[ Cardan blinks. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to him that they would be going down the length of the river rather than just staying here. His immediate thought is that it's ambitious, but then again-- when he glances at the snowy, bare trees, and the river winding deeper into the forest, he can see the allure of it too well. If not for himself, then to see his husband in his element, enjoying these snow-bright woods.
Buoyed by the thought, he manages to make his way to the river easily enough. Though he doesn't particularly lean on Liem (he has his pride, after all), even just having his hand provides an oddly stabilizing effect.
He still hesitates once he's at the bank -- not for the first time, questioning the wisdom of traversing ice on skates rather than feet. It seems that one would be infinitely easier for balance than the other.
Thankfully, Liem cannot see the highly twitchy state of his tail, tucked as it is under layers of clothing. ]
[The journey from the gazebo to the edge of the river is short and unchallenging. Liem trudges contentedly through the brief stretch of flat, fluffy snow, pausing at the edge of the forest to lean against a tree and take the covers off his skates. Once he’s seen to his husband’s as well and closed up his bag, he turns to the river itself, only scant metres away.]
Now we go onto the ice.
[He looks over at Cardan, something secretive and pleased hiding in his expression at the chance to show him a little piece of winter—his winter, as he’s known it since he was a boy. Liem continues to hold onto his hand as he leads Cardan down the gentle slope of the riverbank and onto the river’s edge, taking careful, precisely balanced steps.]
The basics are simple. Balance your weight on one foot, and push off with the other like this.
[As he speaks, he skates a lazy semi-circle around Cardan, coming to a stop on his opposite side. Taking this opportunity to take Cardan’s other hand as well, he lifts them both so he can press a brief kiss to his gloved knuckles, only then releasing his first hand as he turns to stand next to him again.]
[ Simple, Liem says — and it does look it, once his husband takes to the ice. Cardan grasps the mechanics of it easily enough, and it’s not like he has any issues with his balance. It should be simple indeed.
It’s just that, for some reason, it isn’t.
The moment he had stepped onto the ice, any illusions of preserving his own dignity had melted like snowflakes. He is… stiff, unalterably and horribly so. His limbs are seized by a strange uncertainty. It’s profoundly stupid: what’s the worst that could happen? The ground is not so far away — he’s fallen down lots of times prior and survived it — and even if the ice should break, they are not far enough from the shore to be in danger.
No, this makes no sense, which means it must be Liem’s fault. Even if it is impossible to be cross with him when he’s busy being charming at Cardan.
The twist of Cardan’s mouth is a little wry. ]
Naturally.
[ His carefully relaxed hold on Liem’s hand turns out to be transitory; the moment he pushes off, it tightens sharply. He doesn’t fall — he doesn’t even really wobble — but the attempt at movement is jerky and inelegant, ruled as he is by tension. It feels so strange that he abandons it almost immediately; he’ll come to a sad, slow halt, only a little further from the shore than he had started. Nothing could resemble Liem’s effortless little semicircle less.
Cardan’s mouth presses into a line; he can feel the heat of a flush starting to make its way over his cheekbones. ]
[Liem doesn’t care to examine the origin of the strangely possessive feeling that comes over him as Cardan ventures warily onto the ice and makes his awkward foray into skating. He doesn’t know where the tender, covetous delight comes from; he only knows that he has rarely seen his husband so tense and discomposed, and he wants to capture the moment like a lightning bug in a jar, keeping it safe from everyone else outside the two of them, hiding it away for only him to know about.]
Like that, [he encourages easily. He follows along with Cardan when he skates forward, coming to a controlled stop a little ahead of his husband, not voicing so much as a grumble for the bruising grip on his hand.] Keep your knees slightly bent, and relax. The ice isn’t going to break, I promise.
[The smile he aims at his spouse is gently teasing. He would not have thought Cardan so nervous about this, but given the stiffness that seems to have seized him all of a sudden, Liem can only assume his apprehension about skating on the river was more significant than he’d realized. He had expected a little more confidence and considerably less stiffness, even considering his husband’s inexperience.]
[ Cardan's withering glare is going to be undercut by the obvious heat of embarrassment in his face. Liem's gentle instruction and calm reassurances aren't helping -- well, they're helping Cardan care less about the ice, he supposes, since most of his attention is drawn towards the mortification of having to be instructed in the task, like a child.
Not that the river doesn't also worry him. ]
And yet I am not reassured.
[ That's a bitchy thing to say, and he feels the familiar prick of regret immediately after. Even though this is Liem's fault -- given it is his anxiety Cardan has apparently taken unto himself -- his husband probably doesn't deserve to have this nice little date ruined by snark. Though, on the other hand, Liem surely knows what kind of man he married by now.
Still.
Cardan's exhale swirls in the air between them. He considers the implacable breadth of the river, its expanse silent and still as a giant dinner table covered in white linen. He cannot imagine so much water freezing as it moves -- but here they are, and Liem seems certain, and no matter the worry gnawing at him, that should be enough.
He looks at the ice, and then he looks at his husband. Then he pulls his hand out of Liem's grasp.
It's so he can reach up and pull his glove off with his teeth, then begin unclasping the fastenings of his fur coat. ]
I cannot possibly practice in this.
[ It's too bulky. And, he thinks, if the ice does break, he'll at least have a fighting chance of getting out when not weighed down by it. He doesn't want to think about what would happen to Liem.
As an afterthought, he reaches behind himself, under layers of sweaters and undershirts, to pull out-- his tail. It trembles in the chilly air, happy to be freed.
