[Liem has been so afraid for so much of the past hour or so that having Cardan touching him like this now, fingers gentle in his hair and lips whisper-soft on his mouth, makes relief ache through him, so urgently he could almost really cry after all. Though he cannot quite allow himself that particular indulgence, and tamps the urge firmly down again, he does press closer to steal another kiss, lingering and urgent with longing. Now that he isn’t numb with terror over his husband’s impending death, all he can think about is drowning himself in him.
It’s ironic that somehow, although Cardan’s heart is the one to have been racing so heedlessly, Liem’s has ended up feeling so bruised.]
I knew I would be afraid, [he murmurs,] but I didn’t know how much.
[Even when the assassin had come for them at that party, he can’t remember feeling nearly so terrified. At first, the fight had just swept him up, muffling everything else—and even after, though his mind had been awhirl with concerns, his fear had not been so great.
But that had been before he let Cardan become so dear to him. It had been before his taste became the only one on Liem’s tongue and his arms came to feel like the only home he would ever need: which is a terrible way to feel for a man who, on some level, must surely hold Liem in contempt. And still, Liem cannot suppress his own desperate attachment to his husband, set down over months and now rooted deep, so intrinsic he doesn’t know how he could possibly burn it out.
But he cannot tell Cardan that, and his husband deserves to understand. So if he cannot tell him the truth, perhaps a truth will suffice.]
You know, I was there… the night my mother was killed.
[He pulls back to say this; swallows, makes himself look Cardan in the eye.]
I was still small. We were taking a carriage somewhere, and when it was attacked she hid me inside the seat. Then she went out, and… I spent what felt like a long time waiting.
[For someone to come: maybe for his mother to return, maybe for some soldier to drag him out. As time had gone on, and it had become quieter, he had worried less for himself—but for his mother, he only worried more. Looking back, he doubts it was much longer than an hour or two, but for him the waiting had gone on forever.]
I hate the waiting most. But when my father found me, and he told me she was dead… [His expression loses some of its steady focus, becomes more distant, and more heartbroken.] I wanted to go back. It had been better, just being afraid.
He strokes Liem's hair as he listens, brow furrowed, and thinks himself a fool for the fiftieth time this night. He had forgotten about Liem's mother entirely. Vampires fear neither old age nor illness; he could have surmised that she must have died violently. He must have surmised it, at one point, and yet he hadn't thought -- had never realized -- that his husband had already suffered this kind of loss.
How terrible it must have been, to lose someone who loved him enough to protect him. He has no recourse for it. How could he? How could anyone?
He envisions the serious child from the family portrait waiting for the woman pictured beside him, and cannot imagine what it must have been like. And what would she have thought of Cardan, who could not leave Liem at all, even when he knew full well that it was cowardice? That it would only endanger him or hurt him? And now it is too late; now leaving would hurt too much. He cannot even pretend that he might do such a thing.
The forlorn look on Liem's face aches like a bruise. ]
She kept you safe.
...as you have me.
[ And he can't help but wonder if she'd been terrified too, leaving her son as she had. ]
[Liem is not entirely happy to be compared to his mother in this circumstance, even if Cardan’s comparison is not actually wrong. For a long time, he had wondered if protecting him had really been her aim when she disappeared into the night, leaving him behind. Even if it really had been, he would not have harboured so much uncertainty—and ultimately resentment—about it if his mother hadn’t prioritized his safety over remaining by his side. He does not relish being the one left behind.
But perhaps he would not be here to have such thoughts if that were the case, and Cardan would be without a husband, so maybe Cardan is right after all. Even if being saved in such a way had only made him unhappy.]
I don’t want to be that frightened, helpless boy again.
[Not when he’s already waded through so much blood to get here. If he can’t even protect his own husband, what good can he possibly be to anyone?
And how could he live with himself if he failed to keep Cardan of all people safe?]
I’m sorry I was out of sorts, Cardan. [He’s earnest, apologetic as he says this. He can’t help but feel like their ride back home was so tense and unhappy mostly because of him.] I just don’t want to lose you, too.
[ Cardan raises an eyebrow. Strangely, Liem's apology shifts the mood -- jolts him out of that painful hole he was about to try and crawl into. It's just that it's so silly. It's silly for Liem to apologize for this, with that earnest look, like he's truly trying to make something right. Like there's anything to make right in the first place. ]
Good thing you were so spectacularly unhelpless that I'm still alive.
[ That's the important part, he thinks, and one that Liem has spent far too little focus on. He glances down at his husband's handsome features, more painfully attractive for all that sincerity. Liem wields it as if it were a weapon. ]
And I shan't accept your apology, Liem Talbott, for you owe no such thing. I should have known better.
Next time, I will disregard your wishes and demand to be coddled regardless.
[ Neither his tone nor his face indicate that he's joking.
Still, it irks him that he cannot promise Liem the things that he wants: that he will stay by his side for as long as Liem needs him -- forever, if they're both not sick of each other by then. But it is not truth, and so he cannot speak it, no matter how much he wishes to.
And he will not waste his time with cheap qualifiers.
So instead he will sigh, and shift his weight for the second time this early morning. This time, it is so he can stop squashing Liem and move to his side instead -- though Cardan still throws an arm over his chest, still tangles his leg in between Liem's, still keeps his face close enough that he needs only murmur to be heard. After all the turmoil of earlier, he is unwilling to separate even for a minute.
Which is why he does not bring up that they're both still wearing shoes. ]
[Cardan’s immediate, stubborn refusal to consider Liem’s apology makes a wry smile curve his lips. It is very like him, to care so little about something Liem insists on fretting over. Even if the fear of the night has not entirely receded, he can’t help but be charmed, which is a boon in this circumstance especially.]
You are incredibly contrary, [he observes, hopelessly fond.
He has had enough tonight of trying to be sensible. It is why, when his husband rolls off to lie against him again, Liem does not attempt to use this opportunity to unlace his boots or shrug free of his coat. He simply continues to wrap himself around Cardan, running his fingers through his hair as he watches him from only a breath away.]
Oh? And what is that?
[Liem regards his husband with rapt attention that is mostly occupied with cataloguing the singular colour of his eyes, the length of his lashes, the angle of his cheekbones and the precise shape of his brows. But he is also listening, even if the direction of his attention is not solely focused on what Cardan has to say.]
[ His husband's smile, finally, takes some of the tension from him, makes him feel just a little less crushed under the heaviness of their shared grief. And it feels nice to have his hair petted, and he's tired, now that his heart is approaching a normal rhythm again.
