[ 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.]
[ It's such delicious, awful torture to be pinned there -- beneath Liem's lithe weight and his greedy hands and, most urgently, the caress of that dangerous mouth. Perhaps that's the point; perhaps it is only natural that every breath, every hungry sound Liem makes against his skin only makes his pulse hammer more urgently -- in his throat, in his cock, in the hollowed-out space beneath his ribs where treacherous affection has taken root.
He wants to move. He wants to fuck Liem, even as he wants to tease him, to make him beg and squirm and earn his pleasure--
The pinch takes him by surprise; the hot little sound it wrings from his throat is shocked, the pain so sharp and sudden it bleeds into his lust. He opens his mouth to retort something, but Liem moves, and all Cardan can do is hiss a curse under his breath and clutch him mindlessly close, just as fangs pierce his skin. And there it is: the familiar prick of pain, the flood of heat as his blood rushes to the surface, Liem's soft mouth at his throat.
Never before can he recall feeling this overwhelmed so soon. ]
I cannot... be patient... mm, with you.
[ And he doesn't want Liem to be patient with him, either. His hand finds its way between their bodies, curls around the hard cock nestled against his abdomen. This, at least, is familiar; he well recalls his delight in stoking Liem's desire the first time he'd bitten him. He wants it now, too; if Cardan is to be desperate, then he would rather share. ]
[It is well that Cardan cannot be patient with him, because Liem has no wish for either of them to retain their patience any longer. He wants Cardan to be greedy and demanding, wants him to drag Liem with him down his headlong plunge into the depths of sensation. Perhaps that is the last thing Liem deserves after he has been so bold with his husband’s person, but it is what he wants; in any case, he doesn’t mean to give Cardan time to think about what his audacious spouse deserves.
He is too enamoured by the thrill of Cardan’s breathless reply, by the heated pulse of the blood on his tongue and the echoing ache he can feel all the way down to his cock. And when Cardan’s fingers close around him and stroke, pulling a muffled whine from him, pressed against that wounded neck, he’s enamoured with that too, and all the more eager because of it.
Moving again is only going to make his impatience all the keener, particularly now that he’s tasted Cardan’s blood—but this is fine. He is happy to help his husband shred his last vestiges of control in service to driving Cardan ruthlessly up the swell of his own pleasure, so even as the stroking over his cock threatens to make him squirm, he forces himself instead to ride him with deliberate, almost feverish insistence.
When Liem pulls himself from his lover’s bleeding throat, his ragged, hungry breaths belie any guise of remaining composure. The kisses he paints over his jaw are fleeting and breathless as the climbing wave of sensation threatens to crash over him.]
[ It's wise of Liem to overwhelm him so. It's Cardan's nature to be vengeful and punitive, even about playful pleasures, even when he's gotten everything he wanted and more. Like now: with the way Liem indulges him, with the delicious friction of his body on Cardan's cock, with those stark breaths against his skin. The more desperate his husband sounds, the more desperate Cardan wants him to be.
Perhaps that's just what it's like to be endlessly greedy.
He wants to deny Liem again. He wants to tighten his grip, and he wants to smile, and to watch his husband shudder through the exquisite torment of a release snatched away from him. It's just that-- It's just that Cardan isn't going to last, and he's especially not going to last through Liem going tight and desperate around him. Already he is maddeningly close, his breath coming in tight little gasps each time Liem takes him. His hand on Liem's hip comes untethered-- glides down over his thigh, back to his hip, his flank, to the back of his head so that Cardan can cradle him close and kiss that blood-stained mouth. The caress of his hand on Liem's cock grows more ruthless, more exacting. If Cardan cannot deny him his release, then-- ]
Come for me, [ he breathes, a little hoarse. His eyes search Liem's face, and maybe it's him who's truly desperate. Each breath, each time Liem sinks down onto his dick he loses a little more of his composure; soon, too soon, he won't have any left at all. It's all he can do to hang on -- just a few more breaths, just one moment longer-- ] I want to see you.