Cardan replaces his glove and crosses his arms, doing his best to squash down any feeling that isn't imperious demand. ]
[Happily for Cardan’s regrets, Liem seems not at all cowed by his refusal to be reassured.]
You did wish to do something daring.
[Is a bit of strangeness and risk not exactly what he should have expected?
As someone who dressed only in modestly warm clothing to begin with, Liem cannot blame Cardan for wishing to divest himself of his bulky layers. He regards the sight of his spouse peeling himself out of his coat with interest that only grows at the rare appearance of Cardan’s tail.
The way it shivers once freed, he has to resist the urge to grab it.
For his part, Liem considers how to properly meet his husband’s demand. It has been long enough since he learned to skate that he doesn’t recall how he was taught; if there is a proper way to start, he doesn’t remember what it is. But he can tell that his husband isn’t comfortable on the ice, which seems like the biggest issue.
Well, the biggest issue is that this has brought a scowl to Cardan’s previously cheerful visage. But his husband’s mercurial temper is not within his power to address.]
Let us take smaller steps, [he suggests—quite literally, as it turns out. His husband is not yet comfortable balancing on his skates, so Liem shows him how to simply walk on the ice: knees high, sliding along step by step as he slowly builds up speed. It is easy to practise a bit of gliding from there, on two feet or one, as he is happy to demonstrate before long. Neither the simplicity of their activities nor Cardan’s bitchy mood stop him from recalling the simple joy of sliding around on the ice.]
[ Yes, yes, he is the one who asked -- and as usual, he is suitably punished for his greed. Best not dwell on the fact that the reason he asked was to test how far Liem's lack of care might extend. Somehow, Cardan had failed to consider that the one being tested might end up being himself.
Regardless. Since he is unsuccessful at ignoring the abundance of care that has seized him, Cardan opts for ignoring the symptoms of it instead. So what if everything feels awkward -- if he lacks even a sliver of his usual coordination -- if he finds himself clutching at Liem at least once in an off-balance moment? He is going to pretend those things did not happen, and since they didn't, he has nothing to feel humiliated about.
The reason the tips of his ears remain pink is obviously just the cold.
...but it does get easier, after all. Try as Liem's anxiety might, it can hardly prevail against the innate grace of a faerie prince. And it's... fun. He has to admit it's a little bit fun to glide along the frozen river surface; more fun, even, to watch Liem's obvious enjoyment in doing the same. Before long, he feels a little more secure in his balance and a little less concerned about making sure he knows where his feet are at all times. The ice seems less treacherous the longer it remains unbroken, and besides -- he doesn't want to stare at his boots when he can stare at his husband, instead.
...from up close, even. Emboldened as he is by his newfound confidence, it seems only natural that he would skate up to Liem. The fact that he doesn't know how to brake is squarely Liem's problem.
Even if it makes the persistent voice at the back of his head unhappy. ]
[For all Cardan’s attitude and sour misgivings, Liem cannot help but be charmed by the simple pleasure of practising together on the ice. His husband’s intent face is too handsome, and the pink in his ears too charming, and the tufted black tail too cute, especially when it lashes for balance. Liem should have stolen Cardan away for a date like this long before now, and he is supremely pleased with his decision to have finally corrected that oversight.
Admittedly, he is not the most thorough of teachers. For example, his failure to instruct Cardan on how to stop. Being more concerned with helping him learn to go, he is for some reason not expecting it when his husband applies his lessons too well and skates right at him—no, into him, as he lacks the time to maneuver himself out of the way. Liem’s arms come automatically around him as he wobbles and drifts backwards for a moment, narrowly avoiding pulling them both down onto the ice. Instead he brakes for them, killing their momentum as his laugh gusts against Cardan’s neck.]
Is our practice boring you, husband?
[He peers up at Cardan through his lashes, gloved hand trailing along his flank.]
Do you need me to wake you up?
[A dangerous question, perhaps, from a man scarcely warmer than the ice they’re skating on.]
[ His stomach still does a somersault, at that moment when Liem catches him, wobbles, and then stays upright after all -- but surely thrills are part of the experience. And when his husband laughs (even if it is a little icy on his skin), and when he wraps his arms around Cardan and directs that sly look at him, he finds that he has no concerns he cares to address at all.
Though he does note that hand and its proximity to the edges of his clothing.
Cardan will drape his arms easily over Liem's shoulders, as if in an intimate dance. This, at least, feels surprisingly secure -- how could he slip, pressed flush as he is against his husband? ]
You sound like my palace school teachers, [ he informs Liem, unapologetic. ]
I am but showing you my mastery of this exercise. [ The exercise being: skating forward in a straight line. ] Surely an achievement worth of reward, is it not?
[ And not of being assaulted by someone's freezing if otherwise delectable hands. ]
[Cardan’s remark earns another laugh from Liem, who thinks immediately that he very much hopes Cardan’s school teachers weren’t flirting with him—as Liem obviously is. His hands remain comfortably at his husband’s waist as he regards him, his touch playing contemplatively over the concealing layers of shirt and sweater. The threat of his chilly hands remains, quietly implied.]
I’d wager you’ve been a better student for me than you ever were for them.
[Unless the notes in the margins of some of his husband’s books provide a glimpse of a hidden studious side, lost to the passing years. Even if that were true, however, Liem has difficulty imagining him behaving for any kind of authority.
But their current arrangement is indeed quite reminiscent of a dance, and he indulges the impulse to begin skating slowly backwards while he has his spouse in his grasp, moving the pair of them in slow loops across the river. Nonetheless, his eyes remain on Cardan.]
But you already have my undivided attention. What else might you desire?
