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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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[ 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.]

[ Cardan’s laugh is as surprised as openly delighted; never would he have expected to hear Liem admit such a thing. Some months ago, it would have surely filled him with awful glee at best and triumphant contempt at worst — to think that his uptight new husband might be so desperate for his attention.

But all he feels now is warm pleasure, as if he had won some prize he had not known he was competing for. It’s a little alarming.

He cannot quite shake the question. Is Liem’s Cardan’s favourite? He makes short work of the other boot as the thought cavorts around in his head. It feels strange to consider in a relationship such as theirs, borne of duty and circumstance. Would they have ever found affection in each other if left to their own devices? Surely not. They are so opposed in every possible way — night and day in their preferences and demeanours. What common ground could they have found?

And yet he can think of no other person who sparks such possessive longing in him, who makes him want to occupy his thoughts at all hours of the day and night. He has not thought of another lover since the night they were wed; ever since that autumn evening, Cardan’s focus had been unerringly on Liem, for better or for worse.

He distracts himself from the odd discomfort of this knowledge — pressing up to slide greedy hands up Liem’s thighs, insinuating himself into the circle of his bound arms so Cardan can tilt his face back and look at him, his own expression just as carefully placid. ]

Who else here is worth my regard?

[ No lover, certainly. The entire court of Elfhame could not fascinate him as Liem does. He has never been more indifferent to beauty, never less enamoured by charm. Every socialite’s shine dulls next to one his husband’s rare smiles.

He doesn’t want to think deeply about that, either. ]

[It's not really a confirmation — Liem knows that. It's implication without commitment, which is just what Liem would expect from his slippery faerie husband. Still, he is appeased by Cardan's laugh, by the greedy transit of warm hands up his thighs, and by the way Cardan insinuates himself eagerly into Liem's arms, close enough that he could lean in and kiss him.

And since he wants to very much, he does just that — right atop his handsome dark curls, cool lips still curved with that unruly affection that won't release its hold on him. He doesn't need Cardan to tell him that he likes Liem best; it is enough to have his touch and his attention like this, replacing every other thought in his head. That is already so much more than he'd ever supposed he might earn from his elfin spouse, whom he hadn't expected to remain married to beyond a few months at the time of their wedding.]

Don't let me know, [he answers easily,] or I'll be terribly jealous.

[He does not wish to think about how genuine his husband might be, or what being Cardan's favourite even really means to him. He just knows that he wants him — and for the time being, he has him. They are alone, and although he is still bound, still at Cardan's whims, he has only excitement for the prospect of what his husband might wish to do to him in the stretch of time before them both. So what is there for him to be concerned with?]

Ah, but I am a terrible man, [ Cardan counters, ] and ever want that which is rare.

[ Like Liem's jealousy, which he cannot recall seeing before. Not that there is any chance of him actually sparking it -- as he has just established, there is none else who so captivates his attention nor traps his regard, no one whose mouth on his hair makes his heart jolt quite so eagerly in his chest. Cardan's fingers curl over the waistband of Liem's trousers to pull them further down, and his own mouth is hot when he leans down to paint kisses over Liem's hip, his thigh, following the path of pale skin as he reveals it. He had not meant to engage in this lengthy an interlude, but somehow Liem always manages to distract him from whatever his focus had been.

When he bites the inside of Liem's thigh, it is a little punitive. This time, he will not be distracted from the task of divesting his husband of his pants, even as he sucks a bruise onto his skin.

Because for all of Liem's insinuation, it is Cardan who has ever been possessive of his husband, not the other way around. ]

[A truly jealous man might take issue with the character of Cardan’s teasing reply — that he would wish to spark Liem’s jealousy, and might seek opportunities to do so. Even Liem raises his eyebrow a little as he gazes down at his mischievous spouse.

But he is distracted quickly by the heated kisses that Cardan presses against his skin in the wake of his receding trousers. The caress of his mouth over Liem’s hip, down his thigh sends sparks of want racing through him, silencing any reply he might have been forming and making his breath suddenly restless in his lungs. And when Cardan’s teeth find the tender skin there, that restless breath becomes a soft and startled moan, sharp-edged with need.

The reprieve he’d been granted when Cardan had pulled away from his lips doesn’t grant him much peace, when every nerve in his body is alert and aching for his touch. His bound hands find his husband’s hair so he can thread his fingers through it, twine them into the soft raven locks as Cardan sucks a bruise into his thigh. Perversely, he doesn’t want relief from the cruel desperation of his own need; he only wants to have Cardan here, and to keep him just like this: making his mark on Liem’s body with every kiss and every caress, in whatever way he pleases.]

