[ 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.]
[ Unfortunately for Liem, this is just how Cardan likes him -- impatient, dishevelled, a little thwarted. He's forever fascinated by the way his husband acquiesces to even the most unreasonable of his demands; the fact that Liem seems to like it only makes it irresistible. ]
It is not like you to give up so easily, [ he tells Liem, voice tinged with breathless, put-on surprise. Truthfully, he has no idea how Liem is going to solve the problem. It doesn't really matter.
His husband is right about one thing: Cardan has no intention of letting him go. The grasp of his fingers on Liem's cock grows more demanding, tighter, stroking in place with Cardan's own rapid heartbeat. What he wants -- what he always wants -- is to see his husband caught up in the throes of pleasure, too overwhelmed by it to hide what he's feeling. He wants Liem's desperation and his submission and his helpless pleasure, with a consuming eagerness that should probably frighten them both.
He presses back, against the pillows -- eager to watch Liem, now. The fingers inside him curl, insistent on keeping him distracted.
[Liem meets Cardan’s feigned surprise with a low, frustrated noise as he squirms in his clutches, trying to maneuver into a position that somehow solves the problem his trousers are creating. He doesn’t want to rip them to shreds like some kind of animal; there’s a difference between snapping off a few buttons and rending an entire garment at the seams, and even now he isn’t quite ready to resort to the latter.
Liem is finding this problem increasingly difficult to focus on in any case, as Cardan makes it his mission to distract him completely. How he is meant to do clothing geometry in this circumstance, he doesn’t know. The slick, tight heat of Cardan’s fingers is driving him more than a little mad, dragging short, bitten-off breaths from his lungs as his own hands drag fitfully up his husband’s flanks, up his ribs.
It is too bad that Cardan wants to watch him, because Liem follows him down; nipping at his jaw, muffling a hungry groan against his throat. Lust pulses heavily through him as he rolls his hips into Cardan’s touch, scraping his teeth against the damp skin of his neck.
He is not particularly cooperative—but in an effort to multitask, he does squirm into a more promising position, and reach one arm down in an effort to drag his trousers further off after all.]
[ It is impressive of Liem to advance the problem of the pants, all the while managing to distract Cardan himself. He can ignore the hands on his chest — can ignore Liem’s weight on top of him, the familiar way he feels, perched in his lap — can even, somewhat, manage to weather the tease of his squirming, though his low, bitten-off hiss is indicative of the strain it puts on his self-control. But he can only withstand those things because he’s too focused on his husband’s pleasure. He’s absorbed in listening to Liem’s rapid breathing and his measured complaints, in watching the frustration blossom on his face. It lets him push back the desire simmering in his own veins, the way he wants to shiver against the touch of those hands on his overheated, sensitive skin — the way that same heat has pooled in his belly, frighteningly potent.
But Liem’s teeth, at ever, interrupt every other train of thought. He cannot help the way he arches into his touch, baring his throat. He cannot help the low, surprised moan that escapes him, the way his cock pulses with urgent need.
It’s cruel of Liem to tease him so when they both know full well his husband would not drink from him now — nor would Cardan let him. Not tonight, not when he’s had poison in his veins just scant hours ago, and might retain some of it still.
He bites his lip again, trying desperately to center himself — tastes blood, this time, but that’s fine. Liem will be more distracted by that than he. And he so wants his husband to be distracted, to be caught up in the vortex of his pleasure. To feel him come undone— ]
No, [ he agrees, breathlessly, ] my husband is being rather difficult.
[Even at the best of times, when he is relatively collected, Liem struggles to resist the lure of Cardan’s warm, exposed neck—and he is certainly not collected now. Not with Cardan’s breaths heavy in his ears, Cardan’s hungry smirk setting his blood aflame, Cardan’s insistent stroking overwhelming him with pleasure.
Liem is too caught up in sensation to resist the pull of his desire, even when it only torments them both. Even when that moan goes straight to his dick, making him shudder with the intensity of his own swiftly-mounting need.]
Mm… am I?
[The sharp, rich scent of Cardan’s blood stirs another kind of excitement in him, and as his own distraction mounts, Liem finds himself sorely lacking in mental focus right when he needs it most. His efforts to remove his trousers have now trapped him with the garment bunched around his thighs, hampering him quite effectively—and yet they are now truly impossible to slide off any further without committing to peeling himself away from his spouse.
