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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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[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.]

[ It takes everything in him to force his hands into calm -- to not rush through untying his laces, to not tear the boots off with savage force. His tail lashes with the agitation of it, wild. He cannot look at Liem, reclined and bare and aroused for him, and not feel the urgency of need clawing out from under his skin. It's maddening. Cardan wants to touch him; he wants to cover him with the length of his body and make him admit all the soft little things Liem hides behind his quiet demurrals and quick frowns.

But he's so used to wanting, and what's a little longer now? And so he holds Liem's gaze until his laces are undone, until the boots are off -- first one, and then the other. He shucks his trousers like they are on fire. And then he will lean forward, braced on one hand, the other ghosting up the outside of Liem's calf.

He quirks an eyebrow, as if his heart isn't hammering, as if he's not aching with impatient desire. ]

Any other demands you have of me, husband?

[ It's to his credit, he thinks, that he manages to sound arch about it. ]

[For all his delight in the torment of denial, and for all his anticipation of having his husband wrapped around him again, bare to his jealous touch and hungry mouth, Liem finds the waiting almost impossibly difficult just now. Something about Cardan’s intent, fixed look, the memory of his mouth still warming Liem’s skin, the aching want to have him moving in him again with that languid deliberation all make the reality of being without his touch unbearable.

He needs to lose himself in him again; Liem cannot bear the thought of denying himself this.]

You are too ready to indulge me.

[His observation is a little wry, because he doesn’t know what to do with this realization, or with the feelings it disturbs from inside him. Somehow, a Cardan who is willing to indulge his whims is more dangerous even than one eager to tease him by denying him that which he desires. Even the soft caress of fingers sliding up his calf cannot distract him from his husband’s greedy stare or thundering heart.

It continues to shock him just how desperately he always craves Cardan’s desire.]

I cannot help but want everything you offer.

Everything, Liem?

[ Cardan's gaze is serious, still intent, even when he moves over top of his husband -- poised just above him, a little breathless despite his best efforts. He doesn't know that he believes Liem's assertion. It doesn't matter -- shouldn't matter. It's only pillow talk; Liem is only flirting, as two people in the midst of fucking might do.

But Cardan is ever cursed to take matters of this sort too seriously. He cannot help himself when he fits his palm against Liem's cheek once more, when he leans close to murmur, ] And my caprice, and my cruelty?

[ He doesn't wait for the answer. He's going to kiss Liem instead, because he doesn't know if he truly wants to hear it, anyway -- and because the longing that sings in his veins is sweeter and more urgent than any answer his husband could give him, anyway. ]

[Cardan has such a talent for surprising Liem with his intensity in moments like this: when Liem has been just a little too honest, and isn't ready to have his words scrutinized. Cardan isn't supposed to pierce him with that penetrating look, or question why those exact words would fall from his lips. Even if they are in Faerie, and nothing could be more expected.

He's supposed to tease him and use the excuse Liem is giving him to indulge his own wants — and yes, his caprices and his cruelties too. Because of course Liem wants those as well, though he's assailed by something else entirely when the warm cradle of Cardan's palm finds his cheek.

It manages to menace him more than any whimsical cruelty could.

How is he meant to answer any question when he is occupied with the balm of his husband's mouth on his, with the warmth of his body stretched over him and the urgent beating of that defiant pulse? How is he meant to do anything but pull him closer and kiss him like he's calling him home?

He can't, and if Cardan is asking him such obvious questions then plainly he knows it.]

[ It's impossible to resist, then, with Liem's hands on him and his mouth ardent against his own. How can he not sink against his husband, eager and hungry? How should he not press into his kiss, not chase the pleasure of pressing him against the silken rug, trapping him with the weight of his own desire? The hand on Liem's face slides down -- over his shoulder and his flank and his waist, to clasp his thigh and pull it up against Cardan's hip -- so that Cardan can fuck inside him again, can shiver with the sharp pleasure of filling him up and making him his.

He feels feverish with need. No-- that's not it. He wants Liem, yes, but what drives the heavy, slow thrusts, the tight grip of his hand, is the desire to possess. Wanting him is not enough; it has not been enough for some time. He wants to believe the things Liem tells him: that he wants all of him, that he is Cardan's creature, all of those sweet nothings that cannot possibly be true when they're back in Ironside, when work and scheming takes priority in their waking hours. And still, against every better judgment, he wants this with an intensity that frightens him.

But fear is nothing new; he's been afraid since the night Dain's assassin had ambushed them in the midst of their would-be tryst. ]

Well, [ he murmurs, breathless, more to himself than to Liem, ] I suppose it hardly matters.

Since you will have all of me regardless.

[ That's probably to both their detriment, and yet. ]

[Never would Liem have guessed that the man he married, the strange fey prince with his cool smiles and hot temper, would be like this as a lover. Never would he have anticipated the careful, deliberate touch, at odds with the ardour with which Cardan now sinks against him and maps his mouth with his own. Never would he have expected the breathless murmurs that always manage to sound like confessions, pried out and laid bare between them.

