[He doesn’t know why he ever thinks he can take his husband somewhere, just the two of them, and not eventually become hopelessly distracted with desire for him. When has that ever happened? When has he spent a night alone in Cardan’s company and ignored the lure of his impertinent regard and wandering hands? No matter how inconvenient tonight’s chill temperature makes the prospect of touch, it cannot stop Liem from wanting.
It certainly doesn’t stop the shiver of lust that slides right down to his thighs at the caress of Cardan’s fingers over his neck. He feels electrically aware of the dark eyes fixed on him, the arm wrapped around his waist, the tail brushing the back of his leg. As Cardan leans in again, the chill breeze slips from his thoughts without fuss, along with any concerns about keeping balanced on the ice. He is much too absorbed in the press of his husband’s body against him, and the thrill of teasing Cardan’s desire hotter along with his own.
Something that would be easier with free hands. He addresses this problem with brisk efficiency, tossing first the lid and cork, then his flask itself at the riverbank, where all three objects plunge into the fluffy layer of snow. This makes it much more feasible for him to slide an arm over his husband’s shoulders, keeping him conveniently close while Liem tastes the shape of his mouth. And if his free hand is also hungry in its wandering down Cardan’s chest and flank, surely that cannot be considered threatening while his hands remain gloved.]
[ It is ever torturous that the winter -- which delights his husband so -- also makes it impossible for Cardan to enjoy him as thoroughly as he'd like. Even now, the chill bites at the tips of his ears; where his nose brushes against Liem's, he is still icy. But his mouth is wine-warm and eager, and the lean line of his body pressed against Cardan's makes him ache with need, even through layers and layers of clothing between them.
No, he is not worried about Liem's hands. He's worried about his own -- and the places they cannot go right now. The one at Liem's back slides down, long fingers squeezing at the curve of his ass, shamelessly greedy.
He is still breathless when he pulls away next; his own heartbeat thunders in his ears. ]
If you wish to keep me out longer, you will... [ He has to pause, catch his breath; his forehead drops to Liem's shoulder as he does. ] You'll have to cease... ah, making me want to haul you back to the house.
[ He would. He wants to. Never mind that he's supposed to be cheating, and carrying his husband through the manor is probably antithetical to that. Then again, the staff should be under no illusion about the extent of their physical intimacy. ]
[As far as Liem is concerned, the only way to improve a night spent skating with his husband is to introduce the opportunity to make out under the stars. The brisk winter air and gentle sound of the night breeze make for a lovely backdrop for Cardan’s hungry kisses and greedy hands, pulling a pleased, impatient little hum from Liem’s throat as he demands more heat, more contact.
It is surely too cold out here for his husband to go much further, but Liem has never claimed to not be a tease.]
How am I meant to do that?
[Redirection, he supposes. His husband is a greedy man; perhaps he can appeal to one of his other hungers. His hands wander to Cardan’s back, insatiably restless.
But he tips his face when Cardan leans against his shoulder, pressing warm kisses against the chilly shell of his ear. The novel sensation brings an amused frown to his brow.]
Your poor ear feels like one of mine. Perhaps I should bring you back in after all.
[ The sensation is, indeed, novel — he shivers with it, caught a little off guard. But Liem’s easy acquiescence sits ill with him, somehow. His husband is too often ready to drop his own needs to tend to Cardan’s. And as many (undue, unreasonable) concerns as he has about the ice, he has also seldom seen Liem derive such uncomplicated joy from an activity.
He lifts his head, taking a moment to peer at Liem’s face — which is a mistake, after all, because looking at that serious mouth ever makes him want to kiss it again. And again, and again, until he probably would freeze to an ice block, standing right here. The pointy tips of his ears do ache, when he bothers paying attention to them. ]
No, [ he says, with all the stubborn determination of a princely tyrant. ] My husband has promised me a skate into the forest. I wish to have it.
[ His eyebrows lift, suggestive. ]
As much as I also wish to have you.
[ But there will be time for that, surely, once they’re done with their adventure. Provided neither of them falls in the river before then— but he squashes the thought with cold determination, even as he straightens fully. ]
[Predictably, Cardan’s princely demand brings a warm little squeeze to Liem’s chest and a smile to the corners of his mouth. Perhaps at some point over six months of marriage, another man might have started finding his husband’s arrogance tiresome instead of charming, but the manner suits him like the fine jewellery he’s so fond of wearing, a reminder of his royalty no matter what the circumstance, and Liem cannot begrudge him his armour.]
Then you will.
[The arm around his husband’s shoulders retreats until his gloved hand can linger, very briefly, at Cardan’s face. He will keep his husband close for only a moment more, cupping the back of his neck so he can lean up and press a kiss against the chilly tip of his nose.
Then he does release him, his cheeks tinted faintly from the wine as he retrieves the discarded flasks to replace them in his bag. The bag he slings back over his shoulder to take with them, though for once he will not fuss over Cardan if his husband seems ill-inclined to re-don his coat. If he feels warm enough without it, well, he surely knows best.
But he will take his husband’s hand again, before they delve upriver into the woods.]
[ Cardan doesn't understand it: how something so simple as a kiss to the tip of his nose can be so charming when it comes from his husband. Maybe it's because of that pretty, faint violet decorating Liem's cheekbones -- maybe it's just because this serious, composed man always seems so very unlikey to indulge in affectionate nonsense.
It is effective, regardless.
