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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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[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?

[ It's not quite what he expects: the hold of arms around him, the soft press of Liem's face against his skin. He stiffens a little when Liem first does it-- the embrace strikes a discordant little note in his chest, sharp and unbidden. How long has it been since anyone who wasn't Nicasia had hugged him, outside of sex?

It can't help but distract him, momentarily, from the hungry thoughts that had led him to these rooms. He exhales, soft, and then huffs out a laugh-- one hand finding Liem's hair while the other settles at his back. He reminds Cardan of nothing quite so much then as a kitten, eager for his warmth.

He doesn't know what he's to do with such a soft thing. ]

I do not know, [ he says honestly, because it seems pointless to obfuscate to a man as obviously drunk as Liem. ] But I have attained that which we came here for.

[ He means Balekin's patronage. It is a relief, but it is not what he thinks about when he turns his face to press a soft, deliberate kiss to the silver at Liem's temple. ]

And I've stolen you from the clutches of villains. And back into mine.

[ He will sound smug about that one, even though there should be no reason to. ]

[Liem sighs softly and relaxes against Cardan as his arms come properly around him. His surprise only brings a secretive little smile to Liem's face, pressed still against the warm skin of his husband's throat, and the little huff of laughter makes him feel, if anything, a little triumphant. It is rare enough for him to ambush his husband with his affections; Cardan's gentle capitulation in the face of this development makes pleasure spread warm and electric through his veins.

He would be happy to simply stay like this — to find a cozy spot and curl up in his husband's embrace, and talk about whatever might come to mind until they either doze off or some measure of sobriety once again finds him. It would be a comfortable way to spend a few hours, and as warm lips find his temple, the lure of it makes him snuggle against Cardan for a moment, squeezing just a little tighter, his nose sliding beneath the line of his husband's jaw.]

As you should. This is just where I wish to be.

[Contentment steals easily over him now that he is here: in Cardan's clutches, subject to no one's whims but his. But he is curious, too. Leaning back from his embrace, Liem directs a heavy-lidded look up at him.]

What will you do with me, now that you have me?

[ It has never not been exciting to have Liem's mouth so near his throat, and it has become more and more so in the past weeks, once he has gotten used to the bite of his husband's fangs. He suppresses a soft little shiver at the continued contact; in some way, he's a little glad when Liem pulls away, because his composure is ever fragile when it comes to this part of their relationship.

The question makes the corner of his mouth twitch upward. For a moment, he eyes his husband, catalogues the flush and the uncommonly soft curve of his mouth, the inviting look in those pale eyes. His hands sweep down, deliberately, to curl over Liem's slim hips lest he drift too far away. The smile on Cardan's face is quick and bright as a flash of lightning. ]

Exactly what you asked for, [ he will answer, finally, just before sliding his hands down the back of Liem's thighs, just under his ass-- so Cardan can lift him against his own body. It recalls to him that endless autumn night in the snow when Liem had collapsed against his chest with laughter, the scent of winter still clinging to him. He recalls fucking Liem against the wall, too -- perhaps a little too vividly, judging by the sharp pang of want the memory sends through him.

He's ever had such a hard time with patience. Even now, he wants to press closer, to smear his mouth over the sharp line of Liem's jaw. Even now, he wants to hurry toward their bedroom, and it takes a conscious effort to ensure his steps are measured and deliberate instead. ]

Were you wishing for something specific?

[A soft noise of surprise escapes Liem when Cardan's hands slide down to his thighs and lift him up, against his body. Delighted, he loops his arms around Cardan's shoulders so he can press close again, dipping his mouth towards one elegant, pointed ear. Since his husband has so generously afforded him a vantage from which to do so, he would be remiss not to kiss the parts of him he cannot always easily reach.]

What I asked for?

[His fingers thread through the hair at the nape of Cardan's neck, an idle caress as he presses his lips against the shell of his ear and one glossy, raven-dark temple. The warm, floaty feeling in his skull does not make recalling things he might have said in the past particularly easy — especially when he doesn't doubt that he's asked Cardan for any number of things previously, while he was distracted by his touch. It's difficult right now to recall what he'd actually spoken aloud and what had just bounced frantically around his skull when his husband's hands and mouth had been on him.]

I don't recall what you mean. I am forever wishing for you to be doing terrible things to me.

[ It is never particularly easy to concentrate with Liem's affectionate mouth on his skin; he suppresses a soft shiver at the brush of lips against his ear, sighs into the kiss at his temple. Still, he spares a glad thought for the fact Liem doesn't remember; he had counted on it. He wants to unfold his plan like a many-layered wedding gift to his husband, who has been so patient in waiting for Cardan to give him anything. ]

You make me sound like such a knave.

[ His mouth curls around the words, satisfied. He is a knave. How lucky he's married a man so fond of the flaws Cardan has spent years perfecting. ]

Though perhaps I have been insufficiently terrible if you're still wishing for more.

[ Some unseen hand had lit the candles in their bedroom; as with everything in Faerie, they are placed with an eye for aesthetics. When Cardan sets Liem down on the bed, he has to pull back, for a moment, to admire the sharp elegance of his features, made all the more magical by the flicker of soft flames.

