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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Mm.
[He hums contentedly against a damp red mark stamped next to the slant of one hip, his eyes sliding closed for a moment at the caress of warm fingers over his hair. The scrape of his teeth over yet-unmarked skin is thoughtful.]
Not well enough.
[He recalls the carriage floor solid beneath his knees, and Cardan's fingers caressing him much like this, and the heat of him against his tongue — but little else. It is a problem he intends to rectify, and as he wanders Cardan's skin with leisurely kisses and teasing nibbles, he sees no reason not to glide lips and tongue over his cock as well, for all that his attention is still required elsewhere. It's just indulgence: enough to reacquaint himself with the feel and the taste of him, before his teeth and tongue find another mark elsewhere, and his hand continues its languid caress over silken skin.]
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But Cardan also knows that the things his husband had said, in those long, pleasure-soaked hours, were not thoughts he would have voiced if he had been in his right mind. There is an odd pleasure in hoarding them to himself -- fleeting, tender little sentiments, no doubt heightened and baited by the paces he had put Liem through. They are Cardan's alone now, and he is ever jealous of things that are his.
...But his meditation on the transience of pleasure will have to wait. His thoughts shift-- slide away entirely when Liem's mouth finds his erection, drawing a heated, urgent gasp from him. For a moment, all Cardan can do is breathe, his eyes unerringly focused on Liem's face; for a moment, he wants so savagely that it wipes away everything else.
And then Liem's mouth is gone, and Cardan's teeth sink into his own lip, frustrated. He feels bereft and pinned down all at once, trapped by the stroke of his husband's deliberate fingers. As ever, this is his own fault entirely: he had set the ridiculous dare, failing to think through the consequences. It's just that being at fault doesn't make him any less hard, doesn't make his want for his husband any less urgent. He wants to complain about it, about the thorough way Liem's mouth teases bruises onto his skin, but what could he say that would spare his pride? Instead-- ]
I've been such a terrible influence.
[ He manages to sound deadpan about it, despite the way his breath catches every time Liem's mouth descends onto his skin. ]
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Such royal arrogance, [he observes. The idea that Cardan lured his staid, dutiful husband into mischief with his own habits delights Liem more than a little, not least of all because of how embarrassingly obedient Liem has been for him since almost the first time Cardan touched him.
He has not yet made his twenty-fifth mark, but at present Liem finds himself far more interested in the urgent breaths he'd pulled from his husband, and the animal longing he'd glimpsed in his expression. He wants more of both, to remember properly whenever he glimpses one of the bruises stamped onto Cardan's skin. Even though his fondness for teasing is not nearly as transient as his spouse might naively believe, tonight, at this moment, what he wants most of all is Cardan's desire.
Though he doesn't really need to choose between the two. Not when he can return to his indulgent exploration of his husband's cock, mapping it with languid kisses and the obscene slide of his tongue, even as his damp, saliva-slicked fingers slide with lazy deliberation over the head.]
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And he can use a little arrogance now, when Liem returns full attention to his cock. It’s what he’d wanted — but he had not imagined that the lazy, deliberate drag of Liem’s tongue would provoke him quite like this. Lust flares hotly under his skin; something about Liem’s unhurried manner, about the leisurely slide of his mouth over Cardan’s skin makes him feel alight with it, unable to think of anything else. Liem will easily get his quick, urgent breaths, his hammering pulse — the caught way Cardan looks at him, as if he could not look away even if he’d wanted to.
Cardan is very bad at waiting. He’s especially bad at it during a times like these, when he has little to do with his hands — even burying his fingers in Liem’s hair is a challenge, thwarted as he is by his own gift of flowers. He wants to touch his husband— wants to hold him, to press himself against him and take control, the way he always has. The fact he cannot is making him a little insane. ]
Liem, [ he sighs, just to say it, though even that is shot through with longing. His restless fingers trail along his husband’s jaw, the side of his neck, aimless in their journey. ]
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Liem intends to give Cardan everything he wants, but he cannot help but draw it out like this, because that restless, frustrated longing feels too rare not to savour.]