He leans into the touch, closing his eyes. Just for a moment. ]
When Nicasia left me, [ he starts, ] I lost my fear entirely. For some few glorious days, I felt untouchable. Neither Balekin's wrath nor my father's disdain could reach me.
[ He looks at Liem again. Cardan suspects his husband won't like this story, but it's important. He has a point to make. ]
Of course, that was before Balekin reminded me that there were yet things I could lose.
[ Case in point: there is his husband, mussed and exceedingly charming in his dishevelment. Cardan is seized by the sudden desire to slide his hands under the layers of the suit, to strip it from him, just so he can press close and feel bare skin against skin.
But he has to finish his story, so he only splays his fingers over the small of his husband's back and shifts infinitesimally nearer, tangling them further together. His stare is intent. ]
...I liked being unafraid.
But I didn't like it more than the precious things I have, Liem.
[Cardan’s story reminds Liem keenly of the weeks after Laurent had died and his relationship with Carissa ended, when he had been too numb with bitterness to feel much of anything else, including fear. It had not been a happy time for him; certainly not one he considered an improvement over what he has now.
And he had not been any safer, even if he was less afraid. If anything, he paid poorer attention to the threats around him, given his newfound disdain for the inner lives of other people. He simply cared less, about everything—including things he previously dreaded.
As he meets his husband’s stare, he hopes Cardan never needs to feel that way again. But he wonders if such a thing could be possible.]
Then we are in agreement.
[It is better to have something, and to fear losing it, than to have nothing at all. To him, Cardan’s freedom and happiness are worth protecting, even if the prospect of failure frightens him terribly.
And besides—it gives him the opportunity to tangle himself up in his husband, to pet his hair, to cup his cheek so he can regard him with a steady, tender look that he cannot find it in him to regret just now.]
Besides, [he murmurs, stroking Cardan’s cheekbone with a cool thumb,] you have a talent for banishing my fears.
[Because Cardan is alive after all, and here with him, warming him with his touch and his breath and his nearness, and it turns out that Liem cannot find it in him to be so afraid just now.]
[ He had not expected Liem to acquiesce so readily, and his relief feels strangely premature. His critical, intent stare remains on Liem's face for a while longer. It's just too common for his husband to stuff his discomfort down, to smooth out its edges so that Cardan's life may be easier. Most of the time, he simply accepts it, being prone to some of the same tendencies -- that, and his husband is a remarkably stubborn man.
Tonight, he wants to be sure he is not being lied to.
But Liem's soft touch and tender regard seem too real to doubt, and so he doesn't. They are curled so close now; it's impossible to deny the longing that still sweeps through Cardan. It's only that it is no longer the feral, panicked thing he had felt on the journey here or while he was riding out the poison's effects. He can take his time now. He can turn his head to press his lips to Liem's palm, to brush reverent kisses over his fingertips -- and then his mouth, too, slow and sweet. Their schedule for the night is well and truly ruined; there is no reason not to take his time.
Though he will pull back with a grimace eventually, glancing down at himself -- as much of himself as he sees, wrapped up as he is in his husband. ]
I'm going to have to undress.
[ Now that his temperature has dropped again, he finds himself uncomfortably damp. ]
[In the carriage, on the rushed journey to their rooms, tucked helplessly against Cardan as he shivered through the poison’s effects, Liem had been unable feel anything through the haze of painful, fearful need to hold onto him—to do better than he had, to make Cardan happier, to keep him safer… if only he had the chance. He hadn’t been able to find comfort in his husband, unable as he was to divorce the man in his arms from his own grief and terror.
But the looming spectre of Cardan’s death no longer hangs over him with such fearful certainty, and now that he has emerged from its shadow, Liem is eager to indulge in his husband’s warmth and tenderness and his unwavering desire. He feels starved for his nearness, and he doubts he’ll be sated even if they exchange kisses until the sun climbs into the sky and sinks below the horizon again.
Perhaps because Cardan’s sweetness always feels so unexpected and so undeserved: this rare thing his husband only ever shows to him. He feels like a con artist, having stolen something he hasn’t earned—and he can’t help wanting more, for as long as he can get it. He can’t help melting into his husband when he kisses him, fitting against him as perfectly as he can. His fingers sneak under damp clothing, wandering Cardan’s throat and chest and ribs, sliding possessively around to his back to feel him, solid and real, beneath his hands.
He likes him so awfully, inexcusably much.]
Is that my cue to release you from my clutches?
[Liem murmurs against his jaw, sounding very much like someone who has no immediate intentions of doing anything of the sort.]
I suppose I can… if you permit me to undress you, instead.
[ Cardan frowns; his grip on Liem tightens before he can rein himself in. He is too used to Liem having to leave their marriage bed to go somewhere and do something no doubt very boring and responsible. Sometimes, Cardan can cajole him into staying longer.
Tonight, he doesn't want to have to. Perhaps his husband is just joking -- but he's not in a mood to be good-humoured about it. ]
No.
[ ...Gusairne himself would be impressed with the flatness of that refusal. It's childish, but he's spent all his efforts in being mature on calming both of them down; this time, when he clutches Liem closer, it is sulkily deliberate.
Still, he is growing uncomfortable. With a deeper frown, he amends: ] But you may tend to my clothes, husband.
[ Because he does not feel like dealing with them himself, and the prospect of being taken care of -- once uncomfortable -- has become charming, so long as it is under the care of Liem's gentle, certain hands. He cannot help but be helplessly beguiled by their possessive touch, cannot help but want it back, no matter the circumstance. Regardless of this night's perils, he wants Liem's tenderness and his desire and the endless yearning that seems to have bonded them to each other, even back when they were strangers but in name. ]
So long as you come back to me.
[ Despite this, his hold on Liem hardly loosens. ]
[Somehow, Cardan’s immediate displeasure only encourages the tender feeling in Liem’s chest, flaring warm in the face of his husband’s sullen frown. He can’t quite suppress the smile that wants to twitch up at the corner of his mouth, irrepressibly fond, at the contrary reaction.
How does Cardan always wear that haughty, irritated look so well? Liem cannot see it without wanting to kiss it, no matter how foolish that might be.]
You are so suspicious of me tonight.
[Because he so dearly wishes to, and because Cardan pulls him stubbornly closer anyway, Liem leans in and kisses him again, warm and deliberate. Though he simply means to kiss him a little between his words, his husband’s mouth is incredibly distracting, and it makes longing stab keenly through him. He lingers after all.]
