[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. ]
[Every time Cardan toys with him like this, makes his task difficult just because he can, just because he wants to see if Liem will permit it yet again, Liem is reminded of just how much his husband has him wrapped around his finger. Even if he expects his husband to keep teasing him when he twists away and moves to straddle his lap, even when Cardan’s hands climb his body to toy with his chest, making his teeth dig into his lip and his breath catch in his throat, he doesn’t hesitate to indulge his demand.
Because it sends a thrill through him every time, flaring inside him and sparking along the path of Cardan’s hands, scorching inside his ribs in the wake of that painfully handsome grin—and because Liem is more stubborn than he cares to admit, and he hates to back down from a challenge, even one so trivial as this.
Besides, when has he ever not craved Cardan’s attention? It feels like he’s been wanting it forever, even since before they were married; he can’t imagine relinquishing it now.
When Cardan kisses him, his response is automatic: the eager invitation in his own kiss, the slide of his arm around his lover’s shoulders, keeping him close. Cardan might be inconvenienced if he wishes to watch, considering Liem’s own unflagging greed for him, even as he slips his free hand down between his thighs and presses inside.]
[ Cardan is inconvenienced. He's inconvenienced by the desire that pulls at him when Liem cants close; he's inconvenienced by the way he doesn't ever want to stop kissing him; he's inconvenienced, of course, by the fact that he wanted to watch Liem, and cannot do both things at once.
But.
But.
He shivers as he pulls away, pressing back against the edge of the tub. ]
I want to see you.
[ Greed is such a difficult mistress. But he cannot feel too bereft when Liem is in his lap -- Cardan's favourite place for him, aside from when he's in Liem's lap instead. The compact, bath-warm weight of him makes satisfaction pulse through Cardan, heady with lust and affection and need.
He forever feels like he's demanding too much -- has felt like he's demanded too much all his life. He's never quite understood why Liem indulges him, but perhaps it doesn't matter. Perhaps it's only that pleasure makes fools of them both.
He intends for it to make a slightly bigger fool of his husband, at least just now. When his fingers wrap around Liem again, their stroke is demanding, as focused as the heated stare Cardan directs his way. Liem looks most irresistible, after all, when he's caught up in urgency, just this side of desperate with his need.
[Even given Liem’s eagerness to please, his bone-deep want to surrender to Cardan’s desires, he struggles to stop himself from pursuing his husband back against the tub’s edge. He has not spent the last few hours maintaining a considerate distance between Cardan’s skin and his own frigid body only to stay away now that he has been properly thawed out.
He remains greedy for the pleasure of his husband’s mouth on his, and the feel of his body pressed close. Liem cannot remember ever feeling so possessive of such a thing before, but he is now, more so than he’s sure what to do with.
Even so, he relaxes his hold; gives Cardan his wish, sitting back with one last, hungry nip of teeth, free hand now draped over his shoulder—but the intent look Liem levels his way betrays how his thoughts linger on the memory of his husband’s kisses. Maybe he can manage this only because, for all his greed for his husband’s touch, he’s become just as covetous of the hunger in Cardan’s own gaze.]
Cardan, [he murmurs, breathing deliberately through the curl and flex of his own fingers inside his body—something he has not done since before their marriage. The insistent stroking of Cardan’s fingers makes his spine arch and his eyes sink closed for a long moment, stuttering his hand as it moves between his thighs, working him open. He cannot entirely stop the way his breaths want to gasp from his lungs as Cardan teases more urgency from him. He sighs, impatient, squirming into his husband’s touch.]
The liberties I grant you… to capture your desire.
[ Liem's impatience is difficult to withstand. It is especially difficult when he's in Cardan's lap, when Cardan can feel every squirm and hear every helpless gasp that falls from his husband's lips. His mouth still tingles with the memory of those dangerous teeth. He has to fight the urge to pull Liem close and demand his husband bite him again, and again, until they've both had their fill of each other.
But maybe such a threshold doesn't exist.
