Yes, [ Cardan breathes, smug and impatient all the same. He cannot begrudge Liem his kiss -- cannot even pretend that he does, though he does tilt his head when Liem's mouth wanders too close to his vulnerable neck. That will earn Liem a punitive little nip, not that Cardan imagines he'll feel much chastened.
After which Cardan has to kiss him again, indulgent with longing -- because he wants to. Because no matter how cold Liem still might be, that quiet little sigh and the feel of him against Cardan kindles eager, irrepressible need in him. And because he wants his husband's desire to be even more demanding and torturous than his own, teased taut by his demands.
With the last of his buttons coming undone, his hands are free to return to Liem's face, slide into his hair. And when he's finally done, he will pull back -- and step back, pulling himself from the grasp of Liem's hands.
He watches his husband while undoing the cuffs of the shirt -- watches him, too, as he lets it slip off of his shoulders and crumple at his feet. ]
[Perhaps perversely, the nip warning him away from Cardan’s neck only relaxes Liem further into his wicked husband’s care. He is ever beguiled by that little spark of pain and the shiver of pleasure that follows—at least where his lover’s mouth is involved.
There is, he’s begun to suspect, probably nothing Cardan could do with his mouth that wouldn't delight him.
Certainly the way he kisses Liem only makes him more discontented to lose him when his husband moves back, pulling from his covetous grasp. His eyes narrow slightly as he watches Cardan’s shirt slip from him, exposing the lean, lovely body that he is presently forbidden from touching any of. Liem plucks his cuffs undone instead to occupy his hands, but his attention is not so easily redirected.]
Oh, I am always hungry for the latter.
[Perhaps that weeks-long stretch at the beginning of their marriage, when he had done nothing but weather Cardan’s constant menacing, turned Liem into some kind of pervert with an insatiable lust to be preyed upon. He cannot recall wishing for such a thing before the last six months—at least, not outside the realm of fantasy.]
[ He'd often heard -- and shared -- the cruel insinuation that mortals must like being tricked, else why would they make it so easy? But Cardan didn't think he had ever believed it. No one truly liked being tricked, regardless of how deserved it was, or how foolish they were.
And then he'd met Liem.
He likes the distraction in his husband's face and his half-hearted attempt at his own cuffs. He likes that Liem watches him; he likes that narrow-eyed stare, the spark of thwarted annoyance that sometimes still flashes in his face when Cardan is being particularly unreasonable. Like right now, when he's denying Liem his warm-up bath -- denying them both the pleasure of fucking already, after what feels like hours of stolen kisses and breathless wanting.
But, as it turns out, Liem isn't the only pervert around.
Having rid himself of his shirt, Cardan only smiles and turns, heading into the bathroom he'd stopped Liem from entering. He's efficient, at least -- removing his rings on the way there, so that he may scatter the handful of them onto a low little table. After this, he turns and leans against it. ]
How lucky, that you've ended up with Elfhame's most vexing man.
[ Speaking of which: Cardan looks down, wiggles his covered toes, and then glances back at Liem. ]
My shoes, husband, if you would.
[ The shoes that he's still, uncharacteristically, wearing. ]
[Had someone told Liem, months ago, that his upcoming marriage would see him eager to be toyed with and bullied by his husband, he would have had nothing but scorn for the suggestion. For him to truly desire his husband’s torment, in reality and not just in idle fancies, he would need to believe that it wasn’t mean-spirited. He would need to feel that his husband actually liked him.
And astonishingly, despite his best efforts… he does. He is eager for that smug, villainous smile, for the frustration his husband inflicts on him at his whim. When Cardan strolls into the bathroom and pauses there, glancing at him as he looks up from his shoes, the arrogance of his idle demand feels comfortable. It feels intimate.
He wouldn’t have guessed that such a thing could provoke such longing in him.
Impatience means that by the time Liem trails after him into the bathroom, he’s shouldered off his undone layers, leaving them on the floor in his wake. He kneels before Cardan bare to the waist, and though the look he aims up at him is level enough to suggest some degree of rebellion lurking behind it, spurred by impatience or some scrap of pride, he still props his husband’s shoe against his thigh and works it undone with quick, compliant fingers.]
I cannot decide if that makes you more alluring, or if your allure makes you more vexing.
[ He laughs, delighted at Liem's obedience and his impatience and his lithe shirtlessness. Cardan will watch Liem kneel before him with all the arrogance of a monarch receiving his due -- watch the nimble fingers untangle his laces, watch the flash of stubborn pride. Helpless affection fills him alongside his customary avarice, warming his face with an unexpected flush.
As always, everything Liem gives him only makes him only more possessive. ]
What a terrible man you make of me, [ he murmurs, tenderly. His fingers trail idly down his own stomach. Lazily, unhurriedly, he will undo the fly of his trousers so he can slide long fingers inside, so he can take himself in hand and stroke.
And even with his best attempts at languor, his breath stutters to a halt with the pleasure of it. In an effort not to shiver, his teeth dig into his lip. He is piteously hard; he has been hard for what feels like close to an hour, since he'd first put his hand on Liem's throat and made him pause in his task.
But then, is not all of their marriage built on the foundation of frustrated desire? He breathes out, carefully, and then does it again -- a slow, deceptively lazy rhythm, as if he isn't going a little insane already. He wants Liem: he wants his mouth, and he wants those obedient, efficient hands, and he wants his pliant pleasure and the sharp edge of his teeth. He wants those things desperately, and yet--
His gaze, though heavy-lidded, never leaves Liem's face. ]
That's one, [ he says, of the shoe, ignoring the breathy hitch in his own voice. ]
[For all his compliance and his clever fingers, Liem cannot truly make a good attendant when he is so painfully distracted by the man who he’s meant to be undressing. He swallows as he absently sets the first shoe aside, his gaze fixed on his half-clothed spouse as Cardan slides his hand down his belly to slip it inside his own trousers. He can no more tear his gaze from the sight of his obvious pleasure than he could deafen himself to the music of his speeding pulse or the breathy sound of his voice.
Liem desperately, impatiently wants Cardan bared to his touch. That he is not presently permitted to touch him does not even cross his mind; he is too busy lifting Cardan’s other foot onto his lap, unlacing the shoe entirely by feel as he continues to level a devouring stare at his spouse.
