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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 wonders, a little, how successful their little tryst in the carriage was at curbing his husband's appetites. Mischievous and self-satisfied as Cardan looks, Liem can still hear his heart beating against his ribs when he looks down at him stretched out on the sheets. He thinks perhaps his hands have been tied up just as much for his husband's sanity as for any other reason.

And that is just fine; Liem is happy to make Cardan's job easier, even if it means he can't touch him just now. It'll frustrate him, he knows — but he wants to see where his little game is going more than he wants his freedom.]

Stubborn, [he murmurs accusingly, with a small sigh as warm fingers sweep back down his arms and find the exposed skin of his chest. He isn't inclined to puzzle out what might tempt Cardan to reveal his plans when his head is all muddled with drink and distracted by his husband's touch. There's little he might do with such information in any case, considering that he is already exactly where he wishes to be.

Why, after all, would he wish to be anywhere else? In all of Elfhame, there is no temptation he would wish to fall prey to more than this one, more than his husband's mouth wandering his skin, making him squirm as his kisses dip steadily lower. He has been eager for Cardan's touch since the carriage ride back to the palace; it is all too easy to imagine his husband's mouth on him in return, now that they are in the privacy of their own rooms.]

[ Cardan laughs, warm against the skin of Liem's stomach. How hypocritical of Liem to accuse him of stubbornness when he himself is so often obstinate about things no other man would insist upon. Like work, or punctuality. ]

Would you like me better if I wasn't?

[ He's rather sure that Liem wouldn't -- at least not here and now, when Cardan's persistence is in service of tormenting him. And he will have to be stubborn indeed: he knows his husband's capacity for endurance far too well. Still, Liem's little squirm is exciting, pulling an answering thrill down his own spine-- Cardan wants him like this, wants him impatient and sensitive and helpless under his touch. Always, but especially now. His hands find Liem's hips, draw down his thighs so Cardan can spread them apart, can slip off the bed and settle between them.

He doesn't bother with getting into Liem's trousers -- not yet, anyway, not when he can mouth ardent, slow kisses over the fabric, his breath hot as he maps his husband's shape through the layers of clothing. ]

[Liem's only reply to Cardan's question is a short laugh, breathed soft into the quiet of the room as his husband spreads his thighs so he can position himself between them. No, of course he doesn't wish his husband to be otherwise. His headstrong nature is part of his charm, just as surely as is his penchant for mischief or his sense of wonder. Part of Cardan's loveliness comes from the fact that Liem can neither quite predict nor control his whims, regularly though he is subjected to them.

And he likes it that way. He cannot imagine liking someone any better than he already likes his husband.

Draped across the covers like this, intoxicated and restrained, it is the easiest thing in the world for Liem to relax into the thorough tease of Cardan's mouth exploring him through the fine fabric of his trousers. His eyes fall closed on another soft sigh, leaving him at the mercy of his husband's hands and his husband's kisses, of the insistent ache of his own impatience, like a warm, slow-rising tide wearing at him bit by bit. He wants the promise of that ardent, unhurried mouth — the heat and the slide of it on bare, oversensitized skin, a ruthless caress driving him almost to tears with frustration. He wants the sharp, mean edge that his husband had worn in that smile.

That wanting makes his breath restless in his lungs and has his cock straining impatiently against the confines of his trousers, betraying him despite the serenity in his expression.]

[ Of course, Liem had the right of it: Cardan's impatience will burden him in this endeavour. Already he is torn between drawing out the tease and the desire that simmers under his skin. From their very first tryst on that starlit hill, he has wanted his husband with a devouring urgency-- always right now, rough and breathless with his need before he even gets his hands on Liem.

But such are not his plans for the night.

Still, the cadence of those lovely, rare breaths always catches his ear; he hides a secretive, knowing smile against the dark fabric of Liem's trousers and draws his hands up over his flanks, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. ]

Tell me a story, Liem.