Less effective: his attempts to ignore the undue worry about the cold. The discarded coat lies in a forlorn heap on the ice where he'd left it; typically, Cardan would not give it a second thought, happily skating off into the moonlight with Liem's hand in his, consequences be damned. Now, tonight, he is experiencing an uncharacteristic moment of doubt.
...but it's heavy, and he suspects he has about an equal chance of getting too warm as he is of freezing. He ends up compromising by keeping his thick woolen scarf about his neck.
As it turns out, he chooses correctly. It is a clear, still night, and though the frost nips at his ears and his nose, their brisk pace keeps him warm enough. He grows bolder, too -- letting go of his lover's hand occasionally to skate over to a particularly interesting bit of shore or stretch up to touch the branches of a willow bent low by snow.
And if he steals icy kisses from Liem's lips each time he returns to his side, well, surely the heat that pours off of him is enough for them both. ]
This isn't so difficult, [ he will proclaim eventually, glancing at Liem. His half-smile gleams with a strange bit of mischief. ] Perhaps we should race.
[ Well, they are on their way back, and he is impatient to get his chilled husband into a hot bath. Not to mention, the cold is starting to gain ground; his tail has ceased its coiling motions in the night air, and instead plastered itself to his leg. ]
[It is well that Cardan has agreed to explore upriver with his husband, because Liem has much he’d like to show him. Recalling the way his forest has seemed to delight his spouse on other occasions, he takes him eagerly up the tree-lined road of ice, below snow-laden boughs and around fallen trunks protruding from the river’s surface. Bared to the night sky above, the frozen river glows like a trail of moonlight cutting through the pale dark. Here and there hide charming little glades and hollows that, on other nights, he might climb the bank to linger in for an hour or two. But the glimpses of them are still lovely enough from the shore.
And as always, the novelty of meandering from one bank to the other makes Liem feel like he is getting away with something—especially when Cardan is so happy to gift him with stolen kisses in the ice’s midst.]
Bored with our current pace, are you?
[Liem aims a raised eyebrow Cardan’s way, intrigued at the suggestion of such a contest.]
[ Cardan's smile twitches a little wider. He's not bored -- but that's never stopped him from pursuing further thrills. ]
Certainly.
[ But he doesn't let go of Liem's hand, not yet; in fact, he slows down to a stop. His free hand will reach up to his throat to pull off-- his ascot, buried as it has been under layers of heavy scarf. ]
But you have an advantage, husband.
[ Aside from the fact that Cardan has only just learned how to skate, he is no vampire, and certainly not possessed of the kind of speed capable of keeping up with a hunting pack of wolves.
He reaches up, the pale blue silk of his tie clutched between his fingers; the fabric is still skin-warm. Those same fingers brush against Liem's temple.
His smile grows contemplative. ]
I think it only fair that we should even out the playing field.
[Liem should be grateful that his husband’s mischief rarely costs him anything he’s unwilling to part with, given how charming he finds it. Never has he been so eager to fall prey to another man’s whims, just for the chance to have Cardan smile at him like that. He is so unexpectedly possessive of moments like this; it is profoundly stupid that he manages to envy the victims of his husband’s bullying at parties where Liem is intentionally trying to maintain his distance. But he does, and he can’t imagine objecting to being the focus of Cardan’s attention now.]
You so love to make my life difficult.
[His eyes slide over the undone silk as he makes this observation; there are very few uses he can imagine the tie fulfilling at the moment, and one of them seems distinctly likely to send him skating into a snowbank.
But the relaxed, upright line of his body is free of apprehension, and his eyes smile a little as he squeezes his husband’s gloved hand—and gently releases it, sliding his arms loosely about Cardan’s waist instead.]
I will be sporting, even though I suspect my husband of inventing reasons to pull tricks on me. You may have your concession.
[ The smile twitches into a grin -- before it disappears entirely, replaced with a wounded frown. ]
You are too suspicious.
[ Suspicious and unjust; what else could Cardan call these accusations? ]
You ought to know by now that I need no reason to trick you. [ Aside, perhaps, from the fact that Liem so transparently enjoys it. ] And besides, this is hardly an obstacle for you.
[ He leans in, taking the silk of the tie between both his hands. For all of Cardan's protests, at least one of Liem's suspicions is right: he does intend to blindfold his husband. The gesture with which he slides the fabric over Liem's eyes is carefully deliberate; he takes his time with it, lining it up just so. ]
Or are you telling me you would not hear me, husband?
[ The slice of his skates on the ice, yes -- but also his heartbeat, all the more impertinent for the exercise he's about to put it through. His mouth moves against Liem's ear, his murmur low, even as clever fingers tie the knot at the back of Liem's head. ]
[Initially, Liem is too occupied with the ascot sliding over his eyes to worry about his husband’s accusations. The silk now hugging his skin still retains some of his husband’s warmth and scent; it strikes him with a pang of impatience to be back in the heated privacy of their rooms, where he might enjoy more than just a hint of such things without assaulting Cardan with his icy skin.]
Oh—?
[His tone is curious, even as Cardan dips to murmur at his ear. The brush of lips there brings Liem’s mind to distracting places, which is likely at least partially to blame for the way he’s now allowing his spouse to tie a blindfold on him in the midst of the woods. Cardan really does have such a talent for getting him to agree to stupid things.]
Am I meant to be hunting you? I thought you wished to race. In that case I would want you behind me.
[The way his hands wander down to Cardan’s hips insinuates a more intimate meaning, though his blindfolded face remains unreadable.]
