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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Though Liem is right that Cardan is a terror.
His answering hum is amused. He tips forward, damp dark curls falling over his forehead as he takes Liem deeper into the heat of his mouth, inch by inch — as he curls teasing fingers inside him. He is greedy — still, always — for the feel of him, for the taste of him, for every touch Cardan gets to paint onto his skin. If Liem’s discipline is endless, then it can only be eclipsed by Cardan’s compulsive, relentless focus. He knows no relief and no satisfaction from it; he is starting to realize that perhaps he never will.
He chases it anyway, his throat working to accommodate his lover — a skill he had always thought demeaning. But what could be demeaning about the pleasure of a lover so pinned by Cardan’s whims?
It is only some minutes later that he will raise his head, disengaging his mouth so that he may speak. ]
Am I? I could stop, [ he offers, a little hoarse from his efforts with Liem’s cock. The curve of his mouth is as tender as it is mean. ]
You could stop me. It is only a tie, Liem. [ And sloppily tied, at that; Cardan had not made a good effort at the knot the second time around, when he’d divested Liem of the last of his suit.
He has stopped, actually; instead, he’ll prop himself up on his elbows and survey the landscape of moon-pale skin before him, marked by a calligraphy of fading love bites. Liem looks exhausted, so well-fucked it’s a miracle he’s still erect; it is probably a black mark on Cardan’s character that the sight makes a hot pang of lust pulse through his cock. ]
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It is so terribly, unfairly intoxicating.
He can only whine and press back against the sheets in the face of the ruthless, indulgent pleasure Cardan delivers. Though he is fervent in his quest to stay still as his lover has asked, he can only blame his exhaustion for the fact that Cardan has been able to tease him for this long. Still, even if the long hours have made ascending the slope of his pleasure to the very peak more challenging, he remains frustratingly unable to refuse the climb altogether. No matter how much Cardan has his way with him, his touch remains as electric as ever; Liem is beginning to fear that there isn't any amount of weariness that could subdue his want for him, as long as Cardan continues to demand it.
And when he doesn't — the abrupt lack makes the ache of Liem's need feel crueller by comparison.]
No, [he complains breathlessly, frustrated.] I want you; I want to be yours.
[How could he wish to resist Cardan, when he looks at him in such a way, on the heels of giving him pleasure, voice still rough from his efforts? Even if he wishes for relief, he wants this even more.]
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And still— ]
You are mine.
[ Surely there cannot be doubt about that. Not when he’s spent the past hours tormenting this man within the grasp of his command and the flimsy bond of a silk tie; not when Liem has given himself to him willingly, eagerly. Not when the wedding band on Cardan’s hand still warms to his close proximity.
He moves, dragging his mouth up to Liem’s chest. He flicks a nipple with his tongue and then bites, though his black gaze returns to Liem’s face, always, unhurried and a little arch. ]
And I, despite your protests, remain your creature.
[ He doesn’t know whether it’s wise to say this. He’s still not entirely certain why it had set Liem off so, that very first dawn. But it is true, and it annoys him that anyone should forbid him from voicing it, even the man whose pleasure he ought to be courting.
He drags his tongue up to Liem’s throat, sighs into the press of their bodies when he sinks against him. It will never get old. He could do this a thousand thousand times, and each one would feel like relief. Cardan’s hand grazes up Liem’s flank, then between them, traveling until he can wrap long fingers around both their cocks, grind against him. How funny that this will ever recall, to him, a starry night under the branches of an ancient oak. ]
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Why do even such simple things make Liem ache for him, as though Cardan hasn't already been mapping his body for the last several hours? As though he does not have his husband's embrace to look forward to every single morning, as he's had for months. He drowns himself in him every opportunity he gets, and still, that flick of Cardan's tongue over his nipple makes Liem want to squirm against him, and the bite pulls a moan from low in his throat.
He doesn't feel like protesting now, for all Cardan's sauce. He feels covetous, rabidly jealous of the thought of his husband giving his devotion to anyone else but him. He wants to keep him here just like this, with his mouth hot on his throat, his body caging him against the soft bed, the heated friction of him against his aching cock sending a heavy shiver of pleasure up his spine.]