[ He wants to hear it in his voice, too. And besides that, Cardan wants him to concentrate -- wants him a little more tested, even as he undoes the fastenings of Liem's trousers to pull them down his hips. Especially as his tongue drags up the length of his cock, leisurely and obscene. ]

[Liem is always eager to have his husband's hands on him. Whether he is tucking himself into Cardan's embrace at the end of the night or weathering touches meant to drive him wild, he cannot feel the slide of his husband's warm hands over his skin without wishing fervently for more — even when Cardan has set out specifically to torment him, and amuse himself at Liem's expense. The journey of soft hands up his flanks makes eagerness tremble beneath his skin, pulling his eyes open again so he can glance down at his mischievous husband.]

A story? What kind?

[The words fall breathlessly from his lips as Cardan's hands slide back down to undo his trousers. He watches his husband finally pull the garment from his hips, hungry for the sight of him, though his lashes dip when Cardan drags his tongue along his cock. His head is too full of him, of his hands and his mouth and the look on his face, to recall whether he knows any stories. He may as well have never heard or seen or experienced a single story in his life. All he can think about right now is the man kneeling between his thighs, and what he'd like Cardan to do to him.]

[ He's not surprised when Liem asks him to clarify -- for better or worse, his husband has never been one for spontaneous storytelling. Like with the constellations, or the recounting of Liem's exploits with the wolves, Cardan has always had to ask for something specific.

Which is fine, because he has a specific tale in mind. The smile that curls against Liem's skin is scheming; he glances up to see Liem's lashes rest on his flushed cheeks and feels a tide of strange tenderness alongside his relentless hunger. ]

Tell me about the night before our wedding. I do not recall much of it.

[ Because he was fall-down drunk and because he had spent what little willpower he had on ignoring his groom. Why bother talking to Liem when they were to spend the rest of their marriage together?

How little he would have believed that just scant months later, he would be here, with his mouth on his new husband's cock -- eager for his taste and his scent, for the feel of silken skin against the flat of his tongue, for the intoxicating sense of power that sings through him. Cardan wants to take him in his mouth -- wants to swallow him up and make the irregular rhythm of his breaths break completely, wants to make the story difficult to recite as he strokes Liem to impatience with his fingers and the ardent heat of his mouth.

And since there is no reason not to, that is exactly what he does. ]

Ah…

[Fortunately, unlike Cardan, Liem recalls being painfully sober the entire night preceding the night of their marriage. It is easy enough to recall how he had struggled dutifully through the evening, playing host as he always did, while his strange new fiance drowned himself in glass after glass of wine. It's the actual recounting of the event that promises to be difficult, fumbling and distracted as his current circumstances would conspire to make him.

Particularly as his husband bends again to his task, and swallows him up in the heat of his mouth. That alone is enough to make pleasure shudder through him, and have his breath catch in his throat.]

Oh… I'm not — hh — surprised you don't remember…

[Above his head, his fingers tangle in the covers in an effort to ground himself as Cardan strokes him. Even when he lets his eyes fall shut again, leaving him with just the lingering image of his husband stooping over his cock, helpless little gasps sweep him up in their irregular cadence as he forces himself to give Cardan what he demanded.]

Half the guests probab…ly don't. I spent… mm… [— he forces himself to stop, to take a slow, uneven breath as pleasure rolls ruthlessly through him —] so much time planning… the entertainments, and I swear — hh — all the regulars were… too drunk to know… the fucking… difference… Oh my god, Cardan—

[ Cardan breathes out-- sharp and sudden, and then more deliberately, his fervent mouth stilling for just a moment. He's trying not to laugh, because it would be difficult (not to mention rude) to do so with Liem's erection still resting against his tongue.

It's just that complaining about party guests is the funniest thing Liem could have chosen to do, and Cardan is not entirely sure how he will weather it. And after it: the deep, overwhelming fondness he feels for his husband, for his dutiful recitation, for the pleasure that bleeds into his voice. It drives shockingly powerful want through Cardan, makes him greedier for Liem with every halting breath and soft noise that escapes him.

He makes a sound in his throat, a questioning mmm? hummed against Liem's skin, even as his eyes flick up to his husband's face. Somehow, despite himself, he manages to sound arrogant even in this circumstance, even with wild mischief dancing in his eyes.