[ ...to Cardan, anyway. But then, he is hard-pressed to think of anyone who has ever had him in their thrall quite as firmly as Liem.
He would be worried about the prospect of those chilled hands sneaking under his clothes, but it seems unlike his husband to be that mean -- or that predictable, really. If Cardan has learned anything, it's that Liem likes to strike when Cardan doesn't expect it. Besides, what would he even do about it? He's not wont to let go of Liem -- not when this type of ice activity is so much more pleasing than anything he'd been doing prior. There is novelty in following Liem's lead, but also some measure of comforting familiarity; dancing on ice proves much easier than simply skating on it. ]
What don't I desire? [ he will counter, eyebrow quirked. ] Surely you are used to my greed by now.
[ Even so, he won't pass up a chance to ask for something specific. But not quite yet. ]
I will save my rewards to the end of the lesson, so that they may be all the greater.
[ Which is very unlike him, actually, but maybe Liem has simply rubbed off on him in more ways than one. He grins down at his husband, clearly pleased with himself even so. ]
Such restraint, [Liem observes with some amusement. Could it be that Cardan is too intent on their current activity to wish to interrupt it with some new diversion? The thought is pleasing; Liem enjoys being right, and even more than that, he enjoys the heartstopping grin his husband is now wearing.
Close as the two of them are, he can’t resist the urge to tip his head up, snake a hand to Cardan’s collar, and pull him down so he can brush icy lips against his smile. Their movement slows to a halt as his feet still beneath him.]
I seem to have left mine at home. But let’s see… [His lips twitch into a faint smile.] Perhaps I should teach you how to stop.
[So he will, and he’ll show him the forward-motion equivalent of the hourglass shapes he’d been making to go backwards—before he finally returns to attempting to teach his spouse how to stroke properly along the ice, now that he seems to have his feet steady beneath him. By the way he zooms down the ice and back again in demonstration, this might be one of the main joys of ice skating to him. He certainly manages to make it look effortless.]
I think we should break for drinks soon, [he decides as he returns to his husband’s side.] Lest I forget about them entirely.
[ It is strange, touching Liem when he is so cold -- stranger, still, that it doesn't dim Cardan's fervour for his kisses as much as one might have expected. If anything, he is possessed of a strange, stubborn desire to curl around his husband and warm him with the heat of his mouth, his hands, the breath that curls like smoke between them.
Neither can he help that his smile only brightens when Liem mentions his lack of restraint. For all that it might endanger Cardan's safety from cold hands and icy river waters alike, he would not have chosen otherwise. What a wonderful gift this accidental deal has begotten him.
It cheers him enough to let Liem shepherd him through the next few lessons with nary a complaint. Feeling comfortable on the ice also means that he grows increasingly competitive; he seems to think it wholly reasonable that he should gain mastery of this new art within a couple of hours of practice. What, like it's hard?
...it is, actually, quite hard. The unfamiliar movements prove more tiring than he expects, and Liem is faster than Cardan can manage, which is irritating. He is rosy-cheeked and slightly out of breath by the time his husband mentions drinks.
If his arm snakes around Liem's waist to pull him close, it's so that he can't just speed away again, leaving Cardan to chase after him. And, also, so Cardan can lean in and breathe in the winter-and-blood scent of him, nose buried indulgently in his husband's hair. From there, he murmurs: ]
You brought refreshments?
[ How considerate. Cardan does not particularly need warming, flush with exercise as he is, but still -- he would hardly refuse some mulled wine or fortified cider at a time like this. ]
[Over the course of their marriage, Liem has discovered that his husband possesses a unique talent for making him crave his affection. Never has Liem been so tempted to snuggle against someone and wrap himself up in their embrace as he consistently is in his marriage to this Faerie prince. Once again he tucks himself automatically against Cardan as his husband’s arm winds about him, contentment glowing behind his ribs at the nose nestling into his hair.
Maybe it’s the way heat and vitality seem to pour off Cardan like he’s a star come down to earth. His exuberant pulse and the rosy quality of his cheeks certainly do fascinate Liem’s attention in a way no vampire lover ever has.]
I did.
[He sounds pleased about this, perhaps because every other occasion he went out to the woods with Cardan, he ended up wishing he’d remembered to bring refreshments along. This time, he’s made sure to correct that oversight, and Cardan gets to benefit from his thoroughness.]
[ It's lovely. For all of his earlier apprehension, he cannot imagine a better way to spend his time than here, with his husband tucked so pleasingly close to him, perfectly content to bring Cardan drinks and teach him skating. So why is it that, in moments like these, when they are alone under a starry sky and it feels like everyone who might ever spite them is universes away -- why is it that Cardan's chest grows so strangely tight? Why is it that he has to close his eyes and will himself to ignore the strange urge to clutch Liem close and not let go? He had always known that his future was uncertain, and hence perfected the art of ignoring said knowledge. So why, now, is he so afraid?
Perhaps that is Liem's fault, too.
He swallows the emotion down, forcing his focus elsewhere. Only his tail is restless when he pulls back -- the rest of him is still flushed with satisfaction, and eyeing Liem with interest. ]
Oh? And what manner of warm delight did you bring me, husband?
[ If his tone is unnecessarily flirtatious, it's only to make up for the strange little ache that still lingers between his ribs like a forlorn splinter. ]
[When Cardan pulls back again to look down at him, Liem meets his regard confidently, his eyes aglow with pleasure. This is so infinitely better than remaining shut up in his office, poring over contracts and reports. Even if it means he must lose sleep tomorrow to catch up on the work they neglected tonight, he cannot bring himself to regret a moment of their stolen leisure—not when the reward of his husband’s enjoyment has become so dear.]