Mm… mine…
[He clutches senselessly at the sheets as the murmur escapes his lips; he aims for facetious, but the words ring far too earnest.]
Ha… my sweet, wicked prince…
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So he doesn't know why he feels heat flooding his face, quick as a flame on kindling. He hides it against the crook of Liem's neck and shoulder, but his free hand flutters up to Liem's wrists. The knot is truly sloppy: even one-handed and blind with flushed tenderness, Cardan undoes it quickly, freeing his lover's hands after so many hours in bondage.
He wants them on him.
He had imagined the end of this interlude a few times -- had thought he would remain the stern, unruffled taskmaster, fondly cruel towards Liem's demands, unmoved by pleading, whimpering, perhaps even tears (does Liem cry? he does not know.) But in the end, there is ever more softness than cruelty; in the end, he cannot bring himself to be anything other than wanting. ]
You have such a strange idea of sweetness, [ he will murmur against Liem's skin, just to say something, just to fill up the heated, strange space between them -- such little as there is. ]
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Didn't you know already? [he murmurs, rucking Cardan's shirt up his back to accommodate the greedy, meandering journey of his splayed hand.] You married a strange man.
[A man whose fingers are possessive in Cardan's hair, but gentle, still, when they revisit the slender contours of his well-scarred back. A man who tips his face to seek the shell of Cardan's pointed ear, so he can brush breathless, wanting kisses over it as he squirms desperately into his touch. Even though his eyelids have grown heavy with the weight of his unrelenting, wrung-out need, even though he wants his husband's greedy touch and the tease of his teeth and the menace in his voice as he drives Liem to his very limits with pleasure… still, he covets the tender curve to Cardan's smile, and the reluctant way he is wont to ease into Liem's caress, and the little glimpses of sentiment he seems so loath to show anyone at all.
He wants it just for himself. It's beyond greedy of him, but he wants it all just the same.]
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Now that he's had it, he does not know if he can let it go.
He rolls his hips against Liem's, slow and deliberate, arching into the pleasure of Liem's mouth on his ear. It is difficult -- Liem's squirming is distracting, his hands are distracting, the pleasure of his closeness is distracting. Still, Cardan will not be rushed from his steady rhythm, the heavy grind of his hips as he drags them both towards the peak of wanting once more. It is laborious, after so many hours, after so much time-- and yet he still feels the pull of it, as inexorable as breathing.
Perhaps he would indeed have to be dead not to want the strange man he married.
His hand finds its way to Liem's face; he turns his own, wrenches himself up to look at him. He will drink in the sharp features marked by exhaustion and need, the gentle curve of Liem's lashes as they kiss his cheek; Cardan's face is a little too serious, too intent, the frown between his brows too pronounced. ]
I could have never guessed it would be like this.
[ It feels like a dangerous thing to admit, even though he's barely saying anything new -- but the truth lurks behind his teeth. He could never have guessed he would want so much, care so much, feel such a confusing mix of things when he looks at his husband of five months. Who could have possibly predicted it? ]
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No one else could inspire this unflinching vulnerability in him. Cardan has driven him to the limits of his exhaustion, his need, his desperation, for hours upon hours — and ruthlessly, he has ever looked at him just like this, with that same intent look in those dark eyes. Liem could drown in them — and he is.
Because now that his shame has been scoured from him, he finds, frighteningly, that he loves having those eyes on him, no matter how ruined and how discomposed he might be.]
Cardan…
[He sighs and arches eagerly back against the sheets, need making his lashes dip treacherously even as he gazes back up at his lover. His fingers clutch and drag against Cardan's back as slow, heavy waves of pleasure wash over him. And still, he wants Cardan to see him — to have all of him, no matter how soft and scattered and vulnerable.
He can have everything — as long as he keeps looking at him just like that.]
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Cardan is helpless to refuse him.
He has to lean down -- has to kiss that soft, vulnerable mouth. He has been so careful to keep himself contained, to look calm and unruffled even when his need had been desperate, but now that they're so close to the end, how can he? How can he show anything but the devouring need that lives in him? ]
One last time, [ he whispers, like a secret. ] Give yourself to me one last time.