As ever, he wants so many things. Cardan wants Liem's hands in his hair, wants their achingly gentle touch even though he only has himself to blame for their absence. He wants more of the story, and he wants more of Liem's distracted desire. He wants to hear his name again, just like that-- wants to never listen to it said differently again.

How foolish he had been to think that their brief interlude in the carriage would be any bulwark against his desires. ]

[Liem is aware that, as storytelling goes, he's doing about the worst job he possibly could. For one thing, he hasn't actually told any kind of story yet; this is, if anything, more of a bitchy preamble.

For another, his focus could use a lot of work.]

Mm…

[He's made the mistake of looking again at his husband. Cardan looks much too pleased with himself as he wordlessly encourages Liem to continue, giving him not even a moment's respite from the dizzying attentions of his mouth. Even complaining about his father's guests, which Liem could ordinarily do while dead sleep, is a struggle while his husband is so devotedly sucking his cock, especially when he's being such a menace about it.]

I shouldn't have… let you get away with… ah… snubbing me… at my own party. But… hah… faerie guests are… so… hhh… de…man…ding…

[Liem bites into his own lip, hard, and tries not to squirm outright into Cardan's attentions as he so devoutly wants to. It is taking more and more concentration to stop himself from angling his hips into the insistent slide of Cardan's mouth, as sensation shivers through him in eagerly-building waves. Restlessly, he tilts his head so he can press his face into the fabric of his own clothed arm.]

Cardan… I can't…

[ Cardan's eyebrows twitch up-- and then he does elect to give Liem that respite, pulling his mouth away, though his hand will continue its lazy, unhurried stroking over damp skin. Lest Liem get too comfortable. ]

Oh, but you can, [ he purrs, all smooth menace and self-satisfaction. His eyes on Liem are hungry. He wants to commit the sight of him to memory -- all trembling tension and breathless effort, the struggle of a man pinned by pleasure alone. It's worth suffering the keen, sharp arousal that pierces through Cardan every time Liem's voice stutters over his words. ]

What should you have done with me, Liem?

[ Technically, he was snubbing Elowyn and Iago -- but it doesn't really matter. And besides, it's not like Liem had been keen on talking to him either.

How different that morning was from this one. He dips down again, all warm breath and deliberate kisses travelling up the length of Liem's cock. For once, there is no steady hand pinning Liem's hip when Cardan swallows him up again. If Liem wanted to fuck his mouth, he could.

Though Cardan presumes he knows better than letting his self-control slip. ]

[Liem's eyes follow Cardan, helplessly glued to him, as he pulls briefly back from his cock. His husband is unfairly confident in his ability to remain coherent even in the throes of his distraction — or else he's just eager to see him keep trying, regardless of how overwhelmed with sensation he becomes. Liem has no need to catch his breath, but as his husband continues stroking him with lazy movements of his hand, he still has to concentrate to slow the hurried rise and fall off his chest. And he can't quite stop the soft, piteously eager sound that slips from him as Cardan smears kisses along the length of his erection and swallows him up again.

What should he have done with his strange new fiance, that first night, before they'd even been married? He can't spare the thoughts to even consider — not with any real depth. Not when he is so absorbed with trying to control his own restlessness, the trembling urge to roll his hips up into the heat of Cardan's mouth. His brain and his mouth may as well not even be connected anymore; he just parts his lips, and words spill haphazardly out as if summoned by someone else entirely, in between the breathless and wanting sounds of his pleasure.]

Something… ah… Cardan… [He has to keep still, has to rein his breath in to some semblance of steadiness. It would be so rude if he forgot himself and moved his hips while his husband's mouth was on him. So rude…] Mmm I should… have just seduced you… Hah… Don't know… what… I was trying… to prove… Hhh…

[He clutches tighter at the covers above his head, breathless amusement turning to a whine of frustration. He's close — so fucking close. Need fills him up like a warm tide, drowning every thought in his head.]

God… what a fucking… mm… waste…

[ Cardan cannot disagree. How much pleasure might they have wrung out of each other in those first few weeks, before Dain's assassin showed up to ruin everything? If Liem had seduced him before they were even wed, would Cardan have been any less prickly, any less unhappy about his lot? Or would they have become bored of each other and a marriage in which all was going as planned?