Come, and you will find out.
[He takes Cardan’s hand again, bringing him back to the river’s edge, where he’d left the bag. From it, Liem digs a pair of vacuum flasks, straightening so he can press one into his husband’s gloved hands.
Inside is, indeed, mulled wine that is still very warm. It’s certainly warm enough to keep Cardan toasty while they take a break from skating around; it should also be warm enough to thaw out Liem’s mouth for a little while.]
I grew tired of being insufficiently provisioned when bringing you on outings.
[ Cardan hadn't questioned Liem's assertion that whatever he brought would still be warm. Now that he holds the flask in his hands, though, he realizes that he had -- sort of -- just assumed that Liem meant magic, not this... contraption. He turns it over, curious, and feels the gentle slosh of liquid inside. When he uncaps the bottle, he's surprised to find that the liquid inside is indeed still steaming.
For once, he is civilized -- or rather, charmed -- enough to tip the contents of the bottle into the gleaming little cup that had served as its cap. This he raises with great ceremony. ]
To delightful surprises.
[ The grin on his face feels irrepressible. No matter how many strange concerns or odd emotions this outing might ambush him with, he cannot deny that he's having fun. And though he doesn't imagine that he's going to get particularly drunk tonight, the heat of the wine is pleasant, and the way Liem wears his enjoyment of the night is frightfully attractive. Now that he has quit staring at his own feet, he finds it difficult to take his eyes off of his husband.
So he does not. Instead, he pours and downs his second cup of wine, and then his third -- and once the pleasant warmth of it is spreading through him, it becomes all the more impossible to resist drifting close.
He is markedly more loose-limbed with a bit of drink in him. ]
...were you surprised, when we first met?
It must have been strange, to field so many Folk at once.
[Occupied as Liem is with observing his husband’s charming inspection of the flask, he is a little behind him in actually pouring any drink for himself—but not by much. He reins in his attention sufficiently to uncork his own bottle so he may toast along with his spouse, downing the steaming contents of his little cup and pouring himself another to follow suit with. Now that the bottle is open to the air, he intends to drink it quickly, not wishing to let the heat of it escape into the chill winter night.
It’s rather sweet for his tastes, of course—not something he’d typically wish to drink an entire thermos of. But the heat crawling down his throat and blooming in his chest is pleasant, and in present company he doesn’t mind the fuzzy relaxation, either; especially when Cardan insinuates himself closer, until they seem like illicit lovers guarding their secrets from the snow-covered trees.
Liem murmurs, dryly,] I was too busy hosting to have time to be properly surprised.
[He pours his third cup, trying not to let Cardan leave him completely in the dust. Strange how those late-summer nights seem so long ago now, when it has scarcely been half a year.]
I was more surprised when we actually visited Faerie. But… [He smiles into his cup.] I was a little suspicious, initially. Even for a faerie man, my groom seemed implausibly alluring.
[ Cardan has, in typical fashion, decided that three cups' worth of manners is enough. The wine is both tasty and pleasant, and it dulls the annoying little voice of Liem's worry effectively -- but he wishes to have at least one of his hands unoccupied. It is much easier to cram both cup and cork into the hand also holding the flask, and then tip his head back and drink straight from its mouth.
His quirked eyebrow does not betray a particular wealth of belief in Liem's version of the story. ]
Ah, yes, quite suspicious. Just imagine if I had been sent there to seduce you.
[ A thing he had, in fact, failed at almost immediately.]
[Cardan’s skepticism-laden sarcasm coaxes a soft laugh from Liem. He is right of course; they had obviously not gotten on particularly well in those first few weeks. Meanness and a ready temper are hardly the kind of qualities he would expect from someone trying to seduce him.]
You were quick to put that notion to rest, yes.
[Seduction wasn’t necessarily on Liem’s mind, regardless; Cardan hardly needed to be compliant to provide a compelling distraction. But that, however, is a dourer topic than he’d really like to visit. He drains his cup instead, enjoying the tingle that slowly spreads out towards his limbs as he does.]
But you certainly could have in those first nights, if you’d wished to.
[It’s almost funny that Liem ended up presenting such a chaste first impression to his own husband, given that physical touch was previously the one outlet he still freely allowed himself. But then, he hadn’t expected to offend his groom on the very night of their marriage.]
[ Yes, yes, they don't need to dwell on Cardan's failures. He would like to say that he did wish to, but time and consideration has made him realize that was, maybe, not entirely true. If he had wished to seduce Liem, he would have done so -- he did do so, weeks later. But he'd wanted his new husband to make the first move, to make up for the offense of rejecting Cardan that very first morning.
But there's no need to dwell on that. Instead he sighs, and sets about finishing his own flask. When he's done, he will wipe at his mouth and tuck the reassembled flask under his arm, even as his free hand sneaks its way back to Liem's waist. ]
The worse crime of the night was your father making you host.
[ The night before his wedding, especially. The wedding that Liem clearly didn't want and hadn't chosen to have -- it seems exquisitely cruel, now that he thinks back on it. No wonder Liem had not been keen on meeting him.
His gloved hand finds Liem's jaw, tilts his face up as Cardan steps into him. ]
It was your servants that surprised me.
Elowyn could not tell me much about you, when the arrangements were being made. I thought this meant that you were probably horrible. [ His smile is quick, a little rueful. ]
But when we were heading back to our rooms, you spoke to the staff like you knew them.