[ His hand travels down Liem's flank to his hip, and Cardan pulls his other off them both, shivering with the loss of contact. He curls his fingers over the inside of Liem's pale thigh, urging him to splay open. Cardan wants to sink inside him; he wants that silken, impossibly intimate slide of skin against skin, wants to fill him up and claim him one final time. How many times had it been?
Not enough. Not ever enough. But just one more time, he wants the sigh of Liem's body against his own and the grip of those too-gentle hands on his back.
How he ever went without, he does not know. ]
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It escapes him in the soft, needy murmur he sighs against Cardan's lips, in the way his body wants to fit itself to Cardan's whenever he presses closer.]
Yes, [he murmurs.] Always yes.
[He can have Liem this time, as he could every other time, and he can have him again and again, if he wants. If he whispers it like that every time, if he kisses him like that and looks at him like that: like he's the only person who has ever mattered — who could ever matter.
It makes him wild with some terrible, starved longing he cannot even speak aloud, wrung dry as he is. He can only meet Cardan's hunger with his own, and run gentle, greedy hands over his back, his flanks, his shoulders and neck, as Cardan pulls back from their kiss to urge Liem's thighs apart and press inside him again.
And when he fills him up, Liem will pull Cardan closer to kiss him again — heated and tender, wanting and beguiled — to once again offer him his yearning, insatiable heart.]
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He makes a noise into that kiss — a wanting thing, low in his throat. Always yes, Liem says, and the frightening thing is that Cardan believes him. Sinking into him feels like second nature, like coming home, like Cardan was made for fucking him and him alone. He relishes the easy, pliant way Liem spreads for him, the perfect way they fit together, his tender hands and the longing in that kiss. He wants to never stop. He wants to never do anything else.
Desire is such a terrible, selfish thing.
He will turn his face to draw his mouth across Liem’s wrist, his palm, his breathing harsh as he moves in him. His hand finds Liem’s — laces their fingers against the sheets as Cardan calls them home one final time. He had worked so hard to stay composed, to be stern and mischievous and in control this entire time, but even his composure fails him here — each thrust draws a gasp from him, hot and heavy in his throat, and when he looks at Liem’s face his chest feels tight with some unnameable emotion. He is helpless against it; when he presses down to kiss Liem again, it is with a desperate, consuming need. ]
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But if he had ever taken the time to consider a conclusion to his daydream, he might have aspired to an ending such as this. He can so easily imagine teasing himself with that heated, wanting sound Cardan breathes against his mouth, or dreaming up the tender transit of warm lips over his wrist and palm. The slide of his husband’s fingers between his own elicits a strange taut-edged relief in his chest that does not belong in his waking hours.
It is no wonder he still cannot refuse Cardan, no matter how much he demands.
He is too immersed in the pleasure of being at his mercy: again; still; pinned by his weight and his hands and his mouth and his cock. He is too enthralled by the wild pounding of Cardan’s heart and the rare sound of unrestrained need gasped against his skin. He is so greedy for this that even in the depths of his exhaustion, now that he has his husband like this, desperate and wanting as he claims him one last time, he wants to spin out this moment forever. He covets his greedy kiss and the tight clasp of fingers entwined with his own, and the gorgeous feel of him moving against him, inside him as Liem clutches him close. He never wants it to end.
But he cannot deny the swell of his own pleasure, the irrepressible shiver of it or the wanting sounds he breathes against Cardan’s mouth between kisses. He is too drowned in him, too helpless and needy and desperate, despite everything — and Cardan is too enchanting, and too inescapable. He trembles, gripping his lover’s hand tight, breath catching on the edge of a whine as he brushes up against his climax.
And then, finally, tumbles over the edge.]
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It is probably presumptuous that Cardan cannot think of Liem's pleasure as anyone's but his. He doesn't care.
And he tries so hard to hold on -- just a moment longer, a breath, two; his grip on Liem grows tight in turn. He's looking at him still when it finally catches up to him. Cardan looks at him even when the pleasure reaches a fever pitch, so sharp it makes him gasp and sink teeth into his own lip. He wants to watch that exhausted, elegant, vulnerable face, wants to sear it into his memory--
But he can't. He can't, in the end -- his eyes fall shut anyway, and then he's shivering through his own orgasm, chest heaving with his heavy breathing as he buries his face against Liem's hair. ]
Fuck.