[ Please, he doesn't say, because he's not quite ready to beg. Not yet. ]
[No matter how Liem tries to restrain the senseless, pleasure-hungry parts of him, no matter how he wishes to see his husband desperate and undone at his hands, he cannot resist that wanting kiss, any more than he can withstand the ruthless pace of the hand stroking him closer to climax. His mouth is sweetly eager on Cardan’s, his throat catching with longing that it should not rightly be possible to feel while his lover is already in the midst of fucking him.
But it is Cardan’s eyes, so urgent as they roam his face, that unmoor him completely. Liem feels himself drowning in them like a fly caught in honey, forgetting everything but the demand Cardan breathes against his lips. He wants it; more than anything, now and always, he wants to make Cardan’s desires come true.
He is pinned by that irresistible look and those dear hands, caught by his own greed, by the feel of his husband’s body against his and his cock filling him up. Liem shudders with it, dragging himself down again to squirm against Cardan’s lap. It is too much; his want and his pleasure flood through him, his eyes dipping closed in the face of it as he pants and gasps and clutches Cardan tight, fingers biting heated skin.
And still, as with his hunger for Cardan’s blood, he can see no end to his wanting.]
[ In the end, this is always what he wants most: Liem's desperation, yes, but also the hard fingers clutching at him, the musical cadence of his breath, the way he abandons himself to pleasure. It will never cease to titillate him, the way his somber, disciplined husband lets go of all proprieties at times like these-- it fosters in him a bone-deep satisfaction to know that it was his hands that stripped the veneer of control from Liem.
It is too much and never enough, all at once.
It's that squirm that undoes him, in the end -- makes it his turn to gasp and shudder as white-hot pleasure radiates through him. He cannot hold on -- cannot even pretend that he might; his hands lock onto Liem's hips as his own buck up, pressing as deeply inside him as he can, urgent in his need to join them. Too much and never enough.
He comes anyway, his eyes fluttering closed, his hot breath breaking against the elegant line of Liem's jaw.
...and still. He's still shivering with aftershocks when he looks up at Liem, raising a hand to smear the red of his own blood over his husband's lip. ]
I've concluded... hah, it's for the best that you're the vampire, [ Cardan will tell him casually, as if this is an old debate they are just picking up again, ] for I think I would have eaten you already.
[If Liem has a grievance about sex with his husband, other than that they rarely have time to have as much as they’d like, it is only that Cardan is so dedicated to ensuring that his own climax comes on the heels of Liem’s, and therefore that Liem is often not in a position to appreciate it as fully as he wants. Instead he is overwhelmed and stupid with sensation, greedy for the hard hands on his hips and hot breath sliding against his jaw.
If ever he finds the boldness to top his husband properly, start to finish, perhaps greed for that particular rare pleasure will be why.
Even so, he cannot be anything but bonelessly satisfied in the wake of their coupling, shivery and oversensitive as he slumps against his husband. The spark and thrill of blood singing pleasantly through him makes even incidental contact feel tantalizing, and his eyes are still drowsily closed when Cardan lifts a hand to smear his touch over Liem’s mouth.
The languid look he aims Cardan’s way is hedonistically pensive, particularly as his lips move against the fingers touching his mouth.]
You know, husband, I can think of far worse ways to go.
Mm. [ He cannot suppress the shiver that takes him when Liem speaks right against his fingertips. He's still too responsive, too enthralled with him -- though he has to admit that this might be just how he feels about his husband in general, now. How long has it been since he'd last felt any kind of indifference to Liem's closeness?
And he likes him so well, like this: dark-eyed and content, as a tiger after a meal. Still, his eyebrows twitch up, a little amused. ]
You didn't like that joke when I made it.
[ All those millennia ago -- that first time Liem had partaken in his blood, with nevermore in Cardan's veins only barely covering all the bruises from the morning prior. Liem had protested, then, though he'd admittedly seemed too distracted to insist much.
He doesn't care about the joke, though, at least not as much as he cares about kissing Liem again. And again, and again -- because it's not like they have anywhere to be, and now that he's finally warm and soft-edged with strange longing, he cannot think of any better way to occupy his time. ]
No, [Liem agrees. He had not liked Cardan’s joke at all, and he repeats it now mostly to be contrary—even though he is anything but contrary when Cardan kisses him again, beguiling him as he always does with his warm and hungry affection. Liem’s arms come around him, draping over his shoulders as he fits himself lazily against his spouse like a cat sprawling over a patch of sun-warmed earth.