[ And they, in turn, seemed happy for Liem, rather than terrified of him. ]
[Despite the attention Liem gives his own wine, his rather more deliberate pace means that he has not yet finished with it when Cardan drains his own flask and tucks it under his arm. He is left holding the remains of his drink as his husband snakes an arm around him and insinuates himself into his space, something that now manages to be both delightful and inconvenient.
Though if he considers it, those two words describe many of his interactions with his husband.]
I prefer not to be horrible to people who depend on me.
[He says this wryly, warmly conscious of the feel of leather against his jaw, and of his husband’s breath escaping in slivers of fog between them. The handsome flush beneath Cardan’s skin and his deep-forest scent make him seem like spring’s herald, promising the return of green and vital things. He tips his face eagerly toward him.]
But… I volunteered to host. It gave me something to do.
[It had given him something about the arrangement, at least, that he could control.]
[ That is news to him, actually, though he can’t say he’s particularly surprised. Elfhame was the closest he’s ever come to wrestling Liem into idleness, and even then his husband had found a way to impose structure onto his evenings.
This does little to change his poor opinion of his father-in-law, even though he does owe Iago a debt of gratitude: after all, if he had never brokered their marriage, Cardan would have not found himself here. He cannot rightly call this happiness -- not when he can't even imagine surviving to this time next year, not when it feels like any moment someone could come ruin it for him. But maybe, for creatures like them, this fragile, stolen joy is the next closest thing.
He does not know if he's ever wanted something so terribly as he wants to be proven wrong. ]
Finish your wine, husband, [ he says, even though he is going to lean in and kiss Liem, giving him no chance to drink his wine at all. ]
[It probably says something, about Liem and about his life, that he finds himself so desperate to exert control over his life in all situations except when he is with Cardan. Finding contentment is strangely easy in his company, no matter how demanding his whims or how fickle his moods. Liem cannot recall ever being so eager to have his time monopolized by anyone, even those he’d fallen unwisely into affection for.
When he melts into the kiss that Cardan steals from him, it’s with something like relief. A silly feeling to have, when kisses from his spouse certainly haven’t been in short supply; but ever since their trip to Elfhame, the greed that surfaces in him whenever he thinks of his husband has tormented him at every opportunity. Insinuating himself into Cardan’s embrace feels ever more like tasting something fleeting and forbidden, and he cannot stop himself from craving more: more of his kisses, more of his touch, more of his hunger and his tenderness and that strange reverence that makes Liem’s heart constrict in his chest.
He does not want to stop kissing him; and he doesn’t stop, not for a very long moment. He stretches up instead, chasing his mouth with gentle, wanting kisses now spiced and warm from drink. Only after he has left his husband thoroughly breathless will he consent to pull back—and lift his flask so he can drain the rest of it in one long, intent-filled motion.]
[ As always, he's still surprised by the surge of savage affection that courses through him when Liem stretches up to pursue him. The arm that wraps around his husband is covetously tight; his tail brushes over the back of Liem's knee, half-coiling around them both. Time seems to stop in moments like these, and Cardan's sense of self-preservation flees with it. He only wants more of this -- of that serious mouth softened by want, of those covetous hands and Liem's gentle persistence. And what does he need breath for, anyway? Surely nothing worth caring this much about.
When Liem pulls back to finish his wine, Cardan's hand slips down to brush his throat, fingertips deliberate in following the way it moves as he swallows. His black gaze on Liem is no less intent. Desire has coiled in his abdomen, has slithered down his spine, teased keen by the taste of his husband's mouth.
But then, surely Liem can tell.
He doesn't give either of them much time to recover before he kisses Liem again, hungry and insistent. After all, his husband took such effort to warm up for him -- who is he to waste such a gift? ]
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no subject
Buoyed by the thought, he manages to make his way to the river easily enough. Though he doesn't particularly lean on Liem (he has his pride, after all), even just having his hand provides an oddly stabilizing effect.
He still hesitates once he's at the bank -- not for the first time, questioning the wisdom of traversing ice on skates rather than feet. It seems that one would be infinitely easier for balance than the other.
Thankfully, Liem cannot see the highly twitchy state of his tail, tucked as it is under layers of clothing. ]
...what now?
no subject
Now we go onto the ice.
[He looks over at Cardan, something secretive and pleased hiding in his expression at the chance to show him a little piece of winter—his winter, as he’s known it since he was a boy. Liem continues to hold onto his hand as he leads Cardan down the gentle slope of the riverbank and onto the river’s edge, taking careful, precisely balanced steps.]
The basics are simple. Balance your weight on one foot, and push off with the other like this.
[As he speaks, he skates a lazy semi-circle around Cardan, coming to a stop on his opposite side. Taking this opportunity to take Cardan’s other hand as well, he lifts them both so he can press a brief kiss to his gloved knuckles, only then releasing his first hand as he turns to stand next to him again.]
Now you, husband.
no subject
It’s just that, for some reason, it isn’t.
The moment he had stepped onto the ice, any illusions of preserving his own dignity had melted like snowflakes. He is… stiff, unalterably and horribly so. His limbs are seized by a strange uncertainty. It’s profoundly stupid: what’s the worst that could happen? The ground is not so far away — he’s fallen down lots of times prior and survived it — and even if the ice should break, they are not far enough from the shore to be in danger.
No, this makes no sense, which means it must be Liem’s fault. Even if it is impossible to be cross with him when he’s busy being charming at Cardan.
The twist of Cardan’s mouth is a little wry. ]
Naturally.
