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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 hums, soft and breathless and eager, at the heated wandering of Cardan's mouth over his neck. Any lingering worries he might have had about his husband's meeting with Balekin are swept aside as he tips his head in invitation, exposing a little more of his neck to Cardan's mouth. He winds an arm around his husband's shoulders, holding covetously onto him as their transport rumbles along.

If there are lingering concerns that will need to be addressed as a result of this outing, they will need to wait until he's sober regardless.

After all, what a shame it would be to deny his husband the chance to enjoy him like this, dizzied with affection and ease as he so rarely is. Liem is loath to deny him anything without a good reason, and at the moment, he cannot think of anything he objects to less than Cardan's gentle touch and leisurely kisses. The light pressure beneath his jaw sends a small, pleasurable shiver down his spine, and the hungry look in Cardan's regard makes a sweet little thrill of want flare low in his belly. Only the light contact of that finger stops him from leaning in again to kiss his husband's smug mouth.]

You can have whatever you like from me.

Ah—

[ It’s the answer he expects, and still it sends an electric little thrill through him, charged with heady desire. ]

You may regret that offer, [ he will murmur, but it’s in the velvet-soft tone of a man who cannot help his obvious pleasure, and who isn’t planning on taking anything back.

Instead, he tips his palm so he can run his thumb over the curve of Liem’s lower lip, as he’s done so many times before. He’s ever been a man too in touch with his many wants; there is barely a pause between his smiling warning and the first of his demands. ]

I want your mouth, Liem. I want it on me. Here, in this carriage.

[ He thinks back on that night at the townhouse, when Liem had stripped him, when Cardan’s hand had been in his hair and that dangerous mouth had trailed down his chest, and he had thought, for a moment, about how it would look wrapped around his cock. He thinks of it sometimes, still, when paperwork is boring and Liem is too busy to entertain him.

His gaze on his husband is considering. ]

Will you give me that, too?

[Liem's lashes dip briefly when his husband's hand tilts, when his touch traces along his bottom lip. He cannot contend with Cardan's touch on his face without being absorbed by it, without wishing to tip his face into those stroking fingers and press kisses against the skin there. He wishes to kiss many places on his husband, of course — but his hands, clever and beautiful and tender, have long been an object of his fascination.

Cardan warns that he may regret offering himself up so freely, and he knows that his husband can be imaginative with his whims. Still, Liem does not think he will regret it at all.]

Yes.

[Yes, he says; he will give that to him, happily. Certainly he has done so enough times in his own idle fantasies, even if none of them ever managed to get past his lips.

And he does tip his head, just enough to press his mouth sweetly to the flesh between Cardan's thumb and finger, soft and lingering, as he slowly unwinds his arm from about his husband's shoulders. His palms slide down Cardan's chest, down his waist, to splay over his hips. Holding his husband's gaze, he slides off of his lap and back, to a kneeling position on the cramped carriage floor.]

Did you think I might not?

[ Cardan watches Liem's descent with a marked uptick in his pulse; it hammers in his throat, too eager despite his languid eyes and calm hands. They trail to Liem's shoulders, and then up again, tracing the gentle points of his ears, sliding into the hair he had spent such efforts on earlier this night. Despite asking for it, he had not realized how much he'd wanted this until Liem was kneeling on the floor in front of him; now desire hits him with a dizzying intensity, intoxicating in its own right.

But his husband is asking questions, which is as good a distraction as any. ]

I dare not assume where your preferences lie. [ His shrug is as easy as the self-assured, deceptive little smile on his face. ] They surprise me often enough.

Besides, I would not have. [ He pauses, then amends: ] Prior to you.

[ It had always seemed like an act of debasement, somehow, until that night in Liem's bedroom, with nevermore shimmering in his blood and the strange frustration of Liem's refusal to give up on their marriage. A prince of Elfhame did not suck cock; certainly he cannot imagine Balekin nor Dain in the act. ]

No?