He does not remain at his husband’s feet once he’s pulled the other shoe free, but stands again so he can cage him against the table at his back. His fingertips trail up Cardan’s thighs to pause at the waist of his trousers, just a twitch away from the bare, vulnerable skin of his flanks.]
The bath is ready for you, Your Highness. [His words are a hushed murmur, accompanying the contemplative stroke of his thumbs over Cardan’s hips.] Aren’t you going to go in?
[ It's perverse, probably, for the threat of Liem's icy fingers at his waist to make him shiver into the next stroke of his hand, riding the hot little pang of lust it provokes. But fear ever does this to him -- makes his pulse hammer and the blood thunder in his throat, in his chest, beneath the thin skin of his wrists. Makes him wanton and stupid. He knew it would be like this. He'd known it from the night of their wedding, when he'd first stepped close to Liem and caught blood on his scent.
Besides, his husband looks delectable stripped to his waist and caught by desire, those bright eyes on Cardan's face. It is a shame Cardan can't kiss him without leaning a little too close. ]
...mm.
[ For a moment, it seems like that might be his only response. His eyes flutter closed. His grip on the table is hard; the fingers flex, a little helpless, in time with his heavy breaths. He could probably keep going -- could probably come just like this. Could make Liem watch him as he does, close enough to see and hear every detail of Cardan's coming undone.
But he's not sure even Liem's obedience runs so deep as to hold in that circumstance. So he forces himself to open his eyes again; his half-lidded gaze finds his husband's face, focuses on his features. ]
No, [ Cardan says, the word more deliberate for his effort to control his breathing, ] I've changed my mind.
Why don't you go first, husband?
[ In his defense: that tub is still suspiciously steamy, and his husband makes for a giant ice cube. Liem may be immune to scalding, but Cardan decidedly isn't. ]
[Cardan is wise to suppose that Liem’s restraint might not last in this circumstance, with Cardan caught in his grasp and so close to coming undone. His gaze on his husband is rapt, hungry; when Cardan’s eyes slide closed, he very nearly closes the remaining distance between them to paint impertinent kisses over his unguarded throat.
He might still, if he can’t persuade himself to resist.
The fingers slide from Cardan’s hips, one hand finding the table’s edge and the other the fastenings of his own shoe, which he simply lifts up behind him to unlace right where he stands. He finds himself uninclined to withdraw even slightly, at least before he must.]
What a tease you are.
[To keep him from his hot bath, to distract and waylay him, only to decide to send Liem on his way after all. To expect Liem to accommodate his whims even so.
He nudges off his first shoe; sets to unlacing the second. If he is leaning closer now, if his breath slides cool against his husband’s bare collarbone, surely he is just leaning against the table to keep his balance. His slow exhale is deliberate.]
[ He's pleased by the insistent way Liem stays in his space -- pleased, too, by the accusations that fall from his husband's lips. The tip of his tail flutters with it, even as he shivers against the threat of that chilled mouth on his skin, so close.
He doesn't bother repressing his grin. ]
Astray, husband?
[ Well, it is true that Liem is infinitely more pliable when he's horny. Cardan cannot pretend to fully understand it, but then he cannot recall ever desiring to be under someone else's control.
There are many things about his husband he does not yet understand.
But it doesn't matter; he doesn't need to understand Liem to want him, clearly. What he needs is for his husband to hurry up with the undressing, to get in the bath, and warm up so that Cardan can give up on the farce of pretending to have patience. Already, his breaths come a little too quickly. He had gone very still when Liem had tipped closer: a convenient enough excuse to give himself a break from his incessant desire. ]
Is there elsewhere you ought to be?
[ His tone says, Of course not. In fact, Liem never ought to be anywhere but where Cardan wants him -- which is here, with Cardan, and preferably also with fewer articles of clothing. ]
[It is well that Cardan is pleased by Liem’s impudence, because now that he’s close like this again, close enough to appreciate the green scent and impertinent heat coming off his husband’s skin, he has no desire to go quietly to his bath without first claiming some pleasure for himself. His husband has drawn the game out too long, touched him too little, and he now finds himself wishing to repay just a little of his mischief.
That, and Cardan does look so eminently desirable like this. Who could be expected to resist?
Now finished his unlacing, he nudges off his other shoe, returning his free hand to his husband’s hip. Of course there is nowhere else he ought to be; he is Cardan’s for the rest of the night, after all. And in almost every way that matters, he will be Cardan’s for far longer than that.
And for now, Cardan is his.
Liem’s fingers slide up to curl over the slim curve of his waist. His mouth dips to smear a chill kiss against the hollow of his throat. Cold lips move against blood-warm skin.]
Not anymore.
[He will retreat, finally, towards the bath, stepping back and undoing his trousers as he goes. Then, shucking the last of his clothes, leaving them abandoned on the tile, Liem slides into the bath with a sigh.]
Ah-- [ He doesn't actually expect Liem to touch him, and so his gasp is coloured by surprise -- among other things. It is perverse that his husband's ice-cold touch on his skin, administered so precisely and impertinently, only sets off bright sparks of pleasure. He tenses, swallows-- his instinct to flinch away fighting the pleasure of Liem's mouth on his throat, no matter the temperature of him.
He shouldn't let Liem do this. That isn't what his husband expects of him, surely; besides, if he keeps letting Liem get away with mischief, he's going to end up on the back foot sooner rather than later.
He's just not feeling particularly punitive at the moment. How can he, when he's distracted by Liem undressing, busy watching him peel off his trousers and slip into the water? Beneath lids heavy with desire, his gaze is as intent as it's ever been. ]
My husband has grown so unruly, [ he complains, but it doesn't sound aggrieved at all.
Now that Liem has moved away, the prospect of jerking off against the little table has abruptly lost most of its charm, so Cardan abandons his pretense of languid debauchery -- or, at least, he abandons his current location. Not that he particularly hurries with his own trousers: it's going to take Liem a minute to cool the water down sufficiently, anyway.
Still, his own pants join Liem's on the floor shortly, and then he's ambling over to the tub, insouciant in everything except his stare. ]
Are you going to let me get in on my own, this time?
[ He's not particularly concerned about it, given how immediately he perches on the tub's rim, situating himself so he leans over Liem. ]
[Liem will never tire of the reactions his husband makes when he tastes him like this: the little moments when desire catches him off-guard, makes his breath catch and his heart stutter. He’s known it since the day after the attempted assassination, when Cardan had come undone so beautifully in his hands. Some part of him will always want to make Cardan his.
