[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.]
[ Cardan laughs, then, his face turned to Liem. He breathes in his lover's scent, giddy with Liem's closeness, with the harshness of those breaths he doesn't need to take at all. ]
When have I ever been patient for you?
[ He doesn't stop moving against Liem -- he can't. He won't. He's pretty sure his heart would stop again if he had to. Each torturous roll of his hips makes him gasp. ]
I love the way it looks on you, [ he breathes, ardent. ] Impatience.
[ His grin is wolfish. ]
And the way it sounds on you. And the way it tastes--
[ Speaking of the five senses, he is going to help Liem with one thing after all: undoing his fly. It's only so he can reach inside his trousers and take him in his hot palm, running greedy fingers over the familiar shape of his cock. He is ever so possessive of Liem's pleasure -- and, yes, his impatience too. And just about everything else he has to offer. ]
[Liem nuzzles against Cardan’s temple, breathlessly eager, as his lover’s hand finds his cock and strokes. His preoccupation makes his fingers slow and clumsy as he undoes his other cuff, fumbling now with the top buttons of his shirt.]
Your unique privilege, [he murmurs. Among all the lovers Liem has ever had, only Cardan has earned the right to be greedy with Liem in this way, to have him however he likes, regardless of what his hunger demands. Only Cardan manages to make him so foolish with impatient need and insatiable longing.
He wants his hands on him, and his mouth; wants to feel his tongue and teeth and the slide of heated skin against him; wants to feel his cock without the barrier of clothes between them. He wants it now, and it seems unbearable that he would need to wait even a moment longer after the long torment of their night.
With a small noise of frustration, he simply grabs his shirt and tugs, pulling apart the entire line of buttons in one ruthless motion. At least a few of the buttons snap free entirely, bouncing off Cardan and onto the sheets as Liem shrugs disgustedly out of his layers and tosses them aside.]
[ The surprised noise Cardan makes when he's suddenly hit with several button projectiles is followed only by more of his laughter -- muffled, this time, against the side of Liem's neck. He cannot recall ever seeing his husband desperate enough for such drastic measures; neither can he recall being so endeared by something so silly.
And even through his amusement, it makes answering need pulse heavily in Cardan's groin. He is giddy with it; his ardent kisses move down the beguiling line of Liem's now-bare shoulder. His hands draw up Liem's flanks, immediately distracted with his bareness. ]
Oh?
And have I any others?
[ Because of course he wouldn't be satisfied with just one. He wants all of them -- every single liberty Liem might let another person take with him. Cardan wants to hoard them like treasures. His arm snakes around Liem to cradle him close, flush against Cardan. He wants that breathless mouth on his; he wants to trap Liem and keep him right there, wants his frustration and his yearning and the helpless, vulnerable pleasure he lets Cardan coax out of him.
It is frighteningly attractive. He is so endlessly enamoured with this. Some part of him had thought he would grow bored with it, just as his and Nicasia's romance had dulled with time -- instead, the familiarity of Liem's desire has only made him greedier for it, without reason or end. ]
[Liem’s relief at ridding himself of his shirt and finally baring his skin to Cardan’s attention is, briefly, enough to soothe the frustration of still being almost fully clothed from the waist down. He is ever delighted to let his husband muffle laughter against him, ever seduced by the heat of his kisses, ever distracted by his wandering hands.
For a moment, Liem winds his arms around his lover again, uncaring of the clothes he just dumped on their floor. His fingers bury themselves in Cardan’s soft, dark curls as he stamps breathless kisses against his ear, then his cheekbone, then his mouth.]
You have all of them, [Liem confesses. If there is a privilege that he would still withhold from his husband, Liem hasn’t discovered what it is. He doubts very much that he could deny Cardan anything anymore, regardless of when he asked or why he wanted it. Frighteningly, he has come to truly believe that Cardan has no intention of demanding things that Liem isn’t willing to give.
But still, he has to undress the rest of himself. Distracted as he is by his lover, he can only devote one hand to fumbling his shoes off; he is too occupied with kissing his husband, and with grinding his hips against him again with an eager nip at Cardan’s mouth, to spare much thought for anything else.]
