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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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[It's for the best that they've been neglecting the wine Cardan brought; that Liem has been rendered only flushed and pleasantly eager by their indulgences on this occasion instead of warmly senseless. He recalls so little of the night after Balekin's party, clouded as it was by the haze of guileless pleasure. If he is to be pliant and soft for his husband tonight, he wishes to remember it. Because he wants to hold on to moments like this.

He wants to keep kissing him until his valiant, greedy spouse is entirely short of breath. He wants to fit himself against him just right, wants to feel every inch of his lovely body against his own. And when Cardan pulls away, when he coaxes another indulgent sigh from Liem with the stroke of his fingers, he especially wants to remember the crooked smile Cardan aims down at him. His own breathless, wanting expression softens a little as he regards it.

And Cardan is right. He sees not a hint of reflection in the fathomless dark of his eyes, even though the moon must be bathing his face as Cardan gazes at him.]

Why would I need to know a thing like that?

[He would much rather look at his husband anyway, who is much more beguiling than any other vision he can imagine.]

[ It makes sense that Liem asks -- but how is he to explain this to a man who has never seen himself, let alone the way he looks right now? Cardan huffs out a laugh at the task's impossibility. It stutters at the touch of his own fingers as he works them both, unhurried but insistent.

This does not particularly help him formulate an answer, either. ]

Because, [ he starts, without a real plan-- and then pauses, again, to kiss Liem, because it is impossible to be braced over and against him like this, touching him, and not want to kiss that gentle, dangerous mouth. ]

Because you look edible, [ is what he, finally, comes out with. His mouth brushes over Liem's jaw, his breath fluttering when he grinds his hips down, against Liem's cock, shamelessly lurid about it. ] Debauched. Wanton. Eminently fuckable.

[ Not that Liem isn't fuckable all the time, but Cardan gets to tell him so rarely. Perhaps he ought to mention it more. ]

The fact I ever let you leave my bed is unfathomable.

[Liem is at a place, mentally and physically, where he would willingly accept “because” as the whole of Cardan’s rejoinder. The immediate distraction of Cardan’s mouth on his own more than suffices in his view, for all that it tells him nothing except that his husband finds him irresistible.

But then, what other answer does he need? That is, ultimately, what he finally says anyway, as his lips wander Liem’s jaw. And Liem is well and truly persuaded by the hungry way those lips brush his skin, by the insistent stroke of Cardan’s fingers and the shameless grind of his hips against him. His own reply is a heated, breathless laugh, and an eager tightening of his fingers as they slide through his lover’s hair.]

You’re the one who hurried me from it.

[Perhaps Cardan was right after all, to suggest that his understanding of his own appearance is just a paltry shadow. Certainly, he would not have used any of the words Cardan has chosen were he to describe the sober man in his portrait, and neither does he tend to think of himself in those terms, though he, unlike his portrait, is a living, changing man.

It makes him a little uncertain, to know that his husband sees him that way. He can’t quite understand why he does: what it is he’s seeing that Liem never has.

But rather than think about that, he instead rocks his hips up with a groan, into the addictive feel of his husband’s hand and his husband’s cock, and he lets the pleasure of the evening swallow him up.]

[ He can't help the sharp inhale that escapes him when Liem's fingers tighten in his hair. It's so rare for his husband to be rough with him; Cardan feels like he's had to coax and trick him into it for most of their time together. It makes the times when he indulges Cardan all the sweeter -- makes the spark of desire more bright and keen as it runs down Cardan's spine. ]

I had a mission. One more important than my depraved desires for you.

[ And one which, thus far, has been a rousing success. He cannot help but be incredibly smug about it: bringing Liem to this place without arousing his suspicion, making him give up his secrets, finding a gift he evidently liked-- rarely has Cardan had cause to feel so unambiguously satisfied with his work. Even if it is difficult to focus on his accomplishments with Liem pliant and wanting beneath him. He looks so enchanting bathed in moonlight; for all of his many vices, Cardan has rarely found anything so compelling as his husband's frank pleasure.