[ His carefully relaxed hold on Liem’s hand turns out to be transitory; the moment he pushes off, it tightens sharply. He doesn’t fall — he doesn’t even really wobble — but the attempt at movement is jerky and inelegant, ruled as he is by tension. It feels so strange that he abandons it almost immediately; he’ll come to a sad, slow halt, only a little further from the shore than he had started. Nothing could resemble Liem’s effortless little semicircle less.
Cardan’s mouth presses into a line; he can feel the heat of a flush starting to make its way over his cheekbones. ]
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Like that, [he encourages easily. He follows along with Cardan when he skates forward, coming to a controlled stop a little ahead of his husband, not voicing so much as a grumble for the bruising grip on his hand.] Keep your knees slightly bent, and relax. The ice isn’t going to break, I promise.
[The smile he aims at his spouse is gently teasing. He would not have thought Cardan so nervous about this, but given the stiffness that seems to have seized him all of a sudden, Liem can only assume his apprehension about skating on the river was more significant than he’d realized. He had expected a little more confidence and considerably less stiffness, even considering his husband’s inexperience.]
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Not that the river doesn't also worry him. ]
And yet I am not reassured.
[ That's a bitchy thing to say, and he feels the familiar prick of regret immediately after. Even though this is Liem's fault -- given it is his anxiety Cardan has apparently taken unto himself -- his husband probably doesn't deserve to have this nice little date ruined by snark. Though, on the other hand, Liem surely knows what kind of man he married by now.
Still.
Cardan's exhale swirls in the air between them. He considers the implacable breadth of the river, its expanse silent and still as a giant dinner table covered in white linen. He cannot imagine so much water freezing as it moves -- but here they are, and Liem seems certain, and no matter the worry gnawing at him, that should be enough.
He looks at the ice, and then he looks at his husband. Then he pulls his hand out of Liem's grasp.
It's so he can reach up and pull his glove off with his teeth, then begin unclasping the fastenings of his fur coat. ]
I cannot possibly practice in this.
[ It's too bulky. And, he thinks, if the ice does break, he'll at least have a fighting chance of getting out when not weighed down by it. He doesn't want to think about what would happen to Liem.
As an afterthought, he reaches behind himself, under layers of sweaters and undershirts, to pull out-- his tail. It trembles in the chilly air, happy to be freed.
Cardan replaces his glove and crosses his arms, doing his best to squash down any feeling that isn't imperious demand. ]
Fine, husband. Teach me, then.
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You did wish to do something daring.
[Is a bit of strangeness and risk not exactly what he should have expected?
As someone who dressed only in modestly warm clothing to begin with, Liem cannot blame Cardan for wishing to divest himself of his bulky layers. He regards the sight of his spouse peeling himself out of his coat with interest that only grows at the rare appearance of Cardan’s tail.
The way it shivers once freed, he has to resist the urge to grab it.
For his part, Liem considers how to properly meet his husband’s demand. It has been long enough since he learned to skate that he doesn’t recall how he was taught; if there is a proper way to start, he doesn’t remember what it is. But he can tell that his husband isn’t comfortable on the ice, which seems like the biggest issue.
Well, the biggest issue is that this has brought a scowl to Cardan’s previously cheerful visage. But his husband’s mercurial temper is not within his power to address.]
Let us take smaller steps, [he suggests—quite literally, as it turns out. His husband is not yet comfortable balancing on his skates, so Liem shows him how to simply walk on the ice: knees high, sliding along step by step as he slowly builds up speed. It is easy to practise a bit of gliding from there, on two feet or one, as he is happy to demonstrate before long. Neither the simplicity of their activities nor Cardan’s bitchy mood stop him from recalling the simple joy of sliding around on the ice.]
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Regardless. Since he is unsuccessful at ignoring the abundance of care that has seized him, Cardan opts for ignoring the symptoms of it instead. So what if everything feels awkward -- if he lacks even a sliver of his usual coordination -- if he finds himself clutching at Liem at least once in an off-balance moment? He is going to pretend those things did not happen, and since they didn't, he has nothing to feel humiliated about.
The reason the tips of his ears remain pink is obviously just the cold.
...but it does get easier, after all. Try as Liem's anxiety might, it can hardly prevail against the innate grace of a faerie prince. And it's... fun. He has to admit it's a little bit fun to glide along the frozen river surface; more fun, even, to watch Liem's obvious enjoyment in doing the same. Before long, he feels a little more secure in his balance and a little less concerned about making sure he knows where his feet are at all times. The ice seems less treacherous the longer it remains unbroken, and besides -- he doesn't want to stare at his boots when he can stare at his husband, instead.
...from up close, even. Emboldened as he is by his newfound confidence, it seems only natural that he would skate up to Liem. The fact that he doesn't know how to brake is squarely Liem's problem.
Even if it makes the persistent voice at the back of his head unhappy. ]
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Admittedly, he is not the most thorough of teachers. For example, his failure to instruct Cardan on how to stop. Being more concerned with helping him learn to go, he is for some reason not expecting it when his husband applies his lessons too well and skates right at him—no, into him, as he lacks the time to maneuver himself out of the way. Liem’s arms come automatically around him as he wobbles and drifts backwards for a moment, narrowly avoiding pulling them both down onto the ice. Instead he brakes for them, killing their momentum as his laugh gusts against Cardan’s neck.]
Is our practice boring you, husband?
[He peers up at Cardan through his lashes, gloved hand trailing along his flank.]
Do you need me to wake you up?
[A dangerous question, perhaps, from a man scarcely warmer than the ice they’re skating on.]
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Though he does note that hand and its proximity to the edges of his clothing.