That is all far beyond him. He is too busy stamping hungry kisses over Cardan’s throat, even as the edge of orgasm forces a whine from him, muffled against his husband’s neck.]
[ Liem’s closeness quickly goes from merely distracting to outright maddening. His shudder against Cardan sends ripples of pleasure through him; the mouth on his throat ever quickens a wild, unreasonable longing in him. He wants Liem’s teeth — wants the danger of them and the delicious prick of pain, wants to watch Liem grow pliant and soft-edged with pleasure in the aftermath. He wants to kiss him until they are both truly breathless.
As always, as ever, he wants more than he is alotted. ]
Come, [ he tells Liem, turning his head until he can breathe the word against his husband’s ear. His voice is rough with his own strain; his hard cock curves against his own belly, mercifully ignored. Mercifully, because he does not think he could hold on otherwise — does not think he could keep his hands on Liem, ruthlessly stoking his pleasure ever higher.
And he so wants to. He wants to feel him, solid and real and so terribly precious, as he succumbs to his pleasure. ]
[Caught as he is in Cardan’s grasp, Liem cannot help but do as he is bid. His husband’s nearness is too beguiling, his hands are too insistent, the voice brushing his ear too familiar and too dear. Liem wants only to lose himself in this feeling, to let sensation sweep him up and leave him undone, drowned amidst his husband’s scent and that eager, impertinent heartbeat.
So he does. He clutches helplessly at Cardan’s chest as his climax trembles through him, arching with a gasp into the tight, ruthless stroke of his hand. The urge to bite hammers against the back of his throat; he sinks his teeth into his own lip instead as pleasure rolls urgently through him.
It feels like forever, and still subsides far too soon. Liem is left propping himself limply against his husband, still half-undressed and too besotted to care much about the state of his pants. Nuzzling against Cardan’s shoulder while trailing possessive fingers down to his hips seems much more important; he cannot stop wanting to touch him.]
[ This is torture, too: feeling the tension build in Liem’s body, hearing his pleasure on his gasp, the beautiful arch of him against Cardan. His own teeth clench together with his overwhelming, all-encompassing need. It’s a messy, raw thing, tangled up in desire and affection and the insidious sense of belonging — belonging here, to Liem, in his embrace and in his bed.
When he pulls his fingers from his husband’s body, they are trembling. He feels drawn mercilessly taut with lust; when Liem’s hands trail lower on his body, he has to stop him, biting back a hard shiver even as he grasps Liem’s wrists. ]
Don’t. [ He swallows, takes a breath. ] I want to fuck you.
[ And he won’t — won’t be able to, not if Liem touches him any more than he already is. Not until the urgency of his desire ebbs somewhat. ]
[Caught in the wake of his climax, Liem is so steeped in blind, yearning affection that the hands encircling his wrists catch him by surprise. His splayed fingers halt before they can progress past Cardan’s waist, stroking gently over lean, tight muscles, but Liem leans away again so he can see his husband’s face.
He so rarely gets to see his lover look so tormented.]
You are ever the engineer of your own problems.
[He observes this, quiet with fondness, after a moment of breathless scrutiny. The fading of his urgency has only left more room for a growing, frighteningly tender desire—and despite still aching, shivery and oversensitive as he shifts against him, he cannot resist the impulse to press nearer with a soft noise, to kiss Cardan again. Deliberate, and sweet with longing.
He wants what Cardan demands, and more. He wants to belong to him, wants to be the object of not just his desire, but his obsession, his trust, his love. Liem’s wanting seems endless; it has harried him for months, growing louder each with each stolen night that Cardan is still by his side. He cannot imagine being free from it.
And yet, no matter how he might have wished to deny it, he also cannot recall a single time, before his marriage, that he ever felt this way.]
[ The groan he muffles against Liem's mouth is piteously hungry. Despite the sensitized shudder it wrings from him, he arches up into the kiss, as ever unable to refuse Liem in this. His hands release his lover's wrists; he runs them up Liem's back, possessive and greedy for him.
Liem is right. He has done this to himself. ]
...and what a terribly sweet torment it is.
[ But by the time he has pulled away enough to grin up at his husband, he will have recovered a little of his equilibrium. Not all of it -- not enough for his heart to cease hammering in his chest, nor for the tension to leave his body. The ache of wanting is almost unbearable. He breathes it against Liem's jaw, closing his eyes against its onslaught. ]
Your trousers.