It keeps him distracted from his bath even as the heat falls on him like a weight, making him shudder as he sinks beneath the water’s surface. His gaze nonetheless remains caught on his spouse, regarding him hungrily from over the rim of the tub.]
You have encouraged me to be so.
[Surely Liem would not be so unruly if his husband were not so provocative. Surely he would be less demanding if Cardan were not so desirable. He was mild mannered enough before he was married; only one man could have caused this transformation.
The look he has fixed his husband with is assessing. He hasn’t yet decided to lunge from the water like a bathtub-dwelling crocodile, but the temptation still lingers in his gaze. Cardan rarely looks so edible as when he’s in a state of undress.]
And that depends on which of us has less patience remaining. [One hand emerges from the heated water, but only to trace a dripping fingertip down Cardan’s chest.] I’d think we’re both in short supply by now.
[ Cardan quirks one black brow at Liem, ignoring the soft shiver that takes him, from between his shoulder blades to the tip of his tail, at the trail of that wet finger. He will never be used to Liem fresh from a bath; it feels magical, every time, when his usually-cool lover touches him with warm hands. ]
So you think.
[ Cardan has no intention of sliding into the bath — yet. At the very least, he should make sure that it’s cooled from near-boiling. Leaning in, he dips his hand into the bath, the other braced on its rim to support him as he trails light fingertips over Liem’s knee. They draw slowly up the inside of his thigh, soundless under the water. ]
But you’ve taught me to temper my impatience, husband. How else was I to torment you?
[ And if anything ever motivates him, it’s mischief.
He grins, and dips down to brush his mouth against the wet tip of Liem’s ear. ]
[No matter how unruly the tenor of his thoughts, Liem can never quite help the flare of eagerness that lights in him when his husband puts his hands on him and tells him to be good. Cardan must know it; why else would he say it like that, on the heels of admitting his desire to torment him?
He must notice the subtle indraw of Liem’s breath at the slide of fingers up his thigh, the way Liem’s own hand goes still on Cardan’s chest when lips brush his ear. Probably he could see Liem’s sudden, obscene longing on his face if he weren’t busy at the side of his head.
Liem sulks a little, rueful, sinking a little deeper into the water. It nudges his chin when he speaks.]
Your wish is ever my command.
[Even if he has been aching with the desire to get his hands on his husband since long before Cardan started teasing him. Even if Cardan still smells of summer, and he so badly wants to thaw beneath the heat of his kisses.
… Well. Perhaps he is not quite so good as to deny himself all his wants, because his wet hand slides up to Cardan’s neck, and his face tips up so he can find his husband’s mouth with his own. Why shouldn’t he? His husband is right here, leant obligingly close, and right now Liem can think of no reason to resist him.]
[ Cardan's sharp little smile flashes between them, at odds with the tender ascent of his fingers up Liem's thigh or the pleased, smug affection that flares in his chest every time Liem sulks. ]
Oh, if only that were true.
[ His tone is dry.
But it's fine, even if Liem is stubborn, even if he can't be convinced to give up his endless worry for Cardan's well-being or stop leaving their bed before dusk. Cardan won't deny that having absolute power over someone -- over Liem -- is tempting, but in the end, he thinks he would rather win his regard with cleverness, not compulsion.
After all, could an enthralled man kiss him so? Could he make desire curl its sinuous fingers around Cardan, make him throb and ache with it even as he kisses back, indulgent and wanting? Cardan doesn't want to think so.
So he indulges instead, as his hand makes its journey upward-- veering into the crease of Liem's thigh to trace up to the narrow slant of his hip, then to his abdomen. Cardan's fingers splay there, blatantly possessive of the lithe body under his touch. When he pulls back to breathe, the gold in his eyes is almost entirely suffused by the black of pupils blown wide with desire.
Liem wasn't wrong. He isn't feeling particularly patient, after all.
He's going to rise, keeping his hand on Liem as he does so. As he steps around to the head of the tub, his fingers curl over Liem's neck, affectionately greedy. ]
[It’s a little astonishing that Cardan could fail to realize how earnest Liem is in his claim that he is compelled to obey his husband’s wishes. Perhaps it is not true in the strictest, most literal sense, and there have been some marked deviations from the trend—but Liem takes such pleasure from indulging his husband’s whims, and he is so easily persuaded to go out of his way to do so. Surely Cardan can tell how desperate Liem is to please him. Surely he knows that if he dearly wished for something Liem could provide, he’d need only to ask.
But perhaps it is only that his husband is greedy, and begrudges the things that he is yet denied.
Certainly Liem cannot blame him—not when the longing in Cardan’s kisses makes desire burn, impatient, beneath his skin, and the possessive touch wandering his body makes him shiver with want for more. He does not want to wait. He wants Cardan’s body sliding against his, heated and hungry, and the frustration makes him restless. His hands want to wander. His mouth wants to bite. It’s just his misfortune that Cardan pulls away again, leaving him to his impatience.
He does not hesitate to move when directed, propelled by the soft cadence of his lover’s voice and the warm hand cradling his neck—though he does turn to glance behind him, leaning slightly into those damp fingers, his eyelids heavy with the weight of his desire to be touched.]
[ For a breathless moment, Cardan will hold Liem’s gaze. He wants to savour it. Some part of him is forever seduced by the way his husband shifts towards his touch, as a flower drawn to sunshine. It is surely only natural for someone so desirous of affection as Liem, and yet no other lover has ever made Cardan feel so— irreplaceable. Like it’s him that Liem is drawn to — not the crown, not the heat of his blood, not dutiful bonds of marriage, but Cardan himself.
As hopeful conceits go, it’s spectacularly frightening.
But this is hardly the time to dwell. Instead, he will climb inside the tub — shuddering, just a little, at the heat of the water as he settles in behind his lover. His arm winds around Liem’s waist, pulling him close, between Cardan’s thighs, until his back is flush to Cardan’s chest. It feels like relief — to let his greedy hands roam over Liem’s bath-slick skin, to wrap himself around him and cradle him close. His mouth presses to Liem’s shoulder. A hand slips down, fingers closing around Liem’s hip to pull him flush against the erection Cardan’s been nursing since before he’d even started stripping. And if Liem hears his sharp little breath in, if he feels the heavy thump of Cardan’s heart in his chest, then that’s just as well. Cardan wants him to know. ]
You are, [ he sighs, mouth trailing up, to the side of his lover’s neck, ] uniquely talented in testing my composure.