The groan on Liem's lips throbs through him with insistent, heady need; the hand braced against the ground beside Liem's head digs into the soft rug. ]

But it is your night, husband.

[ His winning, easy smile is a little breathless. ]

What would you have from me?

[ ...He very much hopes Liem wants to be fucked. Because Cardan desperately wants to fuck him. ]

[Liem cannot help but be charmed by the evident determination with which Cardan insisted on preparing this private celebration for the two of them. For a man who seems to live mostly according to his whims, he has proven unexpectedly devoted as their marriage has gone on. Every single time he surprises Liem in this way, in the service of some mischief that is earnest and thoughtful instead of mean, Liem feels some anxious little want constrict his chest.

He feels so greedy about it. If Cardan continues to indulge him in this way, he really will spoil him completely.]

Cardan…

[He looks irresistible like this, grinning down at Liem with that easy smile that makes his heart give a rare squeeze in his chest. He is just so criminally handsome, and Liem has only become worse over time at withstanding his allure.

There are so many things that he would have from him, if he could: things that he cannot possibly ask of him, even tonight, even with his senses full of his husband and the warm buzz of Faerie wine. But that is something Cardan doesn't need to know.]

Kiss me again. [Again. Again. Again.] And then, I want you to fuck me.

[ Cardan's husband is so obliging, asking only for things which Cardan was already yearning to give him. Sometimes he can't help but wonder if it's because Liem is trying to please him. But that would be stupid -- Cardan is so obviously already very pleased. With himself, with Liem, with his little scheme. ]

Always, [ he murmurs, and dips down to comply with Liem's demand. His husband's desire is so addictive; how could he possibly refuse? So Cardan kisses him again, and again, and again, mapping the shape of Liem's mouth with his own as if it were not already seared into his memory. The hot fingers wrapped around the both of them stutter, stop-- for some time he will only splay his hand over Liem's bare hip and devote himself single-mindedly to the task he has been given.

He can't do both at the same time; the tease would be too keen. He could not last through it. Already his breath is a little ragged with it, and still he aches for touch -- as his kisses grow a little more desperate with each one. Liem has a way of making him feel like he's been starved of pleasure his entire life prior. And yet-- ]

You are too dressed, [ he complains in between heavy breaths. He could fix this -- must fix it, surely, if he is to fulfill his husband's wish -- but it would require him to pull away from Liem's lips, and he so fervently doesn't want to. Cardan's hands slide down Liem's hips, pushing his trousers down lower, but what use is that when he's still wearing footwear?

Cardan's sigh against the corner of his mouth is deep and full of suffering. After a moment, he does detach himself, pressing up so that he looks down at Liem, ignoring the heavy pulse of need the sight of him sends through him. ]

Keep yourself occupied, husband, [ he will demand, a little tartly, ] while I, once more, tend to your boots.

[Cardan's hungry assault of kisses is both a relief and a torment.

It is a relief because Liem's wanting for his husband's mouth on his has only become keener with each slide of Cardan's body against him and each heavy breath brushing against his jaw. He clings to Cardan like he might never let him go, cool fingers sliding beneath dishevelled clothing to splay over scarred, feverish skin, and meets his kisses with tender, unflagging greed. He could spend the rest of the night kissing him just like this, he thinks — though it might drive him more than a little mad.

Because Cardan is not the only one who wants endlessly, and Liem cannot kiss him like this without moving restlessly beneath him, without running his hands over his back and through his hair, without making himself more desperate for his touch with each breathless kiss. The soft, wanting noise he breathes in reply to his husband's complaint is helplessly impatient.

If he looks as bereft as he feels when Cardan pries himself from him, his husband surely deserves credit for refusing to be distracted. He murmurs, frustratedly resigned.]

As you wish.

[Did Cardan mean that he should prop himself up and thumb open the buttons on his cuffs so he might undress properly? Perhaps not, but he did accuse Liem of being too dressed. So he occupies his hands with his cuffs, watching his husband intently all the while, until he has finished with both and can sit up to pull both his hiked-up shirt and jacket off over his head.]