[ He has no use for them now. And if they can shift Liem's attention for the next minute or so, all the better. ]
[The wild need that Cardan’s groan inspires in Liem should be shocking, given the bliss still settled heavily over him in the aftermath of his climax. Even though his mind ought to be clearer now, freer from distraction, he still feels caught by the greedy hands on his back and the warm mouth brushing his jaw. He is still pitifully transfixed by Cardan’s smile, still beguiled by his scent, still blind to everything but the precious, irreplaceable man in his arms. It makes him wish to put his mouth all over him, pull him close, and feel every heated inch of Cardan’s body twined with his.
Because he can. And because nothing else could possibly be more important at this moment than loving him, however briefly he might have the chance to.
Longing throbs through Liem like pain from an open wound, too keen to be ignored. Though he cannot imagine it fails to show on his face, in the curve of his mouth or the plaintive hunger in his eyes, he still pulls away, rolling off his husband to prop himself just beside him instead. Cardan remains correct; his trousers still need to come off, and even Liem’s reluctance to peel himself from his lover cannot silence his insistent need to be finally, fully bare with him. Shoving his trousers impatiently down his legs, he strips as hurriedly as he can with just one hand.]
You distracted me.
[He’s still distracting him. But that is unlikely to change.]
[ He watches Liem, caught by his expression -- by the desire he sees mirrored there, so strangely keen even now. It flutters on his breath, the ferocity of it. Already, he wants Liem back in his arms. He reaches out compulsively, trailing warm fingers over Liem's ribs, the lean dip of his waist. Not touching him is impossible -- not when he looks at Cardan like that, like he's the only thing that matters. How long has it been since he had felt he was someone like that? ]
I meant to.
[ His smile is a little rueful -- but only a little, because he doesn't actually regret it. ]
I want to be the sole object of your attention. Always.
My jealousy knows no reason.
[ And even so, even after Liem's trousers are off his body, he makes himself wait -- just a moment longer, just half a breath. Just enough to take him in one last time, bare and beautiful in his tousled vulnerability. His hand finds Liem's, intertwines their fingers again.
But his own yearning is too momentous -- like the roar of an avalanche, it will bury him if he doesn't act. He shifts his weight, moving so he is poised over his husband.
When Cardan presses him into the sheets, the feeling of relief is so intense it is nearly painful; he sighs with it, dipping close to bury his face against the pale column of Liem's throat. ]
None except you, [ Cardan tells him, not entirely sure that he's making sense anymore. He is distracted now -- caught up in his lover and his lust and the insistent, inescapable tenderness that fills his breast, pushing against his rib cage, so obvious that Liem will surely hear it on Cardan's heartbeat. ]
[Often, when Liem is with his husband, he struggles to lose himself in the moments they share. He cannot let himself forget the true nature of their partnership, cannot let himself think it might be anything other than what it is: Transactional. Temporary.
But he might forget now, just for a little while. He might lose sight of it in his husband’s dark, intent stare, in the warm fingers lacing with his, in the senseless murmur Cardan presses against his throat as he covers Liem with the weight of his body. The words pierce through him, a little painful; the longing filling his chest only aches harder, filling his lungs and constricting his throat with the intensity of his wanting.
Liem wraps an arm tight around him, every bit as jealous as his husband.]
You are so dangerous like this.
[Dangerous—and so terribly, inescapably precious. Liem tilts his head to press a kiss to Cardan’s temple, burying his nose in tousled raven curls, and murmurs into his hair.]
[ He grins, deeply pleased to be dragging Liem down into chaos and irresponsibility. He had already absconded with his caution, if only for a time -- and hadn't it been glorious? He thinks of Liem on the ice, bright-eyed and intent, thinks of him flushed and dishevelled on the way to a banquet, letting Cardan sneak his hands under his clothes. Even with the worries he had taken onto himself, it had been well worth it.
Though he doubts that even magic could make Liem truly insensible. ]
You've had to use too much of it tonight, [ he will tell Liem, dragging himself up to his lover's face with a half-stifled gasp, unable to ignore the hot shiver of need he feels at the contact. The hand that isn't clasped in Liem's finds his hip, his thigh, curling greedy fingers over soft skin so he can urge him to bend his knee. To bare himself to Cardan -- so that Cardan may claim him once more, bury himself in him and forget about everything and everyone else.
He's so impatient with it; every second feels like torture. And yet, and yet-- ]
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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.
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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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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.
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[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.]
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.]
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It is not like you to give up so easily, [ he tells Liem, voice tinged with breathless, put-on surprise. Truthfully, he has no idea how Liem is going to solve the problem. It doesn't really matter.
