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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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[ He lets himself sink back down onto his elbows as he's shivering with the aftershocks, chased by the intent stroke of Liem's hand. His eyelids are heavy with satisfaction, and still his breath catches in his throat at the leisurely caress of his lover's mouth over his skin.

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. ]

[If there is any request Cardan could make of him that Liem could refuse even with that soft "please" appended to the end, Liem hasn't yet encountered it. The murmur of Cardan's voice lifts his head from pale, warm skin, just as much as does the caress of his hand. He is lovely like this, reclined and shivering in the soft light, eyelids heavy with bliss. The sight makes satisfaction curl languidly, low in Liem's belly, at odds with the insistent pull of his want.

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.

[ He sinks down all the way so that he can wind an arm around Liem's waist. The feel of him stretched out on top of Cardan ever feels like a sigh of relief; never has it failed to fill him with an odd sort of calm, except for the times when he has been alight with wild, frantic need in its stead.

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.

[Even Cardan's marked lack of enthusiasm for his proposition cannot dim the eager affection that has snatched Liem up in its grasp, fondly curving his lips as he presses them to the corner of his husband's mouth.

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?

[ It is wily, leaving the location of the last bruise up to Cardan; it is, in fact something Cardan himself might have done, were the roles reversed. No matter how much Liem might accuse him of arrogance, how is he supposed to think anything but that his husband has learned from Cardan's mean little tricks?

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. ]

[Cardan's choice of locations is very fair indeed, and perhaps more than a little hoped-for by his husband, considering that the bruises he'd left on that throat before now seem to have avoided Cardan's pulse; almost as if Liem were saving that spot for later. He meets that predatory smile with interest, watching the transit of Cardan's fingers over his neck eagerly.

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.]

[ The clasping of his hand does something strange to Cardan; it is not the first time, and surely not the last, and yet his heart still gives an odd little flutter. He likes Liem's hands -- those cool, careful, elegant hands -- and there is something painfully tender about the gesture of his fingers threaded between Cardan's as his mouth descends on Cardan's neck. It makes him feel like a changeling, like he'd stolen his way into a marriage that could not possibly be his by right.

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. ]

[Liem doesn't know what it is about drinking Cardan's blood that wakes such a tender, urgent longing in him. He is never so frantic with it as when his mouth is at the vulnerable flesh of his husband's throat, tasting his lifeblood to the sound of Cardan's wanting breaths and racing heart. Never has the warmth of Cardan's hand in his felt so perfect, or the pleasure of his arm twined around him seemed so necessary. He does not want to imagine drinking from some other man's veins, now that his lover has offered him his. He could swear he was meant for this and this only, because no other person has ever tasted of home as Cardan does.

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.]

[ It is an alive sort of quiet that surrounds them: he can hear the wind toying with the wisteria's boughs, the pixies' melodious laughter, the subtle sounds of his husband's pleasure -- and, not least, the steady thump-thump-thump of his own heart, loud in his ears. He could not imagine being more content than this: breathless and caught in Liem's clutches, with not one problem or care to disturb them.

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.

[For all that Liem is eager to have both his hands on his husband, and for all that he’d very much like to have Cardan’s hands on him, he finds himself sweetly enamoured by the feel of their fingers twined together, still pressed gently against the soft rug beneath them. He has too rarely enjoyed the pleasure of his husband’s hand simply holding his own; it makes their closeness feel a little softer, a little more tender and deliberate. The sensation leaves him covetous, loath to relinquish his hold now that he has Cardan’s fingers threaded through his own.

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?

[ Cardan sees no reason to answer the question immediately, and so he doesn't. Instead, he will steal another kiss-- and another, and another. It's so easy to get lost in the sensation of kissing Liem; each time his mouth slides against his husband's, it feels perfect in some new way. Each one feeds the warm desire pooling in his belly -- a languid, indulgent thing, and still inevitable as breathing.

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. ]

[Liem cannot summon a single complaint for the way Cardan at first seems to ignore his question entirely, simply pulling him back into kiss after indulgent kiss. He is too enamoured by the feel of his husband fitted against him, by the desire he can taste on his lips and hear in the sound of his fluttering heartbeat. What gift could be more enticing than this, regardless? He cannot ever get enough of his husband's affection, nor touch him enough to sate the want that rolls through him with every unbidden breath.

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.]