It doesn’t matter.
[His hands wander as he murmurs against Cardan’s mouth, skimming down his husband’s sides to fully untuck his shirt, sneaking between them to tease open the top button of his fly. His voice lilts gently playful, though the words themselves are entirely earnest.]
Malign me as much as you like, my prince. I will still remain here, at your side.
[ It's difficult to remain cross when Liem smiles at him like that, when he kisses him like that. Cardan is so endlessly absorbed in him -- despite his protestations, if Liem wanted to stay just like this and kiss him for another hour or three, Cardan suspects he would be helpless to refuse him.
Perhaps it is better that his husband does not realize the extent of Cardan's weakness for him.
Still, it is remarkable how quickly desire coils in his belly when Liem's hands find his fly. Suddenly, he could not care less for the clammy dampness of his clothing nor the lingering ache in his chest. Suddenly, all he wants is to cant close and give himself over to Liem's touch entirely, to let him do whatever he wanted, no matter what manner of impertinence it might enable. ]
Good, [ he says. Even if it cannot be forever, even if they both have responsibilities to call them away eventually -- he would like to believe the romantic fiction that Liem will stay for as long as Cardan needs him to.
Cardan kisses him again -- more urgently, this time -- and feels a little breathless already. Need thrums through him, sweet and familiar, keener for the thought that he might have never had these pleasures again. His freed tail taps impatiently against the covers. ]
I have not had my fill of you yet, Liem Talbott.
[ He is starting to suspect that he never will. But his arms relent in their jealous clutch; they must, for he wants to slip his hands under the layer of Liem's coat, eager to feel the familiar shape of him under the fine layers of his suit. ]
[Liem is always delighted, and always a little amazed, by the willingness with which Cardan’s prickly irritation melts into desire beneath the diligent attention of Liem’s lips and hands. It thrills him a little, the feeling of being irresistible. Perhaps it is simply because Cardan is getting what he already wants, but if that is the case, it seems Liem has yet to meet a circumstance where his husband did not wish to have his hands all over him.
Though that should hardly be a surprise.]
Then it would be my pleasure to indulge you.
[He breathes it between hungry kisses gone a little sharp with longing. The hands roaming beneath his jacket make him feel distinctly overdressed; already he wishes his husband were stripping him instead, getting his greedy hands all over him to try to sate that ever-present desire.
But he is not the one burdened with uncomfortably damp attire, and he has already volunteered his service to his dear spouse.]
But I am getting ahead of myself, I think.
[He pauses with his hands still on Cardan’s undone trousers, his fingers skimming the bare skin beneath his waistband as though to simply pull the garment down already. He cannot, though, because he still has not removed his husband’s boots: a process that sadly involves pulling away from his lover’s hands to sit up, which he does only reluctantly.
The look of Cardan on the covers, rumpled and half-dressed and looking unfairly erotic, sends a hot spike of need straight through him. The sudden urgency is annoyingly at odds with his equally sudden visions of tenderly sliding each boot free while kissing his husband’s slim ankles. His mouth feels suddenly a little dry.]
[ He had been a little afraid that Liem would do what he'd done the last time Cardan had been unwell -- insist on letting him rest and expect him to be content with chaste touches and occasional stolen kisses. It is a wild relief to find that this is not the case.
And a torment, too, particularly when Liem's fingertips dip beneath his waistband but go no futher. He shivers under the tease of them, exhaling on a shaky breath. He has been impatient to feel Liem against him since the carriage ride, and they are both still so dressed. It feels a little unbearable.
The look he aims up at Liem has a healthy measure of desperation in it -- though it is amended almost immediately by his co-conspiratorial smile. ]
I leave myself in your hands, husband.
[ After all, those very hands have borne him here, have fed him a cure to the poison, have soothed his fever as it shook him for what felt like hours. He would prefer it if Liem didn't take his time -- but if he wishes to, then Cardan will not complain. Much. For the first few minutes.
Even if he so badly wants to feel the lean strength of Liem's body as it moves against his own. He wants to bury his face against Liem's neck and breathe in his scent and forget about everything else. Instead, he presses his head back against the pillows, willing himself to stay patient for a while longer -- but the black gaze that follows his husband remains no less ravenous. ]
They are one of my favourite things about you, you know.
[ Liem probably does know, since Cardan is almost certain he had told him, at some point. ]
[Retaining anything like patience is impossible when Cardan looks up at him like that: a little desperate, impatient even as he pretends at being agreeable. Liem wants Cardan’s hands on him again; he wants his husband to beckon him close and lay claim to every part of him, until Liem forgets everything but the feel and sound and scent of him flooding his senses.
Returning that smile with a gentle one of his own takes deliberate effort. Somehow, the hands bending his husband’s leg to prop his boot in Liem’s lap manage to be reverent instead of heedlessly rushed.]
I thought the point of a favourite was that there is only one.
[Even as he murmurs this, his expression deceptively mild, his fingers make brisk work of Cardan’s laces. He cannot help but hurry here, even if his fingers are gentle when they find the bare skin of his husband’s calf, slide along it as he eases the boot off. His touch lingers longer than it needs to before he moves on from that first foot; it cradles the rear of one elegant ankle as he drops Cardan’s boot off the side of the bed, thumb moving in an idle caress as he straightens that leg again and moves on to the other.]
[ Cardan grins, unrepentant -- glad to be distracted from his keen yearning, even if -- no, especially when it's because Liem is ribbing him. His husband is so serious so much of the time; his slyness is ever a rare pleasure.
As is his touch. Cardan yet feels a little overwarm; Liem's caress on his newly bared skin sends an openly pleasurable shiver through him. The catlike urge to arch into it is nearly overwhelming. ]
I noticed the first time I watched you work, [ he tells Liem, ] how deliberate you are with them.
[ Of course, Liem is deliberate with everything he does, but there is something particularly attractive about the meticulous control with which his husband wrangles correspondence and paperwork.
His smile turns a little secretive. ] I wondered, then, if you would be as precise with them in other matters.
And I think I spent that entire five weeks wanting to put my mouth on them.
[ In the end, he had done the exact opposite -- his fingers, Liem's excitingly dangerous mouth -- but it had worked out well enough, so he cannot be particularly cross. ]
[Cardan’s feline smiles and secretive little confessions make for a treacherously distracting backdrop to Liem’s present occupation. The pleased shiver he spies, feels beneath his hands as they slide over warm skin, thrills in his belly and makes his heart flip over in his chest.