[ It's too good to be true, that confession; coupled with the gentle hands in his hair, it makes something strange tighten in his throat, some odd pained hunger. He cannot help but crave what Liem offers -- can't help but hold him closer, grasp him tighter. This time, when his husband grinds against him, he doesn't bother holding back; the moan that escapes him is heated, shamelessly wanton.
It's not that he thinks Liem is lying to him. It's that he cannot imagine that Liem isn't lying to himself, just a little bit.
But it matters not. Tonight, it is true enough -- or will be, once Liem finally gets out of his trousers. Of course, Cardan isn't about to make it easy for him: he's too impatient and too vindictive. How else is he to repay Liem for all the pathetic yearning he makes Cardan feel?
He has long given up on the nightstands; the bed is too large. Instead, he reaches under the pillow. When his hand next slides between their bodies, wraps around Liem's cock, it is slick with oil -- as are the warm fingers that slip down the back of his husband's trousers, press between his thighs, intent on working open the tight grip of his body.
Whatever struggles Liem may face with regard to his trousers is none of Cardan's business.
...But the smile that curves against Liem's jaw is very smug. ]
I want this, [ he sighs, co-conspiratorially. As if Liem needed to be reminded that he'd wed a thoroughly terrible man. ]
[The hot, full-body flare of lust Cardan’s moan inspires does nothing to ease Liem’s struggles with his clothes. The immediacy of his need makes him feel rabid, untethered and at the mercy of his wild, yearning desire; he’s more than a little tempted to just shove down his trousers and leave them bunched around his ankles, if only to avoid having to deal with his boots. Looking stupid is presently the least of his worries.
But he cannot manage this, either, in his current position straddling his husband’s lap. So he pries off one boot, and is most of the way through unlacing the other when Cardan’s warm, slick fingers again find his cock. That, he is expecting; but when Cardan’s other hand slides down his trousers to press into him from behind, the surprised noise he makes is partly eager, partly protest.
Sensation shudders through him, making him lose track of his mission for a moment as his lover smiles against his jaw.]
H-hah… Cardan—
[He wants this so badly. He wants Cardan to be so terrible and irresistible and demanding that the fearful memories of him seeming sick and weak vanish altogether, and Liem never has to think of them again.
With a frustrated whine and a jerk of his arm, he shoves off the other shoe and sends it tumbling to the floor.]
[ This has become a strangely singular delight in Cardan's life: watching Liem struggle with clothing. It's addictive -- pinning his lover between the demands of pleasure and the goal he aims to accomplish. It's addictive because of the stubborn way Liem always persists, even against terrible odds; it's addictive because of the way he gives in, pliant and tender under Cardan's hands. The sound of his name on his lover's tongue shivers through him, heady like Faerie wine. It spreads its tendrils through him, that keen, heated want, and his shuddering breath is the first answer to Liem's complaint. ]
Yes, my dear Liem?
[ His mouth brushes up the sharp angle of Liem's jaw, pressing breathless kisses to his cheek, his temple, the shell of his ear. As ever, his desire to torment Liem, to tease his body open with terrible, slow tenderness, is at odds with the animal need flooding his senses. But it's steadying, too: taking control of this, of his husband. Taking care of him in the best way Cardan knows how -- by being cruel and capricious in just the way Liem seems to want. Just before, he had felt adrift, frazzled and frantic, but this -- this feels like an old, well practised dance, and he feels his nerves settle as he fits himself to it. The more Liem's hands stumble in their task, the more certain Cardan's feel.
Sometimes he wonders if this isn't the real allure of power. ]
Surely, trousers aren't so complicated a garment.
[ His teeth graze the shell of Liem's gently pointed ear, oh-so-gentle about it. ]
[No matter how many times Cardan pulls this exact same trick, Liem keeps falling for it just as hard. He keeps accepting the challenge of undressing them while he’s already distracted with desire, and Cardan keeps preying on his lusts just as eagerly each time—because Liem can no more resist his husband’s touch than his hopeless desire to indulge Cardan’s wishes.