[Liem sighs into Cardan's wandering touch, the pleasant slide of elegant fingers over his ears and into his hair. He slides his own hands down as he nestles himself between his husband's legs, stroking idly over the fine fabric clothing his thighs. Not only does he look exceptionally pleasing from this angle, gazing down at Liem like this, but the immediate uptick in the sound of his heartbeats makes a quiet little smile curl over Liem's expression — like his stirring excitement is a secret that he's not meant to know.

He should have done this long before now. Only, it had seemed too brazen a thing to offer, when he hadn't known whether his husband would allow such a thing. For all that Cardan might not have been willing to get on his knees for another man, there was a certain amount of trust inherent in consenting to the reverse. Certainly, Liem had never felt anything but at Cardan's mercy when his mouth was on his cock.

Leaning closer, he spreads Cardan's thighs a little with his hands — so he can tug open the top fastening of his fly with his teeth.]

You indulge me so, husband.

[He is not sure if he means Cardan's willingness to blow him, or the opportunity he's just been afforded. He's pleased about both. Liem's fingers make swift work of the rest of his fly, and slide inside to give him a few unhurried strokes — but his eyes are still trained upwards, on his husband's.]

[ The maneuver Liem pulls with his teeth takes him by surprise; somehow, even after all these months, he does not expect Liem to be provocative. And what else can one call this, if not provocation? ]

…you are easy to please.

[ In this, and in most things. He will never not be thrilled by the liberties his formal, prudent husband permits him to take — by how receptive Liem is to his whims, how easily he bends to the most unreasonable of Cardan’s desires. It makes him want to be worse — greedier, more demanding.

His breath slides out of him in a soft, pleased sigh at the unhurried slide of cool fingers. As always, his skin feels overheated against his husband’s touch, his desire shivery in his blood. His interest in this has been at least a little pragmatic — he has big plans for the night ahead, and they will require patience of him.

And still, he wants that dangerous mouth with a startling ferocity. ]

Besides, you don’t yet know of all the terrible things I wish to do to you.

[ His easy grin places the statement somewhere between a threat and a promise. ]

[A soft laugh escapes Liem at his husband's vaguely threatening proclamation. He cannot think of a single occasion when Cardan had laid his hands on him that didn't make Liem eager for more of his touch. Now, with liquor gently colouring his cheeks and making his blood hum, the prospect of being subjected to his husband's wicked caprices makes want coil in his belly.]

I can be patient.

[Even intoxicated as he is, Liem is content to attend to his husband's request now and let Cardan reveal his designs at his own leisure. He has enough to occupy him for the moment regardless.

Cardan still looks unfairly handsome like this, with hunger in his eyes and a sigh of satisfaction on his lips. Liem wants more of that — wants to see him caught up in his own pleasure, too hungry and eager to think of anything else but Liem's mouth and Liem's hands. When he frees the cock from Cardan's trousers, the kisses that he smears along the shaft are hungry too, lips and tongue wandering, both deliberate and intent, as he acquaints his mouth with the taste and shape of it.

As ever, he feels feverish to the touch — almost shockingly so, as he draws the flat of his tongue along the underside of his cock. The heat always manages to excite him further, and despite his claim to patience, he feels his own trousers grow uncomfortably tight.

But given his current occupation between his husband's thighs, he likes that just fine.]

Can you?

[ Of course he can -- perhaps better than anyone else Cardan knows. But even so, his mouth curls, smug. ]

We shall see.

[ The smile stutters when Liem's mouth finds his cock. He doesn't look away-- he can't, not even when watching makes his pulse race too keenly, the spike of need too obvious. He watches Liem's mouth and tongue, his breath caught up in their path over his skin, and does not bother hiding the naked want on his face. And why should he? Liem is his, fair and square, and Cardan has no interest in pretending that he doesn't desire him as keenly and earnestly as he does.

It would be a little late for that, anyway. He'd shown his hand months ago.