[ He mutters it in the aftermath, and it comes out a little reverent, even muffled against his lover's ear. The stimulant is still buzzing under Cardan's skin, refusing to let go; though his breathing slows, he's still too aware of every place they touch, of Liem's scent twining with his own, of their hands pressed against the sheets.
It takes him a moment to prop himself up again. He is a little loath to disentangle their fingers, but it is so he can cup Liem's face in his palm. This time his gaze is assessing.
If Liem wants to go again, Cardan can probably oblige him. But even his formidable husband seems tired, and Cardan would not let stubbornness get in the way of pleasure. ]
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But that desperate, greedy thought subsides along with the peak of his pleasure. Both leave him behind, still wrapped around his husband, trapped between him and the damp, mussed sheets. For once in what feels like an eternity, Cardan does not hasten to touch him again, or to claim his mouth in another hungry kiss. He simply cups Liem's face with a warm hand, leaving Liem to gaze up at him contentedly from beneath his lashes.
His orgasm seems to have wiped his mind blank, and he feels bonelessly heavy, ready to melt right into the mattress; nonetheless, the single thought floating around his empty head demands Cardan's continued closeness. He wraps his arms lazily around him, sighing, to keep him right there as his eyes sink closed again.]
Cardan.
[The murmur slides out as he leans gently into the hand cradling his face. He does not bother to open his eyes. At first it seems as though that is all the commentary he had to give; he subsides back into quiet, fingers idly roaming his lover's back. Eventually, however, he will make another soft addition.]
You are too clothed.
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Except for the fact that he is, indeed, still clothed, and his clothes are soaked with sweat, and his body heat will not overcome the coolness of his husband in conjunction with their clammy state forever. So.
So. ]
So I am.
[ He'll have to peel himself away to rectify it; as ever, logistics prove to be the bane of his marital bliss. He draws it out just a moment longer -- stealing another kiss from his tired spouse -- before he will extract himself long enough to stagger to his feet on the plush moss rug. His blood-stained shirt finds its way onto the floor, and his trousers follow suit.
The sheets are damp, too, which means the two of them need to move... to the other side of the giant bed, at the very least. Cardan steps up to the edge of the bed, reaching out to his husband with the expression of someone trying to coax over a sleepy kitten. ]
Liem.
[ He's not expecting Liem to walk; he just needs to wriggle close enough for Cardan to pick him up. ]
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It's just that he is completely loath to release his husband for even a moment — and for probably the first time ever that he can remember, he's not actually sure if he can force his tormented body to stand. He feels completely spent.]
Mm…
[Unabashed, he presses into his husband's kiss, clinging stubbornly to him until Cardan successfully disentangles himself to stagger upright. He feels suddenly cold without the body covering his, and rolls onto his side, drowsy and a little forlorn, to regard his spouse as he peels himself free of his clothes. Even rumpled and coaxing Liem near like a favoured pet, the sight of him stirs that familiar, hungry longing in Liem's chest. The eyes that follow Cardan's movements manage still to be unflaggingly intent, despite their tiredness.
It will be a chore to drag himself over to the bed's edge to join his husband — but with a heavy sigh, he goes, again seeking his warmth and his touch. Now that Cardan is not in bed with him, the idea of lingering there in the damp is decidedly unappealing.]
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Liem will not have to wait long for his reward: as soon as he is close enough, Cardan will scoop him up like a bride to be carried over a threshold. Holding his husband in his arms brings him a singular pleasure, for how charmingly lithe and compact Liem feels cradled against him and how easily he lets Cardan manhandle him however he pleases.
Even if they are both sticky, and even if his tired joints ache in protest.
Still, Cardan has enough borrowed energy to maneuver them around the bed, stubbornly upright about it. He sets Liem down on the dry end of the bed with care, like he's handling something precious and a little fragile, though he knows better regarding the latter. For a moment, he will linger there, braced over his exhausted lover. He is seriously contemplating rolling them both into the blankets and calling it done.
But he's uncomfortably messy, even for his liking.