[ He must laugh at Liem's thwarted face and sulky acquiescence; on his husband, who is ever measured and patient, these things are unforgivably charming. Indeed, it takes all of Cardan's self-control not to dip down again, not to steal just one more kiss from that discontented mouth -- and another, and another, until the first blush of dawn paints the sky pink, and they will have done naught more than kissing.

No, he will give his husband all he asked for tonight. So instead of kissing Liem, he will press his mouth lower, ghosting warm lips over the hollow of Liem's throat before he starts making his way down his body.

Unbuttoning his own cuffs is not what he meant, and -- judging by the eyebrow he arches Liem's way -- he assumes Liem knows it isn't. But Cardan is busy, and he will not waste time arguing. He offers no verbal commentary: only the haphazard, affectionate caress of his mouth smearing kisses over Liem's chest, his abdomen, the sharp angle of his hip. It is difficult not to get distracted by him, even now. Cardan lingers a moment overlong here, too drawn by the allure of tender, vulnerable skin. His lips follow the tender crease between hip and thigh, though he studiously -- and successfully -- avoids touching Liem's erection with aught more than the barest brush of warm breath.

When he looks up, his soft inhale is wanting.

But he pulls away anyway, moving back so that he, too, can sit up, his fingers sliding down to grasp Liem's ankle in his hands. He will not bother being artful about the boots, instead choosing to make quick work of the laces so he can pull both of them off. Then he looks up, his smile a little unreadable. ]

Well, if you're going to help: trousers, if you would.

[ Since he is all the way down there, and Liem is apparently interested in handling his own disrobing. ]

[It is probably Liem's own fault that, when he declines to occupy his hands with his body, Cardan takes the opportunity to decorate it with kisses instead. The fingers at his cuffs pause and fumble as his husband's soft, indulgent mouth wanders over his skin, and the tease of his breath against his cock makes Liem tremble with the effort to remain still. It is frustratingly impossible to endure his husband's mouth on every other part of him and not wish to feel it there as well — but even tonight of all nights, Cardan seems pleased to tease him quite relentlessly.

He stifles a sigh when Cardan pulls himself upright, and turns his own attention instead to setting aside his undone shirt and jacket. But still, even as he sits up to disrobe properly, his focus remains mostly on the wicked, irresistible man stripping off his shoes.

He still doesn't know how Cardan makes the act seem so possessive.

Liem's eyes stay on that smiling expression as he leans forward and, obligingly, peels himself out of both his trousers and socks in one unembellished movement. The garments join the rest of his clothes on the rug nearby, missing a full goblet by scant inches. He barely even notices.]

[ It truly is Liem's fault: for being tempting and flushed and obedient to every unreasonable demand Cardan has for him. How is he supposed to react but with more mischief? And so when Liem leans forward to divest himself of his trousers, Cardan's smile turns to a grin -- right before long fingers close around Liem's chin, trapping him while Cardan leans in to steal yet another kiss. He is indulgently saucy about it, shameless as ever about chasing his greedy pleasure.

The same greed lives in his gaze when he pulls back to look at his Liem, bare and bathed in silver moonlight. It suits him like nothing else does -- but then, if Cardan is a creature of the twilight, then Liem undoubtedly belongs to the night and its stars.

...and to Cardan, most of all. Cardan, who wants endlessly; who doesn't bother with his own clothing, because what do his shirt and trousers matter when he can move towards his husband, pressing him into the soft rug with the deliberate, warm weight of his body? Surely Liem can feel his avarice in his thundering heartbeat and the wanting breaths he takes between kisses. Surely he can tell by the hard cock sliding against his own, by the oil-slicked fingers that press between his thighs, intent on claiming him once more. ]

[Cardan's mischievous grin and greedy, indulgent kiss only serve to tease Liem's impatience, but he doesn't mind one bit. Even tonight — perhaps especially tonight, given his labours — Cardan may do whatever he pleases, have whatever he wants. Liem sighs into that kiss like he's been waiting all evening for the touch of that warm mouth; and he has, endlessly, no matter how often he receives it.