[ That moan shivers through him with such bewitching intensity; Liem might feel his quiet, soft breath exhaled against damp skin, a little startled all over again. How many times has his own desire taken him by surprise? Over and over, all his plans have turned to smoke in the wake of Liem's hands, Liem's mouth, the unguardedness of his responses.

He allows himself some impatience with Liem's trousers, pulling them off with as much efficiency as possible. He will not do anything about the shirt and jacket, since it would require him to untie Liem's wrists -- but that's fine, anyway. Cardan likes him like this, with the traces of the evening's formality still clinging to him, thrown into disarray by the urgency of wanting.

He pulls away, long fingers curling over his husband's knees to spread them so that Cardan can look at the mark he's made. It's pleasingly dark on Liem's pale skin; he doesn't bother hiding his open satisfaction or the possessive tilt of his smile. What does it matter who is whose favourite when they belong to each other by right, regardless? ]

I like hearing you talk, [ he says, even as his hands run up Liem's thighs once more, revelling in the feel of bare skin. ] Tell me something else about yourself.

[ Which is an odd thing to ask your husband of nearly half a year, but Cardan's husband is an odd man. And reticent to talk about himself. Cardan's mouth presses to the sharp line where thigh meets hip, words murmured against cool skin as he traverses his way downward. ]

Like the most perverse thing you've ever done.

Besides this, [ he will amend, belatedly, before taking Liem's cock in his mouth again. And even though he's not the one being touched, Cardan's eyes flutter shut regardless, and the longing in the pit of his belly grows more fervent all the same. ]

[I like hearing you talk sounds to Liem like the prelude to him saying something he'll end up feeling mortified about the following evening, but he can't resist Cardan when his mouth and hands are wandering so attentively over his skin. (It is probably fantasy to imagine at this point that he can resist his husband at other times either, but he is choosing not to think about that right now.) The hot, yearning ache low in his belly continues to be shadowed by the same eager flutter that led him to admit to wanting Cardan's regard in the first place; both flare more insistently at the look on his husband's face as he once again returns his attention to Liem's cock.]

Mm…

[His breath sighs out of him, a little thoughtful, coaxed by the slide of Cardan's mouth. In an effort to cling to some shred of his composure, he waits a long moment before allowing himself to draw another in — but his fingers continue to stroke gently through Cardan's hair, a little restless all the same.]

I hope you're not… expecting some titillating secret.

[A breathless little laugh escapes him, fond despite the strained edge to it. Fuck, Cardan's going to drive him crazy like this, but he never wants him to stop—]

It was… ah… letting you touch me… in the middle of that bar… on that disgusting table…

[ It's strange how easily Liem provokes tenderness in him: the soft touch of his restless hands and the cadence of his laugh pull something strange and yearning from Cardan's chest. He wants to press him down and kiss him until they're both breathless with it; he wants to bury himself in him and stay like that for hours.

But that is not, precisely, what Liem had asked for. For now, he only pulls away long enough to speak, one eyebrow quirked as he glances up at Liem. ]

Would it have been less perverse if the table were clean?

[ Cardan hadn't found it particularly filthy, but he had known for a while that his standards for such things were more lax than his fastidious husband's. Not that the question matters much; he just wants to keep Liem talking through the distraction of Cardan's lips and tongue mapping his cock with deliberate, thorough devotion. Cardan's splayed fingers draw up his stomach and over his bared chest, resting for a moment to feel Liem's ribcage expand with his breaths -- before he presses, gently, urging his husband back onto the sheets.

And even if the question doesn't matter, he cannot help the burst of smug satisfaction at having been the one to pull such perversion out of Liem. He knows so little about Liem's relationships prior to their marriage; a better man would have perhaps hoped that those relationships were fulfilling.

Cardan is not a better man, and the breadth of his possessive thoughts does not relent here, either. ]

Ha.

[Liem's response to his husband's question is breathless, even though he can never really be short of breath, given that he doesn't need it. It's just that his world has narrowed entirely to Cardan's voice, Cardan's face, Cardan's mouth sliding over flushed skin and Cardan's warm hands directing him as he pleases, and all these things make his lungs tremble and his breath stick in his throat.

He likes being able to watch his husband like this, and being able to touch him, even if it is only with the fingers of his bound hands — but the transit of Cardan's splayed hand up his stomach makes eagerness spike through him, and he yields readily to the gentle pressure against his chest, letting himself be pushed back down against the sheets with a soft, wanting sigh.]