The black gaze on Liem is ravenous. Cardan's lips part; his exhalation is a little shaky. The rhythm of his stroking stutters, too, becomes a little more desperate, more erratic in pace with his own rising need. His gaze catches on Liem's throat, his chest, the hard cock trapped in Cardan's unrelenting caress, the subtle flex of the muscle in his forearm as he fingers himself open. He doesn't know how he's meant to endure it; he doesn't know how any man would. ]
I shouldn't tell you, then, that it's been yours all this time.
[ It's phrased like a joke, except he's not smiling. He catches the hand braced against his shoulder in his own, brings it to his mouth so he can kiss each elegant finger, his breath breaking against Liem's cool skin. ]
[Despite his efforts, despite his control and his attempt to recall his patience, the insistent fingers stroking Liem’s cock soon graduate from distracting to overwhelming. Heat throbs through him, pulling a groan of frustration from his throat as the pace of that caress grows more frantic. It is all Cardan’s fault: his gaze is too hungry, his breath too unsteady, his touch too desperate. How is Liem meant to hold onto his own composure when he must weather such an assault on his restraint?]
I can’t—
[Is he disputing that he could deny Cardan, or that he can endure any more of this? Certainly his body trembles with tension even as he works to coax himself open. His eyes, heavy and a little vague with desire, are glued to the mouth caressing his fingers, somehow even more dangerous now than it was while kissing his lips. Concentration makes a crumpled frown of his brow.
Liem shudders, his own fingers stilling in his effort to pull himself back from the edge he’s rapidly approaching. His voice is rough with it.]
[ Cardan's demand is urgent; his rhythm doesn’t slow, doesn’t stutter. The rest of him has gone still with a focused, sharp tension. He should be distracted — the desperate need to see Liem coming undone pulses through him like a heartbeat. And still, and still— ]
I won't let you.
[ He's done it before, hadn't he? He knows too well by now what his husband looks like in the throes of pleasure, when he's teetering just on the edge. Cardan can pull him back — will pull him back.
[For a moment, the helpless distraction on Liem’s face takes an edge of startlement, suddenly off-balance when he’d already been overwhelmed. He hadn’t expected Cardan to say so confidently this thing that Liem had never actually told him. It wasn’t supposed to be obvious.
But Cardan still maintains his urgent stroking, and despite himself Liem moves his own fingers in automatic acquiescence to his demand, and his surprise cannot withstand the weight of the pleasure rolling through him in heavy, inescapable waves. Even if he had the presence of mind to consider it, perhaps he would concede that he has worn his trust, like his longing, more plainly than he’d cared to admit.
Maybe Cardan didn’t mean it like that—but he’s still right.
Already Liem is so close. Need rages through him, beating beneath his skin, eager to spill out—and still he trembles with the effort of not squirming into Cardan’s touch, or his own; still he works himself open for his lover, despite the tease of it.
There is only so much that he can take.
His free hand finds Cardan’s chest, nails dragging red trails over pale skin as sensation swells and crashes over him, threatening to drag him under. Try as he might, he cannot resist it: not Cardan’s greedy touch or his intent gaze or his insistent demands that leave no room for defiance. He doesn’t want to resist it—he never does, really, and ultimately that’s what always does him in, no matter how he struggles.]
[ If there’s anything that saves Cardan, it’s that Liem’s pleasure is so overwhelming.
He cannot take his eyes off of him — cannot spare even a tiny bit of attention to anything but him: his trembling and his surprise and the stunning, awful, possessive need he inspires in Cardan. It howls inside him, so loud he forgets about his own pleasure entirely; it's all he can do to remember breathing.
His face feels hot with the vehemence of his own desire.
He watches Liem, watches his obedience and his pleasure and the intensity that pulses through him as he races up to the precipice of his orgasm, teeters on the edge--
Only at the last moment does Cardan deny him. The grip of his fingers is sudden, precise, and unforgiving, clasping tightly around Liem. Cardan's heart skips a beat with it; his quiet gasp is expectant. His husband is warm, under the water, with the bath's stolen heat on his skin; in the perfectly still moment of refusal, Cardan can imagine feeling a pulse there, right against the tips of his fingers -- though in the end it is only his blood, his own racing pulse.