Then: the leisurely drag of tongue, preposterously obscene against the backdrop of Liem's aristocratic face. Cardan has to pull one of his hands from his husband's hair so he can brace himself against the seat instead, fingers digging into the cushion. And even when he tips his head back against the carriage wall, his breath heavy, lust coiling hot and heady in his belly-- even then, he watches, his eyes narrowed to slits. ]

Liem, [ he will ask, so softly that the rattling off the carriage nearly drowns it out, ] have you been holding out on me?

[ It's only halfway a joke. Somehow, he just hadn't expected his husband to be so at ease with this. ]

[For all that his husband wears smugness like a fine suit, Liem feels pleasure flutter behind his ribs at the look on Cardan's face as he gives him what he wanted: his mouth on him, diligent and obscene and unabashedly indulgent. He is just as eager to finally know the taste and feel of Cardan against his tongue as he is to see that satisfied, possessive look turn impatient with stoked need.

And besides, he's also eager to please. This is what his husband demanded, after all.

For a moment, as Cardan gazes accusingly down at him, Liem just smiles, looking uncommonly feline as his fingers stroke lazily over his cock. Indeed, there's no trace of unease or unfamiliarity about him as he shifts between his husband's thighs, glances back down — and then takes him into his mouth, swallowing him up as deep as he comfortably can. The heat of him invading his mouth is unfamiliar, but the weight against his tongue, the slide of soft skin, the way he fits his mouth around him are not.

One might think the presence of sharp teeth would make for a challenge, but if it does, Liem seems practised at accounting for it. He does not concern himself with petty things like breathing as he works Cardan's cock, his attentions deliberately patient — as he said he could be. And he intends to deliver.]

[ This is not a side of his husband he's familiar with. Is it the drink? But when he recalls the easy, sweet way Liem has folded himself into his lap, it is still much different from the satisfied little smile Liem flashes his way.

It is probably a little deranged that all he feels at the sight of those sharp fangs is another pang of excitement.

He breathes in when Liem's mouth slides over his cock, and for a moment, can't help the way his eyes flutter shut with pleasure. The hand in Liem's hair slips down, brushes warm knuckles over his flushed cheek, meandering and tender. His stubborn desire to touch his husband has not receded; even now, caught up in sensation, he still wishes he could get more of Liem.

But if his husband has suddenly acquired a taste for mischief, then Cardan will simply have to take a different tack.

His eyes open, focus on Liem again, and he has to field the sharp swell of want at the sight of him. It takes a measure of self-control to not give in to it, not to shiver against the cushions and tip his hips up into the mercy of that mouth. Already Cardan can think of little else. ]

You're doing so well, [ he says, and the rumble of his voice is low with need and soft with fondness -- a little arrogant and a little affectionate, even as he strokes his thumb down the slant of his husband's sharp cheekbone. ] Don't stop.

[There is such an intimate pleasure in using his mouth on his husband like this, in the transient privacy of their borrowed carriage. Liem is so enamoured with the soft sound of Cardan's breath, the speeding of his pulse and the brush of his fingers against his cheek. He looks so beautiful and so unbearably precious with pleasure lying heavily upon him, softening his elegant features. Even the arrogance that continues to live in his gaze and his seat and the gentle wandering of his touch cannot rob him of that tender loveliness; if anything, the foil of that arrogance only serves to heighten it.

It undoes Liem, a little. Maybe because of the drink, because it always makes him lean towards the sentimental. His mind has become untidy, all his thoughts and feelings set adrift instead of being tucked neatly away where they belong — so he is left at the mercy of his own yearning when Cardan strokes one gently flushed cheek, murmuring what sounds more like encouragement than demand. It quickens some warm and urgent feeling in his chest, and if he were not so immediately occupied, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from tipping his face into that touch and nuzzling against it.

Instead, he chases that blissful loveliness further, with the attentive stroke of his fingers and the indulgent slide of his mouth. He relishes all of it: the weight of Cardan against his tongue as he takes him in, the heated slide of him, the familiar taste of him as he sucks at the tip of his cock. Even if Cardan's encouragement makes him feel a little wild, even if patience becomes more difficult with each of his husband's breaths, he couldn't bring himself to stop.