Cardan will drape his arms easily over Liem's shoulders, as if in an intimate dance. This, at least, feels surprisingly secure -- how could he slip, pressed flush as he is against his husband? ]
You sound like my palace school teachers, [ he informs Liem, unapologetic. ]
I am but showing you my mastery of this exercise. [ The exercise being: skating forward in a straight line. ] Surely an achievement worth of reward, is it not?
[ And not of being assaulted by someone's freezing if otherwise delectable hands. ]
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I’d wager you’ve been a better student for me than you ever were for them.
[Unless the notes in the margins of some of his husband’s books provide a glimpse of a hidden studious side, lost to the passing years. Even if that were true, however, Liem has difficulty imagining him behaving for any kind of authority.
But their current arrangement is indeed quite reminiscent of a dance, and he indulges the impulse to begin skating slowly backwards while he has his spouse in his grasp, moving the pair of them in slow loops across the river. Nonetheless, his eyes remain on Cardan.]
But you already have my undivided attention. What else might you desire?
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[ ...to Cardan, anyway. But then, he is hard-pressed to think of anyone who has ever had him in their thrall quite as firmly as Liem.
He would be worried about the prospect of those chilled hands sneaking under his clothes, but it seems unlike his husband to be that mean -- or that predictable, really. If Cardan has learned anything, it's that Liem likes to strike when Cardan doesn't expect it. Besides, what would he even do about it? He's not wont to let go of Liem -- not when this type of ice activity is so much more pleasing than anything he'd been doing prior. There is novelty in following Liem's lead, but also some measure of comforting familiarity; dancing on ice proves much easier than simply skating on it. ]
What don't I desire? [ he will counter, eyebrow quirked. ] Surely you are used to my greed by now.
[ Even so, he won't pass up a chance to ask for something specific. But not quite yet. ]
I will save my rewards to the end of the lesson, so that they may be all the greater.
[ Which is very unlike him, actually, but maybe Liem has simply rubbed off on him in more ways than one. He grins down at his husband, clearly pleased with himself even so. ]
What next?
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Close as the two of them are, he can’t resist the urge to tip his head up, snake a hand to Cardan’s collar, and pull him down so he can brush icy lips against his smile. Their movement slows to a halt as his feet still beneath him.]
I seem to have left mine at home. But let’s see… [His lips twitch into a faint smile.] Perhaps I should teach you how to stop.
[So he will, and he’ll show him the forward-motion equivalent of the hourglass shapes he’d been making to go backwards—before he finally returns to attempting to teach his spouse how to stroke properly along the ice, now that he seems to have his feet steady beneath him. By the way he zooms down the ice and back again in demonstration, this might be one of the main joys of ice skating to him. He certainly manages to make it look effortless.]
I think we should break for drinks soon, [he decides as he returns to his husband’s side.] Lest I forget about them entirely.
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Neither can he help that his smile only brightens when Liem mentions his lack of restraint. For all that it might endanger Cardan's safety from cold hands and icy river waters alike, he would not have chosen otherwise. What a wonderful gift this accidental deal has begotten him.
It cheers him enough to let Liem shepherd him through the next few lessons with nary a complaint. Feeling comfortable on the ice also means that he grows increasingly competitive; he seems to think it wholly reasonable that he should gain mastery of this new art within a couple of hours of practice. What, like it's hard?
...it is, actually, quite hard. The unfamiliar movements prove more tiring than he expects, and Liem is faster than Cardan can manage, which is irritating. He is rosy-cheeked and slightly out of breath by the time his husband mentions drinks.
If his arm snakes around Liem's waist to pull him close, it's so that he can't just speed away again, leaving Cardan to chase after him. And, also, so Cardan can lean in and breathe in the winter-and-blood scent of him, nose buried indulgently in his husband's hair. From there, he murmurs: ]
You brought refreshments?
[ How considerate. Cardan does not particularly need warming, flush with exercise as he is, but still -- he would hardly refuse some mulled wine or fortified cider at a time like this. ]
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Maybe it’s the way heat and vitality seem to pour off Cardan like he’s a star come down to earth. His exuberant pulse and the rosy quality of his cheeks certainly do fascinate Liem’s attention in a way no vampire lover ever has.]
I did.
[He sounds pleased about this, perhaps because every other occasion he went out to the woods with Cardan, he ended up wishing he’d remembered to bring refreshments along. This time, he’s made sure to correct that oversight, and Cardan gets to benefit from his thoroughness.]
They should even still be warm.
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Perhaps that is Liem's fault, too.
He swallows the emotion down, forcing his focus elsewhere. Only his tail is restless when he pulls back -- the rest of him is still flushed with satisfaction, and eyeing Liem with interest. ]
Oh? And what manner of warm delight did you bring me, husband?
[ If his tone is unnecessarily flirtatious, it's only to make up for the strange little ache that still lingers between his ribs like a forlorn splinter. ]
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Come, and you will find out.
[He takes Cardan’s hand again, bringing him back to the river’s edge, where he’d left the bag. From it, Liem digs a pair of vacuum flasks, straightening so he can press one into his husband’s gloved hands.
Inside is, indeed, mulled wine that is still very warm. It’s certainly warm enough to keep Cardan toasty while they take a break from skating around; it should also be warm enough to thaw out Liem’s mouth for a little while.]
I grew tired of being insufficiently provisioned when bringing you on outings.
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For once, he is civilized -- or rather, charmed -- enough to tip the contents of the bottle into the gleaming little cup that had served as its cap. This he raises with great ceremony. ]
To delightful surprises.