Liem is the most beautiful thing Cardan has ever seen. ]
I told you, [ he says, in a voice so soft he doesn't quite recognize it as his own. ]
[He’s expecting it when Cardan’s hand on him suddenly stops, clasps tight and forbidding when moments before it had been urging him headlong towards climax. He’s expecting it, but even so, abruptly-thwarted need has a whine clawing from his throat as he’s caught between the battering tide of his pleasure and Cardan’s unyielding grip. Liem feels ragged, drowned and storm-tossed in the tempest his husband has made of his desire—and still he cannot bring himself to regard Cardan’s open hunger with anything but adoration.
He truly has come to trust his husband far, far too much.]
You did.
[His breath still comes hard on the heels of that dizzying, aborted climb, but he presses close even so, desperate to have, if not Cardan’s touch, then at least the pleasure of that soft, strangely serious mouth crushed against his. He kisses him like he’s still drowning, because he feels like he is, like he’ll lose himself altogether if he must suffer denial here as well.
And if this distracts Liem from the dangerously tender affection threatening to spill from his lips instead, perhaps later he will think back and find that a mercy.]
[ The hungry sound that rises from his throat gets swallowed up in the desperate way Liem kisses him -- probably for the better. If his husband knew just how tenuously Cardan was holding himself together...
But he doesn't have to know, and Cardan isn't eager to tell him. He only closes his eyes and slides his free hand into Liem's damp hair and gives himself over. It's ever novel to feel Liem's cool breaths break against his skin; he has come to associate them with an erotic urgency that makes him shiver with deep, smug satisfaction, even as desire pulses through him. ]
You are so ferocious, [ he tells Liem, pulling away for a moment to breathe and grin at him, ] when you're caught by desire.
[ Though not as ferocious as Cardan, naturally.
The hand on Liem's erection releases him, slowly, gently, and when Cardan's fingertips trail over the sensitized skin they are light as a whisper. Cardan can't stop touching him, can't grant him any relief at all -- not if more torment means more of his husband's hard, breathless kisses, more of his keen desperation. He craves Liem's focus with a feral intensity that, more often than not, has started spilling over into regular life. He cannot dominate Liem's work nights, full as they are with contractors and servant affairs and his father-in-law's various schemes, but futility has never stopped him from wanting. ]
[Kissing Cardan is wonderful, delightful torment. The ache of Liem’s wanting pulses through him with the thundering of Cardan’s heart, trembles beneath his touch, flares hot with each hungry sound muffled against his mouth. He does not need his husband to take him in hand to be tortured to distraction by his impatience—not when he is so tempted by his husband’s lean body beneath his own, so beguiled by the taste of his kisses, so drowned in his scent. He wants this and only this, forever; he wants for Cardan to never stop looking at him the way he’s looking at him now.
And he also wants Cardan to fuck him. He wants it so badly it hurts.]
Am I?
[Liem brushes his lips over the corner of his husband’s charming grin, nuzzling kisses along his jaw as he obliges his spouse’s desire to catch his breath. His arm slides about Cardan’s shoulders as fingers slide over his flushed and aching erection, making his hips squirm and his breath hum in his throat. Pulling his fingers from the tight clutch of his body, he splays his hand up Cardan’s hip, over his waist. His breath sighs against Cardan’s neck, just beneath the hinge of his jaw.]
I don’t feel ferocious. I feel desperate. I want you inside me.
Liem-- [ He swallows, closing his eyes against the swell of lust that accompanies Liem's confession. It shows plainly on his face, he's sure; his hands are greedy, sliding to Liem's slim hips as soon as he tells Cardan what he wants from him.