[By now, Liem is long past questioning the way Cardan’s arms wrapping around him feel so much like home. If it is strange that the feel of his husband pressed flush against him should ease some unknown tension behind his ribs, should make him relax into his embrace with bone-deep relief every single time, he has ceased to acknowledge it. He simply gives in to the greedy, insistent hands pulling him closer, and melts back against Cardan with a sigh.
He wants those hands on more than just his waist, his hip—but as always, his delight in his husband’s closeness hamstrings his impatience even as it feeds his desire. And the mouth roaming his shoulder and neck is exquisitely distracting. He cannot help but tilt his head to invite more of Cardan’s attention there, even as a pleased smile curves his lips.]
Am I not simply acquiescing to your demands?
[He has been waiting, just as Cardan said, with all the patience he could muster. And if his hand slides over Cardan’s own thigh now that he’s in the water with him, if he braces against it to move his hips, to shift his weight just slightly where he rests against his lover’s body, surely such a small thing is permitted to him.]
[ He sounds distracted, because he is: how could he not be, when Liem is moving against him as he is? Cardan's eyes fall shut; the grip of his hands tightens, clutching at his husband with the shivery pleasure of his closeness, of the minute friction.
He's more than just permissive. The clasp of his hand on Liem's hip encourages -- urges him to keep going. ]
You've warmed up, [ he murmurs, sounding a little enchanted with it. In contrast with his heavy breaths and keen heartbeat, the kisses he smears over Liem's skin are lazy, meandering a little. He so rarely gets to predate upon the nape of Liem's neck; accosting him from behind always feels a little extra wicked. ] And no. I don't think you were patient at all.
[ But when has Cardan ever wanted Liem to be patient? He wants him needy and eager and barely restrained; what pique is there in teasing a lover who keeps himself calmly restrained all the while?
The hand on Liem's waist moves, Cardan's long fingers splaying over his midsection. When they move lower, it's with a languor which suggests he's not quite done teasing yet. ]
[Cardan’s reply coaxes a chuckle from Liem—even as he rolls his hips again in obliging answer to the hand urging him on, even as his husband’s leisurely kisses and thundering heart and hard cock make eagerness race beneath his own skin. Admittedly, he does not feel patient. He feels sensitive and stretched tight over the keen edge of his anticipation, lust flaring hot in him with every caress of warm lips over his neck and every rub of his husband’s erection against his hips. His waiting continues to be ruled primarily by frustration.]
Impatiently, then.
[He concedes this, breathless, as Cardan’s fingers trail lazily over his midsection. His immersion in the bath makes him a little less ticklish than usual, but he is still sensitive there, still primed for touch, and his squirm against Cardan isn’t patient at all.
Somehow, it is always worse—or rather, more difficult—when Cardan is behind him. Even when Liem is unrestrained and in control of his faculties, having his husband pressed like this against his back always makes him feel a little more vulnerable, more exposed to his lover’s predations. He is acutely conscious of the freedom Cardan has to touch him however he likes, virtually everywhere he is most sensitive, and of his own inability to do the same.
But unsurprisingly, he can’t say he minds this at all.]
I was waiting to be at your mercy, [he says with satisfaction.] And I am.
[ Before their union, Cardan had thought he'd met plenty of people who would have given much and more to be at his mercy -- or lack thereof. They seemed like fools to him then, moths drawn to the twin flames of his cruelty and his royal blood. This, naturally, made them all the more deserving of his disdain.
None of those people had offered themselves to him as unwaveringly Liem does. He cannot think of a single time -- barring the threat to dunk his shoes in the tub -- that his husband had not been eager in the face of his threats. Cardan thought he recognized the trick, except that for him, it had always been an act of defiant spite.
But Liem isn't spiteful. When he squirms against Cardan's erection, he's pleased -- and why shouldn't he be, when it pulls a bitten-off groan from Cardan's throat, breathless with helpless lust? No one else has ever gotten him this overstimulated with their mere closeness. Cardan uses his teeth in return, intent on leaving a mark, knowing full well that this will only please Liem more.
It is impossible to be disdainful of a man so horny for every single one of Cardan's punishments.
So he doesn't bother. Under the water, his fingers traverse Liem's body, inexorable and unhurried as a cat's lazy stretch. ]
When are you ever not at my mercy? You are mine, are you not?
[ He says it with all the royal entitlement he can muster, which is a significant amount. The mark his teeth made is already fading; he presses his mouth to it, his breath heavy. ] This is mine.
[ His hand dips lower still, between the sharp vee of Liem's hipbones. ] And this is mine.
[ And lower, still, until he reaches his goal -- wrapping his fingers lazily around Liem's cock. ]
And this is mine also.
[ And why should Cardan not touch the beautiful things that belong to him? He strokes, indulgent, his touch deliberately light. ]
[Nothing could be more rewarding than the lust-soaked groan Liem pulls from his husband or the punitive bite gripping his neck. The spike of sensation jolts straight to his dick, making him gasp and arch eagerly into Cardan’s embrace. One of his hands lifts from his husband’s thigh so he can reach up and behind him instead, cupping the back of Cardan’s head as if to keep him there, with his cruel mouth hot against his skin.]
Ha… well…
[He cannot deny his lover’s arrogant, self-indulgent greed, not when Cardan’s lips murmur against his flushed, bitten neck, and certainly not when the hand traversing his stomach slides down to wrap around his cock. The languid tease of it makes it impossible to entirely restrain another needy squirm of his hips.]
Yes, [he breathes. Of course he is Cardan’s. Even if he must always also belong to someone else, Cardan’s hands are the ones he gives himself to so eagerly night after night. Even when it’s unwise and inconvenient. And even when he is not in his husband’s embrace, he is still a slave to his whims, because he cannot resist the opportunity to please him. He would risk much, is risking much, for the privilege of being of service to him.
How fortunate that Cardan’s possessive touch strayed down to his hips, instead of up to splay over his heart.]