His put-upon sigh signals his decision -- despite the fact he's weary and wanting to cuddle, and he imagines so is his forlorn-looking spouse. In an effort to be solicitous, Cardan enfolds Liem's pale face in his hands, pressing a deliberate kiss to his brow. ]
You've done so very well. Rest.
I am going to clean us up.
[ And then he's pulling away again, insistent, to pad off in search of hot water and a washcloth. In a few minutes, he returns -- still damp but less sticky, and with a towel slung about his shoulders. He's carrying a small basin; the water inside smells pleasantly, vaguely floral. ]
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Briefly, one cool hand settles against Cardan's chest, over the rhythmic thump of his heart, its lively beat pleasingly familiar. The flutter of it coaxes a tired smile onto his face, which remains even after he has been deposited again on dry sheets. Only the bone-deep fatigue weighing down his limbs prevents him from reaching up and dragging Cardan down atop him, to be his blanket while he slides contentedly into unconsciousness.
He stares up at his husband instead, a little flushed, contending suddenly with the strange, aching and unruly feeling that Cardan's tender deliberation has inspired in his chest. His head is abruptly very quiet; as Cardan leaves in search of washing materials, Liem sighs quietly and leans his face into a nearby pillow, unable to summon a single thought at all.
He's slowly becoming one with the bed when Cardan returns, but the sound of his approaching footsteps drags Liem up into a sitting position. His eyes slide from the basin in Cardan's hands and up to his familiar, unfairly lovely face. He wishes to say something charming and clever to distract from how vulnerable he has been with his husband all day, how drowned in him he still is, whether he's touching him or not — but his nerves buzz beneath his skin, still desperate for contact, and his mind is still empty of anything but Cardan.
He says,] I've been waiting for you.
[It sounds a little better than I've been missing you.]
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The air between them feels strange, alight with something tender and slightly uncharted. ]
As I wanted you to, [ he acquiesces, quietly, setting the basin down onto the bedside table. The water is just below hot; he dips a washcloth inside and wrings it out, like he has seen attendants do countless times.
How strange that he, who has taken care of not a single person or thing in his life, should find himself so fond of helping Liem bathe.
He will brace one knee onto the bed; the fingers of his free hand curl under his husband's chin. ]
If you can still sit up, perhaps I was insufficiently thorough.
[ The corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile -- half frivolous threat, half self-deprecation. Still, after all this, he wants nothing quite so much as to kiss his exhausted, patient lover -- and since no one is here to stop him, he will.
The black coil of his tail whispers gently over Liem's thigh, the fluffed tip tickling the slim line of his hip. ]
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But he cannot refuse the fingers under his jaw, or his husband's indulgent kiss. Everything else feels dream-like in comparison. He sighs gently into the contact, tipping his face toward Cardan like a flower greeting the risen moon.]
No, you were thorough, [he murmurs.
Never before has just sitting up been such an effort. He smiles slightly, a little nervous to consider how exhausted he'd need to be to be incapable of managing even that much. He's discomposed enough as is.]
I've been quite ruined.
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Cardan pulls back to eye him, briefly, before pressing his lips to Liem's jaw, the tender skin just below his ear. The peppering of unhurried kisses will continue even as he puts the warm washcloth to Liem's skin, starting on the task of removing some of the night's excesses.
He will be rather thorough about this, too: it is only because touching Liem remains a singular delight even after countless hours of having him. There is a possessive pleasure in running the scented cloth over the pale skin with its fading bruises, in cleansing even this from Liem, so that when they sleep, he need think of naught but the embrace of Cardan's arms around him. ]
Was it as you imagined? [ he'll ask, as he coaxes Liem's knee up so he can run the cloth over the inside of his thigh. Of course, no real thing can live up to fantasy -- for one, they could not have kept going for all eternity -- but he is curious nonetheless. ]
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And he has so much more than that. His breath flutters delicately from him at the leisurely press of Cardan's mouth against his jaw, the warm transit of gently-scented cloth over his skin. Somehow, he had not expected this endless night to conclude as it had started: with Cardan's gentle hands helping him bathe, unsolicited and alarmingly comforting. He wants to slip beneath the surface of this feeling, drown himself in Cardan's familiar presence and never re-emerge.]