He cannot be coy about it -- can't even pretend, too helplessly covetous of the man in his lap. It's a weakness; sometimes he cannot help but think that Liem might like him a little better for being less eager. His fingers splay over the modest curve of Liem's ass, and then lower, curling over the backs of his thighs and between them, urging him to spread just that little bit more for Cardan's pleasure.
He ever delights in making Liem indulge in the obscene.
And he particularly wants him to get what he's wishing for -- wants to press inside that beautiful, tightly wound body, wants to watch Liem shift and sigh as he accommodates him, wants to see the tension gather and then melt from him as he adjusts to the stretch of his cock. He's surprised his hands don't shake with the ferocity of his desire.
Cardan inhales, as if to brace himself, and tilts his face to brush his mouth against Liem's temple, the shell of one gently pointed ear. ]
Come take it, then, [ he murmurs, and it takes all his composure to make it sound even, even a little arrogant. ] The thing you want.
[After all his waiting and all Cardan’s teasing, the fingers splaying over Liem’s ass, slipping down to brush sensitive inner thigh, make the lust in him throb so fiercely he almost growls with it. His slow, deliberate exhale is belied by the tense way his hands slide over his husband’s skin, fingers curling impatiently against his shoulders and ribs.
He could not possibly fault his husband for being too eager to have him; not when Cardan’s greed makes Liem so impatient to give him everything he wants and more.
He will do as Cardan bids, moving over him so he can line himself up, letting Cardan’s cock just press against him—and pulling away from the brush of that soft mouth, back, so that he can once again look at him, his hungry gaze intent beneath heavy lashes. The arm around his husband’s shoulders moves, sliding so he can cup his neck, thumb caressing his jaw, his cheek.
He wants to see him—and wants to give him that, too, as he sinks down and lets Cardan press into him inch by inch, lets himself be coaxed open with a soft, stuttering sigh, until he’s stretched tight around his snugly-sheathed cock.]
[ For once, it's Cardan who is beset by the desire to hide from the intensity of his husband's gaze. It's difficult to keep his expression even when Liem presses against him, poised over him, making Cardan's heart stutter in his chest. His need feels feverish, frantic; he feels it pulse in the angry red lines Liem's nails had left on his chest, feels the answering throb of lust all the way down to his cock.
Perhaps Liem feels it too. The thought makes him draw in a harsh breath -- and then his husband moves, sinks down onto him, and all remaining thoughts flee his head entirely. His hands on Liem's hips tighten, involuntary, hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. His breath comes out in a gasping rush; he wants to close his eyes, to bury his face against Liem's pale throat and ride out the pleasure until he can collect himself again.
But he can't. Hiding would be a coward's choice -- what's worse, it would only prove the extent of his discomposure. Instead, his head tips back against the tub's edge, his gaze on Liem a little unfocused. Softness has crept into his expression; he cannot imagine that he looks anything but pathetically besotted.
Even that thought is temporary. Liem takes him deeper, inch by torturous inch, and it's all Cardan can do not to squirm with the pleasure of it -- the way he feels, the perfect, impossibly tight way his body fits against Cardan's. He shivers hard instead, on the trail of a bitten-off moan. ]
You, [ he breathes, ] will be the death of me, husband.
[Why did Liem ever bother with fucking before he met his husband? None of his other couplings were ever like this; none of them made him feel so rabid with want or so frantic for his lover’s pleasure. The look of Cardan as he shivers and gasps beneath him makes his chest constrict and his untended erection throb with painful need; his fingers stutter over Cardan’s skin as he squirms flush against him, struck momentarily wordless by the sudden, overwhelming possessiveness that nearly bowls him over.
He does not want to think about anyone else seeing Cardan like this, soft-edged with pleasure and nearly undone by desire. He cannot resist the urge to curl closer because of it, shifting over his lover’s lap as he stamps a hungry kiss against the front of his vulnerable throat.]
Is this not what you wanted?
[His voice is rough with desire, a little unsteady as he moves against his husband, rising to drag himself down his cock a second time. His tortured sigh breaks against the heated curve of tantalizing white neck.