[ Cardan's hands linger, even once he's finished -- gloved fingers toying with the hair at Liem's nape. His soft breath out against Liem's ear is half huffed laugh, half wistful sigh.
He does want to be behind his husband. And on top of him. And a couple of other things, besides, all of which -- no doubt -- will reflect in his heart rate. But he cannot have the thing he wants out on the ice, and so he will only press a kiss to Liem's ear before straightening.
As it turns out, seeing the blindfold has an effect on his heart rate too. It seems foolish, all of a sudden, that he'd waited until now to inflict this upon Liem. His gloved thumb finds the edge of the silk, follows the line of it over Liem's cheek, down the sharp slant of his cheekbone and to his mouth.
And since Liem cannot see him, there is no need to hide the strange tender longing that presses up against Cardan's ribs when he looks at him. His thumb traces the curve of Liem's lower lip. ]
Then I suppose you're facing quite the dilemma. Devouring, or being devoured yourself.
[ The thumb presses down, gentle but insistent, dimpling the soft flesh of Liem's lip, feeling it yield. He is seized, unbidden, by his lover's assertion earlier -- that he wouldn't want to spoil Cardan by being on his knees too often. Perhaps Liem is right. And still, and still, Cardan can hardly think of a thing he could want more, just then, with the blindfold over Liem's eyes and that dangerous mouth at his mercy.
[Despite Liem’s idle teasing, he is finding it increasingly difficult to care about any race over the ice, given the much more immediate reality of his husband’s lips brushing his ear and the leather-clad fingers dancing over his skin. Cardan’s caress along his cheek, his mouth, makes eagerness tighten in his chest, especially as that caress turns more insistent. Unbidden, his lips part slightly in wordless answer to that soft pressure.
Given the subtle excitement of the pulse thumping beneath Cardan’s skin, he wishes very much that he could see his face.]
How is it unenviable?
[Roused as it always is by Cardan’s touch, desire coils impatiently in him: the want for his insatiable husband to devour him utterly, to leave nothing unsampled and nothing unclaimed. But in truth the insatiable one must be Liem, because no amount of indulging Cardan’s greed has ever been able to quiet his longing. And even then, as desperate as he is to be claimed, he also cannot deny his simmering, slow-growing hunger to have his husband at his mercy.
Liem’s lip presses back against the smooth leather when he speaks, resisting just a little. Though his mouth remains serious, curiosity warms his tone.]
Whichever way the results fall, I receive something I want.
[ He's staring, he knows. He cannot help it. If he stared any harder, he'd be worried that Liem could feel the sear of it on his face, blindfold or no. It's just that Liem's mouth feels so pliant under Cardan's touch -- just that the parting of his lips is so inviting. He wants to press his fingers inside that willing mouth; the thought spikes through his veins with sharp need, heady and hot like the rush of hard liquor. His breath skips with the intensity of it.
It's too telling. It feels too dangerous to let Liem know just how completely he has Cardan in his grasp. And still he cannot help leaning in, close enough that his mouth nearly touches his husband's. ]
Come, then, [ he breathes, against Liem's skin.
And then he is gone.
It is, granted, a little abrupt, and perhaps not as elegant as he could have hoped for -- he's not yet proficient at manoeuvring on the ice. He more pushes Liem from his grasp than he pulls away from him, but it doesn't matter. Even with the blindfold, he doesn't particularly expect to win.
But there is some hidden thrill in this, too -- to expecting Liem to be on his heels, even now. Cardan doesn't look back as he takes off, wind rushing loud in his ears.
The shore isn't so far. Perhaps he even has a chance, however small it may be. ]
[Cardan is right, of course: Liem cannot have everything he wishes for, not all at once at least. And given the demands on their time, he cannot have all he wishes for one after the other, either. There are too many arrangements to make, too many obligations to fulfill. Never enough opportunities to make Cardan his in all the ways he would wish, or to drown himself entirely in his fervent attentions for long enough to forget all his cares.
But he has tonight, and after all, what is life but a parade of sacrifices of some kind or another? He cannot begrudge the loss of unknown pleasure when Cardan’s breath is still warm on his lips.
And then it is not. His husband pushes away suddenly—a not terribly sporting beginning for their little contest—leaving Liem grasping empty air. He takes off after him with a short, accusatory laugh, following the sound of his skates, of his breaths, of his heart, keeping close on his heels.
Does he dare try to overtake him? He cannot hear the sweep of the riverbank where it meets the ice, or the odd fallen tree where it protrudes from the frozen water. Trying to beat him back to the forest’s edge will probably not net him any worthwhile results.
And yet, he cannot resist the temptation to quicken his pace even so, only seeming to push himself more recklessly as he comes up alongside his spouse. After all, what’s really the worst that might happen?]
[ Perhaps he doesn't have much of a chance at all.
The part of him that used to climb up trees to pull other children out of them -- that part wants to reach out and trip his husband, or snatch at his coat, or otherwise engage in some manner of dirty play. He doesn't, but only because he's not entirely certain Liem wouldn't pull him down also, and he doesn't actually want to fall.
That, and he's a little distracted. Despite himself, Cardan has never been a particularly competitive man, and his need for speed is far outmatched by his desire to watch his husband move through physical space. The sound of that sharp little laugh rings in his ears; he can't help but grin, even if he is a little breathless from trying and failing to keep up, as he watches Liem fly across the ice.
No, he never had any chance at all.