Ah, my terribly generous husband, [ Cardan complains, brightly, ignoring the fluttering in his belly. He had looked forward to this a great deal -- he still is -- but now that the moment is imminent, he cannot help but wonder if he had guessed at all correctly. Still, Cardan will sit up to watch Liem -- and pull his trousers up over his hips as he does so, though he will not bother fastening them again. There is hardly much of a point, given the direction this outing is heading.

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.]

[Liem's careful, deliberate unwrapping of his gift culminates in a brief moment of consideration for the glossy wooden box, as though this alone might hint at what might be within. When the box, predictably, does not give up its secrets, he will finally flip it open — to gaze in astonishment at the work of art resting inside.

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.

[ Half a year ago, this man was a stranger to Cardan. Half a year ago, there was no one in the entire world whom he would have gone to such an effort for -- least of all this tightly restrained, dutiful man tied to him in a bargain neither of them had arranged.

How strange, then, that he should be so pleased now -- that it takes only the measured cadence of Liem's I like it very much to set off the warm spread of savage affection through his chest. It is utterly beyond belief that a man like Cardan should find himself in a marriage to someone who inspires such unaccountable, unreasonable softness in him. What a grand joke he'd played on anyone who had ever thought him a disappointment.

It is unthinkable that this should be his.

Still, the soft smile twitching to life on his face feels odd and oddly vulnerable. To hide it, he reaches for the bottle, refilling Liem's goblet alongside his own hitherto untouched one. ]

Then it has been well worth my travails.

[ His tail curls in pleased little loops as he holds the goblet out to his husband. Well, they ought to at least drink to the night of Liem's birth, ought they not? ]

To my husband, and the stars that smile upon him this night, and the many successful schemes he shall be unerringly punctual to.

[Despite the artistry of the beautiful golden watch, and his pleasure with the gift, it is Liem's husband that he finds his eyes unfailingly pulled to once he turns his gaze from the sky. He looks so charming in his dishevelment, pleasure touching his lips and curling his tail against the fine rug. If Liem was in any danger of feeling unsettled by the lengths Cardan has gone to to spoil him tonight, his worries are certainly overridden by how delightful satisfaction looks on his spouse. The finest gift of all would be to see Cardan look thus every single night.

He would not expect Cardan to do anything worthwhile by halves, and yet tonight his husband has managed so thoroughly to catch him off guard with his schemes. Perhaps it's because he's never stopped to consider the celebration of his birth to be something worthwhile before. It leaves him feeling a little unmoored, even more vulnerable than usual to his husband's predations. Though more than Cardan's mischief, he fears the danger of the desire living in those intent, enchanting dark eyes.

Replacing the watch carefully in its box, Liem closes the lid, a defence against overly curious sprites, and rests it momentarily in his lap as he accepts his refilled glass from his husband.]

Your schemes most of all, [he agrees as he raises his drink, for they were both painstakingly punctual to Cardan's scheme tonight, and he is all the gladder for it. Liem drinks deeply from his glass, then leans over to tuck the unwrapped wooden box safely back into the saddlebag for the time being. When he straightens again, sliding back over to sit beside his husband, he has a small stalk of clover twirling between his fingers.]

And this, Cardan, is for you.

[The clover has four leaves.]

Hm? [ He is partway through wrapping his arm around Liem -- the tail has certainly already done the same -- when he spots the offering. Cardan's eyebrows twitch upwards as he plucks it carefully from Liem's grasp. ]

A gift of luck from the land itself, [ he intones, dryly. He had nearly forgotten about the game -- and he had certainly thought that Liem must have, distracted as he had been with other pursuits. Nonetheless, he will tuck the little stalk into the breast pocket of his rather dishevelled jacket.

Then he will lean once more against Liem, warm fingers sliding over the nape of his neck, flirting with the skin just under his collar. He has been remiss in the task of undressing his husband -- but where normally impatience would spur him into correcting the oversight, tonight he is happy to dally a little longer. Liem has spent the past hour teasing him; now that he has supped on Cardan's blood, he should surely be prime for retaliation.

Though not before Cardan tops up his goblet, like the dutiful host that he's pretending to be. ]

[Teasing Liem promises to be quite easy in his current state. With cheeks faintly flushed from drink and pupils still blown wide with the savour of Cardan's lifeblood, he snuggles against his husband's side with feline eagerness. Close proximity will do nothing but torment him, but it's far too late at this juncture for moderation. Besides, indulgence in his husband's touch is worth any amount of frustration.]

Such a thoughtful husband I have.