The lips roaming the side of his face make that desire thrum frantically against the inside of his ribs, filling his throat and clutching tight around his heart. Since when has Liem been dear to Cardan? Surely it’s just a turn of phrase, but he still can’t suppress the yearning he feels when he hears it. After everything to happen tonight, being terrorized by his husband feels like relief, and the possibility of earning his praise has never seemed so laden with promise.
But this does not make his task any easier. His hands, now free from their work with his shoes, pull his trousers further down his hips—and stop, meeting the obstacle of Cardan’s body fitted snugly between his thighs. He cannot undress further without pulling away from his husband, and Cardan certainly doesn’t seem inclined to release him.]
You are… thwarting me with your nearness.
[He breathes the words against Cardan’s shoulder, restless and distracted with impatience. Already, he wants more than just Cardan’s hands on him, more than teasing caresses and gentle kisses: he wants the heated weight of his lover pressing him into the sheets, wants Cardan rutting into him, breathless and wanton. He wants Cardan to remind him whose he is, so he can forget everything else and feel safe again, if only for a short while.
And yet, he remains trapped in his husband’s lap, foiled by slick fingers and a pair of trousers that are barely clinging to his hips.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
When have I ever been patient for you?
[ He doesn't stop moving against Liem -- he can't. He won't. He's pretty sure his heart would stop again if he had to. Each torturous roll of his hips makes him gasp. ]
I love the way it looks on you, [ he breathes, ardent. ] Impatience.
[ His grin is wolfish. ]
And the way it sounds on you. And the way it tastes--
[ Speaking of the five senses, he is going to help Liem with one thing after all: undoing his fly. It's only so he can reach inside his trousers and take him in his hot palm, running greedy fingers over the familiar shape of his cock. He is ever so possessive of Liem's pleasure -- and, yes, his impatience too. And just about everything else he has to offer. ]
It makes me want to devour you.
no subject
[Liem nuzzles against Cardan’s temple, breathlessly eager, as his lover’s hand finds his cock and strokes. His preoccupation makes his fingers slow and clumsy as he undoes his other cuff, fumbling now with the top buttons of his shirt.]
Your unique privilege, [he murmurs. Among all the lovers Liem has ever had, only Cardan has earned the right to be greedy with Liem in this way, to have him however he likes, regardless of what his hunger demands. Only Cardan manages to make him so foolish with impatient need and insatiable longing.
He wants his hands on him, and his mouth; wants to feel his tongue and teeth and the slide of heated skin against him; wants to feel his cock without the barrier of clothes between them. He wants it now, and it seems unbearable that he would need to wait even a moment longer after the long torment of their night.
With a small noise of frustration, he simply grabs his shirt and tugs, pulling apart the entire line of buttons in one ruthless motion. At least a few of the buttons snap free entirely, bouncing off Cardan and onto the sheets as Liem shrugs disgustedly out of his layers and tosses them aside.]
no subject
And even through his amusement, it makes answering need pulse heavily in Cardan's groin. He is giddy with it; his ardent kisses move down the beguiling line of Liem's now-bare shoulder. His hands draw up Liem's flanks, immediately distracted with his bareness. ]
Oh?
And have I any others?
[ Because of course he wouldn't be satisfied with just one. He wants all of them -- every single liberty Liem might let another person take with him. Cardan wants to hoard them like treasures. His arm snakes around Liem to cradle him close, flush against Cardan. He wants that breathless mouth on his; he wants to trap Liem and keep him right there, wants his frustration and his yearning and the helpless, vulnerable pleasure he lets Cardan coax out of him.
It is frighteningly attractive. He is so endlessly enamoured with this. Some part of him had thought he would grow bored with it, just as his and Nicasia's romance had dulled with time -- instead, the familiarity of Liem's desire has only made him greedier for it, without reason or end. ]
no subject
For a moment, Liem winds his arms around his lover again, uncaring of the clothes he just dumped on their floor. His fingers bury themselves in Cardan’s soft, dark curls as he stamps breathless kisses against his ear, then his cheekbone, then his mouth.]
You have all of them, [Liem confesses. If there is a privilege that he would still withhold from his husband, Liem hasn’t discovered what it is. He doubts very much that he could deny Cardan anything anymore, regardless of when he asked or why he wanted it. Frighteningly, he has come to truly believe that Cardan has no intention of demanding things that Liem isn’t willing to give.