...but then, neither does Liem. Being currently unblindfolded, Cardan spots the obstacle he's racing towards, opening his mouth to say something--
And then closing it, just as abruptly. It would be unsportsmanlike to assume Liem cannot manage his own skating trajectory, surely? ]
[There is a good reason why Liem generally avoids making decisions with reasoning like “what’s the worst that might happen?” The reason is, of course, that the undefined what just might happen after all—and in this case, it does almost immediately.
For a brief moment as he blows past his husband, blindly aware of the wind on his face and the sound of Cardan sliding by to one side, a mischievous exultation flares hot through Liem’s veins. Perhaps he will not win the race, but it feels good to defy Cardan’s sly little handicap, to be reckless and quick even if it makes his blindness all the more the danger. He too would rather do what is fun than what is wise, after all—and for once he does.
But it takes only a few short moments for his recklessness to reward him in the way he half-expected. Poking up from the ice is a branch—just the end of one, easily avoided in any other circumstance—and without his sight, he skates right for it. In an eyeblink, his leading foot trips over the obstacle, ripping the skate right off his boot as his momentum propels him in a sliding tumble right into the riverbank. He barely even makes a sound, except for the scrape of his remaining skate against the ice and the muffled thump of his body impacting the snow-covered slope.
Which is where he’ll stay for just a brief moment, half-stunned, sprawled and half buried, before he moves to extract himself.]
[ It’s the skate that gets him. Not the one Liem loses — the one he keeps, and its sad little sound followed by the soft impact Liem makes in the snow. His disappearance inside the snow bank. The stunned little pause.
The noise Cardan makes is half astonishment, half laugh, and all involuntary. He clamps his hand over his mouth, but it’s no use. ]
You—
[ He can’t finish the sentence; he can’t even start it. Laughter bubbles out through his fingers, uncontrollable. ]
Haha-- Oh, by Mab's bones, I can't... hahaha, you--
[ It seems to have hijacked his body; soon he is gasping, and then bending over, hands braced on his knees, unable to stop laughing. He's still moving, too preoccupied to steer, which means that his path inevitably turns to where he's facing: the shoreline. Soon, his skates hit the edge of the ice -- far more gently than Liem's -- and he will tumble dramatically onto the snowy bank beside his spouse, rolling onto his back, still wracked with giggles. ]
The-- your... thump. [ Helplessly, his hands mime the motion of Liem's impact.] Ha... haha, I can't-- haha, I can't breathe--
[ His stomach aches with the strain, and still he can't stop. Every time he thinks he is done, he recalls the sad little screech of the skate, and it sets him right off again. He's not sure if he can even look at Liem.
[The sound of his husband’s mirth is muffled, half-buried as Liem is beneath fluffy snow. Gathering his limbs back into some semblance of order, he pushes himself up onto all fours to the growing sounds of Cardan’s helpless laughter, even if he still can’t quite see it. Though the tie fastened around his eyes has come somewhat askew, it still offers only a bare sliver of a view beneath one eye, so he can only see his spouse’s feet as Cardan tumbles gently into the snow beside him.
Already his feeling of playful competition has subsided, brushed aside by the helplessly infectious charm of his husband’s uncontrollable laughter. Twisting where he is on the slope, Liem sits right in the body-shaped depression he’s made in the snow and, tugging off a glove, reaches up to pull the silk from his eyes so he can observe Cardan properly.
He cannot help but smile when he does, warmly enchanted, snow clinging to his face and hair and clothes. Snow has found its way into his sleeves and beneath his collar as well, but the chill resting against his skin is unimportant. Never has he seen Cardan wracked with such unchecked merriment. He looks like a vision: rare and irresistible.
[ Seeing Liem's snow-capped eyebrows, predictably, sets him off again: Cardan's eyes widen, and then he's rolling over onto his side, shaking helplessly with more muffled laughter. A hand reaches out to clasp over Liem's knee, delivering a few gentle pats as Cardan, once more, tries to pull himself together.
If he doesn't look at Liem again, he can probably manage. He sucks in a lungful of air, trying to even out his breathing, though errant giggles still ripple through him even so. ]
How... [ How have I lived without you all this time? is what he wants to say, but something arrests him. It's unwise, probably. Too much, too soon. That he would even think it, and right now of all times--
He breathes in again, a little ragged, and hazards another glance at his snow-covered husband, answering that warm smile with one of his own. ]
I must encourage you to foolishness more often. It is bewitching on you.
[Despite years of habit, the helpless giggles his countenance inspires in his husband go a long way to encouraging Liem to leave himself as is, snow-covered and dishevelled. The ragged breaths, the helpless collapse in the snow, the gentle pats to his knee all tickle him with rare delight; the smile makes yearning flutter wildly in his chest.
Ultimately, he cannot quite resist the urge to wipe off his face at least—but snow still collects in significant little clumps in his hair and the folds of his clothing. Some of it dislodges as he pulls himself on all fours out of his miniature crater, leaning over his spouse to cage him against the snowy riverbank.]
Ah—so to bewitch you, all I need sacrifice is my dignity?
[His bright-eyed stare down at Cardan is considering. In contrast to his smile of only a moment ago, he suddenly seems eminently serious.]
[ That clear blue gaze arrests him, as it always does. Something about the rarity of Liem braced over him like this sends his pulse jumping in his throat. He stares back, still a little breathless, but suddenly quite still.
He knows Liem is cold. After all that skating, and the time spent being buried in snow, he must be particularly freezing -- probably as cold as the icy river bank itself.