[Liem sighs contentedly into the slide of warm fingers against his neck, wrapping an arm around Cardan's waist as he tops up Liem's goblet. Even while relaxed and a little tipsy, he can't perceive Cardan's solicitous attention to his drink as anything but a ploy to get him well and truly sauced — but his husband has already gone to such effort for the evening. Surely he deserves to reap the fruits of his labour.

Though Liem still merely sips at his refilled drink, rather than throwing it back as he had with the first glass.]

Though you've barely touched your drink this whole time. I hope you don't expect me to drink all of this myself.

[ Cardan has indeed neglected to indulge in drink. It is strange: he had thought his temperance as of late had been due to Ironside's lack of potent inebriants -- at some point, trying to attain true drunkenness had not seemed worth the time or effort. But he is in Elfhame now, suffering no shortage of strong wines, and still he had found himself more sober than he had been in a long time. Perhaps it is that he'd been distracted: he could ill afford to be lying somewhere in an alcoholic stupor while planning this outing, after all, nor would he let Liem too far out of his sight after the incident at Balekin's.

Liem's suggestion makes him huff out a laugh. ]

How unlike you, to back down from a challenge. [ After all, Liem has shown a surprisingly competitive side in every game they've played -- though, admittedly, he is bound to lose this one.

Yet Cardan will obligingly tip back his head and down his goblet in one long swallow; the fact that this bares his throat with its necklace of bruises is not lost on him. Then he pours himself two more, throwing both back with the ease of long experience. Through all this, his heart barely speeds; when he sets the goblet down once more, the look he directs at Liem is thoroughly unblushing. ]

Do keep up, husband.

[ His fingers slide down between Liem's shoulder blades, down to the small of his back -- and then beneath his jacket, so Cardan can untuck his shirt and run an indulgent, warm touch up the bare skin of his back, his ribs, his chest, sneaking under Liem's clothes like they're young lovers playing at subterfuge. ]

Ah—? When did it become a challenge?

[Liem aims a raised brow at his husband, watching with first incredulity, then a hint of nervousness as Cardan pours and downs goblet after goblet without a single care. He may as well be drinking water — or ordinary Ironside wine — for the ease with which he makes the drink disappear.

When Cardan goads him to keep up, Liem just grins at him, accusing.]

So impatient.

[At that kind of pace, it won’t take long at all for Liem to be just as blissfully intoxicated as he’d become that evening at Hollow Hall. The wise thing to do would be to concede here and now, to let Cardan have his victory without insisting on drinking himself silly just to fight him for it.

Except.

Except Cardan is right in his judgement of Liem’s character. Even though he knows that he cannot win, even though any sensible person would concede rather than force them both to play this little contest out the long way, he tips his head back instead to drain his goblet again, giving in to his husband’s taunting completely.

Though the hand wandering beneath his clothing rather distracts him, and he cannot persuade himself to pry himself free of Cardan long enough to bother pouring himself any more. Not when Cardan’s neck is right there, and tempting him so sorely to lean in to paint one of those fresh bruises with another kiss.]

[ He doesn't actually expect Liem to give in to the temptation he'd so readily presented. Pressed against each other as they are, his lover will feel the little shiver that runs through him, ever inevitable when Liem's mouth presses to his throat. It is foolish, and he knows it is foolish, but at times like these he wonders why it is that Liem is so careful about biting him but once in several days. It is ever too scarce a pleasure in both their lives. He has grown so dangerously enamoured with the sting of those sharp fangs, with the soft look on Liem's face when he pulls away, the way he grows pliable and eager for the touch of Cardan's hands.

It could never be enough, Liem had told him, that first time. Cardan hadn't realized just how right he'd been.

Liem needn't have worried about keeping his glass topped up; even one-handed, Cardan manages to resupply them both, despite the fact it involves opening up a new bottle. His other hand ghosts over Liem's stomach, curious to see if he is as vulnerable as Cardan had been.

Not that he would be so predictable as to take his revenge now. And still-- ]

How brave, [ he murmurs, smug and happy, ] to willingly give yourself into a villain's clutches. [ His head tips, his nose brushing Liem's temple, breathing in his familiar scent.

And his heart does speed a little, after all. ]

I wonder what quest our hero seeks to fulfill.

[How is Liem meant to ever resist the temptation of his husband’s neck when Cardan reacts so pleasingly to the touch of lips there? That subtle shiver curves Liem’s mouth into a smile against his throat, encouraging him to linger there for just one more moment, just one more kiss before he must pull back again. And he truly must; after all, it is not his husband’s blood that he’s meant to be drinking, at least anymore.