Even with the urgency fucked out of him, he still covets his lover’s nearness; still finds himself all too willing to lose himself in Cardan’s kisses, his familiar scent, his warmth and his shape and his touch, his soft breaths and the murmur of his heart. Just being cradled in his husband’s hands brings Liem an alarming degree of comfort, and while the keen simmer of blood beneath his skin keeps him from being lulled completely, it also makes him all the more eager to insinuate himself into Cardan’s clutches.]
Because I am too jealous, [he murmurs idly against Cardan’s mouth,] to wish to relinquish you to anyone or anything.
[Not even death. And while the idea of being eaten by his lover does have its own romantic charm, in a dark way, for some reason the reverse has only ever been distressingly unappealing.]
[ Cardan's soft laugh will ghost along Liem's cheek; he presses an indulgent kiss there, too, and at the corner of that thoughtful mouth. ]
On this, at least, we are in agreement.
[ And how lucky they are, to be in such consort. How strange it is, to be sat here, biting back soft shivers anytime his husband shifts against him. Of all the things strange about their marriage, this is the one that has been hardest to get used to: the frank affection he feels for the man in his lap. His hand sweeps up to cradle the back of Liem's head, slip into his soft hair, joyful simply for the feel of him in the palm of Cardan's hand.
It seems impossible to be content with just this.
But then, it is hardly the first impossible thing Liem has gotten him to believe. ]
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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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He wants to move. He wants to fuck Liem, even as he wants to tease him, to make him beg and squirm and earn his pleasure--
The pinch takes him by surprise; the hot little sound it wrings from his throat is shocked, the pain so sharp and sudden it bleeds into his lust. He opens his mouth to retort something, but Liem moves, and all Cardan can do is hiss a curse under his breath and clutch him mindlessly close, just as fangs pierce his skin. And there it is: the familiar prick of pain, the flood of heat as his blood rushes to the surface, Liem's soft mouth at his throat.
Never before can he recall feeling this overwhelmed so soon. ]
I cannot... be patient... mm, with you.
[ And he doesn't want Liem to be patient with him, either. His hand finds its way between their bodies, curls around the hard cock nestled against his abdomen. This, at least, is familiar; he well recalls his delight in stoking Liem's desire the first time he'd bitten him. He wants it now, too; if Cardan is to be desperate, then he would rather share. ]
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He is too enamoured by the thrill of Cardan’s breathless reply, by the heated pulse of the blood on his tongue and the echoing ache he can feel all the way down to his cock. And when Cardan’s fingers close around him and stroke, pulling a muffled whine from him, pressed against that wounded neck, he’s enamoured with that too, and all the more eager because of it.
Moving again is only going to make his impatience all the keener, particularly now that he’s tasted Cardan’s blood—but this is fine. He is happy to help his husband shred his last vestiges of control in service to driving Cardan ruthlessly up the swell of his own pleasure, so even as the stroking over his cock threatens to make him squirm, he forces himself instead to ride him with deliberate, almost feverish insistence.
When Liem pulls himself from his lover’s bleeding throat, his ragged, hungry breaths belie any guise of remaining composure. The kisses he paints over his jaw are fleeting and breathless as the climbing wave of sensation threatens to crash over him.]
Cardan… haah…
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Perhaps that's just what it's like to be endlessly greedy.
He wants to deny Liem again. He wants to tighten his grip, and he wants to smile, and to watch his husband shudder through the exquisite torment of a release snatched away from him. It's just that-- It's just that Cardan isn't going to last, and he's especially not going to last through Liem going tight and desperate around him. Already he is maddeningly close, his breath coming in tight little gasps each time Liem takes him. His hand on Liem's hip comes untethered-- glides down over his thigh, back to his hip, his flank, to the back of his head so that Cardan can cradle him close and kiss that blood-stained mouth. The caress of his hand on Liem's cock grows more ruthless, more exacting. If Cardan cannot deny him his release, then-- ]
Come for me, [ he breathes, a little hoarse. His eyes search Liem's face, and maybe it's him who's truly desperate. Each breath, each time Liem sinks down onto his dick he loses a little more of his composure; soon, too soon, he won't have any left at all. It's all he can do to hang on -- just a few more breaths, just one moment longer-- ] I want to see you.