Then the flower-stuffed mattress dips under his knee, and he presses Liem into the sheets with the weight of his body and the fervent heat of his hungry kisses. ]

[The satisfaction in Cardan’s tone coaxes a chuckle from Liem, muffled against his husband’s dark curls as he carries him back to their bed. In truth, Liem does not find his husband more wicked or villainous than a significant majority of the gentry he has personally known — though he has come to be aware that many in Elfhame do not share that opinion. It is just, he thinks, that Cardan does not often have occasion to be nice, while he has every reason to wish to be regarded as unapproachable and dangerous.

And perhaps he is temperamental, also — but wrath has never looked as good on anyone as it does on Cardan Greenbriar. Besides which, it is certainly not wrath that has his husband regarding him so intently once he’s deposited Liem, trophy-like, onto the sheets.]

Perhaps you should test that theory, [Liem murmurs. How else will Cardan know if he’s right?

Then his mouth finds Liem’s again, and Liem sighs into the heat of his kiss, arching against him as his fingers tangle in Cardan’s hair. The wonderful thing about being married to Elfhame’s youngest prince is that even when he’s dressed up for a party so he looks impossibly, untouchably handsome, Liem still enjoys the privilege of putting his hands all over him once the night is done. And in his particular instance, their night out has concluded rather quickly, leaving plenty of dark hours left for Liem to monopolize Cardan’s body and attention — hours he has every intention of taking advantage of.]

[ It's so easy: that little sigh, the press of Liem's body against his own, his easy surrender to desire. There is a certain comfort to the habit of it, to this language that they only speak with each other. He has learned to read the touch of his husband's hands and the cadence of his breaths; part of him does not want to stop kissing Liem, in the way that he never wants to stop kissing Liem.

But he must pull back at least enough to fit his hands between them so that his fingers can find the fastenings of Liem's waistcoat. As always, he is impatient: he's barely done with the waistcoat before his touch sneaks underneath Liem's shirt, pulling it out of his trousers so Cardan can sweep greedy hands over his chest. He adjusts his weight, pressing hot, intemperate kisses to the side of Liem's neck, trailing them along the stiff edge of his collar. Here, Cardan nips, sharp and indulgent. ]

Those courtiers were all over you. [ He remembers it too well: his potent flash of anger, Liem's soft rebuttal of the over-familiar advances. His murmur is considered. ] As if they didn't know whose you are.

[ Cardan's. He's Cardan's, even though he cannot quite think the words without feeling just a touch of doubt. ]

My reputation must be waning.

[Cardan's impatient touch well suits the eager flush that has come to suffuse Liem's skin, making him restless with insistent, thrumming want. Now that he has his husband here, alone in their rooms, on their bed, he finds himself greedy for him: for the weight of his body, the hungry caress of his hands, the heat of his kisses. He is loath to relinquish them for even a moment; when Cardan shifts back to undo the buttons of his waistcoat, Liem is caught between flaring lust and the jealous urge to pull him even closer, so not even a stay breeze could sneak between them.

Instead, he settles for sliding his hands beneath Cardan's jacket, tugging at fabric in the search for access to bare skin. And he lets out a sharp, hungry gasp at the nip of teeth at his neck, an impatient roll of his hips punctuating the sound unbidden.]

They were overbold.

[His agreement is breathlessly distracted, preoccupied as he is with Cardan's mouth and Cardan's hands sliding against his skin. He has very little care left for the impudence of a handful of faerie gentry, whose names he has already forgotten.]

But I know, Cardan.

[How could he not? He has been wishing to be at his husband's mercy all night, since before they'd even left for the party. There is no one else to whom he would grant this liberty.]

Oh?

[ The sound curls in the air, arrogantly demanding despite the warmth in Cardan's slow grin. And even though Liem's hands are distracting, and even though the roll of his hips makes desire spark keen and sweet down his spine, Cardan cannot afford to be sidetracked. He pulls loose the knot on Liem's tie, then tackles the buttons of his shirt, even as his mouth finds its way down his husband's collarbones, paints heated kisses over his sternum, following the trail of freed buttons.

He doesn't make it all the way down the front of the shirt -- it is unbuttoned just enough for Cardan to linger against Liem's chest, hiding a secretive, self-satisfied smile against the cool skin.

His hands find Liem's shoulders, his arms, travelling down until he can close his fingers over his husband's wrists. He's not particularly hurried about it when he moves, unfolding himself so they are chest to chest and hip to hip once more. With precise intent, he moves to pin Liem's wrists above his head. ]

And whose are you, Liem?

[ There is an obvious answer to that: legally, socially, carnally. Still, the gaze he aims at his husband is inscrutable rather than smug, and he cannot quite help the unbidden spike of anxiety at the asking.