Even though he wishes more than almost anything to remain twined about him, trading kisses while Cardan’s touch over his body roams wherever he likes. He simply so warm, and his embrace so contenting, even when it also makes his blood simmer with restless desire. And even when the brush of fingers over his stomach does, after a moment of attempted nonchalance, make the muscles there twitch and tense, too sensitive to touch.]

Not just any villain, [he murmurs, leaning back to regard his own personal villain as he lifts his goblet again to his lips. Liem’s gaze, beneath low, relaxed lids, is intent.] My favourite one. [His eyes linger over the soft, sensual curve of Cardan’s mouth.] Perhaps I just wish to be devoured.

[ Though he had only meant to note Liem’s reaction, the tension he feels under his fingers is unexpectedly tempting — it’s difficult not to indulge. Liem isn’t the only one who likes his husband’s laugh, after all, except that he laughs much more rarely than Cardan does. How kind of Liem to give him a way to even out the playing field.

But not tonight. With a touch of reluctance, he will unwind his arm from around his husband — but only so he can turn to face him, sweeping his hand back towards Liem’s chest, not yet content to stop with his shameless fondling. This, too, Liem only has himself to blame for: the blunt edge of of Cardan’s nail dragging soft as a breath over his nipple before warm fingers tease at it, indulgently focused. After all, it would hardly be meet to pay less attention to Liem than Liem had to him, on the night of his birth. Besides — dishevelment looks so delightful on Liem, who is so painstakingly poised at any other time. It feels like a uniquely private pleasure to see it; it makes him ache with greedy need for more.

—and then: that word again. He breathes in, careful, and considers Liem in return.

A number of clever, flirtatious retorts die on his lips. ]

You told me, last time, that you wanted to be mine. My favourite.

[ He doesn’t think Liem remembers. He doesn’t even know what compels him to say it, except that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, except that the same devouring need that Liem desires from him cannot help guiding his mouth now. ]

You are.

[ It’s so obvious, after all. He doesn’t know why it took him so long to come up with the answer. ]

[Liem has barely done more than wet his lips before his husband’s continued exploration of his skin forces him to re-evaluate whether he actually has attention to spare for wine. The brush of fingers over his stomach is threatening; he half expects to end up with drink in his lap because of it. When Cardan teases his chest, however, forcing him to suppress a pleased little squirm, he almost forgets he’s holding a drink at all.

The wiser thing to do would be to put the goblet back down, but he has already long since given up any pretence at wisdom for the evening. He maintains his hold of it, even as he readjusts his other arm so it drapes over his husband’s shoulders instead.

And he is glad of it when Cardan answers his flirtation with far more earnestness than he’d expected.]

Oh— did I?

[Liem’s half-stifled little smile is immediate and delighted, and even burying his expression in his goblet cannot hide the pleasure blooming in his cheeks and in the tips of his ears. He does not, in fact, recall saying this thing the last time he was drunk — but it is true; he does want to be Cardan’s favourite. He spends so much of his time coveting his husband’s desire and attention, it would be impossible not to want this too.

But admitting it openly feels so very vulnerable, and he is still too sober for that.]

Well, I should hope I am.

[He sways closer to press a wine-damp kiss to the corner of Cardan’s ever-tempting mouth.]

You are rather stuck with me.

[ Cardan doesn't laugh -- doesn't even smile. He is too busy watching Liem, his stare intent. It is impossible to miss his husband's obvious and rare pleasure, the absurdly endearing flush that extends to the very tips of his ears. Impossible, too, to have known Liem for longer than a day and believe his self-assured I should hope I am. Both these things tug at some viciously tender thing inside Cardan's chest. He wants to tell Liem that it's the other way around -- that Liem is stuck with him, that he had made a silent promise all those months ago--

But it doesn't matter. Liem is drunk and close and kissing him, and if he wishes to keep the mood light, then there is no reason for Cardan to stop him.

He sets down the goblet down so he can wind his fingers through Liem's hair, to keep him from pulling back. Cardan wants to kiss that smiling mouth, and the flush decorating Liem's cheeks, and the tips of his ears, too -- and this, finally, makes him smile after all. ]

If Elowyn had only told me my groom would be this cute, [ he murmurs, ] I may not have been such a terror about it.

[ He is, evidently, very willing to be a terror about it now: Liem may feel the flash of his grin against the shell of his ear before Cardan's teeth find the tender skin just below it. The warm fingers that have snuck under Liem's shirt are still intent on teasing him, unhurried and thorough about it.

But then it would hardly be meet for Cardan not to revenge himself at least a little. ]

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