[ He loves this the most: when Liem arches into his touch, when he pulls Cardan close and gives himself over. It is so unlike the man he knows his husband to be at any other time — immaculately dressed and meticulously self-controlled, sedate in his joy and irritation alike. He isn’t sedate now: not when he’s squirming right against Cardan’s cock, and definitely not when he sighs out his answer.
Of course Cardan expects to hear yes. Anything else would have spoiled the mood. That doesn’t make the hot thrill of desire any less potent, and with it — the strange, possessive tenderness that always finds him as of late. It occurs to Cardan, not for the first time, that he wants Liem to know just how much he wants him. Because Liem always seems delighted to hear it, and because Cardan cannot help but be enamoured with his rare delight.
His breath is a little ragged with it.
It’s a foolish thing, confession. Almost as foolish as trusting a man who needs him only to sate his loneliness.
The hand not engaged with Liem’s cock traverses over the inside of his thigh — and he likes that, too, likes touching the tender, fragile parts of him that only Cardan gets to see. ]
I want you, [ Cardan tells him, after all, fervently. He drags his tongue over the bite mark, then trails a path of hungry kisses up to Liem’s ear.
And only you, he doesn’t say, even though it’s true. Instead: ]
I can’t wait very long. Liem—
[ It’s a problem. It’s a problem because they’re in the bath, and there is no oil, and as delightful as it is to have Liem’s ass rubbing against his erection every time he moves, they will have to separate if they are to get anything done. ]
I want you to get yourself ready.
[ It’s the first time he’d asked Liem to do it. Anticipation shivers up his spine. He wants to see it, wants to see Liem stretching himself for his cock, wants to see what he’s like when he’s left to his own desire.
Besides, this way, Cardan’s impatience won’t get the best of them both. ]
[Liem shivers with it—the way Cardan’s heated confession rumbles against his neck, the hunger in the kisses he paints over Liem’s skin. He cannot help but want that mouth all over him, cannot help but want to be helplessly at its mercy, just as he wishes to be at the mercy of Cardan’s hands and Cardan’s cock. He’s being impatient, he knows; his husband has scarcely touched him, and already he feels desperate and overwrought. It’s just that he wishes so badly to belong to him, and when Cardan says things like this, the aching pleasure of his relief is all Liem can think of.
Even when his husband tells him troublesome things. Even when the weight of Cardan’s possessive, urgent desire means Liem must relinquish the pleasure of his embrace in order to fulfill his wishes. Liem inhales, short and sharp, as eagerness pulses beneath his skin, teased keen already. He turns to look at his lover, hand falling from his hair to slide down to his shoulder.
The look in Cardan’s eyes sends a thrill straight down to his belly.]
For that, [he murmurs,] you’ll have to let me go.
[Or maybe he won’t. Maybe Cardan will demand he fulfill his wants while he keeps him captive and makes his task more difficult, as he seems so fond of. That actually wouldn’t surprise Liem at all.
But he still twists, beginning to pull himself away from his husband so he can at least face him while he’s doing as he’s bid.]
[ Cardan laughs, soft and breathless. With Liem's twisting, he's forced to relinquish his hold on him -- but only momentarily. His hands pull away only to settle on Liem's waist and then sweep upward, indulgently, to toy with his nipples. ]
Never, [ he promises, and the grin he flashes at Liem is wolfish. He's not talking about tonight, though he doesn't want to let go of Liem now, either. Why would he? He likes inconveniencing his husband, likes setting him impossible tasks. He would probably like it even if he wasn't fey, if he hadn't inherited trickery as his birthright.
But there are other things to focus on. For example: Liem turning to face him, which means Cardan can lean in to kiss him again, greedy for the taste of him as if it were the first time. And, after all, he's not the one with the task; if he's distracting Liem, that's Liem's problem entirely. ]
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After which Cardan has to kiss him again, indulgent with longing -- because he wants to. Because no matter how cold Liem still might be, that quiet little sigh and the feel of him against Cardan kindles eager, irrepressible need in him. And because he wants his husband's desire to be even more demanding and torturous than his own, teased taut by his demands.
With the last of his buttons coming undone, his hands are free to return to Liem's face, slide into his hair. And when he's finally done, he will pull back -- and step back, pulling himself from the grasp of Liem's hands.
He watches his husband while undoing the cuffs of the shirt -- watches him, too, as he lets it slip off of his shoulders and crumple at his feet. ]
Or would you prefer one over the other?
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There is, he’s begun to suspect, probably nothing Cardan could do with his mouth that wouldn't delight him.
Certainly the way he kisses Liem only makes him more discontented to lose him when his husband moves back, pulling from his covetous grasp. His eyes narrow slightly as he watches Cardan’s shirt slip from him, exposing the lean, lovely body that he is presently forbidden from touching any of. Liem plucks his cuffs undone instead to occupy his hands, but his attention is not so easily redirected.]
Oh, I am always hungry for the latter.
[Perhaps that weeks-long stretch at the beginning of their marriage, when he had done nothing but weather Cardan’s constant menacing, turned Liem into some kind of pervert with an insatiable lust to be preyed upon. He cannot recall wishing for such a thing before the last six months—at least, not outside the realm of fantasy.]
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[ He'd often heard -- and shared -- the cruel insinuation that mortals must like being tricked, else why would they make it so easy? But Cardan didn't think he had ever believed it. No one truly liked being tricked, regardless of how deserved it was, or how foolish they were.
And then he'd met Liem.
He likes the distraction in his husband's face and his half-hearted attempt at his own cuffs. He likes that Liem watches him; he likes that narrow-eyed stare, the spark of thwarted annoyance that sometimes still flashes in his face when Cardan is being particularly unreasonable. Like right now, when he's denying Liem his warm-up bath -- denying them both the pleasure of fucking already, after what feels like hours of stolen kisses and breathless wanting.
But, as it turns out, Liem isn't the only pervert around.
Having rid himself of his shirt, Cardan only smiles and turns, heading into the bathroom he'd stopped Liem from entering. He's efficient, at least -- removing his rings on the way there, so that he may scatter the handful of them onto a low little table. After this, he turns and leans against it. ]
How lucky, that you've ended up with Elfhame's most vexing man.
[ Speaking of which: Cardan looks down, wiggles his covered toes, and then glances back at Liem. ]
My shoes, husband, if you would.