It would have… mm… been less, ah… perverse somewhere else.

[A tremor runs through him, beneath Cardan's palm. It is so very hard not to squirm into the caress of his mouth, not to forget his train of thought entirely under his deliberate and unfaltering attentions. He wants, and wants and wants, oversensitized and barely treading water above the tide of his pleasure, and all he wants is to drown.]

Somewhere private… Cardan… oh… I just… I don't only want you when… we're in private…

[ He loves that little shiver-- loves the tension of the beautiful body under his hands. He loves that finely honed self-control that Liem surely cultivated for some noble purpose -- like dance or the art of battle -- and which Cardan is doing his best to strain. It's mean, making him work so hard for it, and yet Cardan will never, ever tire of it, of taking that careful discipline and making it bend to his whims.

But Liem's explanation makes him think. He supposes it would be different for the person not weaving the glamour. When you don't know whether anyone might look around and lock eyes with you at any moment, whether the clamour of voices might suddenly turn scandalized. Not that Cardan had ever jerked anyone off in the middle of a human bar; he'd never done anything in the middle of a human bar. Still-- ]

If you knew how often I'd thought of fucking you in the most public places.

[ He purrs it with a smile that's audibly wicked, even if Liem might have trouble seeing him from the angle he's at. ]

Though I've no desire to share you.

[ This he says like an oath. No matter how satisfying it would be to have the whole world look up and see his husband as his in the most intimate, primal way possible-- he is too greedy to have Liem's attention to himself, as he has been since the night of their vows. And besides, no one else deserves to see his husband like this, unguarded and vulnerable under Cardan's touch.

He exhales, soft and quiet against Liem's skin -- and then he's in motion. His hand sweeps up when he moves, up Liem's flank and over his arm, tapping it to direct him to move up on the bed. Cardan will move with him, over him, finally trapping him with his body the way he had wanted for some time now, and the satisfaction of it sings in his bones. But he doesn't press Liem into the sheets with his weight, doesn't mould himself to him the way he wants-- not yet. Not yet. It would be too indulgent for either of them, and he cannot afford to lose his focus.

So he only kisses Liem, soft, almost chaste, even as oil-slickened fingers draw their way up the tender inside of his thigh to curl against his entrance, begging for entry into his body. ]

[Liem can never hear that delightfully wicked cadence in his husband's voice without feeling an answering flutter of lust, nor can he presently think about Cardan wanting to fuck him in public without letting frustration slide out of him on a soft, needy breath. He doesn't want to be fucked with an audience; he's never wanted such a thing. But his desire for his spouse can make other concerns pale in comparison, which has been a significant distraction on more than one occasion. And he has never felt as incapable of resisting him for any length of time as he does right now.

He only hopes that he regains his senses before the next time he's actually out in public again.]

Why is it… I never hear about this…?

[He mumbles in complaint as Cardan urges him further onto the bed. Unlike his unhindered and reasonably-sober husband, he has to make rather a bit of effort just to slide back a couple feet. But it is worth it when Cardan crawls over him to trap him against the covers, and the warm curve of his mouth again finds his lips. If he were able, Liem would have melted into that gentle kiss and the silken slide of his fingers, would have pulled Cardan close and kept him there for hours. As it is, he can only tip his mouth eagerly up into the caress of his lips, needy and impatient and terribly, helplessly smitten.]

[ He laughs, his mouth wandering to Liem's jaw, charmed at this novel complaint. Cardan nips at the tender skin below Liem's ear just as he presses slick fingers inside him, hiding his own sharp inhale. It feels like his own wait has been eternal; desire burns through him, laser-focused on the man he's trapped in his arms. The labour of working his husband open is ever as delightful as it is torturous to Cardan's limited patience. ]

Would you like me to start telling you as it comes up?

[ He's not done with Liem's neck yet; Cardan's teeth graze over smooth, unmarked skin, and he bites him again, intending to put more marks on the untouched landscape of Liem's throat. But between the press of his teeth and the hot kisses he presses to Liem's skin, and the steady slide of his fingers, he will still speak, his voice low and amused between them. ]

"Lord Neri, the quail is exceptional tonight. Though I am distracted by lurid fantasies of bending my husband right over your dining table and taking him right here."

[ That's an attractive fantasy in its own right -- more so given the ruse they are putting on. Even if Cardan is supposed to play the philanderer, he hardly wants the other gentry to assume that Liem is available for pawing at. ]

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