Ultimately it's pointless to think of what might have been -- not when his mouth is on Liem, not when that note of frustration in his husband's voice pulses straight through his cock. The room has narrowed to Liem alone: Liem's scent, the weight of him against Cardan's tongue, his voice and the halting, distracted sounds of his pleasure. And when he hears that whine, he takes it as his cue; his grip on Liem tightens, suddenly prohibitive, even as he takes his time with pulling his mouth from his erection. ]

...not yet, husband.

[ He is watching, his eyes locked on Liem's face with keen interest. His mouth is a little swollen from his efforts, though that doesn't stop his mean little smirk. ]

Surely you don't think your performance has earned this.

[Breathless, animal frustration rolls off of Liem as Cardan denies him release from the ruthless swell of his pleasure, and he can do nothing but gasp, half-mad with thwarted want, trembling as his husband's mouth slides lazily free of his cock. It's no less than he'd been expecting, and still, he can't quite manage to stifle the soft, achingly bereft sound that slips from him in the absence of Cardan's attention.

It feels more dangerous, to be at his mercy like this now. It's probably because of the liquor; he can't remember another time when not having his husband's mouth on him felt so intolerable. He feels frantic with it, still trembling with the demands of unsatisfied need — but the helpless, nearly drugged look he gives Cardan as he aims that mean smirk at him is the look of a man who desperately wants to be kissed.]

Oh, that's…

[He sighs, restless, fingertips brushing against the soft covers beneath him, trying to little avail to ignore the ache between his legs. Half-lidded eyes rest heavily on the damp curve of Cardan's mouth.]

That's up to you. You don't even need to give a reason.

[He'd accept "I'm not finished with you yet" just as easily, or anything else just as arbitrary. There's only one thing he really cares about at this juncture.]

Tell me how I can please you.

[ That look lances straight through him; he feels breathless with power, hyperfocused on the shivers that run through Liem’s body, on his chaotic breathing and tense need. It is more addictive than nevermore, more heady than wine, to have his husband submit himself to the torment of Cardan’s greedy hands and cruel mouth, over and over, though he is bound by naught but his word and a thin strip of silk over his wrists. ]

You take me for such an unjust man.

[ His tone suggests he’s not displeased with this. He is an unjust man — what other kind would ask a man in Liem’s condition for coherence? He is only lucky that caprice seems to be on Liem’s list of preferences.

Once he has ascertained that Liem isn’t about to come, he will slip his fingers from his cock — and then rise. Had Liem still had a tie around his neck, Cardan would have reached for it to use as a leash, but instead he just beckons, dark-eyed and intent on his husband’s face. ]

Come here.

[ To the edge of the bed. Cardan will not help Liem sit up, despite his bound hands; instead, he takes the moment to pull his doublet over his head in a flurry of black feathers, leaving himself in a simple silk shirt with narrow cuffs. He will kick off his boots, too, before stepping close again until his thighs press against the edge of the bed.

He reaches for Liem’s face. ]

[Whether his husband is an unjust man or not, Liem continues to regard him with a look that comes dangerously close to adoration, even as he releases Liem's erection and rises to his feet. He loves receiving Cardan's affection, of course — loves being the object of his breathless want, or being subject to his sleepy, unhurried kisses, shared like secrets between them when they're nestled beneath the covers. But the meaner and more whimsical Cardan's demeanour, the more Liem finds himself craving his attention.

Perhaps if his husband were more just, Liem would not be so desperate to earn his regard. But right now, he is not — and Liem can think of nothing but his want to have Cardan's touch.

Even when drunk, it is no struggle for him to sit up without the use of his hands. He rises like a bent stalk of greenery returning to its natural position, fluid and unhurried, letting his bound wrists sink down in front of him. He looks supremely rumpled like his, still clothed in undone garments he can no longer even remove, his hair mussed from his restless movements against the sheets. He doesn't even notice; he's too busy watching his husband.]

I would have just said capricious.

[Shifting a little closer to the bed's edge, he aims an easy smile up at Cardan, affectionate and a little hopeful, even in the face of his capricious spouse's whims.]