Under the layers of his clothing, the tip of his tail shivers restlessly. ]

[There is something so special about having Cardan atop him, undoing his clothes fastening-by-fastening as his lips wander hot and maddening over his skin. When Liem closes his eyes, focuses only on his husband's weight pressing him into the sheets, on the shape of his mouth against his neck and collar and chest, on those fingers busily unwrapping him like a paper parcel, he feels like he is the edible one of the two of them. He feels desirable and rare, like a treat that Cardan has been anticipating for hours and now finally gets to savour.

Liem doesn't want him to rush — but oh, his want for more of Cardan's touch is driving him a little mad.

Especially when Cardan slides his grip down to Liem's wrists, pulling his hands out from beneath his husband's shirt and pinning them against the covers above his head. A small, impatient sigh escapes him, though the look he directs at Cardan is too enamoured to be called a pout.]

Well, who else's? [he asks, coyly. He cannot imagine that his stubborn affection for his husband has managed to escape Cardan's notice for this long, if indeed it ever had. Especially because he is aware that intoxication makes him much too honest, particularly in his face and his moods.] After all, am I not your creature?

[ For the briefest moment, Cardan looks surprised; he had not expected the answer to his question to be this. For one, answering a question with a question does not really an answer make -- a trick Cardan has used to his advantage many a time in the past. Then again, it's not like his husband has need for such strategies.

But he's surprised for a different reason, also. He remembers the words, of course-- how could he forget the bitterness in his throat when they'd left his mouth, and then the way Liem's face had fallen, the way his hands had slid from Cardan's lapels.

The silence that had followed them for the next month. ]

Are you?

[ Despite Liem's intoxication, despite the plans he may have for the night, the gaze Cardan directs down at him is serious. Even if it started as a tease, even if Liem could easily lie: he wants to know. ]

[What an odd man Liem’s husband is, to fix him with such a serious regard and ask a question like that, as though the answer isn’t right there in his hands, self-evident in Liem’s commitment to abandon his home and his work and accompany Cardan here — across the sea, in this land where a stray word or a stray drink could prove more dangerous than a blade. How strange of him to doubt, when Liem had promised from the very first to be not just his spouse, but his partner and protector, through no one’s choice but his own.

What more from him could Cardan possibly need?]

I’ve promised myself to you, and I would do it again. I followed you through the sky and across the sea, because I didn’t want you to have to go by yourself.

[And that was a harrowing enough experience to last him all year. Unfortunately, he’ll have to repeat it when they go back home. But in this moment, the only flutter of nervousness he feels is from having Cardan’s eyes caught so intently on his while he says this.]

Am I not your companion, as well as your husband? Cardan, of course I am yours.

[ Of course, Liem says, as if any of this were self-evident -- as if he hadn't denied Cardan the same confession just months ago. As if he hadn't wed Cardan for duty rather than love.

I would do it again catches up to his thoughts a touch too late; the improbability is such that he hardly registers it at first. He had known his husband to possess an abnormal disregard for his physical safety and personal comfort -- but doing so again, with what he knows now? Not even Cardan would have expected such of him. He doesn't know what to do with this assertion nor what Liem could get out of such a foolish pledge.

But he has never yet caught his husband lying to him, and now is not the time for interrogation. ]

Of course, [ he says, though the strange sobriety in his eyes takes another moment to fade. His mouth curls into a smile instead; he will lean close, brush his mouth along Liem's jaw, press a kiss to his gently pointed ear. His murmur is soft, low in his chest. ]

Then let me make the trip worth your time.

[ Cardan will kiss him, and if there is longing in it, then so be it. It's meant to be a distraction, anyway, from how he shifts his grip so he can pin both of Liem's slim wrists with one hand. The other slips down to his throat, working open the loosened tie knot to slip the cool silk from his skin. ]

You told me once, [ he murmurs, between kisses, ] about intemperance.

[ Intemperance for blood, then; Cardan had not entirely known how to make such a thing happen. He had never considered that Faerie drink would work just as well. ]

[What is it that Cardan was hoping to hear in reply to his question? What was he expecting? Liem is left wondering as his enigmatic husband leans close to brush his lips over the line of his jaw, drawing a shiver from him as he presses a kiss to the shell of his ear. He isn't convinced that Cardan even believes his answer, let alone found satisfaction in it, but if his intention is to move on with a distraction — he is succeeding. Liem is eminently distracted, immediately.

He will revisit this topic later, if he remembers. After he has the space to think about things other than the low music of Cardan's voice in his ear, and the way his kiss makes Liem want to wind about him and hold him jealously close for an age or two. As much as the feel of Cardan caging his wrists above his head sends a thrill thumping against the inside of his ribs, he still aches with frustration at his own inability to pull him nearer, to touch him as he'd like, even when the need to hold him again simmers with desperate impatience beneath his skin.

He hums, a little aggrieved, against Cardan's mouth in answer to his murmur.]

Oh — just once?

[Cardan is generally the intemperate one, between the two of them — but then, Liem is so very fond of him. His intemperate spouse is ever on his mind, especially now.

Maybe they could just stay like this for the rest of the night. If his husband would just keep kissing him until he's sober again, then he could worry about everything else after.]

What had I to say on the subject?

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