[ Please, he doesn't say, because he's not quite ready to beg. Not yet. ]
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But it is Cardan’s eyes, so urgent as they roam his face, that unmoor him completely. Liem feels himself drowning in them like a fly caught in honey, forgetting everything but the demand Cardan breathes against his lips. He wants it; more than anything, now and always, he wants to make Cardan’s desires come true.
He is pinned by that irresistible look and those dear hands, caught by his own greed, by the feel of his husband’s body against his and his cock filling him up. Liem shudders with it, dragging himself down again to squirm against Cardan’s lap. It is too much; his want and his pleasure flood through him, his eyes dipping closed in the face of it as he pants and gasps and clutches Cardan tight, fingers biting heated skin.
And still, as with his hunger for Cardan’s blood, he can see no end to his wanting.]
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It is too much and never enough, all at once.
It's that squirm that undoes him, in the end -- makes it his turn to gasp and shudder as white-hot pleasure radiates through him. He cannot hold on -- cannot even pretend that he might; his hands lock onto Liem's hips as his own buck up, pressing as deeply inside him as he can, urgent in his need to join them. Too much and never enough.
He comes anyway, his eyes fluttering closed, his hot breath breaking against the elegant line of Liem's jaw.
...and still. He's still shivering with aftershocks when he looks up at Liem, raising a hand to smear the red of his own blood over his husband's lip. ]
I've concluded... hah, it's for the best that you're the vampire, [ Cardan will tell him casually, as if this is an old debate they are just picking up again, ] for I think I would have eaten you already.
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If ever he finds the boldness to top his husband properly, start to finish, perhaps greed for that particular rare pleasure will be why.
Even so, he cannot be anything but bonelessly satisfied in the wake of their coupling, shivery and oversensitive as he slumps against his husband. The spark and thrill of blood singing pleasantly through him makes even incidental contact feel tantalizing, and his eyes are still drowsily closed when Cardan lifts a hand to smear his touch over Liem’s mouth.
The languid look he aims Cardan’s way is hedonistically pensive, particularly as his lips move against the fingers touching his mouth.]
You know, husband, I can think of far worse ways to go.
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And he likes him so well, like this: dark-eyed and content, as a tiger after a meal. Still, his eyebrows twitch up, a little amused. ]
You didn't like that joke when I made it.
[ All those millennia ago -- that first time Liem had partaken in his blood, with nevermore in Cardan's veins only barely covering all the bruises from the morning prior. Liem had protested, then, though he'd admittedly seemed too distracted to insist much.
He doesn't care about the joke, though, at least not as much as he cares about kissing Liem again. And again, and again -- because it's not like they have anywhere to be, and now that he's finally warm and soft-edged with strange longing, he cannot think of any better way to occupy his time. ]
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Even with the urgency fucked out of him, he still covets his lover’s nearness; still finds himself all too willing to lose himself in Cardan’s kisses, his familiar scent, his warmth and his shape and his touch, his soft breaths and the murmur of his heart. Just being cradled in his husband’s hands brings Liem an alarming degree of comfort, and while the keen simmer of blood beneath his skin keeps him from being lulled completely, it also makes him all the more eager to insinuate himself into Cardan’s clutches.]
Because I am too jealous, [he murmurs idly against Cardan’s mouth,] to wish to relinquish you to anyone or anything.
[Not even death. And while the idea of being eaten by his lover does have its own romantic charm, in a dark way, for some reason the reverse has only ever been distressingly unappealing.]
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On this, at least, we are in agreement.
[ And how lucky they are, to be in such consort. How strange it is, to be sat here, biting back soft shivers anytime his husband shifts against him. Of all the things strange about their marriage, this is the one that has been hardest to get used to: the frank affection he feels for the man in his lap. His hand sweeps up to cradle the back of Liem's head, slip into his soft hair, joyful simply for the feel of him in the palm of Cardan's hand.
It seems impossible to be content with just this.
But then, it is hardly the first impossible thing Liem has gotten him to believe. ]