His husband is right about one thing: Cardan has no intention of letting him go. The grasp of his fingers on Liem's cock grows more demanding, tighter, stroking in place with Cardan's own rapid heartbeat. What he wants -- what he always wants -- is to see his husband caught up in the throes of pleasure, too overwhelmed by it to hide what he's feeling. He wants Liem's desperation and his submission and his helpless pleasure, with a consuming eagerness that should probably frighten them both.
He presses back, against the pillows -- eager to watch Liem, now. The fingers inside him curl, insistent on keeping him distracted.
Cardan's lean smile is hungry. ]
Perhaps we are at an impasse, husband.
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[Liem meets Cardan’s feigned surprise with a low, frustrated noise as he squirms in his clutches, trying to maneuver into a position that somehow solves the problem his trousers are creating. He doesn’t want to rip them to shreds like some kind of animal; there’s a difference between snapping off a few buttons and rending an entire garment at the seams, and even now he isn’t quite ready to resort to the latter.
Liem is finding this problem increasingly difficult to focus on in any case, as Cardan makes it his mission to distract him completely. How he is meant to do clothing geometry in this circumstance, he doesn’t know. The slick, tight heat of Cardan’s fingers is driving him more than a little mad, dragging short, bitten-off breaths from his lungs as his own hands drag fitfully up his husband’s flanks, up his ribs.
It is too bad that Cardan wants to watch him, because Liem follows him down; nipping at his jaw, muffling a hungry groan against his throat. Lust pulses heavily through him as he rolls his hips into Cardan’s touch, scraping his teeth against the damp skin of his neck.
He is not particularly cooperative—but in an effort to multitask, he does squirm into a more promising position, and reach one arm down in an effort to drag his trousers further off after all.]
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But Liem’s teeth, at ever, interrupt every other train of thought. He cannot help the way he arches into his touch, baring his throat. He cannot help the low, surprised moan that escapes him, the way his cock pulses with urgent need.
It’s cruel of Liem to tease him so when they both know full well his husband would not drink from him now — nor would Cardan let him. Not tonight, not when he’s had poison in his veins just scant hours ago, and might retain some of it still.
He bites his lip again, trying desperately to center himself — tastes blood, this time, but that’s fine. Liem will be more distracted by that than he. And he so wants his husband to be distracted, to be caught up in the vortex of his pleasure. To feel him come undone— ]
No, [ he agrees, breathlessly, ] my husband is being rather difficult.
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Liem is too caught up in sensation to resist the pull of his desire, even when it only torments them both. Even when that moan goes straight to his dick, making him shudder with the intensity of his own swiftly-mounting need.]
Mm… am I?
[The sharp, rich scent of Cardan’s blood stirs another kind of excitement in him, and as his own distraction mounts, Liem finds himself sorely lacking in mental focus right when he needs it most. His efforts to remove his trousers have now trapped him with the garment bunched around his thighs, hampering him quite effectively—and yet they are now truly impossible to slide off any further without committing to peeling himself away from his spouse.
That is all far beyond him. He is too busy stamping hungry kisses over Cardan’s throat, even as the edge of orgasm forces a whine from him, muffled against his husband’s neck.]
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As always, as ever, he wants more than he is alotted. ]
Come, [ he tells Liem, turning his head until he can breathe the word against his husband’s ear. His voice is rough with his own strain; his hard cock curves against his own belly, mercifully ignored. Mercifully, because he does not think he could hold on otherwise — does not think he could keep his hands on Liem, ruthlessly stoking his pleasure ever higher.
And he so wants to. He wants to feel him, solid and real and so terribly precious, as he succumbs to his pleasure. ]
Come for me, Liem.
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So he does. He clutches helplessly at Cardan’s chest as his climax trembles through him, arching with a gasp into the tight, ruthless stroke of his hand. The urge to bite hammers against the back of his throat; he sinks his teeth into his own lip instead as pleasure rolls urgently through him.
It feels like forever, and still subsides far too soon. Liem is left propping himself limply against his husband, still half-undressed and too besotted to care much about the state of his pants. Nuzzling against Cardan’s shoulder while trailing possessive fingers down to his hips seems much more important; he cannot stop wanting to touch him.]
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When he pulls his fingers from his husband’s body, they are trembling. He feels drawn mercilessly taut with lust; when Liem’s hands trail lower on his body, he has to stop him, biting back a hard shiver even as he grasps Liem’s wrists. ]
Don’t. [ He swallows, takes a breath. ] I want to fuck you.