Because he wants Cardan's pleasure — fiercely and incessantly. And no need of his own will distract him from that.]

[ His request for this had been strategic: he had thought it pertinent to get his own insistent needs out of the way so that he may have greater reserves of patience once they reached the solitude of their chambers, once he had Liem all to himself and at his whims' mercy. He'd wanted to come simply so he could be calm about driving Liem a little insane.

He had not thought to be so easily caught up in it.

But there is no need to hold back, for once. The Palace of Elfhame will loom over them soon, and besides, even if he had patience, how is he supposed to weather that skillful, clever mouth, the patient hands, the sight of his husband flushed and so eager to give him this pleasure? Surely no man could. ]

Liem-- ah.

[ The gasp escapes him unbidden, breathless and not at all like the cool, collected mien he'd aimed to portray. He detaches his hand from the cushion and slides his fingers into Liem's soft hair instead, joining his other hand. Hypocritically, despite his own preferences, he's achingly gentle about it. And if his hands are a little unsteady, if his breath comes in erratic gasps, it's only because pleasure races too keenly up his spine. ]

Liem, [ he says again, just to say it, because his husband's name has never felt so musical on his tongue as during moments like these. Want rises through him, keener with each stroke of Liem's gorgeously devoted mouth. Cardan doesn't want to take his eyes off him, so he bends towards him instead, even as his teeth bite down on his lip to silence the needy sounds threatening to escape him.

And if his hands curl, if they grip tight after all, it's only because he's trying not to thrust up into that dangerous, slick mouth, and because his heart is racing, and because heat floods him as his climax looms closer, more and more inevitable with each sharply drawn breath. ]

[Liem is not generally one to crave the spark of pain dragging over his skin or tugging against his scalp. (Though the sting of a bite, like probably every lover he's ever had, he does covet.) The prospect of that particular brand of torment sits ill with him, when deliberate. Just because he can easily tolerate roughness does not mean that he wants to.

And yet, the tightening of Cardan's fingers in his hair makes an aching thrill run down his spine, electric with desire. Perhaps it is the breathless, wanting way in which he says his name, or the way his teeth dig into his lip as he tries to be silent. Want looks so breathtaking on him; if he forgets to be gentle because of Liem's hands and Liem's mouth, that discourtesy is one that he'll welcome eagerly.

He just wants to hear the rhythm of those sharp breaths stutter, wants to feel Cardan tremble with it when his pleasure overwhelms him completely. And he wants to taste him, for once in a way that he hasn't yet done. It is that dizzy, drunken want more than any thought for propriety that will keep his mouth dutifully stroking Cardan as his pulse races higher and his climax threatens — and when he does come, his eyes will still be caught fast on Cardan's face.]

[ Orgasm crashes into him like a tidal wave: slowly and then all at once, surprising him with its power, with the way that pleasure drags him under. He wants to watch Liem until the last -- tries to keep his gaze locked on that bright, crystalline blue, and yet-- When his climax rocks through him, it's all he can do to hold on to him. His eyes slide shut; a breathless, wanting moan escapes him as he shivers through it, as he comes undone under the caress of Liem's mouth.

Still, he blinks his eyes open as soon as he can manage. The exhausted black gaze finds Liem's again, eager for the sight of him. As the grip of Cardan's fingers loosens, as he leans his head against the carriage wall and tries to calm his racing heart, he will only watch Liem. His thoughts are uncommonly soft -- more so because he's sure that every single one of them is showing on his face, and equally certain that he lacks the capacity to silence his traitorous expression. For a moment or two, he will only breathe.