He may have promised his husband everything tonight, but that was simply a formality. He covets his affection far too much to deny him anything at all.

And Liem is greedy for him besides, pulling him down atop him even as Cardan presses him back against the rug; claiming him with his cool kisses and his wandering hands. The wine and the blood and the slow, relentless tease of the entire evening pull bitten-off, wanting little breaths from him as he arches into Cardan's touch, oversensitized and aching.

And he is so overfull of soft, purposeless sentiment, he doesn't know how it doesn't spill out between every single kiss.]

[ Cardan is so relentlessly enamoured with him. When had Liem's cool hands first started to feel like relief over the lacework of scars on his back? Not so long ago he had found their stubbornly gentle touch difficult to bear -- but that was before obsession had slipped under his skin, making him crave the soft sound of Liem's breaths and his yearning, eager kisses, the way he opens himself up to Cardan as if he was made for his hands.

When had he become so grateful that the man in his arms should belong to him?

He doesn't know and, right now, he is finding that he doesn't care to remember. The digits that press inside Liem are gentle, unhurried, intent on working him open as sweetly and slowly as possible. Because Cardan wants to be gentle with him, and because he wants Liem to be impatient, wants him to be a little overwrought and impatient and gasping for him.

On the night of his birth, his husband is surely due all the tender torture that Cardan can give him. ]

Liem, [ he murmurs, a little insistent, like he is trying to get Liem to pay attention. Though Cardan would be doing something very wrong if his husband were capable of paying attention to anything but him at the moment. ]

[In this quiet, private moment, when Cardan is touching him like this, looking at him like this, when he murmurs to him like this, breathless and insistent between kisses — Liem thinks that perhaps he is cruel after all. Certainly he is ruthless to coax him open so patiently and so sweetly, as though Liem isn't already drunk and wanting and eager to be fucked. He surely cannot expect Liem to withstand him without losing what composure he has left.

After all, he is already most of the way there. Already he can't help but sigh, low and restless, at the teasing grind of their hips, and squirm into the unhurried stroke of those slick fingers. Already he is helplessly, piteously hard, and impatient with it.

But that is not what is so cruel. What's cruel is how easily that gentle touch makes Liem subside against the rug, vulnerable and soft and terribly blissful; what's cruel is how simple Cardan makes it to trust himself to him, and how addictive the pleasure of it is; what's cruel is that when Cardan makes Liem feel cherished and adored, he cannot entirely stop himself from believing it.]

Ah— Cardan, [he breathes, and he clutches a little tighter at him as his voice takes on the edge of a whine.] You make me want too much.

[ Cardan's smile curves against Liem's skin, quick and pleased. How like his husband, to distract him so from the thing Cardan was going to tell him. How like him, to try for the impossible. ]

There is no such thing.

[ Liem's desire could be fathomless as the Undersea itself, and it still would not be enough. He pushes himself up so he can look down at him, at that flushed and unbearably soft expression, and there is a hunger in his gaze that belies his easy smile. He has waited too, after all. Need thrums under his skin, pulses through him every time he moves against Liem, hot and insistent. ]

You promised me everything, did you not?

[ At least tonight. At least as much. It would be silly of Liem to expect Cardan not to collect. ]

So everything is what I want, Liem. All of you.

[ It is such a brazen thing to demand, but he does anyway -- though he doesn't wait for Liem's answer. He will catch that soft mouth in his own instead, will kiss the vulnerable, wanting expression and succumb to the grasp of Liem's hands. Cardan wants Liem's need, and his desperation, and his gentle complaints, and the ready way his body always, always opens up to him anyway, no matter how terribly he has teased Liem in the time prior. He wants to make Liem come, and he wants to keep him at the edge of release until he's trembling and taut with denial, and he wants a thousand different things besides, some of them too terrible to name. ]

[Cardan says that there is no such thing as him wanting too much, but when Liem looks at that pleased little smile, he knows it isn't true. He does want too much — too much of Cardan, at least. He wants his easy affection and his desire, yes — but also his trust, and his adoration, and his understanding. He wants things from Cardan that he can't admit to and he isn't sure his husband even has to offer. He wants to be his and no one else's, and that is the most outrageous, impossible thing of all.