He so loves to experience his husband in the grip of pleasure, no matter how small or how brief. It makes him hungry for more, even as his want for Cardan’s tender touches and dangerous smiles grows wilder, climbs up his chest and into his throat.]
There’s nothing you do with your mouth that doesn’t make me at least a little nervous.
[Liem breathes this against the fabric of Cardan’s trousers as, stooped over his husband’s leg, he divests him of his other boot. As he reaches aside to discard it as well, he meets Cardan’s eyes over the raised limb, his lips just brushing the fine material.]
[ Though for all his impatience to get his hands -- and his mouth -- all over Liem, he is enjoying himself immensely. Perhaps it is some new, strange magic Liem was wrought. Despite all of his resistance, Cardan has come to savour the careful way Liem undresses him -- that strange feeling of being taken care of. Tonight, he wants to close his eyes and give himself over to it entirely.
And because there is no reason not to, he does just that. ]
...they feel safe.
Your hands. They make me feel safe.
[ Which isn't a sexy thing to say, but he's already been so foolish this night that it seems his tongue is primed to share unwise sentiments. ]
[Cardan could hardly have said anything that would have shocked Liem more. The cool, deliberate hands now sliding up Cardan’s thighs pause; for a moment he fixes his husband with an intent stare, as though trying to pry out some hidden meaning woven cunningly into the words. When he fails at this, he is forced to admit that his husband may have come to trust him more than he had wished to believe.
And even though it’s inarguably foolish for Cardan to let himself be lulled so, Liem cannot bring himself to deny it. His long-neglected wish to be worthy of someone’s trust is too starved for him to be wise about this.
Even if thinking about it makes something inside his chest ache terribly.]
I have been remiss, then, [he says, hooking his fingers into Cardan’s trousers and pulling them down his hips,] in not putting them on you as much as I might like.
[Part of him wants to tell Cardan that it’s the same for him: That ever since that first time, after the assassin had tried to kill them both, Cardan’s hands on him have felt more and more like home. That he has never felt so safe as when he’s in his arms.
But Cardan knows this, surely. Liem told him the important part already; going on and on about it would only make him seem lovesick and pathetic. And how could Cardan feel safe in the hands of a pathetic man?
Discarding the trousers, he moves over his husband, one hand braced against his hip and the other travelling up his arm to find his wrist—to work open his cuff with quick, deliberate movements. His voice is soft.]
That makes me nervous, too—that you would think that. But I still want you to.
[ It's a little difficult to focus on Liem's words when he's busy divesting Cardan of his trousers and yet for some reason still not touching his dick, nor making any move to remove his own pants. Cardan suddenly cares very little about his shirt nor its cuff -- though the touch of Liem's fingers on the sensitive skin of his wrist makes him shiver again. His free hand slides up the back of Liem's thigh to find the lean curve of his ass, possessive and hungry all at once.
He only opens his eyes enough to glance at Liem, half-lidded and demonstratively languid, despite his impatience. ]
Oh?
Should I be worried, husband?
[ Ironically, he does feel more vulnerable than usual -- this feels more vulnerable than usual. He is so rarely bare when Liem is clothed, outside the context of a bath.
But he's not worried about Liem, or Liem's intentions. The time for that has passed long ago -- back when he entrusted his husband with his safety, or when he'd demanded Liem drink his blood, or whenever it was that he'd first started to believe that maybe, just maybe, their plans might succeed.
Besides, there is little room for anxiety when he's so filled with longing, aching for Liem's weight on top of his own. He's preoccupied with the desire to pull him close and kiss him, and hope the clothing situation figures itself out somehow -- but he knows, too, that Liem will complain about being interrupted. So Cardan only bites his lip, cracking his languid facade, and waits with marked, twitchy-tailed impatience for his meticulous spouse to be done undressing him. ]
[When Liem looks at Cardan lying beneath him, wearing only rumpled, undone upper layers and a lazy expression, the urge to close the remaining distance between them and forget everything but the heat of his kisses becomes unbearably distracting. Liem wants to map that bared body with his hands, wants to feel it against him as he pours his need and his tender devotion and his desperation into the man in his embrace.
Inconveniently, he is too clothed for at least some of that—but reality does nothing to inhibit his longing.]
Right now?
[He cannot quite ignore the white-hot spark that flares in his belly when Cardan’s teeth dig into his lip. He can’t stop himself from imagining his own mouth on that lip instead, as it was only minutes ago. Liem leans closer, sliding his touch possessively up Cardan’s stomach, his chest, pressing near to plant a kiss directly on the tip of his elegant nose.]
No. [And he says again,] I won’t let anything happen to you.
[And because he cannot quite keep himself from being distracted after all, he does kiss him, and his fingers twine with Cardan’s as he samples his mouth again, ever-hungry for that intimate pleasure.]
[ He can't help the needy sound that escapes him when Liem's mouth finds his again -- can't help it any more than he could help the way he arched up into the possessive transit of Liem's palms up his body. He grips his husband's hand like it's a lifeline -- using his other arm to prop himself up so he can press into his space, aggressive. Evidently, he has also decided that he'd much rather bite Liem's lip than his own.
At this point, he has no idea what Liem was talking about, nor does he want to know. He doesn't want to think about it at all. Why should he care?
What he wants is to take Liem's hand and move it between their bodies, so he can press the back of that cool palm to his chest, where his heart still beats so impertinently for him.
Impertinently, and impatiently. ]
Will you hurry up and finish? [ It's very nearly a growl; he's breathless with frustrated desire. If he had a free hand, he would be winding Liem's tie around it like a leash by now. Since he doesn't, he tries his best to convey the sentiment via imperious glaring. ]
I want to touch you. I want your hands on me.
[ He wants and he wants and he wants, to no end, and if Liem doesn't give him an outlet, he's going to truly lose all sense soon. ]
[When he set out to rid his husband of his clothing, Liem intended to be accommodating. He wanted to oblige and indulge him, and intended to, in whatever capacity Cardan might desire, for the pleasure of making his temperamental husband happy. Even now, the desire to please him flutters through Liem’s chest, eager enough that he thinks his husband must be able to feel it when he crowds against him.
Only, his husband wears his impatience and his irritation so charmingly. Liem hums, delighted, at the reaction his kiss evokes in his heretofore languid spouse, the heated body pressing near and the delicious spark of pain as Cardan’s teeth find his lip. Obligingly, he rolls his hips against him, shivering through the distracting press of their bodies. He wants more of this, too. He has become so greedy for his husband, endlessly wanting everything he has.]