Liem kisses it again, one hand crawling heavily up Cardan’s ribs to slide, greedy, over a nipple.]
You said this was mine.
[The thing he wanted: Cardan, inside him, beneath him, pinned by lust and foolish with greed. His lover, blinded to everything but him.]
[ He does close his eyes, then, glad of the kindness that is Liem's mouth on his throat, where he can no longer see just how Cardan is coming undone. He tips his chin up in shameless invitation, offering up his unguarded throat with its rapid pulse. If he cannot find his composure--
Everything stutters to a halt when Liem moves again; the tight little noise he makes is transparently hungry. ]
I cannot lie, [ he gasps, and this time, when Liem takes the length of him, he has the presence of mind to rock his hips up, fucking into the tight hold of his body. And if it's a little punitive, if the hard hands on Liem's hips drag him down against Cardan just a little more urgently, then surely this is Liem's, too. Just like Cardan is Liem's, by marriage and by debt and, more and more, by his own foolish desire to be. It is a strange spell his husband has put on him, to make him so desperate to be possessed. If he weren't so urgently, deliriously horny, he would probably find cause to be panicked.
But the mouth at his throat remains maddening, and the greedy fingers on his hard nipple pull another urgent shiver from him, and if he must be unmoored then he might as well take the things he wants, too. ]
Bite me, [ he demands, and is relieved to find he can still make it sound like a command rather than a plea. ]
[Liem never can resist Cardan’s throat for long, with its tender skin and its intriguing, frantic pulse. He is beguiled so easily into lingering there, granting Cardan the respite he desires so he can paint that unguarded neck with heated kisses and heavy breaths.
It is no kind of respite for Liem, who remains greedy for every tremor and gasp, and who groans eagerly against the side of his husband’s neck when Cardan fucks into him. He still feels too alight with need, over-sensitized so each sound and each touch makes hunger ache through him. The hard grip dragging him down to meet Cardan’s thrust makes impatience burn beneath his skin, and he gives his husband’s nipple a hard pinch in response, dragging his tongue over the pulse at his throat.]
So impatient, [he murmurs breathlessly, as if he isn’t already distracted with want for the heady slide of Cardan’s blood against his tongue, as if proof of his own desperation isn’t caught hard and obvious between them. He moves against him again, indulging just a little in the maddening tease of it—before giving them what they both want, and with a low, hungry sound, sinking his fangs into his throat.]
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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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Because it sends a thrill through him every time, flaring inside him and sparking along the path of Cardan’s hands, scorching inside his ribs in the wake of that painfully handsome grin—and because Liem is more stubborn than he cares to admit, and he hates to back down from a challenge, even one so trivial as this.
Besides, when has he ever not craved Cardan’s attention? It feels like he’s been wanting it forever, even since before they were married; he can’t imagine relinquishing it now.
When Cardan kisses him, his response is automatic: the eager invitation in his own kiss, the slide of his arm around his lover’s shoulders, keeping him close. Cardan might be inconvenienced if he wishes to watch, considering Liem’s own unflagging greed for him, even as he slips his free hand down between his thighs and presses inside.]
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But.
But.
He shivers as he pulls away, pressing back against the edge of the tub. ]
I want to see you.
[ Greed is such a difficult mistress. But he cannot feel too bereft when Liem is in his lap -- Cardan's favourite place for him, aside from when he's in Liem's lap instead. The compact, bath-warm weight of him makes satisfaction pulse through Cardan, heady with lust and affection and need.
He forever feels like he's demanding too much -- has felt like he's demanded too much all his life. He's never quite understood why Liem indulges him, but perhaps it doesn't matter. Perhaps it's only that pleasure makes fools of them both.
He intends for it to make a slightly bigger fool of his husband, at least just now. When his fingers wrap around Liem again, their stroke is demanding, as focused as the heated stare Cardan directs his way. Liem looks most irresistible, after all, when he's caught up in urgency, just this side of desperate with his need.