Impatience looks so good on you.
[He murmurs against hot, silken skin as he watches his husband, his eyes intent on that sharp, lovely face. He likes the sound of that impatience, too, in the sigh that slips from Cardan's lips. He wants to hear it build until his princely spouse cannot even pretend at that languid hauteur any longer.
The thought hums insistently at the back of his mind as he shifts, and then dips down to swallow him up.]
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He is not prepared for the shocking pleasure of Liem's mouth sliding over him at all. ]
Fuck, [ he hisses, legs drawing up so he can curl forward, leaning over Liem as if drawn to him by gravity. This time he doesn't consider the flower crown when he buries his fingers in soft hair, cradling the back of Liem's head; he needs something to hold on to, to have in his hands. Someone -- his lover, his husband, his partner in crime, but always-- ]
Mine. [ He breathes it softly, almost inaudible against the rush of his thundering heart. His eyes had fallen shut, despite his best efforts; when he looks at Liem again, they are mere slivers of black. Still, something of his haughtiness finds its way back to his face, breathless and flushed as he might be. ] Even when you... hah... insist on tormenting me with desire.
[ Probably because of it, actually, but Liem does not need to know that. ]
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Had it been like this before, too? Had he menaced Cardan with his pleasure, when he'd put his mouth on him in the carriage? Had Cardan called him his? He can't remember. Keenly as he wishes he could, that night remains simply a soft, muddied sea of urgent sensation.
But if Cardan is accusing him of being his tormentor, he may as well earn the moniker — because he doesn't think he could do any different, now that they're like this. His want is too keen for him to do anything but devote himself to Cardan's pleasure, to the feel and taste of him as he takes him in, to each indulgent slide of his tongue when he pulls back to tease the head of his cock.
He doesn't just want to make him come; he wants to make him squirm, just a little. He wants Cardan to curse him in the same breath that he claims him as his own. He wants his lust and his impatience, and he wants to draw it out so he can properly enjoy both. More and more, with Cardan (because of some magic of his, some trickery that has gotten beneath his skin), he wants everything — and since he can't possibly sate that want, all he can do is indulge it.]
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No, it hadn't been like this before. Not even in that carriage, where his nerves had been alight with anticipation. He straightens, accompanied by a shuddering exhalation. Another look at Liem's face sends a pulse of lust through him, searing hot, almost painful in its intensity. ]
...I suppose I am ever a slave to that mouth.
[ He doesn't smile -- doesn't even attempt to play it off as irony. One of his hands slides from Liem's hair to curl over his jaw instead; Cardan's thumb slides insistently over the corner of his mouth, the edge of his damp lip. Then his hand drops, once again used to prop himself up against the bulwark of his shivery, too-urgent pleasure.
He can't not watch, but that makes it worse. His frown is helpless, his lips parted for the heavy, uneven breaths Liem pulls from him, the frantic rise and fall of his chest. He can feel himself drawing more taut, beat by beat, as he climbs closer to the apex of pleasure. And he wants it: he wants to come, he wants to claim Liem in this way, too, wants to watch him when he does. ]
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Given Cardan's response to the leisurely, deliberate slide of his mouth, he cannot help but be curious.
But as always, with Cardan, the same stubborn affection lodged in Liem's chest makes tormenting him for long impossible. He is too caught by the want to indulge him, to abandon his playful impulses in favour of warmer, sweeter endeavours. He hums against heated, sensitive skin, almost in acquiescence, as he works his darling spouse closer to the peak of his pleasure.
And if he is a little demanding about it, a little ruthless with his pace, surely nothing could be more reasonable than greed for his own husband's ecstasy.]