But my prince, my hands are on you.
[Even when he wishes to be deferential, he cannot sound anything but pleased about this. Are their palms not pressed flush together at this very moment? Are his fingers not already splayed greedily over Cardan’s ribs? But… perhaps his husband would prefer if Liem’s touch slid back down to claim him elsewhere.
Only his desire to actually have his husband nude compels him to find Cardan’s wrist instead, to undo his other cuff. Liem sits up, one hand brushing Cardan’s neck as he slides damp fabric away from his shoulder.]
Not enough, [ he gasps, keenly distracted by the friction of Liem's clothed hips against his bare skin. He feels too sensitive, too alight with want; an hour ago, he thought he might never have this again. He needs it so keenly now.
He shakes his shirt off his arm like he's brushing off a cobweb. ]
Maybe it cannot ever be…
[ He mutters it, somewhere between distracted and sulky, eyeing the man poised above him. And then he does use the tie as a leash -- intent on pulling Liem back towards him, so Cardan's teeth can find his throat, so he can decorate the pale skin with hot kisses.
His next complaint is already on its way, murmured against Liem's collarbone: ] You are too dressed.
[ And, while Cardan would usually be actively committed to fixing this problem, his thoughts are too scattered, too unfocused, too full of Liem's closeness and the heat that occupies hs own body, still. His hands slip down to Liem's hips, a little frantic with it. If Liem wishes to be undressed, he is going to have to do it himself: for all of his (haphazard) efforts, Cardan's restless hands only manage to untuck his shirt to slide up the bare skin of his back, down his flanks. He just wants to feel him, to delight in him and his closeness, his familiar weight on top of Cardan.
Though, after a momentary thought, he will bring his hands down to Liem’s ass again, if only so Cardan can manhandle his hips into another delicious grind. His luxuriant shiver is meant to encourage Liem into getting his clothing problem fixed already. ]
[Liem has only scraps of patience left for the task of removing his husband’s shirt. By the time he has accomplished this, slid the layers of fabric from Cardan’s lovely shoulders, he has no care left for concentrating on the task of undressing himself.
The hands delving beneath his clothing and the mouth mapping his throat demand almost all of his attention.
Suddenly, he cannot make himself care at all for playing the part of attendant. Even though he wanted to be obliging, even though he still wanted to pretend that nothing was wrong, he is so piteously full of longing for the man in his arms—and now that Cardan is touching him, now that he is kissing him like that and moving against him with such urgent desire, Liem feels abruptly frantic with the need to wrap around him like a second skin. He begrudges every millimetre of space between them, and his clothes have become nothing more than an irritating obstacle.]
Impatient, [he murmurs, his breath stuttering as Cardan shivers against him. Liem’s hands retreat reluctantly from their greedy exploration of his husband’s bare chest and flanks, because they must—because he is too dressed, and Cardan’s haphazard efforts to dishevel him fall short of actually addressing the problem.
Liem’s fingers hook into his tie, pull it undone and tug feverishly at the buttons of his waistcoat, even as he works open his cuff with his other hand. His breaths brush heavily against Cardan’s pointed ear.]
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It’s ironic that somehow, although Cardan’s heart is the one to have been racing so heedlessly, Liem’s has ended up feeling so bruised.]
I knew I would be afraid, [he murmurs,] but I didn’t know how much.
[Even when the assassin had come for them at that party, he can’t remember feeling nearly so terrified. At first, the fight had just swept him up, muffling everything else—and even after, though his mind had been awhirl with concerns, his fear had not been so great.
But that had been before he let Cardan become so dear to him. It had been before his taste became the only one on Liem’s tongue and his arms came to feel like the only home he would ever need: which is a terrible way to feel for a man who, on some level, must surely hold Liem in contempt. And still, Liem cannot suppress his own desperate attachment to his husband, set down over months and now rooted deep, so intrinsic he doesn’t know how he could possibly burn it out.
But he cannot tell Cardan that, and his husband deserves to understand. So if he cannot tell him the truth, perhaps a truth will suffice.]
You know, I was there… the night my mother was killed.
[He pulls back to say this; swallows, makes himself look Cardan in the eye.]
I was still small. We were taking a carriage somewhere, and when it was attacked she hid me inside the seat. Then she went out, and… I spent what felt like a long time waiting.
[For someone to come: maybe for his mother to return, maybe for some soldier to drag him out. As time had gone on, and it had become quieter, he had worried less for himself—but for his mother, he only worried more. Looking back, he doubts it was much longer than an hour or two, but for him the waiting had gone on forever.]
I hate the waiting most. But when my father found me, and he told me she was dead… [His expression loses some of its steady focus, becomes more distant, and more heartbroken.] I wanted to go back. It had been better, just being afraid.
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He strokes Liem's hair as he listens, brow furrowed, and thinks himself a fool for the fiftieth time this night. He had forgotten about Liem's mother entirely. Vampires fear neither old age nor illness; he could have surmised that she must have died violently. He must have surmised it, at one point, and yet he hadn't thought -- had never realized -- that his husband had already suffered this kind of loss.
How terrible it must have been, to lose someone who loved him enough to protect him. He has no recourse for it. How could he? How could anyone?
He envisions the serious child from the family portrait waiting for the woman pictured beside him, and cannot imagine what it must have been like. And what would she have thought of Cardan, who could not leave Liem at all, even when he knew full well that it was cowardice? That it would only endanger him or hurt him? And now it is too late; now leaving would hurt too much. He cannot even pretend that he might do such a thing.
The forlorn look on Liem's face aches like a bruise. ]
She kept you safe.
...as you have me.
[ And he can't help but wonder if she'd been terrified too, leaving her son as she had. ]
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But perhaps he would not be here to have such thoughts if that were the case, and Cardan would be without a husband, so maybe Cardan is right after all. Even if being saved in such a way had only made him unhappy.]
I don’t want to be that frightened, helpless boy again.
[Not when he’s already waded through so much blood to get here. If he can’t even protect his own husband, what good can he possibly be to anyone?
And how could he live with himself if he failed to keep Cardan of all people safe?]
I’m sorry I was out of sorts, Cardan. [He’s earnest, apologetic as he says this. He can’t help but feel like their ride back home was so tense and unhappy mostly because of him.] I just don’t want to lose you, too.
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Good thing you were so spectacularly unhelpless that I'm still alive.