But at least Cardan's wants are simple.

A laugh escapes him, soft and breathless as his husband leans down again to kiss him. Liem greets the caress of that warm mouth eagerly, unable to do anything but. How could he refuse him, promise or not? How could he resist the seduction of those dark eyes and those soft lips, that beguiling voice and familiar, irresistible scent? His husband has been too thorough, has laid his trap too well, and Liem has neither the ability nor the desire to resist him.]

You have it, [he murmurs against his mouth. All of Liem: his body, his submission, his affection, his desire. All are Cardan's to do with as he pleases, down to the most foolish and hidden of wants — no matter how Liem strives to deny them.]

[ It is ever his own impatience that dooms him. He wants to torment Liem just a little longer-- wants to watch his face, the way his sharp features soften with the weight of desire, moonlit and lovely. It's just that Cardan himself is already so piteously tense with need; it sears through him with each breath and each touch of those cool, tender hands. It's just when that he feels Liem move against him, under him, feels the clutch and pull of his body, patience becomes utterly unachievable.

And if he has Liem -- if Liem is truly his to have -- then why should he wait at all?

He can't. He won't. He sighs against that murmur, his eyes falling shut as he tries to center himself, just for a moment. But he can't keep them that way: he wants to look at Liem when he pulls out his fingers and splays them over Liem's thigh instead.

And when he finally presses inside, it's achingly slow. He wants it to be a little torturous for both of them. If he can't wait altogether, then the least he could do is take his time, to savour his husband properly, fully, until he truly feels like he belongs to Cardan alone. ]

[If Cardan keeps touching him just like this for the rest of the night, not only will Liem forget about the game for their outing, he'll probably be too distracted to remember even if Cardan waves a set of five in front of his nose. He is too drowned in his own greed for his husband's touch, and too captivated by the look of shadows playing over those elegant, hungry features.

When Cardan presses inside him, his own hungry sigh stutters with his impatience.

How he has managed to beguile Cardan into desiring him so fervently, he does not know. Increasingly during their stay in Elfhame, returning to his arms at the end of each night feels unsettlingly dreamlike: too sweet to be real and too dear to stay. It is his own fault for liking too much, he thinks, but if it's being in Faerie that has so inflamed his husband's passions for him, he will miss his ardour when they return home.

But for now, he is assailed by his husband's endless want just as much as by his aching deliberation. He has waited far too long already, is far too desperate for touch to weather an onslaught of such unhurried attention, but Cardan has already spoiled him so thoroughly this evening. He can only nuzzle a kiss to the soft skin below the hinge of Cardan's jaw, and use it to muffle his impatience while he does.]

[ He always suffers from a strange clarity in moments like these, when he’s moving inside his husband, deliberate and achingly tender — when pleasure wracks through him like a fever and every single one of his senses is full of Liem and only him. It is so easy, just then, to admit to the depth of his obsession: that Liem is on his mind incessantly from dusk to dawn, and that Cardan likes him better than he can ever remember liking anyone else.

He doesn’t care to examine why. It doesn’t matter, anyway: Liem is his, by right and by vow, and all Cardan needs to do is sink into him and try to breathe like the tight friction of Liem’s body isn’t driving him a little insane. All he needs is for Liem to keep sounding like he does, impatient and desperate with that dangerous mouth against Cardan’s skin. And when the onslaught of sensation builds up too keenly, too quickly, he will pause to thread his fingers through Liem’s and place deliberate, ardent kisses to every single one of his fingertips.

And then grin, breathlessly, at his delightfully and charmingly inebriated spouse. ]

Ah, look at that.