And when he's caught his breath, he is going to frame Liem's face in the cradle of his hands, tip up his chin, and lean down to kiss him, obscene in his open longing. ]

[It is everything he might have wished for: the way Cardan's eyes slide shut with the force of his pleasure, the want tangled up in that breathless moan, the way his climax trembles through him beneath Liem's caress. The sight and sound and feel and taste of him make the need in Liem coil and writhe, and that need escapes him in the soft, helpless sound he makes, muffled against the cock still occupying his mouth.

He should have done this sooner. But if he had, he doesn't know how he could ever go anywhere with Cardan without spending every carriage ride thinking about it.

He takes the opportunity, as his husband subsides against the carriage wall, to straighten back up and take a cursory breath. Even now, Cardan smells as he always has, tastes as he always has: uniquely herbal, like he is just a plant somehow magicked into the shape of a man — but one that Liem is nonetheless eager to get his mouth all over. Especially now, with that soft look on his husband's face making him feel strangely desperate.

He presses himself into that kiss like he's been starved for them, like he wasn't kissing his husband only minutes ago.]

Cardan…

[He murmurs it against his mouth, because he's here, and because he can. His husband, his lover, his—]

[ He kisses Liem until his hammering heart has slowed a little, though his breathing doesn't improve considerably, considering the ardour with which he catches Liem's mouth in his. But Cardan needs to compose himself, just a little bit, before he can pull back. It's always like this: desire begets more desire. Part of him wonders if his strategy of inoculating himself against it is just hopeful foolishness; still, he cannot bring himself to regret anything. Not with the memory of that soft sound vibrating against his skin, not with the taste of himself on Liem's tongue.

But he does pull back, eventually, once his face is a little more composed. They are close to the hill; the next phase in Cardan's plan for the night looms.

His fingers brush through Liem's hair, either fixing it or disheveling him further. Cardan doesn't specify, and the curl of his mouth is smug. ]

You'll have to set yourself to rights. We'll be arriving soon.

[ As if he isn't the one with the undone trousers.

Still, he cannot help himself -- pressing his mouth to Liem's delicately flushed cheek, his temple, his brow. Cardan wants to pull him up on his lap and kiss him for another full hour; if only they ever had the time for such frivolity. ]

[Kissing Cardan does nothing to ease Liem's aching want, but by some magic, the cradle of warm hands cupping his face makes other concerns pale in comparison, no matter how urgent. He kisses him hungrily, eagerly, and doesn't spare a thought for anything else until his husband finally mentions that they are nearing their destination.

Perhaps it would not be bizarre for them to still be entangled in each other when they arrive at the palace's courtyard, but it would be rather conspicuous. And even while intoxicated, he is not eager to stumble out of the carriage looking drunk and unkempt. Grudgingly, he admits the necessity of pulling away to neaten himself up again.

Even if what he wants is to crawl back into Cardan's lap, within easy range of his mouth.]

Mm… [He sighs as Cardan's lips wander over his face, soft and warm and only distracting him even further.] Very well.

[Reluctantly, he pulls himself back out of Cardan's embrace to perch again on the carriage seat, glancing down at himself to gauge how badly rumpled he's become. His hair is a mystery; all he can do is run cautious fingers through it and hope for the best. But in the end, he is too drunk to care if he looks a little dishevelled, as long as it isn't to a brazen degree.]

[ Cardan, for his part, doesn't bother with much beyond doing up his trousers. The benefit of cultivating a reputation for debauchery is that no one ever questions why his clothes might be rumpled or his hair out of place.

He watches his husband attempt to fix his hair with a half-smile and says nothing. Liem doesn't look sober, but he doesn't need to; a gentle flush is the least one would ordinarily expect from a foreign noble on Elfhame soil.

Just before the door to the carriage opens, he quirks an eyebrow up at his partner in crime, meaningfully. ]

Time to act like you mislike me, husband.