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Liem--
[ It builds and builds and builds, his want. Sometimes he thinks it might devour them both. But tonight, with the stars bright above them and Liem's desire painted onto his skin, he is not averse to being consumed at all. ]
I don't know-- how you do this to me, [ he breathes, as if Liem might not hear it, as if being quiet will prevent the heated gasps and escalating rhythm of his breaths. Never in his life has he been teased so much, so easily. Liem is the only one--
But the thought is gone as quickly as it comes. He is too close, too eager for his release to think of anything beyond that slick, merciless, beautiful mouth, beyond the caress of Liem's steady hands. It takes all that he has not to press his hips up into it, seeking more pleasure, more touch-- pleasure floods him, pouring into him with every heartbeat, keen and so sharp it's nearly unbearable--
He comes with a low, bitten-off groan, and it feels like forever. ]
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He wants to be irresistible, always. He wants Cardan plagued with thoughts of his spouse at all hours of the day and night, wants him to be foolish with longing — because Liem already is, and he cannot stand the thought that his lover's ardour might dim when he cannot have him in his arms.
Yes; he should have known he'd be too greedy for this — but it is far too late now. When he feels Cardan's climax take him, that groan searing through him with a hot spike of need, Liem can only stroke him insistently through it, demanding to the very last. And when he does finally release his husband, it is only to trail damp, unhurried kisses back up the landscape of his body, still alight with his own relentless desire.]
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Even now, when his desire should rightly be sated, Cardan wants him. Even now, sparks of pleasure shiver up his spine, lit by Liem's kisses. If his husband wanted him to feel well and truly claimed, he has certainly succeeded. ]
Come here, [ Cardan murmurs, and tries not to seem urgent about it. It is suddenly unbearable to imagine another stretch of time without Liem's mouth on his own. He wants him close, wants to feel his familiar weight, the contours of Liem's body fitting in that particular, perfect way against his own.
His hand curls around the sharp contour of Liem's jaw. It would certainly not be unjustified if Liem chose to deny him, to tease him further, just as Cardan had done to him so many times. It would be just, but Cardan isn't certain he could take it without going a little insane. And so-- ]
Please.
[ He manages to make it sound dignified, but only just. ]
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He closes the rest of the distance yet between them, covering Cardan's body once again with his own so he can return to where he best belongs: in Cardan's arms, with that soft, hungry mouth on his. There, beneath the stars and the windblown boughs of the wisteria tree, he can finally melt against his husband again — and he does, fitting himself against Cardan with bone-deep contentment.]
I must find the time… to torment you this way more often, [he murmurs against his lips, to get ahead of the other, more dangerous things clamouring to spill from his mouth instead. His chest feels sore with the weight of them all hiding behind his ribs.] You are… uniquely bewitching like this.
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Kissing Liem is much the same. It is as if he's sating some hunger he never quite realized he felt -- as if this man, and he alone, holds the antidote to some strange and insistent longing in Cardan's chest.
...though Liem's commentary gives him pause. He is a little uneasy with what he might have awakened in his hitherto docile husband -- uneasy, too, about how difficult it had been to maintain any shred of his self-possession while Liem had such free rein over his body. But his little frown is transitory; he doesn't want to give Liem cause to believe him anxious. Instead, his eyebrows lift. ]
Surely... mm, surely you've had more than enough fun. [ The memory of Liem's mouth at his throat, his chest makes something strangely eager flutter in his belly -- even now, so soon after climax. ] I might pass for a leopard, at this rate.
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What's this? A prince of Faerie, suggesting that there is a limit to the amount of fun he should have? Surely he couldn't really mean that.]
Bold of you to assume such a thing, when I've not yet given you my twenty-fifth mark.
[Perhaps Cardan had been otherwise occupied and hadn't been counting, but Liem certainly had been — and by his reckoning, he'd stopped right at twenty-four. Surely it would be inauspicious to stop short now, when he's finally celebrating his twenty-fifth year.
Though it's no surprise he'd been diverted from his mission. Now that he is draped over his husband once again, stealing his kisses with the warm length of him stretched delightfully beneath him, he is loath to abandon Cardan's lips or his embrace for any reason, even this one.