[ And he won’t — won’t be able to, not if Liem touches him any more than he already is. Not until the urgency of his desire ebbs somewhat. ]
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He so rarely gets to see his lover look so tormented.]
You are ever the engineer of your own problems.
[He observes this, quiet with fondness, after a moment of breathless scrutiny. The fading of his urgency has only left more room for a growing, frighteningly tender desire—and despite still aching, shivery and oversensitive as he shifts against him, he cannot resist the impulse to press nearer with a soft noise, to kiss Cardan again. Deliberate, and sweet with longing.
He wants what Cardan demands, and more. He wants to belong to him, wants to be the object of not just his desire, but his obsession, his trust, his love. Liem’s wanting seems endless; it has harried him for months, growing louder each with each stolen night that Cardan is still by his side. He cannot imagine being free from it.
And yet, no matter how he might have wished to deny it, he also cannot recall a single time, before his marriage, that he ever felt this way.]
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Liem is right. He has done this to himself. ]
...and what a terribly sweet torment it is.
[ But by the time he has pulled away enough to grin up at his husband, he will have recovered a little of his equilibrium. Not all of it -- not enough for his heart to cease hammering in his chest, nor for the tension to leave his body. The ache of wanting is almost unbearable. He breathes it against Liem's jaw, closing his eyes against its onslaught. ]
Your trousers.
[ He has no use for them now. And if they can shift Liem's attention for the next minute or so, all the better. ]
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Because he can. And because nothing else could possibly be more important at this moment than loving him, however briefly he might have the chance to.
Longing throbs through Liem like pain from an open wound, too keen to be ignored. Though he cannot imagine it fails to show on his face, in the curve of his mouth or the plaintive hunger in his eyes, he still pulls away, rolling off his husband to prop himself just beside him instead. Cardan remains correct; his trousers still need to come off, and even Liem’s reluctance to peel himself from his lover cannot silence his insistent need to be finally, fully bare with him. Shoving his trousers impatiently down his legs, he strips as hurriedly as he can with just one hand.]
You distracted me.
[He’s still distracting him. But that is unlikely to change.]
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I meant to.
[ His smile is a little rueful -- but only a little, because he doesn't actually regret it. ]
I want to be the sole object of your attention. Always.
My jealousy knows no reason.
[ And even so, even after Liem's trousers are off his body, he makes himself wait -- just a moment longer, just half a breath. Just enough to take him in one last time, bare and beautiful in his tousled vulnerability. His hand finds Liem's, intertwines their fingers again.
But his own yearning is too momentous -- like the roar of an avalanche, it will bury him if he doesn't act. He shifts his weight, moving so he is poised over his husband.
When Cardan presses him into the sheets, the feeling of relief is so intense it is nearly painful; he sighs with it, dipping close to bury his face against the pale column of Liem's throat. ]
None except you, [ Cardan tells him, not entirely sure that he's making sense anymore. He is distracted now -- caught up in his lover and his lust and the insistent, inescapable tenderness that fills his breast, pushing against his rib cage, so obvious that Liem will surely hear it on Cardan's heartbeat. ]
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But he might forget now, just for a little while. He might lose sight of it in his husband’s dark, intent stare, in the warm fingers lacing with his, in the senseless murmur Cardan presses against his throat as he covers Liem with the weight of his body. The words pierce through him, a little painful; the longing filling his chest only aches harder, filling his lungs and constricting his throat with the intensity of his wanting.
Liem wraps an arm tight around him, every bit as jealous as his husband.]
You are so dangerous like this.
[Dangerous—and so terribly, inescapably precious. Liem tilts his head to press a kiss to Cardan’s temple, burying his nose in tousled raven curls, and murmurs into his hair.]
You’ll make me forget all my good sense.
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Though he doubts that even magic could make Liem truly insensible. ]
You've had to use too much of it tonight, [ he will tell Liem, dragging himself up to his lover's face with a half-stifled gasp, unable to ignore the hot shiver of need he feels at the contact. The hand that isn't clasped in Liem's finds his hip, his thigh, curling greedy fingers over soft skin so he can urge him to bend his knee. To bare himself to Cardan -- so that Cardan may claim him once more, bury himself in him and forget about everything and everyone else.
He's so impatient with it; every second feels like torture. And yet, and yet-- ]
Be foolish with me for a while, husband.
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