[ He will get out first, offering Liem his hand in assistance, though he doubts his husband needs it even in his current state. But it is only an excuse to touch him, and to continue touching him as Cardan slides his hand to the small of Liem's back. True to his carriage directive, his gaze has reverted to coolly noncommittal as he guides his husband through the winding hallways of the palace, with their glowing crystalline lights and complicated root networks. ]

[Coolly noncommittal is well beyond Liem's capabilities in his current state. He is well aware that any attempt at such would at best just come off as serenely content, and at worst, secretively conspiratorial. The buzz of liquor in his head makes ignoring the pleasure of Cardan's touch impossible, right from the very first moment their fingers meet as he steps down from the carriage.

He is still thinking about the promise that Cardan made to him, as Liem was kneeling before him in the carriage. He is thinking about heated kisses on his skin, about the stroke of gentle fingers, and Cardan's voice murmuring you're doing so well. And he is still thinking about his husband's hands cupping his face, dark eyes staring at him as if to catalogue every least detail. He has managed to marry a man with a peculiar talent for making him feel not just desired, but liked, cared for — and his thoughts are swimming too much now for him to recall how to pierce the illusion.

Given his preoccupation, the best he can do for now is twitch a look of irritation onto his face as Cardan slides a hand to the small of his back — even if the flush on his cheeks and the way he cleaves close to his husband's side make his annoyance seem rather superficial. He looks flustered and tipsy and put out about it, determinedly avoiding his husband's gaze because he suspects he might break into a grin if he let himself meet it for more than a split second.]

[ Whatever Cardan expected from Liem, it had been far less charming than the flushed, gaze-avoidant irritation he adopts. Cardan has never seen his husband like this; it tempts him sorely to push the envelope a little, to pull on Liem’s pigtails and make him work for his sulky composure.

So he will. They will have passed the busiest part of the castle and into the residential wing where they have been put up. It is busy enough here, still; courtiers bow to various degrees of depth as they drift past them, and Cardan can feel their curious gazes on the back of his head.

Which probably makes it particularly foolish when he pulls Liem into a small stone alcove. It’s only quick— hemming his husband’s body in with his own against the ivy-covered masonry, he dips down to press his mouth to Liem’s. It’s a short, ardent kiss, no more than an appetizer for the things he wishes to do. Still, this remains a singular pleasure: the way Liem’s body fits against his own, the way his husband feels in his hands. He must ever work to tear himself away, even when he’s the one who’s supposed to be doing the teasing.

But he’s not wholly undisciplined. Cardan pulls back with a quick flash of teeth, his eyes glittering with mischief. ]

Concentrate, Liem.

[ And then he is stepping back again, getting back into character — except that the satisfied air lingers about him, even once indifference settles back over his face. ]

[It takes only Cardan's hands on his body and Cardan's mouth on his lips to rob Liem of what scraps of composure he'd been hiding behind as they made their way through the palace halls. He lets out a soft breath as he is pressed pliantly back against ivy-covered stone, fitting himself against his husband with no hesitation and no thought for the curious courtiers that pass not-infrequently through this part of the palace. For him to be worried about such things, he would need to think beyond the heat of Cardan's mouth and the lean stretch of him caging Liem against the wall — and for that first moment, the suddenness of the kiss makes thinking of anything else impossible.

Then Cardan is pulling back again, defying the eager grasp of Liem's hands. The look that Liem aims up at that grin aches with the same open longing that flutters in his chest and buzzes beneath his skin. It is unarguably wicked of his husband to demand that he concentrate on anything else after launching this mischievous ambush upon him. He wants nothing more than to chase after him and catch that impish mouth in his, ruse be damned.]

You really are a villain.

[He sighs it under his breath, meaning to sound long-suffering — though the helpless, charmed smile curving his mouth rather ruins the effect. It takes him a long moment and what looks like considerable effort to transform the besotted look on his face into something a shade more frustrated. Still, his lips do not want to cooperate — the effect most closely resembles someone trying very hard to remain straight-faced in spite of a desperate urge to laugh.]

Oh, but I am your villain.