He has no defence against any of it. He wants too much, feels too much; what man could stop himself, confronted with this irrepressible longing?

He can only surrender to the slow, relentless tide of pleasure as it ripples through him, building upon itself with each heavy thrust. His breaths feel restless with it, escaping him in soft moans and gasps between lingering, hungry kisses.]

Cardan.

[His murmur is eager, mirroring the clutch of his fingers against his back. He feels so impossibly warm.]

Ah— [He does want him: all of him, every last bit. But he still doesn't understand.] How…

[How can he be like this? How can he say such things? And how can he make Liem feel so wanted?]

[ It tears at his composure: Liem's voice, the press of his hands against Cardan's sensitive back, the silken grip of his body on Cardan's cock-- the pleasure of it builds too keenly, too headily. He wants and he wants and he wants, endlessly, heedlessly. The hand at Liem's thigh lets him go, slipping instead between them to wrap around his erection, relishing in the feel of him as Cardan strokes him, hungry for more of those soft moans.

It takes all he has to keep his rhythm steady and relentless, to keep his voice even, as if he isn't slowly losing his mind. ]

How what, husband?

[ He breathes it against Liem's silver temple, right before his mouth presses to it. In contrast to the deliberate tempo of his fucking, his kisses have long grown haphazard and erratic. He presses their heavy stamp to Liem's ear, the sharp angle of his jaw, his pale throat. It feels greedy, to desire so much. He had planned this outing for Liem, but in the end, he is the one who had gotten exactly what he'd wanted -- what he always wants, as of late. It's greedy, but so be it: he will just add selfishness to the list of flaws Liem is stuck enduring. ]

[He shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have called attention to it: how helplessly overwhelmed he has become. But how could he not? How can he hold anything back when Cardan moves in him like this, when his heart pounds that way and his lips wander so insistently over Liem’s skin? He cannot think beyond his own senseless want, as Cardan’s hand finds him and strokes another low, helpless gasp from him, heavy with need. He cannot think beyond the mouth caressing his temple, his ear, his jaw, his throat.

He wants this: always, unendingly. The sweetness of having Cardan here in his arms, of sliding his fingers into his hair, holding him and his kisses close, is matched only by the cruel ache of every night when they had still been strangers — and the quiet dread of an evening when Liem would eventually wake up to find him no-longer there. He is desperate to clutch Cardan to him, to keep him there forever, his alone.

But he is helpless to control the whims of his own heart, much less anyone else’s. The words that slip from his lips are barely even a whisper.]

How are you… so…

[Liem’s eyelids sink closed, in denial of a truth he refuses to look at, or perhaps in refusal of the wetness stinging beneath them. It slips along the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head, exposing more of his throat to Cardan’s attentions.]

So…

[ Cardan bites him: deliberate and affectionate and possessive, all at once. He cannot break skin, of course, but he doesn’t need to; mark or no mark, Liem is his alone. Sometimes, in his more optimistic moments, he imagines what it would be like to not have to hide this. Sometimes he wonders what they might be like without the spectre of ruin looming over their every step.

But that’s a concern that doesn’t belong in the here and now, when his thoughts increasingly frantic with desire, when Liem fits against him so perfectly, when Cardan is so caught up in wanting him he barely knows what to do with himself. His breath breaks against the pale skin of Liem’s throat, as waves on a stormy shore. ]

So…?

[ He doesn’t really need Liem to complete the sentence; the sentiment is obvious enough. It spreads through Cardan like warm honey, seductive in its sweetness, especially as Liem valiantly struggles to form the words anyway. It is so like him, and Cardan cannot help liking that too.

…and then, a few moments too late, something in Liem’s voice strikes him; some odd note, so subtle he could not pinpoint what it is. Still, he lifts his head, questioning, to search his husband’s face. But Liem is not looking at Cardan at all, he’s—

He’s…

Something in Cardan’s chest tightens. His teeth bite into his own lip, hard, and the sound that leaves his throat is half-groan and half-growl, feral with need. All his coherent thoughts dissipate at once. They disappear in a haze of desire, white-hot and electric, so immediate he can hardly breathe with it. There is only— ]

Liem.

[ The black gaze on Liem’s face is desperate. He can’t stop. He’s so close, he wants so much. It’s all he can do to push Liem closer to the same edge he’s teetering on as he moves in him, tender and urgent and aching for him, right up until he comes apart.

It won’t stop the ache, but he knows that already. ]

[The sharp, possessive grip of Cardan's teeth makes Liem gasp and arch against him, clutching at him with the suddenness of his pleasure. There is no puncture and no blood, but that doesn't prevent the needy shiver that always runs through him at the delight of having his husband claim him as his own, even in the smallest way.

This is what he wants: to be his. To belong only to Cardan, to care for his cruel and tender whims and nothing else in the whole entire world. As long as Cardan's eyes are only for him, as long as his sweetness and his desire and his villainous, temperamental demands are for Liem alone, he needs nothing else.

