinking, music-and-revelry kind. But there are things even Gusairne must want, and Cardan does not doubt that every deal maker within several miles would be curious to sniff them out. Men that repressed tend to unwind spectacularly, once they do. They don't merely lose a few dreams, a finger bone, or a few years of their life; they lose memories, names, and entire existences. And once Faerie has sucked them dry, they are left with nothing at all.

He is suddenly acutely aware that the man whose hair he is tending to has more than a casual tendency towards self-denial. ]

...do you hate it here?

[ Another careful press of his fingers, urging Liem forward so he may rinse the treatment from his hair. ]

You've fended off many of our enjoyments yourself.

[Cardan's assessment elicits a dry chuckle from Liem. He is certainly familiar enough with the dangers of temptation, being a man who is in the habit of denying himself desirable things. He does not think the things he might desire most would be offered to him in Elfhame's courts, but that does not mean he lacks any desires that savvy locals might fulfill.

So, perhaps even Gusairne would find what he wished for in Faerie, or else the illusion of it. Liem has been offered all kinds of bargains in the nights he's spent here, and while the more audacious deals didn't interest him in the least, some of them were shrewd enough to give him pause, despite his promise to his husband. It cannot be said that Faerie lacks for variety.

But that is not why he is here. He is a guest at Elfhame's palace only to accompany Cardan, to ensure nobody forgets that he has a husband who demands his presence back in Ironside. For that reason more than any other, he cannot go disappearing into Faerie's markets in pursuit of unwise bargains.

He will tip his head again, allowing Cardan to rinse the lotion from his hair. When that is done, he will lean his head back, until he is looking up at his husband.]

It is beautiful here. I have problems to solve, and my husband's company to monopolize. What further enjoyments have I need for?

[ Cardan laughs, because the prospect of solving problems as enjoyable is so thoroughly alien to Faerie, and so thoroughly like his serious, dutiful husband. The fact he finds it endearing is probably a sign of some tragic malady of the mind.

Luckily, even his self-imposed directive to hurry them along allows him enough leeway to lean forward, his wet hands on Liem’s face, and press his mouth to his in an indulgent, upside—down kiss. A moment later he pulls away, dark-eyed and seductive, to whisper, ]

But imagine all that paperwork you’re missing out on.

[ It would have been more sensual a performance, admittedly, had he not broken into a grin right after.

Anyway, he cannot tarry. He pulls away, reluctantly releasing Liem from his grasp, and rise to slip off the robe. ]

I’ll have to join you in the bath after all, if we are to be on time. Do behave yourself.

[ Because, obviously, it’s Liem who is most at risk of misbehaving. ]

[Liem continues to be unexpectedly delighted whenever, be it with a joke or simply what he imagines to be an ordinary remark, he can make his husband laugh. It makes the awkward way he has to tilt his head back to regard him more than worth it, just to see Cardan laugh like he's said something absurd — and then steal an indulgent little kiss, despite their hurry. Liem reaches up to thread damp fingers through his hair, and when he pulls them away, a clinging pink petal comes with them.]

Ha ha.

[Fondly, he watches for a moment more as his grinning husband pulls away to slide free of his borrowed robe. Liking for problems or no, even Liem would not be so absurd as to pine for his ledgers and correspondences when he is well occupied with his spouse. That he'd need to abandon their bed early each evening and leave his husband in favour of his duties is not one of the things from home that he misses.]

I promise not to tempt you any more than absolutely necessary.

[There is nothing he can do about his nudity, which the bathwater does nothing at all to disguise — nor can he suppress the interest with which he watches Cardan disrobe and join him. But surely he cannot be faulted for admiring his own husband. And, as an inveterate multitasker, this will not at all stop him from reaching for yet another fussy soap so he can finish his own bath.]

[ He slips into the bath with a sigh, revelling in its warmth as he folds himself into the water -- and under it, so that the rest of the petals and glitters can disperse from him -- most of them, anyway. The remainder he will deal with once he sits back up, curls flattened and plastered to his face.

He grins at Liem some more, leg idly brushing against his husband's, and tries not to spend too much time considering that the distance between them is so small, that he misses the slippery heat of Liem's moving against him when he fucks him in the bath, and that the last time they did this, it was truly spectacular. He cannot afford to.

When he sighs again, it is a touch sorrowful. ]

Your promises are lies, husband. You are tempting me already.

[ Perhaps his promise was overhasty. The only reason he had even uttered it was because Liem is right: they need to get to Balekin's on time for this to work.

And for that to happen, Cardan needs to get ready. He will, of course, reach for the bar of soap. It's a nice bar: it smells of flowers and herbs, of pine and fresh summer rain. It is less fussy than Liem's little bottles, granted, but it's perfectly sensible as a tool for the job Cardan needs it for. ]

[Perhaps Liem's eyes do linger a moment longer on his husband than they need to, when Cardan slips beneath the water and emerges with his lovely black curls plastered against his skin. Perhaps the brush of his leg against his husband's lasts a little longer than it strictly needs to. It is just that Cardan is also so relentlessly tempting, and the immediacy of his beauty is so much more compelling than any party or obligation, no matter how important.

But at his complaint, Liem wrests his eyes away as a smile flickers over his lips, and he returns his attention reluctantly to his own bathing.]

Surely you cannot expect me to abandon my bath half-finished, [he says reasonably, lathering soap between his palms.] You will find that it is quite necessary after all.

[And although he is most used to letting an attendant do most of the work for him, he will attend the remainder of his bath routine with the same brisk economy of movement with which he does everything else. Even if he does have to frown a little bit at the bar of soap his husband reaches for, and comment innocently:]

One of these nights, when we are less pressed for time, you must let me attend you when you bathe.

Must I? [ retorts Cardan, arch for no reason other than the fact he's sulking. Still, he's watching Liem perform his bath in the same way one would a tightly choreographed dance, and something greedy lives in his gaze. Liem may be Liem, fussy and fastidious and horribly dutiful, but somehow it is those qualities that Cardan has started to find charming, even when they drive him up the wall.

Another symptom of his mystery illness, no doubt.

It goes without question that he inflicts the bar soap lather on his hair; unlike his husband, Cardan defaults to using the same simple routine for his entire body. He had been anointed with soaps and lotions and creams and salves in the past, by overeager courtiers and well-meaning servants alike -- but it never makes a shred of difference, anyway. Three weeks without a bath will leave him smelling much the same as a wash with the finest soap bubbles known to foppish mankind.

Anyway, this is faster, and he wants to finish at the same time Liem does. ]

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