It's just that suddenly, neither Cardan nor his borrowed prudence seem to care at all. ]
Come here, [ he says, and his gloved fingers slide over the back of Liem's neck, intent on pulling him down so Cardan can kiss him. Just one kiss, he thinks, because Liem will be freezing-- and so he had better pour all of his strange longing and impatient desire into it at once, to last them until they return to the house. ]
[The terrible thing about bracing himself over his husband like this, in the snow and the cold, with Cardan gone still and quietly intent beneath him, is that it makes the possessive longing in him flare so savagely. For all Cardan’s teasing and his murmured confessions during intimate moments, he doubts that his husband actually wants to be possessed in the same way Liem always craves—and Liem so wants to possess him. He cannot stare down into those lovely, hypnotically dark eyes and not want to make Cardan his, in every way he’s longed for and never dared to act upon. The ache of this desire trembles through him like a thunderclap.
The wonderful thing about being over his husband like this is that he looks so kissable, and Liem is perfectly positioned to steal the kiss he so dearly wants.
It is no kindness to either of them for him to cover Cardan’s body with his own when he dips down, coaxed by the hand at his neck—but he does, covetous and eager, alight with longing that slices knife-keen through his restraint. His icy chill makes Cardan’s mouth feel shockingly warm, scorching in the face of his impatience. From his husband’s perspective, he must seem nigh-unbearably frigid.
But not too unbearably, it seems, given the ever-addictive want behind his kiss—and for all that Liem has often saddled Cardan with unasked for consideration, he is in no mood to so inconvenience him now.]
[ Liem is icy. Cardan trembles with it -- and still he presses closer, pulling his husband against him. It doesn't matter. It never mattered. Cardan's greed transcends mere discomfort. He wants him close, wants to feel that hungry mouth against his own, without reason or mercy. Some part of him ever senses the advance of time and of the unseen dangers pursuing them -- feels like every kiss might be his last, and so every kiss must be made to count.
But then, has he ever not lived like that?
When he finally pulls away, he's starting to shiver in earnest. Still, the hands that cup Liem's face are steady. ]
I love seeing you on winter's stage.
[ It's Liem's season: quiet and dark and austere, dangerous and heartbreakingly beautiful all the same. His thumb brushes a crystalline drop of water from Liem's cheek -- a snowflake melted by Cardan's warm breath. ]
[Since the day of their wedding, every kiss he has ever shared with Cardan seems to end too quickly, and this one is no exception. When his lover retreats from him, Liem has to remind himself to have patience, to keep himself from chasing that warm, soft mouth for just one more kiss, and another still. His desire is so keen, and the snow’s chill so unimportant, that he comes close to forgetting the cold altogether; as long as Cardan wants him, he cannot find it in him to care about anything else.
But Cardan’s touch arrests him. Even if caution no longer bridles him, the tender hands framing Liem’s face check him completely; so do the tender words.
The sentiment catches him by surprise. He is startled to find himself feeling not just valued, but valuable—perhaps even, for the briefest moment, like someone Cardan might actually want to be married to.
Briefly, his own pale, snow-frosted fingers lift to cover Cardan’s gloved ones. He wants to hold onto that feeling for as long as he can.]
Then I shall.
[He sits up, keeping his husband’s fingers caught in his for just a moment longer, until he must again crawl off him and pull the glove back onto his hand. The makeshift blindfold he shoves into a pocket with a wry little smile.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It certainly doesn’t stop the shiver of lust that slides right down to his thighs at the caress of Cardan’s fingers over his neck. He feels electrically aware of the dark eyes fixed on him, the arm wrapped around his waist, the tail brushing the back of his leg. As Cardan leans in again, the chill breeze slips from his thoughts without fuss, along with any concerns about keeping balanced on the ice. He is much too absorbed in the press of his husband’s body against him, and the thrill of teasing Cardan’s desire hotter along with his own.
Something that would be easier with free hands. He addresses this problem with brisk efficiency, tossing first the lid and cork, then his flask itself at the riverbank, where all three objects plunge into the fluffy layer of snow. This makes it much more feasible for him to slide an arm over his husband’s shoulders, keeping him conveniently close while Liem tastes the shape of his mouth. And if his free hand is also hungry in its wandering down Cardan’s chest and flank, surely that cannot be considered threatening while his hands remain gloved.]
no subject
No, he is not worried about Liem's hands. He's worried about his own -- and the places they cannot go right now. The one at Liem's back slides down, long fingers squeezing at the curve of his ass, shamelessly greedy.
He is still breathless when he pulls away next; his own heartbeat thunders in his ears. ]
If you wish to keep me out longer, you will... [ He has to pause, catch his breath; his forehead drops to Liem's shoulder as he does. ] You'll have to cease... ah, making me want to haul you back to the house.
[ He would. He wants to. Never mind that he's supposed to be cheating, and carrying his husband through the manor is probably antithetical to that. Then again, the staff should be under no illusion about the extent of their physical intimacy. ]
no subject
It is surely too cold out here for his husband to go much further, but Liem has never claimed to not be a tease.]
How am I meant to do that?
[Redirection, he supposes. His husband is a greedy man; perhaps he can appeal to one of his other hungers. His hands wander to Cardan’s back, insatiably restless.
But he tips his face when Cardan leans against his shoulder, pressing warm kisses against the chilly shell of his ear. The novel sensation brings an amused frown to his brow.]