[ It’s a little unfair of Liem to look like he does, lithe and elegant as he sits up, despite his dishevelment. It’s unfair because of how it kindles a wild affection in Cardan’s chest. It’s unfair because it’s a little difficult not to let it show, especially when that smile renders him a little breathless as it is. In all of the things he imagined from this marriage, it would never have occurred to him that he would have come to like his serious, quiet husband so much.

He exhales, molding his fingers to the sharp contours of Liem’s jaw as he cups it with one hand. As always, Cardan wants to touch his mouth: his thumb runs over Liem’s lower lip, following the curve of that criminally sweet smile. Cardan wants to kiss him.

But he doesn’t. Instead he smiles back — a slow, lazy expression. ]

I don’t think you’ve had enough drink, husband.

[ He reaches over with his free hand — to his own wrist, where he plucks the little satin-covered buttons open one by one to release the fabric from his cuff. It’s so he can turn his palm up, offering Liem his wrist with its warm, fluttering pulse. ]

Let us rectify that.

[ He hadn’t forgotten Liem’s question from weeks prior: Would you like to torment me; drive me a little mad?

As it turns out, Cardan would like this very much. ]

[For a moment, when Cardan slides his fingers beneath his jaw to cup it idly in his hand, bliss slides Liem's eyes gently shut. He lets his world narrow to the warmth of his husband's hand cupped against his skin, the slide of his thumb over his lower lip, the murmur of his heart and the soft sound of his breath. Impatience still tugs at him, urging him to fit himself against Cardan's body and seek the sweetness of his mouth. If he reached up, he could fit his arms around Cardan's neck without having to free his hands at all — or, he could continue to wait. He could be sweet and pliant and good for him, even though he has barely any semblance of patience left at all, and even though his husband has shown every desire to make his task even harder.

But maybe, if he is very good, Cardan will be pleased with him. The thought makes excitement squeeze his heart in his chest, unbearably alluring.

When he opens his eyes again, Cardan is plucking open the buttons of his shirt cuff. He follows the movements with his eyes as the sleeve recedes to reveal a stretch of pale, warm forearm, veins faintly visible beneath the skin.

The faint buzzing in his head and the floaty feeling in his limbs tell Liem that he has drunk rather enough for one evening — but the fluttering pulse in Cardan's wrist begs to disagree. And, the liquor argues, although he has had more alcohol than he really should, it has been days since he tasted blood. Sure, it's going to make his desperation for his husband's touch even worse — but either way, he's certainly not going to pass for sober.

He cannot even hold Cardan's arm steady as he bites. He can only lean closer, brush his mouth over the soft skin — and delicately, with a soft and wanting breath, sink his teeth into his husband's waiting wrist.]

[ It's the first time he has ever watched it: those sharp fangs piercing his skin, precipitating that familiar, bright spark of pain. Except it's both better and worse to watch; he feels the bite so much more keenly this way, and even though his wrists have never been as sensitive as the tender skin of his throat, he cannot help his soft shiver as hot blood spills from the twin wounds in his wrist.

His other hand finds its way to Liem's hair, stroking it gently away from his face. He had meant to be condescending about this, too -- but it's challenging to do so when his chest aches with a strange tenderness. He cannot quite keep it out of his face; the way he looks at Liem is just a little too serious, a little too intent.

Over and over, Liem has proven himself dangerous, except that it's never in the way Cardan expects. He's not afraid of the bite of his fangs nor of that perfect predator's grace. It's moments like these, when Liem gives him everything he's asked for -- and in return, longing howls through Cardan like an endless vortex because he can only ever want more. More of Liem's trust, his submission, and the soft, tender smiles he shows Cardan in moments like these.