He wants to see that most of all. ]
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He remains greedy for the pleasure of his husband’s mouth on his, and the feel of his body pressed close. Liem cannot remember ever feeling so possessive of such a thing before, but he is now, more so than he’s sure what to do with.
Even so, he relaxes his hold; gives Cardan his wish, sitting back with one last, hungry nip of teeth, free hand now draped over his shoulder—but the intent look Liem levels his way betrays how his thoughts linger on the memory of his husband’s kisses. Maybe he can manage this only because, for all his greed for his husband’s touch, he’s become just as covetous of the hunger in Cardan’s own gaze.]
Cardan, [he murmurs, breathing deliberately through the curl and flex of his own fingers inside his body—something he has not done since before their marriage. The insistent stroking of Cardan’s fingers makes his spine arch and his eyes sink closed for a long moment, stuttering his hand as it moves between his thighs, working him open. He cannot entirely stop the way his breaths want to gasp from his lungs as Cardan teases more urgency from him. He sighs, impatient, squirming into his husband’s touch.]
The liberties I grant you… to capture your desire.
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But maybe such a threshold doesn't exist.
The black gaze on Liem is ravenous. Cardan's lips part; his exhalation is a little shaky. The rhythm of his stroking stutters, too, becomes a little more desperate, more erratic in pace with his own rising need. His gaze catches on Liem's throat, his chest, the hard cock trapped in Cardan's unrelenting caress, the subtle flex of the muscle in his forearm as he fingers himself open. He doesn't know how he's meant to endure it; he doesn't know how any man would. ]
I shouldn't tell you, then, that it's been yours all this time.
[ It's phrased like a joke, except he's not smiling. He catches the hand braced against his shoulder in his own, brings it to his mouth so he can kiss each elegant finger, his breath breaking against Liem's cool skin. ]
Lest you deny me the gift of your labours.
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I can’t—
[Is he disputing that he could deny Cardan, or that he can endure any more of this? Certainly his body trembles with tension even as he works to coax himself open. His eyes, heavy and a little vague with desire, are glued to the mouth caressing his fingers, somehow even more dangerous now than it was while kissing his lips. Concentration makes a crumpled frown of his brow.
Liem shudders, his own fingers stilling in his effort to pull himself back from the edge he’s rapidly approaching. His voice is rough with it.]
Cardan, I'm close…
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[ Cardan's demand is urgent; his rhythm doesn’t slow, doesn’t stutter. The rest of him has gone still with a focused, sharp tension. He should be distracted — the desperate need to see Liem coming undone pulses through him like a heartbeat. And still, and still— ]
I won't let you.
[ He's done it before, hadn't he? He knows too well by now what his husband looks like in the throes of pleasure, when he's teetering just on the edge. Cardan can pull him back — will pull him back.
And Liem will let him. ]
You trust me.
[ It’s not a question. ]
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But Cardan still maintains his urgent stroking, and despite himself Liem moves his own fingers in automatic acquiescence to his demand, and his surprise cannot withstand the weight of the pleasure rolling through him in heavy, inescapable waves. Even if he had the presence of mind to consider it, perhaps he would concede that he has worn his trust, like his longing, more plainly than he’d cared to admit.
Maybe Cardan didn’t mean it like that—but he’s still right.
Already Liem is so close. Need rages through him, beating beneath his skin, eager to spill out—and still he trembles with the effort of not squirming into Cardan’s touch, or his own; still he works himself open for his lover, despite the tease of it.
There is only so much that he can take.
His free hand finds Cardan’s chest, nails dragging red trails over pale skin as sensation swells and crashes over him, threatening to drag him under. Try as he might, he cannot resist it: not Cardan’s greedy touch or his intent gaze or his insistent demands that leave no room for defiance. He doesn’t want to resist it—he never does, really, and ultimately that’s what always does him in, no matter how he struggles.]
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He cannot take his eyes off of him — cannot spare even a tiny bit of attention to anything but him: his trembling and his surprise and the stunning, awful, possessive need he inspires in Cardan. It howls inside him, so loud he forgets about his own pleasure entirely; it's all he can do to remember breathing.