Your poor ear feels like one of mine. Perhaps I should bring you back in after all.
no subject
He lifts his head, taking a moment to peer at Liem’s face — which is a mistake, after all, because looking at that serious mouth ever makes him want to kiss it again. And again, and again, until he probably would freeze to an ice block, standing right here. The pointy tips of his ears do ache, when he bothers paying attention to them. ]
No, [ he says, with all the stubborn determination of a princely tyrant. ] My husband has promised me a skate into the forest. I wish to have it.
[ His eyebrows lift, suggestive. ]
As much as I also wish to have you.
[ But there will be time for that, surely, once they’re done with their adventure. Provided neither of them falls in the river before then— but he squashes the thought with cold determination, even as he straightens fully. ]
no subject
Then you will.
[The arm around his husband’s shoulders retreats until his gloved hand can linger, very briefly, at Cardan’s face. He will keep his husband close for only a moment more, cupping the back of his neck so he can lean up and press a kiss against the chilly tip of his nose.
Then he does release him, his cheeks tinted faintly from the wine as he retrieves the discarded flasks to replace them in his bag. The bag he slings back over his shoulder to take with them, though for once he will not fuss over Cardan if his husband seems ill-inclined to re-don his coat. If he feels warm enough without it, well, he surely knows best.
But he will take his husband’s hand again, before they delve upriver into the woods.]
Let us make the most of it.
no subject
It is effective, regardless.
Less effective: his attempts to ignore the undue worry about the cold. The discarded coat lies in a forlorn heap on the ice where he'd left it; typically, Cardan would not give it a second thought, happily skating off into the moonlight with Liem's hand in his, consequences be damned. Now, tonight, he is experiencing an uncharacteristic moment of doubt.
...but it's heavy, and he suspects he has about an equal chance of getting too warm as he is of freezing. He ends up compromising by keeping his thick woolen scarf about his neck.
As it turns out, he chooses correctly. It is a clear, still night, and though the frost nips at his ears and his nose, their brisk pace keeps him warm enough. He grows bolder, too -- letting go of his lover's hand occasionally to skate over to a particularly interesting bit of shore or stretch up to touch the branches of a willow bent low by snow.
And if he steals icy kisses from Liem's lips each time he returns to his side, well, surely the heat that pours off of him is enough for them both. ]
This isn't so difficult, [ he will proclaim eventually, glancing at Liem. His half-smile gleams with a strange bit of mischief. ] Perhaps we should race.
[ Well, they are on their way back, and he is impatient to get his chilled husband into a hot bath. Not to mention, the cold is starting to gain ground; his tail has ceased its coiling motions in the night air, and instead plastered itself to his leg. ]
no subject
And as always, the novelty of meandering from one bank to the other makes Liem feel like he is getting away with something—especially when Cardan is so happy to gift him with stolen kisses in the ice’s midst.]
Bored with our current pace, are you?
[Liem aims a raised eyebrow Cardan’s way, intrigued at the suggestion of such a contest.]
Back to the forest’s edge?
no subject
Certainly.
[ But he doesn't let go of Liem's hand, not yet; in fact, he slows down to a stop. His free hand will reach up to his throat to pull off-- his ascot, buried as it has been under layers of heavy scarf. ]
But you have an advantage, husband.
[ Aside from the fact that Cardan has only just learned how to skate, he is no vampire, and certainly not possessed of the kind of speed capable of keeping up with a hunting pack of wolves.
He reaches up, the pale blue silk of his tie clutched between his fingers; the fabric is still skin-warm. Those same fingers brush against Liem's temple.
His smile grows contemplative. ]
I think it only fair that we should even out the playing field.
no subject
You so love to make my life difficult.
[His eyes slide over the undone silk as he makes this observation; there are very few uses he can imagine the tie fulfilling at the moment, and one of them seems distinctly likely to send him skating into a snowbank.
But the relaxed, upright line of his body is free of apprehension, and his eyes smile a little as he squeezes his husband’s gloved hand—and gently releases it, sliding his arms loosely about Cardan’s waist instead.]
I will be sporting, even though I suspect my husband of inventing reasons to pull tricks on me. You may have your concession.
no subject
You are too suspicious.
[ Suspicious and unjust; what else could Cardan call these accusations? ]
You ought to know by now that I need no reason to trick you. [ Aside, perhaps, from the fact that Liem so transparently enjoys it. ] And besides, this is hardly an obstacle for you.
[ He leans in, taking the silk of the tie between both his hands. For all of Cardan's protests, at least one of Liem's suspicions is right: he does intend to blindfold his husband. The gesture with which he slides the fabric over Liem's eyes is carefully deliberate; he takes his time with it, lining it up just so. ]
Or are you telling me you would not hear me, husband?
[ The slice of his skates on the ice, yes -- but also his heartbeat, all the more impertinent for the exercise he's about to put it through. His mouth moves against Liem's ear, his murmur low, even as clever fingers tie the knot at the back of Liem's head. ]
Surely a predator hunts with all of his senses.
no subject
Oh—?
[His tone is curious, even as Cardan dips to murmur at his ear. The brush of lips there brings Liem’s mind to distracting places, which is likely at least partially to blame for the way he’s now allowing his spouse to tie a blindfold on him in the midst of the woods. Cardan really does have such a talent for getting him to agree to stupid things.]
Am I meant to be hunting you? I thought you wished to race. In that case I would want you behind me.