[ That's the important part, he thinks, and one that Liem has spent far too little focus on. He glances down at his husband's handsome features, more painfully attractive for all that sincerity. Liem wields it as if it were a weapon. ]
And I shan't accept your apology, Liem Talbott, for you owe no such thing. I should have known better.
Next time, I will disregard your wishes and demand to be coddled regardless.
[ Neither his tone nor his face indicate that he's joking.
Still, it irks him that he cannot promise Liem the things that he wants: that he will stay by his side for as long as Liem needs him -- forever, if they're both not sick of each other by then. But it is not truth, and so he cannot speak it, no matter how much he wishes to.
And he will not waste his time with cheap qualifiers.
So instead he will sigh, and shift his weight for the second time this early morning. This time, it is so he can stop squashing Liem and move to his side instead -- though Cardan still throws an arm over his chest, still tangles his leg in between Liem's, still keeps his face close enough that he needs only murmur to be heard. After all the turmoil of earlier, he is unwilling to separate even for a minute.
Which is why he does not bring up that they're both still wearing shoes. ]
...there is an antidote to fear, you know.
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You are incredibly contrary, [he observes, hopelessly fond.
He has had enough tonight of trying to be sensible. It is why, when his husband rolls off to lie against him again, Liem does not attempt to use this opportunity to unlace his boots or shrug free of his coat. He simply continues to wrap himself around Cardan, running his fingers through his hair as he watches him from only a breath away.]
Oh? And what is that?
[Liem regards his husband with rapt attention that is mostly occupied with cataloguing the singular colour of his eyes, the length of his lashes, the angle of his cheekbones and the precise shape of his brows. But he is also listening, even if the direction of his attention is not solely focused on what Cardan has to say.]
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He leans into the touch, closing his eyes. Just for a moment. ]
When Nicasia left me, [ he starts, ] I lost my fear entirely. For some few glorious days, I felt untouchable. Neither Balekin's wrath nor my father's disdain could reach me.
[ He looks at Liem again. Cardan suspects his husband won't like this story, but it's important. He has a point to make. ]
Of course, that was before Balekin reminded me that there were yet things I could lose.
[ Case in point: there is his husband, mussed and exceedingly charming in his dishevelment. Cardan is seized by the sudden desire to slide his hands under the layers of the suit, to strip it from him, just so he can press close and feel bare skin against skin.
But he has to finish his story, so he only splays his fingers over the small of his husband's back and shifts infinitesimally nearer, tangling them further together. His stare is intent. ]
...I liked being unafraid.
But I didn't like it more than the precious things I have, Liem.
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And he had not been any safer, even if he was less afraid. If anything, he paid poorer attention to the threats around him, given his newfound disdain for the inner lives of other people. He simply cared less, about everything—including things he previously dreaded.
As he meets his husband’s stare, he hopes Cardan never needs to feel that way again. But he wonders if such a thing could be possible.]
Then we are in agreement.
[It is better to have something, and to fear losing it, than to have nothing at all. To him, Cardan’s freedom and happiness are worth protecting, even if the prospect of failure frightens him terribly.
And besides—it gives him the opportunity to tangle himself up in his husband, to pet his hair, to cup his cheek so he can regard him with a steady, tender look that he cannot find it in him to regret just now.]
Besides, [he murmurs, stroking Cardan’s cheekbone with a cool thumb,] you have a talent for banishing my fears.
[Because Cardan is alive after all, and here with him, warming him with his touch and his breath and his nearness, and it turns out that Liem cannot find it in him to be so afraid just now.]
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Tonight, he wants to be sure he is not being lied to.
But Liem's soft touch and tender regard seem too real to doubt, and so he doesn't. They are curled so close now; it's impossible to deny the longing that still sweeps through Cardan. It's only that it is no longer the feral, panicked thing he had felt on the journey here or while he was riding out the poison's effects. He can take his time now. He can turn his head to press his lips to Liem's palm, to brush reverent kisses over his fingertips -- and then his mouth, too, slow and sweet. Their schedule for the night is well and truly ruined; there is no reason not to take his time.
Though he will pull back with a grimace eventually, glancing down at himself -- as much of himself as he sees, wrapped up as he is in his husband. ]
I'm going to have to undress.
[ Now that his temperature has dropped again, he finds himself uncomfortably damp. ]
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But the looming spectre of Cardan’s death no longer hangs over him with such fearful certainty, and now that he has emerged from its shadow, Liem is eager to indulge in his husband’s warmth and tenderness and his unwavering desire. He feels starved for his nearness, and he doubts he’ll be sated even if they exchange kisses until the sun climbs into the sky and sinks below the horizon again.
Perhaps because Cardan’s sweetness always feels so unexpected and so undeserved: this rare thing his husband only ever shows to him. He feels like a con artist, having stolen something he hasn’t earned—and he can’t help wanting more, for as long as he can get it. He can’t help melting into his husband when he kisses him, fitting against him as perfectly as he can. His fingers sneak under damp clothing, wandering Cardan’s throat and chest and ribs, sliding possessively around to his back to feel him, solid and real, beneath his hands.
He likes him so awfully, inexcusably much.]
Is that my cue to release you from my clutches?
[Liem murmurs against his jaw, sounding very much like someone who has no immediate intentions of doing anything of the sort.]
I suppose I can… if you permit me to undress you, instead.
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Tonight, he doesn't want to have to. Perhaps his husband is just joking -- but he's not in a mood to be good-humoured about it. ]
No.
[ ...Gusairne himself would be impressed with the flatness of that refusal. It's childish, but he's spent all his efforts in being mature on calming both of them down; this time, when he clutches Liem closer, it is sulkily deliberate.
Still, he is growing uncomfortable. With a deeper frown, he amends: ] But you may tend to my clothes, husband.
[ Because he does not feel like dealing with them himself, and the prospect of being taken care of -- once uncomfortable -- has become charming, so long as it is under the care of Liem's gentle, certain hands. He cannot help but be helplessly beguiled by their possessive touch, cannot help but want it back, no matter the circumstance. Regardless of this night's perils, he wants Liem's tenderness and his desire and the endless yearning that seems to have bonded them to each other, even back when they were strangers but in name. ]
So long as you come back to me.
[ Despite this, his hold on Liem hardly loosens. ]
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How does Cardan always wear that haughty, irritated look so well? Liem cannot see it without wanting to kiss it, no matter how foolish that might be.]
You are so suspicious of me tonight.
