[ 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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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…
no subject
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 subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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 subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]