He will rein himself in, of course -- breathing out, chasing the serious look from his face, even if he doesn't stop petting soft brown hair. And when Liem is done, when he has supped all he wanted from Cardan's vein, Cardan will lean him back just enough to kiss his taste off of Liem's lips. ]

[It isn't fair of Cardan to touch him like this, gentle fingers stroking through his hair, while Liem drinks his blood. As ever, drinking from his vein is enough to make Liem tremble with the force of his pleasure, swept up in the dizzying rush of vitality that lights up his tongue first and then travels to every part of his body. He cannot help the little shiver that slides pleasantly down his spine at his husband's touch, or the way the ache between his thighs grows fiercer at the smell and taste of him. He craves all of him — his blood, the caress of his lips, his wickedness and his want. It isn't fair for him to make Liem so desperate for his gentleness as well.

When he does pull away from Cardan's wrist, with one last deliberate stroke of his tongue, his eyes seek his husband's unerringly. He wants to see the look on his face, while Cardan's blood is still on his lips and his fingers are still in his hair. And when Cardan tips him back just enough to finally claim another kiss, Liem sinks into it with a sigh.

And he is hungry for it, chasing ardently after his husband's lips even when he needs to pull back for breath. Cardan might have reined himself in, but what restraint Liem had possessed for the night, he has now surrendered. Cardan's mouth is so tempting, soft and cruel and heated all once, and he is loath to relinquish it for even a moment now that he has had a taste.]

[ It's so easy to be lured by the promise of Liem's kisses -- Cardan never feels quite so wanted as he does when his husband's mouth is on his own. Even his insistence on robbing Cardan of breath is only charming, not that Cardan wants to pull away for anything but the bare necessity of it. He can feel the trickle of warm blood snake down his forearm from where the bite still weeps, and the throbbing of the wound mirrors the insistent pulse of his desire. His hands have come to cup Liem's face, as they always want to when Cardan kisses him. His knee rests on the bed's edge, so he may lean into his husband more fully, may have him more thoroughly like this.

There is no need not to take his time, so he does. For once, there is no hurry -- for once, taking things slowly is the point, and so he allows himself to drown in indulgence. This once, he will kiss Liem until he has had his fill.

And if Liem grows impatient, well, that's just as well. He'd asked Cardan to show him his limits, and Cardan is devoted to the task. ]

[It is like magic, the way Cardan can make every nerve in Liem's body come alight with just his mouth and his hands, and his scent, and the warm, indulgent press of his body. Bliss sweeps him up with the leisurely caress of his husband's kisses and the gentle cradle of soft hands cupping his face. Covetous thoughts flit through his mind in a cascade as Cardan leans closer, softly invades his space and makes himself the centre of Liem's reality — each and every one of them about the man who now has him in his grasp.

His helplessness in the face of his husband's affection has nothing to do with the strip of silk tied around his wrists. If it were not for its gentle denial when he attempts to lift his hands and pull Cardan flush against him, he would ignore the tie's presence entirely; his preoccupation is wholly with meeting those indulgent kisses, and forgetting everything else.

That sighing fixation lasts him longer than it rightly should, given the way each slide of Cardan's mouth sends want rippling through him, warm and sweet, and a little sharp-edged with craving. It does not take long for his husband's attention to scorch instead of soothe, and still, for all his aching impatience, for all the frustration contained in the soft whine that slips out between the kisses he presses against the corner of Cardan's mouth, he cannot bring himself to pull away. He is greedy for every last kiss, heedless even of the scent of blood still enlivening the air in his pursuit of his husband's gentle attention.]

[ It doesn’t take Cardan long to realize his plan has a critical flaw: he doesn’t know if there is an amount of kissing that will satisfy him. Somehow, he has acquired an addiction to this: to the press of Liem’s mouth against his own; to the cadence of those soft, cool breaths; to the little sounds of need he elicits from his husband. It simmers in his veins and in the cradle of his hands and in the warm, strange feeling of affection that has made its home in his chest.

It’s dangerous, especially now, when he’s supposed to be the one in control of them both.

He’s a little breathless when he pulls away, finally; already he wants to lean in again, to steal just one more kiss— and another, and another…

But he has grander plans, and needs must. Instead, he will step back, and reach into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a small crystalline vial with an ornate, somewhat faded label. The liquid inside is pale blue with a strange oily sheen, and when Cardan uncorks the bottle and throws it back in one go, his face suggests it is not altogether pleasant.