[Because he so dearly wishes to, and because Cardan pulls him stubbornly closer anyway, Liem leans in and kisses him again, warm and deliberate. Though he simply means to kiss him a little between his words, his husband’s mouth is incredibly distracting, and it makes longing stab keenly through him. He lingers after all.]
It doesn’t matter.
[His hands wander as he murmurs against Cardan’s mouth, skimming down his husband’s sides to fully untuck his shirt, sneaking between them to tease open the top button of his fly. His voice lilts gently playful, though the words themselves are entirely earnest.]
Malign me as much as you like, my prince. I will still remain here, at your side.
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Perhaps it is better that his husband does not realize the extent of Cardan's weakness for him.
Still, it is remarkable how quickly desire coils in his belly when Liem's hands find his fly. Suddenly, he could not care less for the clammy dampness of his clothing nor the lingering ache in his chest. Suddenly, all he wants is to cant close and give himself over to Liem's touch entirely, to let him do whatever he wanted, no matter what manner of impertinence it might enable. ]
Good, [ he says. Even if it cannot be forever, even if they both have responsibilities to call them away eventually -- he would like to believe the romantic fiction that Liem will stay for as long as Cardan needs him to.
Cardan kisses him again -- more urgently, this time -- and feels a little breathless already. Need thrums through him, sweet and familiar, keener for the thought that he might have never had these pleasures again. His freed tail taps impatiently against the covers. ]
I have not had my fill of you yet, Liem Talbott.
[ He is starting to suspect that he never will. But his arms relent in their jealous clutch; they must, for he wants to slip his hands under the layer of Liem's coat, eager to feel the familiar shape of him under the fine layers of his suit. ]
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Though that should hardly be a surprise.]
Then it would be my pleasure to indulge you.
[He breathes it between hungry kisses gone a little sharp with longing. The hands roaming beneath his jacket make him feel distinctly overdressed; already he wishes his husband were stripping him instead, getting his greedy hands all over him to try to sate that ever-present desire.
But he is not the one burdened with uncomfortably damp attire, and he has already volunteered his service to his dear spouse.]
But I am getting ahead of myself, I think.
[He pauses with his hands still on Cardan’s undone trousers, his fingers skimming the bare skin beneath his waistband as though to simply pull the garment down already. He cannot, though, because he still has not removed his husband’s boots: a process that sadly involves pulling away from his lover’s hands to sit up, which he does only reluctantly.
The look of Cardan on the covers, rumpled and half-dressed and looking unfairly erotic, sends a hot spike of need straight through him. The sudden urgency is annoyingly at odds with his equally sudden visions of tenderly sliding each boot free while kissing his husband’s slim ankles. His mouth feels suddenly a little dry.]
Ah… Allow me.
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And a torment, too, particularly when Liem's fingertips dip beneath his waistband but go no futher. He shivers under the tease of them, exhaling on a shaky breath. He has been impatient to feel Liem against him since the carriage ride, and they are both still so dressed. It feels a little unbearable.
The look he aims up at Liem has a healthy measure of desperation in it -- though it is amended almost immediately by his co-conspiratorial smile. ]
I leave myself in your hands, husband.
[ After all, those very hands have borne him here, have fed him a cure to the poison, have soothed his fever as it shook him for what felt like hours. He would prefer it if Liem didn't take his time -- but if he wishes to, then Cardan will not complain. Much. For the first few minutes.
Even if he so badly wants to feel the lean strength of Liem's body as it moves against his own. He wants to bury his face against Liem's neck and breathe in his scent and forget about everything else. Instead, he presses his head back against the pillows, willing himself to stay patient for a while longer -- but the black gaze that follows his husband remains no less ravenous. ]
They are one of my favourite things about you, you know.
[ Liem probably does know, since Cardan is almost certain he had told him, at some point. ]
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Returning that smile with a gentle one of his own takes deliberate effort. Somehow, the hands bending his husband’s leg to prop his boot in Liem’s lap manage to be reverent instead of heedlessly rushed.]
I thought the point of a favourite was that there is only one.
[Even as he murmurs this, his expression deceptively mild, his fingers make brisk work of Cardan’s laces. He cannot help but hurry here, even if his fingers are gentle when they find the bare skin of his husband’s calf, slide along it as he eases the boot off. His touch lingers longer than it needs to before he moves on from that first foot; it cradles the rear of one elegant ankle as he drops Cardan’s boot off the side of the bed, thumb moving in an idle caress as he straightens that leg again and moves on to the other.]
What do you like about them?
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[ Cardan grins, unrepentant -- glad to be distracted from his keen yearning, even if -- no, especially when it's because Liem is ribbing him. His husband is so serious so much of the time; his slyness is ever a rare pleasure.
As is his touch. Cardan yet feels a little overwarm; Liem's caress on his newly bared skin sends an openly pleasurable shiver through him. The catlike urge to arch into it is nearly overwhelming. ]
I noticed the first time I watched you work, [ he tells Liem, ] how deliberate you are with them.
[ Of course, Liem is deliberate with everything he does, but there is something particularly attractive about the meticulous control with which his husband wrangles correspondence and paperwork.
His smile turns a little secretive. ] I wondered, then, if you would be as precise with them in other matters.
And I think I spent that entire five weeks wanting to put my mouth on them.
[ In the end, he had done the exact opposite -- his fingers, Liem's excitingly dangerous mouth -- but it had worked out well enough, so he cannot be particularly cross. ]
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He so loves to experience his husband in the grip of pleasure, no matter how small or how brief. It makes him hungry for more, even as his want for Cardan’s tender touches and dangerous smiles grows wilder, climbs up his chest and into his throat.]
There’s nothing you do with your mouth that doesn’t make me at least a little nervous.
[Liem breathes this against the fabric of Cardan’s trousers as, stooped over his husband’s leg, he divests him of his other boot. As he reaches aside to discard it as well, he meets Cardan’s eyes over the raised limb, his lips just brushing the fine material.]
I always want it on me.
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[ Though for all his impatience to get his hands -- and his mouth -- all over Liem, he is enjoying himself immensely. Perhaps it is some new, strange magic Liem was wrought. Despite all of his resistance, Cardan has come to savour the careful way Liem undresses him -- that strange feeling of being taken care of. Tonight, he wants to close his eyes and give himself over to it entirely.
And because there is no reason not to, he does just that. ]
...they feel safe.
Your hands. They make me feel safe.