[ The shoes that he's still, uncharacteristically, wearing. ]
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And astonishingly, despite his best efforts… he does. He is eager for that smug, villainous smile, for the frustration his husband inflicts on him at his whim. When Cardan strolls into the bathroom and pauses there, glancing at him as he looks up from his shoes, the arrogance of his idle demand feels comfortable. It feels intimate.
He wouldn’t have guessed that such a thing could provoke such longing in him.
Impatience means that by the time Liem trails after him into the bathroom, he’s shouldered off his undone layers, leaving them on the floor in his wake. He kneels before Cardan bare to the waist, and though the look he aims up at him is level enough to suggest some degree of rebellion lurking behind it, spurred by impatience or some scrap of pride, he still props his husband’s shoe against his thigh and works it undone with quick, compliant fingers.]
I cannot decide if that makes you more alluring, or if your allure makes you more vexing.
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As always, everything Liem gives him only makes him only more possessive. ]
What a terrible man you make of me, [ he murmurs, tenderly. His fingers trail idly down his own stomach. Lazily, unhurriedly, he will undo the fly of his trousers so he can slide long fingers inside, so he can take himself in hand and stroke.
And even with his best attempts at languor, his breath stutters to a halt with the pleasure of it. In an effort not to shiver, his teeth dig into his lip. He is piteously hard; he has been hard for what feels like close to an hour, since he'd first put his hand on Liem's throat and made him pause in his task.
But then, is not all of their marriage built on the foundation of frustrated desire? He breathes out, carefully, and then does it again -- a slow, deceptively lazy rhythm, as if he isn't going a little insane already. He wants Liem: he wants his mouth, and he wants those obedient, efficient hands, and he wants his pliant pleasure and the sharp edge of his teeth. He wants those things desperately, and yet--
His gaze, though heavy-lidded, never leaves Liem's face. ]
That's one, [ he says, of the shoe, ignoring the breathy hitch in his own voice. ]
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Liem desperately, impatiently wants Cardan bared to his touch. That he is not presently permitted to touch him does not even cross his mind; he is too busy lifting Cardan’s other foot onto his lap, unlacing the shoe entirely by feel as he continues to level a devouring stare at his spouse.
He does not remain at his husband’s feet once he’s pulled the other shoe free, but stands again so he can cage him against the table at his back. His fingertips trail up Cardan’s thighs to pause at the waist of his trousers, just a twitch away from the bare, vulnerable skin of his flanks.]
The bath is ready for you, Your Highness. [His words are a hushed murmur, accompanying the contemplative stroke of his thumbs over Cardan’s hips.] Aren’t you going to go in?
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Besides, his husband looks delectable stripped to his waist and caught by desire, those bright eyes on Cardan's face. It is a shame Cardan can't kiss him without leaning a little too close. ]
...mm.
[ For a moment, it seems like that might be his only response. His eyes flutter closed. His grip on the table is hard; the fingers flex, a little helpless, in time with his heavy breaths. He could probably keep going -- could probably come just like this. Could make Liem watch him as he does, close enough to see and hear every detail of Cardan's coming undone.
But he's not sure even Liem's obedience runs so deep as to hold in that circumstance. So he forces himself to open his eyes again; his half-lidded gaze finds his husband's face, focuses on his features. ]
No, [ Cardan says, the word more deliberate for his effort to control his breathing, ] I've changed my mind.
Why don't you go first, husband?
[ In his defense: that tub is still suspiciously steamy, and his husband makes for a giant ice cube. Liem may be immune to scalding, but Cardan decidedly isn't. ]
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He might still, if he can’t persuade himself to resist.
The fingers slide from Cardan’s hips, one hand finding the table’s edge and the other the fastenings of his own shoe, which he simply lifts up behind him to unlace right where he stands. He finds himself uninclined to withdraw even slightly, at least before he must.]
What a tease you are.
[To keep him from his hot bath, to distract and waylay him, only to decide to send Liem on his way after all. To expect Liem to accommodate his whims even so.
He nudges off his first shoe; sets to unlacing the second. If he is leaning closer now, if his breath slides cool against his husband’s bare collarbone, surely he is just leaning against the table to keep his balance. His slow exhale is deliberate.]
I am so easily led astray by you.
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He doesn't bother repressing his grin. ]
Astray, husband?
[ Well, it is true that Liem is infinitely more pliable when he's horny. Cardan cannot pretend to fully understand it, but then he cannot recall ever desiring to be under someone else's control.
There are many things about his husband he does not yet understand.
But it doesn't matter; he doesn't need to understand Liem to want him, clearly. What he needs is for his husband to hurry up with the undressing, to get in the bath, and warm up so that Cardan can give up on the farce of pretending to have patience. Already, his breaths come a little too quickly. He had gone very still when Liem had tipped closer: a convenient enough excuse to give himself a break from his incessant desire. ]
Is there elsewhere you ought to be?
[ His tone says, Of course not. In fact, Liem never ought to be anywhere but where Cardan wants him -- which is here, with Cardan, and preferably also with fewer articles of clothing. ]
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That, and Cardan does look so eminently desirable like this. Who could be expected to resist?
Now finished his unlacing, he nudges off his other shoe, returning his free hand to his husband’s hip. Of course there is nowhere else he ought to be; he is Cardan’s for the rest of the night, after all. And in almost every way that matters, he will be Cardan’s for far longer than that.
And for now, Cardan is his.
Liem’s fingers slide up to curl over the slim curve of his waist. His mouth dips to smear a chill kiss against the hollow of his throat. Cold lips move against blood-warm skin.]
Not anymore.
[He will retreat, finally, towards the bath, stepping back and undoing his trousers as he goes. Then, shucking the last of his clothes, leaving them abandoned on the tile, Liem slides into the bath with a sigh.]
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He shouldn't let Liem do this. That isn't what his husband expects of him, surely; besides, if he keeps letting Liem get away with mischief, he's going to end up on the back foot sooner rather than later.
He's just not feeling particularly punitive at the moment. How can he, when he's distracted by Liem undressing, busy watching him peel off his trousers and slip into the water? Beneath lids heavy with desire, his gaze is as intent as it's ever been. ]
My husband has grown so unruly, [ he complains, but it doesn't sound aggrieved at all.
Now that Liem has moved away, the prospect of jerking off against the little table has abruptly lost most of its charm, so Cardan abandons his pretense of languid debauchery -- or, at least, he abandons his current location. Not that he particularly hurries with his own trousers: it's going to take Liem a minute to cool the water down sufficiently, anyway.