But the means to vocalize such desires have escaped him. At the sound of his name his eyes flutter open, damp and glittering in the silvery moonlight, caught immediately in Cardan's desperate, devouring gaze. His entire world has narrowed to just that lovely face, to that soft mouth as he tips his face up to catch it with another demanding kiss, to the clever fingers and lean body and addictive cock that have him rocking up again into his touch, heedless in his greed for more of him. His mouth on Cardan's is heated and insistent, his hands greedy, even as he drowns in him still seeking more, more, more.

He cannot even say his name — but he is thinking it, as he cannot think of anything else. As sensation swamps him, pulling him under with helpless pleasure, it is the only thing spinning endlessly through the blank, wanting whirl of his mind.

Cardan, Cardan, Cardan, Cardan, Cardan—]

[ So many times in his life, there has been a before and an after: before his thoughtless bet with Dain, and after, when he had moved into Hollow Hall. Before he met Nicasia, and after she had ended things. Before his marriage, before he had met Liem, kissed him, tricked him, fucked him, let himself be blackmailed into a foolish bargain--

Before Liem had looked at him with those bright, crystalline eyes and kissed him like he was drowning. It must look so unremarkable: two men finding pleasure in each other under the moonlight, nothing more. But he feels the seismic shift of it under his skin, and he knows, with the absolute certainty he'd had every other time, that something has irreversibly changed. It's a strange secret to hold in his chest, here and now, catching his breath with his face buried-- as is often his habit -- in the crook of Liem's neck.

He lifts his head as soon as his heart stops trying to thunder out of his chest. He needs to: needs to kiss him -- even breathless as Cardan still is -- and look at him. He wants to remember Liem like this: bathed in moonlight, his features touched by pleasure and his dark lashes damp against his cheek.

He is so beautiful it makes Cardan ache, which is a sensation he had -- frankly -- thought himself immune to. But all the lords and ladies in Faerie could not have quickened this madness in him; when he leans close again to press his lips to the wet trail left behind by Liem's tears, it is with the reverence of worship. ]

[As Liem lies against the soft rug, wrapped around his husband with his chest aching and his fingers carding gently through his hair, he thinks — there must be something wrong with him. He should not feel wounded after this, in the midst of this quiet garden, the hideaway his lover tricked him into visiting so they could spend the night together. So they could spend his night together, despite Liem's silence on the topic of his birth anniversary. Naked though he is, there is no reason for him to feel so bare.

But he does. He cannot help the raw, vulnerable wound that has opened up behind his ribs — so old he'd forgotten it was there, and hadn't expected it to tear open again. He hadn't expected to feel loved as well as desired: hadn't expected how terribly the want for it would sink its teeth into him, making him want far, far too much.

How right he'd been, when he supposed that Faerie's most dangerous temptations were those already within arm's reach.]

Cardan…

[His quiet murmur is a little rough as he tips his mouth to chase the memory of Cardan's kiss. The brush of lips against tear-damp skin makes his breath catch in his lungs, but he can't tell if that soreness in his chest is desperation or relief.]

Yes, husband?

[ He’s surprised at how even his voice is, even under the onslaught of Liem’s soft hands in his hair and the urgent, fragile tension he’s feeling. His own fingers find their roost at Liem’s face, curling over his cheek. It’s such a familiar gesture now. How often has he held Liem in this exact way?

The night that felt endless just an hour ago suddenly seems far too short. He doesn’t glance up at the sky — he doesn’t want to know where the moon is in its journey. It feels like thinking about it would only hasten the end of their time here.

And he doesn’t want to leave; he wants to kiss his husband, who looks lovely and tender under the moonlight, and he wants to feel the quiet rumble of Liem’s voice when he speaks. He wants to ask what had prompted Liem’s tears, too, now that he is no longer feral with need, but he suspects it is not a question that will net him a satisfactory answer.

So he kisses Liem instead, trailing unhurried kisses over the tip of his nose, his cheek, as leisurely as if they had all the time in the world. ]

[The query Cardan extends his way does not really have an answer. Liem has no follow-up to the soft, almost plaintive transit of Cardan's name from his lips, other than to slide his hand down his husband's arm and cover his long fingers with his own. His mind has gone still and quiet, empty but for the clouds of affection still shrouding the suggestion of every other purposeful thought.

It is a foolish way for him to be, but more and more, recently, he has come to believe that with Cardan, that is not such a terrible state to be in. He might continue to fear his own unwise judgment, but he has lost his fear of what Cardan might do with it.

Perhaps that is more foolish than anything else.]

I have never had a birthnight like this one, [is what he says eventually, under the gentle onslaught of his husband's wandering kisses. The fingers remaining in his hair coax Cardan nearer again, but this time so he can brush his lips against the shell of one delicate, pointed ear.]

I will recall it fondly long after those marks of yours have faded.

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