[The way his hands wander down to Cardan’s hips insinuates a more intimate meaning, though his blindfolded face remains unreadable.]
no subject
He does want to be behind his husband. And on top of him. And a couple of other things, besides, all of which -- no doubt -- will reflect in his heart rate. But he cannot have the thing he wants out on the ice, and so he will only press a kiss to Liem's ear before straightening.
As it turns out, seeing the blindfold has an effect on his heart rate too. It seems foolish, all of a sudden, that he'd waited until now to inflict this upon Liem. His gloved thumb finds the edge of the silk, follows the line of it over Liem's cheek, down the sharp slant of his cheekbone and to his mouth.
And since Liem cannot see him, there is no need to hide the strange tender longing that presses up against Cardan's ribs when he looks at him. His thumb traces the curve of Liem's lower lip. ]
Then I suppose you're facing quite the dilemma. Devouring, or being devoured yourself.
[ The thumb presses down, gentle but insistent, dimpling the soft flesh of Liem's lip, feeling it yield. He is seized, unbidden, by his lover's assertion earlier -- that he wouldn't want to spoil Cardan by being on his knees too often. Perhaps Liem is right. And still, and still, Cardan can hardly think of a thing he could want more, just then, with the blindfold over Liem's eyes and that dangerous mouth at his mercy.
It's difficult to keep it out of his voice. ]
An unenviable choice. Which will it be?
no subject
Given the subtle excitement of the pulse thumping beneath Cardan’s skin, he wishes very much that he could see his face.]
How is it unenviable?
[Roused as it always is by Cardan’s touch, desire coils impatiently in him: the want for his insatiable husband to devour him utterly, to leave nothing unsampled and nothing unclaimed. But in truth the insatiable one must be Liem, because no amount of indulging Cardan’s greed has ever been able to quiet his longing. And even then, as desperate as he is to be claimed, he also cannot deny his simmering, slow-growing hunger to have his husband at his mercy.
Liem’s lip presses back against the smooth leather when he speaks, resisting just a little. Though his mouth remains serious, curiosity warms his tone.]
Whichever way the results fall, I receive something I want.
no subject
[ He's staring, he knows. He cannot help it. If he stared any harder, he'd be worried that Liem could feel the sear of it on his face, blindfold or no. It's just that Liem's mouth feels so pliant under Cardan's touch -- just that the parting of his lips is so inviting. He wants to press his fingers inside that willing mouth; the thought spikes through his veins with sharp need, heady and hot like the rush of hard liquor. His breath skips with the intensity of it.
It's too telling. It feels too dangerous to let Liem know just how completely he has Cardan in his grasp. And still he cannot help leaning in, close enough that his mouth nearly touches his husband's. ]
Come, then, [ he breathes, against Liem's skin.
And then he is gone.
It is, granted, a little abrupt, and perhaps not as elegant as he could have hoped for -- he's not yet proficient at manoeuvring on the ice. He more pushes Liem from his grasp than he pulls away from him, but it doesn't matter. Even with the blindfold, he doesn't particularly expect to win.
But there is some hidden thrill in this, too -- to expecting Liem to be on his heels, even now. Cardan doesn't look back as he takes off, wind rushing loud in his ears.
The shore isn't so far. Perhaps he even has a chance, however small it may be. ]
no subject
But he has tonight, and after all, what is life but a parade of sacrifices of some kind or another? He cannot begrudge the loss of unknown pleasure when Cardan’s breath is still warm on his lips.
And then it is not. His husband pushes away suddenly—a not terribly sporting beginning for their little contest—leaving Liem grasping empty air. He takes off after him with a short, accusatory laugh, following the sound of his skates, of his breaths, of his heart, keeping close on his heels.
Does he dare try to overtake him? He cannot hear the sweep of the riverbank where it meets the ice, or the odd fallen tree where it protrudes from the frozen water. Trying to beat him back to the forest’s edge will probably not net him any worthwhile results.
And yet, he cannot resist the temptation to quicken his pace even so, only seeming to push himself more recklessly as he comes up alongside his spouse. After all, what’s really the worst that might happen?]
no subject
The part of him that used to climb up trees to pull other children out of them -- that part wants to reach out and trip his husband, or snatch at his coat, or otherwise engage in some manner of dirty play. He doesn't, but only because he's not entirely certain Liem wouldn't pull him down also, and he doesn't actually want to fall.
That, and he's a little distracted. Despite himself, Cardan has never been a particularly competitive man, and his need for speed is far outmatched by his desire to watch his husband move through physical space. The sound of that sharp little laugh rings in his ears; he can't help but grin, even if he is a little breathless from trying and failing to keep up, as he watches Liem fly across the ice.
No, he never had any chance at all.
...but then, neither does Liem. Being currently unblindfolded, Cardan spots the obstacle he's racing towards, opening his mouth to say something--
And then closing it, just as abruptly. It would be unsportsmanlike to assume Liem cannot manage his own skating trajectory, surely? ]
no subject
For a brief moment as he blows past his husband, blindly aware of the wind on his face and the sound of Cardan sliding by to one side, a mischievous exultation flares hot through Liem’s veins. Perhaps he will not win the race, but it feels good to defy Cardan’s sly little handicap, to be reckless and quick even if it makes his blindness all the more the danger. He too would rather do what is fun than what is wise, after all—and for once he does.