Even so, his fingers find Cardan's jaw, sliding up to cradle his face as Liem pauses to regard his lovely, impatient, impertinent husband. His little smile is secretive.]
Where would you like it, Cardan?
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But two can play that game. Cardan considers him -- considers that little smile, frighteningly attractive in its guile -- and then flashes one of his own in return, the slow curl of his lips predatory.
His hand lifts to his throat, two fingertips sliding up the side of his well-decorated neck to find the point where his pulse beats, ever impertinent, barely constrained under his skin. ]
Where else? [ Cardan will purr, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. After all, if Liem wants to tease him, then it is only fair that he himself be teased with the surge of Cardan's lifeblood under his lips, responsive as it will be to the caress of his mouth. ]
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Unlike his impatient husband, Liem has ever been fond of toying with his own desires. He lifts his own hand to find Cardan's, sliding cool fingers between his warm ones and pressing them back against the rug as he dips his mouth to find the hot pulse beating at his throat.
For Cardan's benefit, he does tease the vulnerable skin there more than is strictly necessary. He doesn't need to map that spot with lingering, open-mouthed kisses, or nibble against the thump of Cardan's pulse before he bites. But the anticipation is so sweet and so drugging, and Cardan's hand is so warm in his. He wants far too keenly to do anything else.
And then he does bite, of course. Once he has teased his husband thoroughly with the promise of his mouth; once his own eagerness becomes impossible to ignore. He can do nothing else.]
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But it is his, and so is the man whose mouth has occupied his thoughts for much of the past hour. It occupies him still-- who could ever have enough of those soft, ardent kisses, of the dangerously light scrape of Liem's teeth?
The bite is almost unexpected; his fingers clasp down on Liem's hand tightly as a breath slides out of him, sudden and wanting. He had, at first, thought that it was the danger of the act that attracted him so. In the weeks that followed, it had become clear that he had failed to account for the strange intimacy of it. It's impossible not to crave it now -- heat blooming as blood rushes to his skin, the cool touch of Liem's hungry mouth on his throat, his own strange satisfaction as he cradles his husband close. It seems miraculous that it is Cardan's blood and naught else that should have sustained Liem all these months. It makes him revel in a strange kind of pride--
And desire. Always desire, as tender or tumultuous as it may be, even so soon after finding satisfaction. He lets it take him willingly; tonight, he wants nothing so much as the yearning his husband always draws up from under his skin. ]
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Miles and miles lie between him and the only home he's ever known, and he can't fathom being anywhere other than exactly where he is right now.
His thumb caresses an idle path against Cardan's hand as he draws his tongue indulgently over his much-decorated neck. Liem's blood is singing: praise for the warm delight of Cardan beneath him, for the richness of the breeze and the beauty of the night all around. When he rolls his hips against Cardan's, that pleasure shivers through him too, even as he rumbles contentedly against his lover's jaw, pressing a bloody kiss there.
He wants him. He's always wanted him, but right now the wanting is the pleasant kind: anticipation of something already within his possession, the cruel edge of need slithering teasingly over his skin. He could drive himself mad like this, and he would love every moment.]
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When Liem moves against him, even clothed against Cardan's still sensitized-skin, he's already well and truly trapped in Liem's allure. Desire blooms in him, warm and unhurried, interlaced with a strange and ardent affection. His hand sweeps down Liem's spine, over his hip, to curl a possessive grip over his ass and urge him to move again, to press closer to Cardan and grant them both another moment of that shivery, teasing prelude.
...But there is one more thing he'd had in mind for this evening. He turns his head so he can glance at Liem, who looks like the world's most charming predator with Cardan's blood smeared over his mouth. It makes Cardan grin irrepressibly -- and it makes him want to kiss Liem, so he does.
After which he'll announce, with satisfaction rich in his voice, ] I have something for you.
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He doesn’t care to scrutinize that feeling too closely.