[ Like he’s just stopped, coincidentally, for their little game; like he’s not shivery and wound up with greedy desire pounding through his chest and his throat and his cock. ]

[It's strange how loud, how frantic Cardan's heart manages to sound even now. Even though Liem is the one who is dizzy with liquor and too-sensitive with blood, the one who has known nothing but teasing pleasure ever since their arrival, and been denied any release — still Cardan's pulse hammers against his lips, and his heated breaths gasp in his ear, and the feel of him pressing Liem against the rug is like a feverish, barely-leashed hunger.

It seems so at odds with the steady, painstaking pace of their lovemaking. Surely it should be just Liem trembling and panting with need in the face of that leisurely torment, just Liem who whines under his breath, frustrated, when Cardan pauses to find his hand and press deliberate kisses against the tip of each finger.

Well. Perhaps that is just him, after all — but it is Cardan's fault. It's he who makes him so needy and overwhelmed, seducing Liem with his guile and his passions and his undeserved tenderness. His gaze lingers for a brief moment on their joined hands, sentimental despite the weight of his desire. The fingers of that hand curl a little tighter between Cardan's as, with a small smile, he slides his eyes back to his husband's.]

You're such a menace.

[He'd known it from almost the first night they were wed; certainly he'd known before the week's end. But it wasn't until that night on the hill that he'd begun to realize just how dangerous he really was, and by then it was already too late: He'd started wanting more than just his body and his grudging cooperation. And that wanting had bred like busy little sparrows inside him, filling him up with wishes of a hundred different kinds.

All of them for Cardan.]

[ Wild triumph spreads through him at the sound of that little whine. It ever stokes unabashed hunger in him to see his composed, elegant husband so undone -- to see him ruffled and flushed and sensitive to Cardan's greedy torments. It's too perfectly addictive, and, like with all of his addictions, Cardan has only ever chosen to drink down deeply.

But if the whine made him smug, Liem's complaint is bound to make him impossible. ]

Oh?

[ His eyebrows twitch upward, as if this accusation somehow surprises him. He pushes himself up, just a little, to look down at his husband properly -- and if his hips shift as his weight does, if he rocks inside him just a little, biting back a shiver at the delicious little grind of sensation -- then surely that is pure coincidence.

Cardan's gaze is keenly interested, as if they were discussing a particularly salacious bit of politics. ]

And how would you like me to be, Liem?

[ His radiant smile does -- indeed -- shine with cheerful menace. ]

Please, do be specific.

[Liem sighs, short and caught, when Cardan shifts over him, against and inside him, just to look down at him more completely. To menace him all the better, for all that his pale, lovely skin is still smeared with blood and patterned with the bruises Liem placed there. The possessive affection the sight stirs in Liem's chest does nothing to inoculate him against the desperate thrill of his husband's pitiless mischief. The two feelings only jostle rambunctiously for space behind his ribs, and try — as Cardan smiles down at him — to climb with strangling fingers right up his throat.

The wry expression with which he meets his husband's regard is somewhere between impatient and utterly, hopelessly enchanted.]

Just as you are, husband.

[With unabashed indulgence, his caress slides down Cardan's ribs and flank, cupping the lean curve of his ass as he rocks himself against him. It is only a tease; he cannot achieve much more in his position. But he is hungry for every pleasure his husband has to give him.]

Only… [His expression becomes a little more obviously a smile, still breathless and crooked. He gives Cardan's butt a little squeeze through his trousers.] I would like you to be naked.

[ For all of his mischief, Cardan is forever caught off guard when Liem revenges himself — when he grinds against him, unexpected and wanton, and when he smiles like that. Cardan barely bites back his surprised, heated moan; it stutters in his throat. His grip on Liem’s hand tightens. ]

Would you?

[ He’s most of the way there: his shirt unbuttoned and rumpled from rolling around on the ground, his trousers precariously low on his hips. Most lovers wouldn’t worry about getting him out of his clothing at the point of being fucked — but his husband, he has noted, seems to prefer him bare. Even though— ]

I would have to sit up.