[ Which isn't a sexy thing to say, but he's already been so foolish this night that it seems his tongue is primed to share unwise sentiments. ]
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And even though it’s inarguably foolish for Cardan to let himself be lulled so, Liem cannot bring himself to deny it. His long-neglected wish to be worthy of someone’s trust is too starved for him to be wise about this.
Even if thinking about it makes something inside his chest ache terribly.]
I have been remiss, then, [he says, hooking his fingers into Cardan’s trousers and pulling them down his hips,] in not putting them on you as much as I might like.
[Part of him wants to tell Cardan that it’s the same for him: That ever since that first time, after the assassin had tried to kill them both, Cardan’s hands on him have felt more and more like home. That he has never felt so safe as when he’s in his arms.
But Cardan knows this, surely. Liem told him the important part already; going on and on about it would only make him seem lovesick and pathetic. And how could Cardan feel safe in the hands of a pathetic man?
Discarding the trousers, he moves over his husband, one hand braced against his hip and the other travelling up his arm to find his wrist—to work open his cuff with quick, deliberate movements. His voice is soft.]
That makes me nervous, too—that you would think that. But I still want you to.
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He only opens his eyes enough to glance at Liem, half-lidded and demonstratively languid, despite his impatience. ]
Oh?
Should I be worried, husband?
[ Ironically, he does feel more vulnerable than usual -- this feels more vulnerable than usual. He is so rarely bare when Liem is clothed, outside the context of a bath.
But he's not worried about Liem, or Liem's intentions. The time for that has passed long ago -- back when he entrusted his husband with his safety, or when he'd demanded Liem drink his blood, or whenever it was that he'd first started to believe that maybe, just maybe, their plans might succeed.
Besides, there is little room for anxiety when he's so filled with longing, aching for Liem's weight on top of his own. He's preoccupied with the desire to pull him close and kiss him, and hope the clothing situation figures itself out somehow -- but he knows, too, that Liem will complain about being interrupted. So Cardan only bites his lip, cracking his languid facade, and waits with marked, twitchy-tailed impatience for his meticulous spouse to be done undressing him. ]
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Inconveniently, he is too clothed for at least some of that—but reality does nothing to inhibit his longing.]
Right now?
[He cannot quite ignore the white-hot spark that flares in his belly when Cardan’s teeth dig into his lip. He can’t stop himself from imagining his own mouth on that lip instead, as it was only minutes ago. Liem leans closer, sliding his touch possessively up Cardan’s stomach, his chest, pressing near to plant a kiss directly on the tip of his elegant nose.]
No. [And he says again,] I won’t let anything happen to you.
[And because he cannot quite keep himself from being distracted after all, he does kiss him, and his fingers twine with Cardan’s as he samples his mouth again, ever-hungry for that intimate pleasure.]
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At this point, he has no idea what Liem was talking about, nor does he want to know. He doesn't want to think about it at all. Why should he care?
What he wants is to take Liem's hand and move it between their bodies, so he can press the back of that cool palm to his chest, where his heart still beats so impertinently for him.
Impertinently, and impatiently. ]
Will you hurry up and finish? [ It's very nearly a growl; he's breathless with frustrated desire. If he had a free hand, he would be winding Liem's tie around it like a leash by now. Since he doesn't, he tries his best to convey the sentiment via imperious glaring. ]
I want to touch you. I want your hands on me.
[ He wants and he wants and he wants, to no end, and if Liem doesn't give him an outlet, he's going to truly lose all sense soon. ]
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Only, his husband wears his impatience and his irritation so charmingly. Liem hums, delighted, at the reaction his kiss evokes in his heretofore languid spouse, the heated body pressing near and the delicious spark of pain as Cardan’s teeth find his lip. Obligingly, he rolls his hips against him, shivering through the distracting press of their bodies. He wants more of this, too. He has become so greedy for his husband, endlessly wanting everything he has.]
But my prince, my hands are on you.
[Even when he wishes to be deferential, he cannot sound anything but pleased about this. Are their palms not pressed flush together at this very moment? Are his fingers not already splayed greedily over Cardan’s ribs? But… perhaps his husband would prefer if Liem’s touch slid back down to claim him elsewhere.
Only his desire to actually have his husband nude compels him to find Cardan’s wrist instead, to undo his other cuff. Liem sits up, one hand brushing Cardan’s neck as he slides damp fabric away from his shoulder.]
Have me, then.
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He shakes his shirt off his arm like he's brushing off a cobweb. ]
Maybe it cannot ever be…
[ He mutters it, somewhere between distracted and sulky, eyeing the man poised above him. And then he does use the tie as a leash -- intent on pulling Liem back towards him, so Cardan's teeth can find his throat, so he can decorate the pale skin with hot kisses.
His next complaint is already on its way, murmured against Liem's collarbone: ] You are too dressed.
[ And, while Cardan would usually be actively committed to fixing this problem, his thoughts are too scattered, too unfocused, too full of Liem's closeness and the heat that occupies hs own body, still. His hands slip down to Liem's hips, a little frantic with it. If Liem wishes to be undressed, he is going to have to do it himself: for all of his (haphazard) efforts, Cardan's restless hands only manage to untuck his shirt to slide up the bare skin of his back, down his flanks. He just wants to feel him, to delight in him and his closeness, his familiar weight on top of Cardan.
Though, after a momentary thought, he will bring his hands down to Liem’s ass again, if only so Cardan can manhandle his hips into another delicious grind. His luxuriant shiver is meant to encourage Liem into getting his clothing problem fixed already. ]
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The hands delving beneath his clothing and the mouth mapping his throat demand almost all of his attention.
Suddenly, he cannot make himself care at all for playing the part of attendant. Even though he wanted to be obliging, even though he still wanted to pretend that nothing was wrong, he is so piteously full of longing for the man in his arms—and now that Cardan is touching him, now that he is kissing him like that and moving against him with such urgent desire, Liem feels abruptly frantic with the need to wrap around him like a second skin. He begrudges every millimetre of space between them, and his clothes have become nothing more than an irritating obstacle.]
Impatient, [he murmurs, his breath stuttering as Cardan shivers against him. Liem’s hands retreat reluctantly from their greedy exploration of his husband’s bare chest and flanks, because they must—because he is too dressed, and Cardan’s haphazard efforts to dishevel him fall short of actually addressing the problem.
Liem’s fingers hook into his tie, pull it undone and tug feverishly at the buttons of his waistcoat, even as he works open his cuff with his other hand. His breaths brush heavily against Cardan’s pointed ear.]
So am I.
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