Still, his own pants join Liem's on the floor shortly, and then he's ambling over to the tub, insouciant in everything except his stare. ]
Are you going to let me get in on my own, this time?
[ He's not particularly concerned about it, given how immediately he perches on the tub's rim, situating himself so he leans over Liem. ]
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It keeps him distracted from his bath even as the heat falls on him like a weight, making him shudder as he sinks beneath the water’s surface. His gaze nonetheless remains caught on his spouse, regarding him hungrily from over the rim of the tub.]
You have encouraged me to be so.
[Surely Liem would not be so unruly if his husband were not so provocative. Surely he would be less demanding if Cardan were not so desirable. He was mild mannered enough before he was married; only one man could have caused this transformation.
The look he has fixed his husband with is assessing. He hasn’t yet decided to lunge from the water like a bathtub-dwelling crocodile, but the temptation still lingers in his gaze. Cardan rarely looks so edible as when he’s in a state of undress.]
And that depends on which of us has less patience remaining. [One hand emerges from the heated water, but only to trace a dripping fingertip down Cardan’s chest.] I’d think we’re both in short supply by now.
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So you think.
[ Cardan has no intention of sliding into the bath — yet. At the very least, he should make sure that it’s cooled from near-boiling. Leaning in, he dips his hand into the bath, the other braced on its rim to support him as he trails light fingertips over Liem’s knee. They draw slowly up the inside of his thigh, soundless under the water. ]
But you’ve taught me to temper my impatience, husband. How else was I to torment you?
[ And if anything ever motivates him, it’s mischief.
He grins, and dips down to brush his mouth against the wet tip of Liem’s ear. ]
Be good. Wait a little longer.
[ The water is still a little too hot, anyway. ]
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He must notice the subtle indraw of Liem’s breath at the slide of fingers up his thigh, the way Liem’s own hand goes still on Cardan’s chest when lips brush his ear. Probably he could see Liem’s sudden, obscene longing on his face if he weren’t busy at the side of his head.
Liem sulks a little, rueful, sinking a little deeper into the water. It nudges his chin when he speaks.]
Your wish is ever my command.
[Even if he has been aching with the desire to get his hands on his husband since long before Cardan started teasing him. Even if Cardan still smells of summer, and he so badly wants to thaw beneath the heat of his kisses.
… Well. Perhaps he is not quite so good as to deny himself all his wants, because his wet hand slides up to Cardan’s neck, and his face tips up so he can find his husband’s mouth with his own. Why shouldn’t he? His husband is right here, leant obligingly close, and right now Liem can think of no reason to resist him.]
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Oh, if only that were true.
[ His tone is dry.
But it's fine, even if Liem is stubborn, even if he can't be convinced to give up his endless worry for Cardan's well-being or stop leaving their bed before dusk. Cardan won't deny that having absolute power over someone -- over Liem -- is tempting, but in the end, he thinks he would rather win his regard with cleverness, not compulsion.
After all, could an enthralled man kiss him so? Could he make desire curl its sinuous fingers around Cardan, make him throb and ache with it even as he kisses back, indulgent and wanting? Cardan doesn't want to think so.
So he indulges instead, as his hand makes its journey upward-- veering into the crease of Liem's thigh to trace up to the narrow slant of his hip, then to his abdomen. Cardan's fingers splay there, blatantly possessive of the lithe body under his touch. When he pulls back to breathe, the gold in his eyes is almost entirely suffused by the black of pupils blown wide with desire.
Liem wasn't wrong. He isn't feeling particularly patient, after all.
He's going to rise, keeping his hand on Liem as he does so. As he steps around to the head of the tub, his fingers curl over Liem's neck, affectionately greedy. ]
Move forward, [ he asks, softly.
He means to get behind Liem, this time. ]
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But perhaps it is only that his husband is greedy, and begrudges the things that he is yet denied.
Certainly Liem cannot blame him—not when the longing in Cardan’s kisses makes desire burn, impatient, beneath his skin, and the possessive touch wandering his body makes him shiver with want for more. He does not want to wait. He wants Cardan’s body sliding against his, heated and hungry, and the frustration makes him restless. His hands want to wander. His mouth wants to bite. It’s just his misfortune that Cardan pulls away again, leaving him to his impatience.
He does not hesitate to move when directed, propelled by the soft cadence of his lover’s voice and the warm hand cradling his neck—though he does turn to glance behind him, leaning slightly into those damp fingers, his eyelids heavy with the weight of his desire to be touched.]
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As hopeful conceits go, it’s spectacularly frightening.
But this is hardly the time to dwell. Instead, he will climb inside the tub — shuddering, just a little, at the heat of the water as he settles in behind his lover. His arm winds around Liem’s waist, pulling him close, between Cardan’s thighs, until his back is flush to Cardan’s chest. It feels like relief — to let his greedy hands roam over Liem’s bath-slick skin, to wrap himself around him and cradle him close. His mouth presses to Liem’s shoulder. A hand slips down, fingers closing around Liem’s hip to pull him flush against the erection Cardan’s been nursing since before he’d even started stripping. And if Liem hears his sharp little breath in, if he feels the heavy thump of Cardan’s heart in his chest, then that’s just as well. Cardan wants him to know. ]
You are, [ he sighs, mouth trailing up, to the side of his lover’s neck, ] uniquely talented in testing my composure.
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He wants those hands on more than just his waist, his hip—but as always, his delight in his husband’s closeness hamstrings his impatience even as it feeds his desire. And the mouth roaming his shoulder and neck is exquisitely distracting. He cannot help but tilt his head to invite more of Cardan’s attention there, even as a pleased smile curves his lips.]
Am I not simply acquiescing to your demands?
[He has been waiting, just as Cardan said, with all the patience he could muster. And if his hand slides over Cardan’s own thigh now that he’s in the water with him, if he braces against it to move his hips, to shift his weight just slightly where he rests against his lover’s body, surely such a small thing is permitted to him.]
I have waited so patiently.
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[ He sounds distracted, because he is: how could he not be, when Liem is moving against him as he is? Cardan's eyes fall shut; the grip of his hands tightens, clutching at his husband with the shivery pleasure of his closeness, of the minute friction.