But still, he has to undress the rest of himself. Distracted as he is by his lover, he can only devote one hand to fumbling his shoes off; he is too occupied with kissing his husband, and with grinding his hips against him again with an eager nip at Cardan’s mouth, to spare much thought for anything else.]
Everything I have is yours, Cardan.
no subject
It's not that he thinks Liem is lying to him. It's that he cannot imagine that Liem isn't lying to himself, just a little bit.
But it matters not. Tonight, it is true enough -- or will be, once Liem finally gets out of his trousers. Of course, Cardan isn't about to make it easy for him: he's too impatient and too vindictive. How else is he to repay Liem for all the pathetic yearning he makes Cardan feel?
He has long given up on the nightstands; the bed is too large. Instead, he reaches under the pillow. When his hand next slides between their bodies, wraps around Liem's cock, it is slick with oil -- as are the warm fingers that slip down the back of his husband's trousers, press between his thighs, intent on working open the tight grip of his body.
Whatever struggles Liem may face with regard to his trousers is none of Cardan's business.
...But the smile that curves against Liem's jaw is very smug. ]
I want this, [ he sighs, co-conspiratorially. As if Liem needed to be reminded that he'd wed a thoroughly terrible man. ]
no subject
But he cannot manage this, either, in his current position straddling his husband’s lap. So he pries off one boot, and is most of the way through unlacing the other when Cardan’s warm, slick fingers again find his cock. That, he is expecting; but when Cardan’s other hand slides down his trousers to press into him from behind, the surprised noise he makes is partly eager, partly protest.
Sensation shudders through him, making him lose track of his mission for a moment as his lover smiles against his jaw.]
H-hah… Cardan—
[He wants this so badly. He wants Cardan to be so terrible and irresistible and demanding that the fearful memories of him seeming sick and weak vanish altogether, and Liem never has to think of them again.
With a frustrated whine and a jerk of his arm, he shoves off the other shoe and sends it tumbling to the floor.]
no subject
Yes, my dear Liem?
[ His mouth brushes up the sharp angle of Liem's jaw, pressing breathless kisses to his cheek, his temple, the shell of his ear. As ever, his desire to torment Liem, to tease his body open with terrible, slow tenderness, is at odds with the animal need flooding his senses. But it's steadying, too: taking control of this, of his husband. Taking care of him in the best way Cardan knows how -- by being cruel and capricious in just the way Liem seems to want. Just before, he had felt adrift, frazzled and frantic, but this -- this feels like an old, well practised dance, and he feels his nerves settle as he fits himself to it. The more Liem's hands stumble in their task, the more certain Cardan's feel.
Sometimes he wonders if this isn't the real allure of power. ]
Surely, trousers aren't so complicated a garment.
[ His teeth graze the shell of Liem's gently pointed ear, oh-so-gentle about it. ]
no subject
The lips roaming the side of his face make that desire thrum frantically against the inside of his ribs, filling his throat and clutching tight around his heart. Since when has Liem been dear to Cardan? Surely it’s just a turn of phrase, but he still can’t suppress the yearning he feels when he hears it. After everything to happen tonight, being terrorized by his husband feels like relief, and the possibility of earning his praise has never seemed so laden with promise.
But this does not make his task any easier. His hands, now free from their work with his shoes, pull his trousers further down his hips—and stop, meeting the obstacle of Cardan’s body fitted snugly between his thighs. He cannot undress further without pulling away from his husband, and Cardan certainly doesn’t seem inclined to release him.]
You are… thwarting me with your nearness.
[He breathes the words against Cardan’s shoulder, restless and distracted with impatience. Already, he wants more than just Cardan’s hands on him, more than teasing caresses and gentle kisses: he wants the heated weight of his lover pressing him into the sheets, wants Cardan rutting into him, breathless and wanton. He wants Cardan to remind him whose he is, so he can forget everything else and feel safe again, if only for a short while.
And yet, he remains trapped in his husband’s lap, foiled by slick fingers and a pair of trousers that are barely clinging to his hips.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)