But it takes only a few short moments for his recklessness to reward him in the way he half-expected. Poking up from the ice is a branch—just the end of one, easily avoided in any other circumstance—and without his sight, he skates right for it. In an eyeblink, his leading foot trips over the obstacle, ripping the skate right off his boot as his momentum propels him in a sliding tumble right into the riverbank. He barely even makes a sound, except for the scrape of his remaining skate against the ice and the muffled thump of his body impacting the snow-covered slope.
Which is where he’ll stay for just a brief moment, half-stunned, sprawled and half buried, before he moves to extract himself.]
no subject
The noise Cardan makes is half astonishment, half laugh, and all involuntary. He clamps his hand over his mouth, but it’s no use. ]
You—
[ He can’t finish the sentence; he can’t even start it. Laughter bubbles out through his fingers, uncontrollable. ]
Haha-- Oh, by Mab's bones, I can't... hahaha, you--
[ It seems to have hijacked his body; soon he is gasping, and then bending over, hands braced on his knees, unable to stop laughing. He's still moving, too preoccupied to steer, which means that his path inevitably turns to where he's facing: the shoreline. Soon, his skates hit the edge of the ice -- far more gently than Liem's -- and he will tumble dramatically onto the snowy bank beside his spouse, rolling onto his back, still wracked with giggles. ]
The-- your... thump. [ Helplessly, his hands mime the motion of Liem's impact.] Ha... haha, I can't-- haha, I can't breathe--
[ His stomach aches with the strain, and still he can't stop. Every time he thinks he is done, he recalls the sad little screech of the skate, and it sets him right off again. He's not sure if he can even look at Liem.
He peeks anyway. ]
no subject
Already his feeling of playful competition has subsided, brushed aside by the helplessly infectious charm of his husband’s uncontrollable laughter. Twisting where he is on the slope, Liem sits right in the body-shaped depression he’s made in the snow and, tugging off a glove, reaches up to pull the silk from his eyes so he can observe Cardan properly.
He cannot help but smile when he does, warmly enchanted, snow clinging to his face and hair and clothes. Snow has found its way into his sleeves and beneath his collar as well, but the chill resting against his skin is unimportant. Never has he seen Cardan wracked with such unchecked merriment. He looks like a vision: rare and irresistible.
Of course he would risk anything to keep him.]
no subject
If he doesn't look at Liem again, he can probably manage. He sucks in a lungful of air, trying to even out his breathing, though errant giggles still ripple through him even so. ]
How... [ How have I lived without you all this time? is what he wants to say, but something arrests him. It's unwise, probably. Too much, too soon. That he would even think it, and right now of all times--
He breathes in again, a little ragged, and hazards another glance at his snow-covered husband, answering that warm smile with one of his own. ]
I must encourage you to foolishness more often. It is bewitching on you.
no subject
Ultimately, he cannot quite resist the urge to wipe off his face at least—but snow still collects in significant little clumps in his hair and the folds of his clothing. Some of it dislodges as he pulls himself on all fours out of his miniature crater, leaning over his spouse to cage him against the snowy riverbank.]
Ah—so to bewitch you, all I need sacrifice is my dignity?
[His bright-eyed stare down at Cardan is considering. In contrast to his smile of only a moment ago, he suddenly seems eminently serious.]
A small price to pay for so rich a reward.
no subject
He knows Liem is cold. After all that skating, and the time spent being buried in snow, he must be particularly freezing -- probably as cold as the icy river bank itself.
It's just that suddenly, neither Cardan nor his borrowed prudence seem to care at all. ]
Come here, [ he says, and his gloved fingers slide over the back of Liem's neck, intent on pulling him down so Cardan can kiss him. Just one kiss, he thinks, because Liem will be freezing-- and so he had better pour all of his strange longing and impatient desire into it at once, to last them until they return to the house. ]
no subject
The wonderful thing about being over his husband like this is that he looks so kissable, and Liem is perfectly positioned to steal the kiss he so dearly wants.
It is no kindness to either of them for him to cover Cardan’s body with his own when he dips down, coaxed by the hand at his neck—but he does, covetous and eager, alight with longing that slices knife-keen through his restraint. His icy chill makes Cardan’s mouth feel shockingly warm, scorching in the face of his impatience. From his husband’s perspective, he must seem nigh-unbearably frigid.
But not too unbearably, it seems, given the ever-addictive want behind his kiss—and for all that Liem has often saddled Cardan with unasked for consideration, he is in no mood to so inconvenience him now.]
no subject
But then, has he ever not lived like that?
When he finally pulls away, he's starting to shiver in earnest. Still, the hands that cup Liem's face are steady. ]
I love seeing you on winter's stage.
[ It's Liem's season: quiet and dark and austere, dangerous and heartbreakingly beautiful all the same. His thumb brushes a crystalline drop of water from Liem's cheek -- a snowflake melted by Cardan's warm breath. ]
But you ought to take me home now.
no subject
But Cardan’s touch arrests him. Even if caution no longer bridles him, the tender hands framing Liem’s face check him completely; so do the tender words.
The sentiment catches him by surprise. He is startled to find himself feeling not just valued, but valuable—perhaps even, for the briefest moment, like someone Cardan might actually want to be married to.
Briefly, his own pale, snow-frosted fingers lift to cover Cardan’s gloved ones. He wants to hold onto that feeling for as long as he can.]
Then I shall.
[He sits up, keeping his husband’s fingers caught in his for just a moment longer, until he must again crawl off him and pull the glove back onto his hand. The makeshift blindfold he shoves into a pocket with a wry little smile.]
Just as soon as I retrieve my skate.