[ He makes it sound like he’s Liem’s responsibility, too. And after all, is he wrong? He’d soaked in Liem’s reaction — the eager, easy press of his body against Cardan’s, the obliging mouth on his own, his unquestioning embrace. Though Cardan is used to being obeyed, he has often felt powerless — but not here, not like this, and not with his husband’s soft little smile to colour his reprimand.

This is exactly the kind of villain Cardan wishes to be.

There is no point in keeping up much pretence, not with the way Liem seems but an unwary glance away from breaking into another smile, and so Cardan gives up his focus on anything but getting them to their rooms. In a way, this is fine: it gives him the leeway to lace his fingers with his husband’s, pulling him along the hallway with quick, long strides. Any courtiers meeting his eye will be greeted with a glacial look of reprimand.

They will talk, of course. But what does a high prince of Elfhame care for the opinions of the low gentry? Not much at all, at the moment: not when all he wishes is to get in his rooms, press the doors shut behind them, and get his hands on his radiantly drunk husband again. ]

[Each time Cardan says something like this, names himself Liem's in some way, it feeds an unruly sensation deep in his chest — something that had started out as fear but now much more closely resembles a terrible, wistful yearning. It took so little time for him to start wishing to keep Cardan close, to have his attention and his touch and his regard all for his own. He knows he doesn't deserve these things, cannot claim them forever — but he wants them, just the same.

Cardan is beautiful always, and he looks radiant when he is menacing other party guests, but few pleasures compare to being the one caught in the focus of that sharp and imaginative regard. What is the point of being married to such a villain, if he cannot enjoy the full and fraught weight of his attention?

His fingers curl easily around Cardan's, despite the slightly tempestuous flickers of irritation that still seek purchase over his expression. Mostly these end up aimed at the courtiers they pass by on their way to their rooms, sullen little glares that find them in the wake of his husband's glacial looks. He does not know what the palace folk will think of the sight, and he does not care. His concern is all occupied with Cardan, and with the promise of finding himself alone with him again, in the privacy of their rooms.]

[ The doors to their chambers are made of cunningly carved and painted wood, made to resemble two bowing trees heavy with golden everapple. The handles are brass filigree, delicate like lace. The whole is a marvel of Faerie craftsmanship, made with mastery that would take a mortal artisan lifetimes to achieve.

They may as well have been rotting stable doors for the care with which Cardan throws them open. He steps through, turns, pushes the doors closed, and then--

Thinks better of pressing Liem against them, clearly. He steps backwards into the sitting room, his eyes careful, focused on Liem's face with the rapt attention of a cat tracking a bird's perch. He wants to touch his husband: he wants to press his mouth to Liem's and taste his affectionate kisses, wants to let him put his hands wherever he wishes. He wants to touch his fingers to that charming blush; he wants to peel the layers of clothing off of Liem and find out where else it might extend to.

He does one of these things, reaching out to curl his fingers over his husband's cheek. ]

It really is so alarmingly fetching on you.

How are you feeling?

[ The intent expression in his eyes suggests he's not asking out of concern. ]

[As soon as they pass the threshold through the beautiful carven doors, the failing mask of petulant irritation clinging tenuously to Liem’s countenance slips off entirely. The gaze with which he regards his husband is playfully inviting, anticipatory despite Cardan’s restraint in stepping further back into the sitting room. He is noting that rapt look, and awaiting the moment that his husband pounces to capture him between his paws.

It seems his own discipline has fled for more sober pastures, so for once, Cardan is possessed of more patience than he. When Liem follows him away from the door, it is to pause only briefly at the touch of warm fingers on his face — and then to insinuate himself against him, to slide his arms around Cardan’s waist and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. It is what he has been wishing to do since his husband first stalked back to him at Balekin’s party, seething with that chill anger. There have been too many occasions when Liem had wished to seek Cardan’s embrace and had instead remained aloof — on this one, he sees no reason to deny them both the pleasure.]

I am well, Cardan.

[He takes a small, indulgent breath, inhaling that particular wild, forest scent that is still, among all of Elfhame’s elven gentry, uniquely Cardan’s.]

And how are you?

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