[ The grin on his face feels irrepressible. No matter how many strange concerns or odd emotions this outing might ambush him with, he cannot deny that he's having fun. And though he doesn't imagine that he's going to get particularly drunk tonight, the heat of the wine is pleasant, and the way Liem wears his enjoyment of the night is frightfully attractive. Now that he has quit staring at his own feet, he finds it difficult to take his eyes off of his husband.
So he does not. Instead, he pours and downs his second cup of wine, and then his third -- and once the pleasant warmth of it is spreading through him, it becomes all the more impossible to resist drifting close.
He is markedly more loose-limbed with a bit of drink in him. ]
...were you surprised, when we first met?
It must have been strange, to field so many Folk at once.
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It’s rather sweet for his tastes, of course—not something he’d typically wish to drink an entire thermos of. But the heat crawling down his throat and blooming in his chest is pleasant, and in present company he doesn’t mind the fuzzy relaxation, either; especially when Cardan insinuates himself closer, until they seem like illicit lovers guarding their secrets from the snow-covered trees.
Liem murmurs, dryly,] I was too busy hosting to have time to be properly surprised.
[He pours his third cup, trying not to let Cardan leave him completely in the dust. Strange how those late-summer nights seem so long ago now, when it has scarcely been half a year.]
I was more surprised when we actually visited Faerie. But… [He smiles into his cup.] I was a little suspicious, initially. Even for a faerie man, my groom seemed implausibly alluring.
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His quirked eyebrow does not betray a particular wealth of belief in Liem's version of the story. ]
Ah, yes, quite suspicious. Just imagine if I had been sent there to seduce you.
[ A thing he had, in fact, failed at almost immediately.]
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You were quick to put that notion to rest, yes.
[Seduction wasn’t necessarily on Liem’s mind, regardless; Cardan hardly needed to be compliant to provide a compelling distraction. But that, however, is a dourer topic than he’d really like to visit. He drains his cup instead, enjoying the tingle that slowly spreads out towards his limbs as he does.]
But you certainly could have in those first nights, if you’d wished to.
[It’s almost funny that Liem ended up presenting such a chaste first impression to his own husband, given that physical touch was previously the one outlet he still freely allowed himself. But then, he hadn’t expected to offend his groom on the very night of their marriage.]
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But there's no need to dwell on that. Instead he sighs, and sets about finishing his own flask. When he's done, he will wipe at his mouth and tuck the reassembled flask under his arm, even as his free hand sneaks its way back to Liem's waist. ]
The worse crime of the night was your father making you host.
[ The night before his wedding, especially. The wedding that Liem clearly didn't want and hadn't chosen to have -- it seems exquisitely cruel, now that he thinks back on it. No wonder Liem had not been keen on meeting him.
His gloved hand finds Liem's jaw, tilts his face up as Cardan steps into him. ]
It was your servants that surprised me.
Elowyn could not tell me much about you, when the arrangements were being made. I thought this meant that you were probably horrible. [ His smile is quick, a little rueful. ]
But when we were heading back to our rooms, you spoke to the staff like you knew them.
[ And they, in turn, seemed happy for Liem, rather than terrified of him. ]
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Though if he considers it, those two words describe many of his interactions with his husband.]
I prefer not to be horrible to people who depend on me.
[He says this wryly, warmly conscious of the feel of leather against his jaw, and of his husband’s breath escaping in slivers of fog between them. The handsome flush beneath Cardan’s skin and his deep-forest scent make him seem like spring’s herald, promising the return of green and vital things. He tips his face eagerly toward him.]
But… I volunteered to host. It gave me something to do.
[It had given him something about the arrangement, at least, that he could control.]
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[ That is news to him, actually, though he can’t say he’s particularly surprised. Elfhame was the closest he’s ever come to wrestling Liem into idleness, and even then his husband had found a way to impose structure onto his evenings.
This does little to change his poor opinion of his father-in-law, even though he does owe Iago a debt of gratitude: after all, if he had never brokered their marriage, Cardan would have not found himself here. He cannot rightly call this happiness -- not when he can't even imagine surviving to this time next year, not when it feels like any moment someone could come ruin it for him. But maybe, for creatures like them, this fragile, stolen joy is the next closest thing.
He does not know if he's ever wanted something so terribly as he wants to be proven wrong. ]
Finish your wine, husband, [ he says, even though he is going to lean in and kiss Liem, giving him no chance to drink his wine at all. ]
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When he melts into the kiss that Cardan steals from him, it’s with something like relief. A silly feeling to have, when kisses from his spouse certainly haven’t been in short supply; but ever since their trip to Elfhame, the greed that surfaces in him whenever he thinks of his husband has tormented him at every opportunity. Insinuating himself into Cardan’s embrace feels ever more like tasting something fleeting and forbidden, and he cannot stop himself from craving more: more of his kisses, more of his touch, more of his hunger and his tenderness and that strange reverence that makes Liem’s heart constrict in his chest.
He does not want to stop kissing him; and he doesn’t stop, not for a very long moment. He stretches up instead, chasing his mouth with gentle, wanting kisses now spiced and warm from drink. Only after he has left his husband thoroughly breathless will he consent to pull back—and lift his flask so he can drain the rest of it in one long, intent-filled motion.]
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When Liem pulls back to finish his wine, Cardan's hand slips down to brush his throat, fingertips deliberate in following the way it moves as he swallows. His black gaze on Liem is no less intent. Desire has coiled in his abdomen, has slithered down his spine, teased keen by the taste of his husband's mouth.
But then, surely Liem can tell.
He doesn't give either of them much time to recover before he kisses Liem again, hungry and insistent. After all, his husband took such effort to warm up for him -- who is he to waste such a gift? ]
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