His face feels hot with the vehemence of his own desire.
He watches Liem, watches his obedience and his pleasure and the intensity that pulses through him as he races up to the precipice of his orgasm, teeters on the edge--
Only at the last moment does Cardan deny him. The grip of his fingers is sudden, precise, and unforgiving, clasping tightly around Liem. Cardan's heart skips a beat with it; his quiet gasp is expectant. His husband is warm, under the water, with the bath's stolen heat on his skin; in the perfectly still moment of refusal, Cardan can imagine feeling a pulse there, right against the tips of his fingers -- though in the end it is only his blood, his own racing pulse.
Liem is the most beautiful thing Cardan has ever seen. ]
I told you, [ he says, in a voice so soft he doesn't quite recognize it as his own. ]
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He truly has come to trust his husband far, far too much.]
You did.
[His breath still comes hard on the heels of that dizzying, aborted climb, but he presses close even so, desperate to have, if not Cardan’s touch, then at least the pleasure of that soft, strangely serious mouth crushed against his. He kisses him like he’s still drowning, because he feels like he is, like he’ll lose himself altogether if he must suffer denial here as well.
And if this distracts Liem from the dangerously tender affection threatening to spill from his lips instead, perhaps later he will think back and find that a mercy.]
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But he doesn't have to know, and Cardan isn't eager to tell him. He only closes his eyes and slides his free hand into Liem's damp hair and gives himself over. It's ever novel to feel Liem's cool breaths break against his skin; he has come to associate them with an erotic urgency that makes him shiver with deep, smug satisfaction, even as desire pulses through him. ]
You are so ferocious, [ he tells Liem, pulling away for a moment to breathe and grin at him, ] when you're caught by desire.
[ Though not as ferocious as Cardan, naturally.
The hand on Liem's erection releases him, slowly, gently, and when Cardan's fingertips trail over the sensitized skin they are light as a whisper. Cardan can't stop touching him, can't grant him any relief at all -- not if more torment means more of his husband's hard, breathless kisses, more of his keen desperation. He craves Liem's focus with a feral intensity that, more often than not, has started spilling over into regular life. He cannot dominate Liem's work nights, full as they are with contractors and servant affairs and his father-in-law's various schemes, but futility has never stopped him from wanting. ]
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And he also wants Cardan to fuck him. He wants it so badly it hurts.]
Am I?
[Liem brushes his lips over the corner of his husband’s charming grin, nuzzling kisses along his jaw as he obliges his spouse’s desire to catch his breath. His arm slides about Cardan’s shoulders as fingers slide over his flushed and aching erection, making his hips squirm and his breath hum in his throat. Pulling his fingers from the tight clutch of his body, he splays his hand up Cardan’s hip, over his waist. His breath sighs against Cardan’s neck, just beneath the hinge of his jaw.]
I don’t feel ferocious. I feel desperate. I want you inside me.
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He cannot be coy about it -- can't even pretend, too helplessly covetous of the man in his lap. It's a weakness; sometimes he cannot help but think that Liem might like him a little better for being less eager. His fingers splay over the modest curve of Liem's ass, and then lower, curling over the backs of his thighs and between them, urging him to spread just that little bit more for Cardan's pleasure.
He ever delights in making Liem indulge in the obscene.
And he particularly wants him to get what he's wishing for -- wants to press inside that beautiful, tightly wound body, wants to watch Liem shift and sigh as he accommodates him, wants to see the tension gather and then melt from him as he adjusts to the stretch of his cock. He's surprised his hands don't shake with the ferocity of his desire.
Cardan inhales, as if to brace himself, and tilts his face to brush his mouth against Liem's temple, the shell of one gently pointed ear. ]
Come take it, then, [ he murmurs, and it takes all his composure to make it sound even, even a little arrogant. ] The thing you want.
It has ever been yours.
