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I love me some gen threads, especially funny or drama-filled ones, but I am also shamelessly here for shipping AUs. The general Liem-shipping vibe is "I want more than this, but I shouldn't & they can't possibly want me back," so if you're into that, I've got what you need. His default setting is very D&D-like high fantasy, but I'm comfortable playing him in modern fantasy settings as well. Pretty much any prompt can also accommodate Liem being a full vampire instead of a dhampir, if that's your thing.

Prompts for inspiration:
• Arranged Marriage: Liem's shady vampire family has arranged his marriage to you, but he seems a rather reluctant fiance.
• Bodyguard Shipping: It's Liem's duty to keep you safe and out of trouble, possibly despite your best efforts.
• Companion to Royalty: Reclusive vampire king Liem and YOU! Are you a gift from a local power? Sacrifice from the townsfolk? Or did you just stumble up the road to his castle during a storm?
• Enemies to Lovers: Maybe Liem is a foreign agent trying to sabotage your country or organization. Or maybe you're rebelling against the current regime and he's trying to take you in.
• Fake Dating/Fake Married: A relationship is your cover story while you're travelling for some secret reason. Gotta keep up appearances.
• Hunter & Hunted: Are you a hunter trying to track Liem down? Or a snack that proved more than he bargained for?
• Hurt (Comfort Optional): Whether he's hurt, sick, drugged, or just upset, two things remain constant: Liem needs help, and he doesn't want to accept it. But maybe you don't want to fix him anyway; maybe you want to make him worse.
• Living a Lie: Whether you're undercover on a mission, or you lied to cover something up and now you have to commit, you're stuck playing a role until you accomplish some secret objective — or until you can shake off your nosy company.
• Loss of Control: For whatever reason, one of you is struggling not to go berserk — or perhaps has already failed. If it's Liem, can you help him come back to himself, or are you the one pushing him over the edge?
• Out of the Frying Pan: The classic "tried to help someone in trouble, ended up with a new and possibly worse problem" situation. But at least you're in it together!
• Priest/Celibacy: Default here is that Liem is the priest, but it could go the other way. Smutty, or just laden with UST? You decide.
• Texting: Stupid TFLN-style text threads, my beloved...
• Random Scenario: For if none of the above tickle your fancy.

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[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. ]

[Because they have been forced to hurry, and because they are headed to see Balekin of all people, and because he knows that Cardan dislikes being told what to do, Liem is unsurprised by the rather pert reply that he receives to his comment. Especially because he'd spoken it rather more like a statement of fact than a suggestion. He knows all this — and he is decidedly not cowed by it.]

Yes, [he says confidently.] Because I would like to, and because you will enjoy it.

[Two reasons which combine rather excellently in his view, even if they are unfortunately too short on time to pursue such luxuries now. He aims a brief, winning little smile at his husband before he must again rinse yet another soap from his skin — and then, once he is fully clean and gently smelling of summertime, he will finally rise from the bath to dry off in preparation for the night.

He does not bother to retrieve his discarded robe, given that he is going to be dressing in something else shortly enough. But he has his hair yet to attend to — or to let his husband attend to — and so for the sake of not distracting Cardan unduly, he wraps a towel modestly around his waist as he retrieves his shaving things.]

[ Despite Liem's efforts, Cardan's eyes follow him out of the bath, hungry for his body's lean, elegant lines, the tease of water droplets making their way down his chest. It's difficult to pass on the lure of a bath-warmed Liem; the fact that he must do so is just another of Balekin's many crimes. ]

You are saucy tonight, [ he will observe, in the tone of a man who finds this a little suspicious. But he doesn't refute Liem's assertion. After all, has there ever been a time he has not enjoyed his husband's hands on his skin?

He finishes soaping and rinsing himself, concluding with the length and tuft of his tail, which is twitchy even when caught in his fingers. Once that is done, Cardan will rise, getting to the reluctant task of rubbing himself dry. It has ever been his least favourite: he hates both being wet and the effort it takes to dry.

He does shrug on a robe, although this time his own -- because he's often cold these days, a condition even Elfhame's warm clime has failed to remedy. Having tied the robe haphazardly shut, with his hair in a tousled damp mess, he will approach his husband and his tools. ]

Shall we?

[Liem's attention holds steady to his task, and despite the suspicion in his husband's tone, his expression carries only the usual briskness that overtakes him whenever he goes through the motions of preparing for the night. The leather shaving kit he retrieves contains only a few items: shaving soap, a brush and a little bowl, a steel straight razor — and, since Cardan is the one meant to wield it, a pair of gloves. Liem takes only a moment to set these out, sitting the brush in water to soak the bristles. Then, he retrieves a small towel to fold over one shoulder before perching himself alongside.]

I am getting in character, [he says smoothly, without a single care that the Liem Talbott who attends Balekin's party isn't meant to demand things like the opportunity to wash his husband's hair. But he is meant to be fussy and controlling, so by Liem's reckoning a little sauce is permissible, regardless of context.

He is not worried about the prospect of distracting his husband while he wields a sharp blade against his face and throat. Given that the blade is ordinary steel, Cardan would need to do something drastic with it to cause him any real injury. But it isn't just his nigh-indestructibility that lets Liem bare his throat to Cardan with such unconcern. New though his husband may be to the skill, he is certain that Cardan wouldn't be careless with his safety.]

And you, husband, are being so very accommodating.

I am not, [ Cardan will protest, because, by his accounting, he's being bitchy and sullen, which is the correct way to be when he's denied pleasures he's started taking for granted.

Still, he will approach the task at hand with some enthusiasm. Learning how to shave someone has been more challenging than he had anticipated -- more frustrating, too, for a man who had always considered himself good with his hands. Liem doesn't bleed easily, but still-- there is a finesse in controlling the angle of the blade, the pressure and length of the strokes, and it had not come naturally to Cardan.

To his horror, he'd had to practice.

Thankfully, the palace has no shortage of servants; all of them were no doubt gossiping about the prince who had acquired a pervert's taste for shaving unsuspecting victims. Half a dozen or so had served to endear the shape of the straight razor to his hands, and if they bled a little for it, well, the deals they had made with him would surely make the cuts sting less.

He takes his task seriously, at any rate. There is an interesting amount of ceremony to it: first, the hot towel pressed to his husband's face, as Cardan mixes the shaving cream into a froth in the little bowl. Then, after the towel, his careful fingertips -- yet bare -- press to the underside of Liem's jaw, urging him to tip backwards for Cardan to paint the foam onto his whiskers.

It feels oddly intimate. For the first time, he has become a little jealous of the servant who helps Liem with this task each evening back in Ironside. ]

[When first they had made their plans to visit Elfhame, and Liem had realized that he'd need to leave his valet behind, it had not occurred to him to think anything of letting Cardan take over the task of shaving him. He and his husband were both in agreement that this arangement would be preferable to relying on a palace servant to wield the razor, no matter how inconsequential the risk to his safety. He did not care to allow the palace staff any power over him, even if it was just over the details of his visage, and Cardan had not disagreed.

And yet, there is a certain closeness in the sharing of that little nightly ritual, and enjoyment in allowing Cardan to care for him in this way. It took almost no time at all for him to go from apprehension at his husband's unpractised hands to unexpectedly intimate pleasure.

He doesn't think too deeply about the magnetic way Cardan's hands seem to attract his eyes as he works, or the warm and shivering pleasure that travels over his skin at the touch of fingers beneath his jaw. Usually he closes his eyes during this process — but he waits to close them now, watching his husband from beneath lowered lids as he paints the lather over his unshaven skin.]

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