[ More precisely: he would have to pull out, at least if he were to deal with the boots and trousers. But it is his husband’s birthday. If he so insists…

Does he? Cardan’s look is evaluating, even as his hands slip down to Liem’s hips, so that he may hold him there as Cardan pulls back for another slow, leisurely thrust, disregarding the way obsession shivers up his spine and leaves him breathless. His face dips, smearing those heated breaths along the sharp angle of Liem’s jaw, his cheek, his mouth. ]

Is that what you want?

[ He would do it, and most anything else Liem asked for besides. That it would only serve to tease them both is but an unexpected boon. ]

[The stutter of Cardan’s breath when Liem grinds against him only makes the indulgent pleasure of it more heady, pulsing straight to his untended erection. Eager as he already is, the wave of sensation swamping him leaves his mind blank of anything but blind, aching desire, and he only narrowly resists the urge to tease Cardan further, until his lover cannot help but be just as impatient as he is.

Instead, he winds his arm again around Cardan’s waist, sliding his hand up his flank beneath the rumpled layers of his clothes, and considers the prospect of his husband fully bare under the moonlight — a pleasure he has never before enjoyed. It is tempting — even when Cardan slides his grasp down to Liem’s hips and fucks unhurriedly into him again. This time, the sensation lapping at him pulls a soft groan from his throat. He turns toward the promise of Cardan’s lips, seeking their caress hungrily as the arm around him tightens.

But he is still greedy for the prospect of Cardan stripped bare, slender and lovely beneath the stars and the blossoms.]

I told you what I want. [Never mind that Liem cannot stop kissing him, or that the covetous hold around his waist shows no signs of letting him go free. He is not done with him yet; not done letting Cardan have his way with him. But that does not change the reality of his wanting.]

And you call me demanding.

[ It truly is a difficult conundrum, trapped as he is with his husband’s lean body beneath his own, with Liem’s tight hold and his hungry mouth with its neverending kisses. Thinking of solutions is a trial on its own — how should he, when his thoughts stutter every time he fucks into Liem, interrupted by his endless greed for the quiet sounds Cardan coaxes from him, for the softness of pleasure reflected in that elegant face.

He does not want to pull away, not even for a single breath. ]

Liem, [ he breathes, his sigh quiet with longing. ] What a cruel thing to ask of me, husband.

[ Another breath; his eyes close. One of his hands presses against the ground. The other, still on Liem’s hip, grows tight. ]

Stay, [ Cardan tells him.

Then he pulls away. His jaw is a little tight with it; his eyes stay shut. He is certain that looking at Liem would break his resolve entirely, and so he doesn’t; he focuses instead on the task at hand. The shirt goes first. He is methodical about it, undoing his cuffs and slipping it off his shoulders. Then: the boots, and this time, when he leans over the laces, he does look at Liem, with the devouring look of a man who has never known anything but wanting. ]

[Forgetting other matters is frighteningly easy when he is wrapped tight like this around his husband, greedy for his kisses and for the tight grip of his hands, shivering with every pleasure-soaked thrust of his hips. The tickle of fabric brushing his skin still thwarts him a little, and the lovely lines of Cardan's shoulders are still a little obscured by layers of rumpled clothing, but how is he to pull himself from that warm, ardent mouth long enough to address such things? He can never have enough of kissing his husband; the more of it he does, the more hopelessly he craves another kiss, and another, and another, until all he can think of is Cardan holding him close, moving in him, against him, drowning him in his want and his helpless affection.

No… he doesn't want Cardan to sit up, to stop kissing him, to stop fucking him, even if it is to shed his clothes as Liem asked. It is a cruel thing for him to wish for; it feels impossibly so, when his husband's quiet sigh warms his skin. Of course he wants to keep him right here, kept jealously in his grasp, clothing be damned.

But that soft breath wakens something else too, a tender, vulnerable ache that craves that nakedness all the more. He lets Cardan pull away with a small, plaintive frown — but he does stay, despite the strange ache of some unspeakable longing. He watches, leaning back on his elbows, as Cardan sheds his shirt and then turns his attention to his boots, and he still cannot name the emotion that coils in his chest when Cardan looks at him like that, while taking this moment to indulge his terrible little whim.

But he knows enough to be nervous of the answer.]

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