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He could not possibly fault his husband for being too eager to have him; not when Cardan’s greed makes Liem so impatient to give him everything he wants and more.
He will do as Cardan bids, moving over him so he can line himself up, letting Cardan’s cock just press against him—and pulling away from the brush of that soft mouth, back, so that he can once again look at him, his hungry gaze intent beneath heavy lashes. The arm around his husband’s shoulders moves, sliding so he can cup his neck, thumb caressing his jaw, his cheek.
He wants to see him—and wants to give him that, too, as he sinks down and lets Cardan press into him inch by inch, lets himself be coaxed open with a soft, stuttering sigh, until he’s stretched tight around his snugly-sheathed cock.]
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Perhaps Liem feels it too. The thought makes him draw in a harsh breath -- and then his husband moves, sinks down onto him, and all remaining thoughts flee his head entirely. His hands on Liem's hips tighten, involuntary, hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. His breath comes out in a gasping rush; he wants to close his eyes, to bury his face against Liem's pale throat and ride out the pleasure until he can collect himself again.
But he can't. Hiding would be a coward's choice -- what's worse, it would only prove the extent of his discomposure. Instead, his head tips back against the tub's edge, his gaze on Liem a little unfocused. Softness has crept into his expression; he cannot imagine that he looks anything but pathetically besotted.
Even that thought is temporary. Liem takes him deeper, inch by torturous inch, and it's all Cardan can do not to squirm with the pleasure of it -- the way he feels, the perfect, impossibly tight way his body fits against Cardan's. He shivers hard instead, on the trail of a bitten-off moan. ]
You, [ he breathes, ] will be the death of me, husband.
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He does not want to think about anyone else seeing Cardan like this, soft-edged with pleasure and nearly undone by desire. He cannot resist the urge to curl closer because of it, shifting over his lover’s lap as he stamps a hungry kiss against the front of his vulnerable throat.]
Is this not what you wanted?
[His voice is rough with desire, a little unsteady as he moves against his husband, rising to drag himself down his cock a second time. His tortured sigh breaks against the heated curve of tantalizing white neck.
Liem kisses it again, one hand crawling heavily up Cardan’s ribs to slide, greedy, over a nipple.]
You said this was mine.
[The thing he wanted: Cardan, inside him, beneath him, pinned by lust and foolish with greed. His lover, blinded to everything but him.]
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Everything stutters to a halt when Liem moves again; the tight little noise he makes is transparently hungry. ]
I cannot lie, [ he gasps, and this time, when Liem takes the length of him, he has the presence of mind to rock his hips up, fucking into the tight hold of his body. And if it's a little punitive, if the hard hands on Liem's hips drag him down against Cardan just a little more urgently, then surely this is Liem's, too. Just like Cardan is Liem's, by marriage and by debt and, more and more, by his own foolish desire to be. It is a strange spell his husband has put on him, to make him so desperate to be possessed. If he weren't so urgently, deliriously horny, he would probably find cause to be panicked.
But the mouth at his throat remains maddening, and the greedy fingers on his hard nipple pull another urgent shiver from him, and if he must be unmoored then he might as well take the things he wants, too. ]
Bite me, [ he demands, and is relieved to find he can still make it sound like a command rather than a plea. ]
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It is no kind of respite for Liem, who remains greedy for every tremor and gasp, and who groans eagerly against the side of his husband’s neck when Cardan fucks into him. He still feels too alight with need, over-sensitized so each sound and each touch makes hunger ache through him. The hard grip dragging him down to meet Cardan’s thrust makes impatience burn beneath his skin, and he gives his husband’s nipple a hard pinch in response, dragging his tongue over the pulse at his throat.]
So impatient, [he murmurs breathlessly, as if he isn’t already distracted with want for the heady slide of Cardan’s blood against his tongue, as if proof of his own desperation isn’t caught hard and obvious between them. He moves against him again, indulging just a little in the maddening tease of it—before giving them what they both want, and with a low, hungry sound, sinking his fangs into his throat.]
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