He's more than just permissive. The clasp of his hand on Liem's hip encourages -- urges him to keep going. ]
You've warmed up, [ he murmurs, sounding a little enchanted with it. In contrast with his heavy breaths and keen heartbeat, the kisses he smears over Liem's skin are lazy, meandering a little. He so rarely gets to predate upon the nape of Liem's neck; accosting him from behind always feels a little extra wicked. ] And no. I don't think you were patient at all.
[ But when has Cardan ever wanted Liem to be patient? He wants him needy and eager and barely restrained; what pique is there in teasing a lover who keeps himself calmly restrained all the while?
The hand on Liem's waist moves, Cardan's long fingers splaying over his midsection. When they move lower, it's with a languor which suggests he's not quite done teasing yet. ]
And what is it you're waiting for?
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Impatiently, then.
[He concedes this, breathless, as Cardan’s fingers trail lazily over his midsection. His immersion in the bath makes him a little less ticklish than usual, but he is still sensitive there, still primed for touch, and his squirm against Cardan isn’t patient at all.
Somehow, it is always worse—or rather, more difficult—when Cardan is behind him. Even when Liem is unrestrained and in control of his faculties, having his husband pressed like this against his back always makes him feel a little more vulnerable, more exposed to his lover’s predations. He is acutely conscious of the freedom Cardan has to touch him however he likes, virtually everywhere he is most sensitive, and of his own inability to do the same.
But unsurprisingly, he can’t say he minds this at all.]
I was waiting to be at your mercy, [he says with satisfaction.] And I am.
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None of those people had offered themselves to him as unwaveringly Liem does. He cannot think of a single time -- barring the threat to dunk his shoes in the tub -- that his husband had not been eager in the face of his threats. Cardan thought he recognized the trick, except that for him, it had always been an act of defiant spite.
But Liem isn't spiteful. When he squirms against Cardan's erection, he's pleased -- and why shouldn't he be, when it pulls a bitten-off groan from Cardan's throat, breathless with helpless lust? No one else has ever gotten him this overstimulated with their mere closeness. Cardan uses his teeth in return, intent on leaving a mark, knowing full well that this will only please Liem more.
It is impossible to be disdainful of a man so horny for every single one of Cardan's punishments.
So he doesn't bother. Under the water, his fingers traverse Liem's body, inexorable and unhurried as a cat's lazy stretch. ]
When are you ever not at my mercy? You are mine, are you not?
[ He says it with all the royal entitlement he can muster, which is a significant amount. The mark his teeth made is already fading; he presses his mouth to it, his breath heavy. ] This is mine.
[ His hand dips lower still, between the sharp vee of Liem's hipbones. ] And this is mine.
[ And lower, still, until he reaches his goal -- wrapping his fingers lazily around Liem's cock. ]
And this is mine also.
[ And why should Cardan not touch the beautiful things that belong to him? He strokes, indulgent, his touch deliberately light. ]
Isn't it, Liem?
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Ha… well…
[He cannot deny his lover’s arrogant, self-indulgent greed, not when Cardan’s lips murmur against his flushed, bitten neck, and certainly not when the hand traversing his stomach slides down to wrap around his cock. The languid tease of it makes it impossible to entirely restrain another needy squirm of his hips.]
Yes, [he breathes. Of course he is Cardan’s. Even if he must always also belong to someone else, Cardan’s hands are the ones he gives himself to so eagerly night after night. Even when it’s unwise and inconvenient. And even when he is not in his husband’s embrace, he is still a slave to his whims, because he cannot resist the opportunity to please him. He would risk much, is risking much, for the privilege of being of service to him.
How fortunate that Cardan’s possessive touch strayed down to his hips, instead of up to splay over his heart.]
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Of course Cardan expects to hear yes. Anything else would have spoiled the mood. That doesn’t make the hot thrill of desire any less potent, and with it — the strange, possessive tenderness that always finds him as of late. It occurs to Cardan, not for the first time, that he wants Liem to know just how much he wants him. Because Liem always seems delighted to hear it, and because Cardan cannot help but be enamoured with his rare delight.
His breath is a little ragged with it.
It’s a foolish thing, confession. Almost as foolish as trusting a man who needs him only to sate his loneliness.
The hand not engaged with Liem’s cock traverses over the inside of his thigh — and he likes that, too, likes touching the tender, fragile parts of him that only Cardan gets to see. ]
I want you, [ Cardan tells him, after all, fervently. He drags his tongue over the bite mark, then trails a path of hungry kisses up to Liem’s ear.
And only you, he doesn’t say, even though it’s true. Instead: ]
I can’t wait very long. Liem—
[ It’s a problem. It’s a problem because they’re in the bath, and there is no oil, and as delightful as it is to have Liem’s ass rubbing against his erection every time he moves, they will have to separate if they are to get anything done. ]
I want you to get yourself ready.
[ It’s the first time he’d asked Liem to do it. Anticipation shivers up his spine. He wants to see it, wants to see Liem stretching himself for his cock, wants to see what he’s like when he’s left to his own desire.
Besides, this way, Cardan’s impatience won’t get the best of them both. ]
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Even when his husband tells him troublesome things. Even when the weight of Cardan’s possessive, urgent desire means Liem must relinquish the pleasure of his embrace in order to fulfill his wishes. Liem inhales, short and sharp, as eagerness pulses beneath his skin, teased keen already. He turns to look at his lover, hand falling from his hair to slide down to his shoulder.
The look in Cardan’s eyes sends a thrill straight down to his belly.]
For that, [he murmurs,] you’ll have to let me go.
[Or maybe he won’t. Maybe Cardan will demand he fulfill his wants while he keeps him captive and makes his task more difficult, as he seems so fond of. That actually wouldn’t surprise Liem at all.
But he still twists, beginning to pull himself away from his husband so he can at least face him while he’s doing as he’s bid.]
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Never, [ he promises, and the grin he flashes at Liem is wolfish. He's not talking about tonight, though he doesn't want to let go of Liem now, either. Why would he? He likes inconveniencing his husband, likes setting him impossible tasks. He would probably like it even if he wasn't fey, if he hadn't inherited trickery as his birthright.
But there are other things to focus on. For example: Liem turning to face him, which means Cardan can lean in to kiss him again, greedy for the taste of him as if it were the first time. And, after all, he's not the one with the task; if he's distracting Liem, that's Liem's problem entirely. ]
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