What he does care to do is move again at the urging of Cardan’s free hand, seeking more of that indulgent taste of pleasure, revelling in the feel of Cardan’s body pressed against his. He hums again, softly, with that shivery little sensation, and then meets the kiss his husband turns his way with easy, languid want.
They have almost the whole night. Almost the whole night for him to have Cardan all to himself; his to twine around, his to kiss, his to tease and tempt and adore, his his his.]
Do you? [Liem parts from his husband’s lips unhurriedly, eyeing him with lazily-intent curiosity.] What is it?
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Only after a dozen kisses will he pull back, still grinning. His eyebrows twitch upward, however. ]
If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise.
[ He doesn't really want Liem to rise -- doesn't want him to move, to pull away from their interlaced grip on each other or the luxury of his lithe form fit so pleasingly against Cardan's. But he's also a little impatient for Liem's reception of the gift Cardan had gotten him. After all, this is the first time -- and a very late follow-up to Liem's brooch from that magical hill, all those months ago.
He pulls their clasped hands to his lips, brushing his mouth over Liem's cool knuckles. ]
It is in my saddlebag, if you care to look.
[ The one that he had conveniently left just at the edge of the picnic rug.
What's in the saddlebag, actually, is a little box, meticulously wrapped in blue ribbon and heavy paper the colour of fresh cream. Of all the new traditions he had been apprised of, Cardan had thought the unwrapping of presents the most delightful. ]
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Still, he lets Cardan pull back to bestow him with another of his handsome grins, and to press his warm lips to his knuckles. Even now, wrapped about each other as they are, the gesture quickens a warm little squeeze behind his ribs. Liem continues to be menaced by his own foolish sentiments for this man who surely married him on a whim.]
I suppose I can give you a break to catch your breath, [he allows with a small, not-quite-suppressed smile.
Though it does mean peeling himself away from his spouse, Liem will push himself upright with a small sigh, and relocate himself to sit next to the bag in question. Curiosity lives in his gaze as he digs the elegant little package out from its hiding place, tilting it this way and that to examine the tidy wrapping.
It is, he thinks, a rather jewellery-sized box. But rather than spend time supposing what might be within, he simply attends to the task of opening it, carefully and deliberately unknotting ribbon and unfolding paper until he has fully revealed what's inside.]
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Unless, he supposes, Liem really loathes his present.
Underneath the paper is a glossy wooden box. Once Liem flips this open, he will find an impossibly ornate pocket watch: it is black and gold, every bit of the housing and hands engraved in lacy arabesques. Daintily painted leaves decorate the face; its most prominent complication shows the transit of the moon across the night sky.
As soon as Liem touches it, the watch will spring to life, as if recognizing its master.
It is, he may find out later, not necessarily an accurate watch. Occasionally, it will run a little early, or a little late. This is not a fault that can be corrected: indeed, there is no key nor mechanism with which to wind the clockwork, nor any way to change the time it shows. But its caprices are not without guile: one might arrive a few minutes late, only to narrowly miss an unpleasant acquaintance -- or perhaps leave the opera early and overhear a juicy secret on the way out.
Cardan will explain exactly none of this, of course -- only observe, knee bent and chin propped up on his hand, his expression carefully tranquil.
The twitchy tapping of his tail against the rug isn't, but there is nothing he can do about that.]
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It is probably the most splendid watch he has ever laid eyes on. Even in Iago's home, which has always been full of splendid things, he cannot recall having seen such fine attention to detail; the great failing of his home, he is finding, is that regardless of how much any vampire might love beautiful things, it is rare indeed for one to create them themselves. The luxuries of Ironside are almost universally produced by human hands.
Liem lifts the watch carefully free of its home, inspecting it with an intent gaze that seeks every detail. He gazes at the delicate hands, the golden housing, the dark face and the tiny representation of the moon journeying across the sky. He cannot quite resist the urge to look up, then, and see the moon's transit mirrored against the stars above.]
This is stunning, Cardan.
[When his eyes find his husband's again, they are warm with surprise.]
I like it very much.
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