Then he turns his gaze to his lover once more. For a moment, he only considers Liem: his chest bare, his shirt disheveled around his shoulders, elegant wrists bound, the curve of his cock over his pale stomach— and Cardan’s mouth curls in a considered, slow little smile. He reaches out to curl a finger over the tie holding Liem captive, bending low to press a kiss to his knuckles. ]

Let me relieve you of the burden of clothing, [ he will murmur, low and carefully steady. Already he can feel the drug coursing through him, speeding up the beat of his pulse, making every sense just a little bit sharper.

When he drops to one knee again, it is so he can take Liem’s ankle in his hands and work open the laces of his boots, his hands moving in quick, practiced movements. ]

[With the best intentions in the world, Liem isn’t able to suppress the bereft little sigh that escapes him when his husband finally draws back from his lips. He does not consider himself, generally, to be a needy lover. His preference ordinarily tends toward indulging his partner’s wishes, getting satisfaction from their pleasure as much as from his own — but Cardan has a knack for making him feel desperate for touch, and the cocktail of intoxicants in his blood is not helping matters.

His husband really is so unfairly beautiful like this — a little flushed, a little dishevelled, a little menacing. There is something about being pinned by those dark eyes that always makes an eager little thrill leap in Liem’s chest and lust flutter in his stomach. Now especially, he cannot look away from him.

There is something wrong with me, he thinks. There is no rational explanation for why the predatory look in his husband’s gaze should make someone like him wish to be devoured.

Yet, rational or not, when Cardan’s lips press against his knuckles, he feels that kiss shiver all the way through him. And when Cardan kneels again in front of him, his heart stirs restlessly in his chest. He feels spellbound, caught in the enchantment that his husband has been weaving for him seemingly since before they even left Balekin’s revel.]

Please do, [he murmurs.] I like it — letting you undress me. I like that you want to. I like being the only one who gets to be entirely at your mercy.

[ Liem's murmured confession makes Cardan's fingers go still, for a moment, before they resume their work. It's not that Liem likes Cardan undressing him (of course he does) or that he likes Cardan's desire for him (such is the point of fucking, surely) -- but whereas Cardan has been openly covetous of his husband's body and time and hunger, Liem has rarely expressed any such jealousy. That he should want to be the only one at Cardan's mercy is a surprise.

His look up at his husband is considering, even as he slides warm fingers down his calf to pull the boot off. ]

Why is that, Liem?

[ He had not intended to get information out of Liem this way -- however foolish it might be, Cardan has always loathed the idea of seduction as a means to anything but pleasure. But Liem has brought it up, and surely he would not have done so unless he wanted to talk about it.

And Cardan wants to know. He wants Liem to be possessive of him -- wants this with a keen intensity that startles even himself. For all that he has always craved freedom, he wants the bite of Liem's fangs, and the feeling of cool hands pulling him close, and the delicate weight of the golden band he's not taken off since the night they were wed.

What a strange thing to want, he thinks, and refuses to question it any further at all. ]

[Cardan's question is met with a placid smile, spreading liquid over Liem's expression as he lets his husband slide warm fingers down his leg, tip the elegant little boot from his foot. It's amusing that he should even ask, when he is as he is: a prince of Elfhame, beautiful and clever, full of pride and mischief. He is eminently desirable, and must know it.]

Should I wish to share you, husband?

[He raises an eyebrow. Should he not be jealous of Cardan's touch, of the warm caress of his lips, of his possessive looks and the punitive nip of his teeth? Should he be content with the idea of his lover unlacing some other man's boots, or amusing himself by spending a night tormenting somebody other than him?]

No. [Of course not. For all his patience, not even he could be expected to tolerate such a thing. Heat prickles over him as he regards Cardan more intently; presses heedlessly on.] I want to be your favourite.

[Such a simple, greedy little want. He has given so much of himself to Cardan — as his husband, as his lover, as his protector. He has poured himself into this man who was promised to him because of his father's contract. He has made Cardan the focus of his life in so many ways, because he promised that he would, but also because he cannot stop himself from wanting him.

All he wants in return is for Cardan to like him, to like him most — even if it is only a passing obsession.]

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