Yes — but better. This is better.
[It's better because of the voice in his ear and the lips brushing his skin. It's better because of his lover going to the effort of cleaning them both up, though this was not part of Liem's fantasy and he had not requested anything like it.
And it's better because the fantasy he used to revisit when he sought his own pleasure, however titillating and forever fantastical, had not had Cardan in it. And as he has discovered again and again, and somehow continued to be surprised by each time — he would not give that up for anything.]
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And still, his tail curls with it, smug as the irrepressible little smile he hides against Liem's skin. ]
Never has my mischief been so thoroughly encouraged.
[ Part of him finds himself wishing to prolong the moment -- to draw out the peaceful pleasure of tending to his husband at the end of a long ordeal, to indulge himself with the sound of Liem's quiet sighs and soft voice. But it is late, and keeping Liem up would be its own kind of selfish cruelty; besides, it is a strange thing to want.
He concludes the makeshift bath with a quick kiss to the inside of Liem's knee, throwing the cloth back into the basin with a splash. After that, all that is left is drying his husband off.
Then and only then will Cardan finally slide into bed with him, busying himself with the effort of wrapping the both of them in eiderdown and silk. ]
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His marriage continues to spoil him; the way things are going, he's entirely likely to get just what he wants. He barely recalls the last time he had to sleep alone, and doesn't care to dredge the memory from its months-old bed; he'd much rather relinquish himself into Cardan's care, and let himself be bathed and dried and kissed and bundled sleepily into the blankets.
As he snuggles against his husband, seeking his warmth before Cardan has even finished drawing the blankets over them, he he breathes a soft, contented laugh.]
I must share with you my desires more often, Cardan.
[He has displayed such skill for turning Liem's wants to reality.]
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How strange that his husband's laugh tugs at something soft and fragile in him. ]
Is it not my right to know? [ he murmurs, and is relieved to hear himself sound only arrogant about it, even as he brushes his lips against Liem's temple, his breath quiet in the space between them.
Despite his exhaustion, it will take him some time to fall asleep, buoyed as he is by the drug that yet traps restless energy under his skin. He spends hours petting Liem's hair and watching his face, perfect and still in slumber. And when Cardan finally succumbs to silent, dreamless sleep, he sleeps for far longer than he intended -- the night and most of the following day, rousing only to prevent his husband from leaving and to accept brief offerings of tea and refreshments.
Eventually, he will let himself be coaxed out of bed for a bath, during which he splays over the tub's edges and lets Liem put fragrant soaps in his hair. It is mid-day, and a demented time to be awake, so he does not elect to stay up after the bath -- though he waves Liem off just before crawling back between the newly changed sheets for another nap. ]
Your friendly butchers miss you, I'm sure. Go.
[ The "friendly butchers" are, as it happens, the group of redcaps who meet to spar and trade stories near the palace training grounds. Most of them sport the crescent-and-blood-drop crest of the Grand General rather than the great tree of the Greenbriar line, but they are palace knights regardless. With their greenish skin and sharp teeth, not to mention the abundance of scars and penchant for eating raw meat, they make an intimidating group even among Elfhame's warriors. Other fey tend to avoid their campfire. Initially, they had seemed skeptical of the young, slight vampire and his toothpick rapier -- still, his invitation to spar had come readily enough, and they seemed impressed by his discipline if nothing else.
Cardan had found it incredibly funny: of course the most bloodthirsty among Elfhame's knights would adopt his husband and pepper him with tips and tricks on murder like so many family recipes.
Tonight, however, there is another figure in their midst. He is trim and well-built, faun-like with the legs of a deer below his knee and small horns upon his brow. Like his brothers, Prince Dain is very beautiful; unlike them, he is fair, with curls the colour of spun gold and quicksilver eyes. Tonight, he wears no coronet, and his ornate sword leans against the petrified log he is using as a seat.
He looks up just in time for Liem's approach. He's still smiling at a knight's joke; the expression does not diminish, though it turns a little bemused. ]
Ah, Liem Talbott. [ His voice carries easily in the space between them. ] I have heard much of you. Join us.
[ And though he delivers it with charming gentility, it is not a request. ]
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