[For all that Liem’s troubles have not vanished or even diminished in the last hour, he cannot seem to care about a single one just now. The moment is too peaceful, the man in his embrace too enchanting in his post-coital languor. When Cardan lifts their joined hands to press soft kisses to Liem’s knuckles, a mix of affection and painful, hopeless longing makes Liem’s chest go tight.
The smile he directs at his husband is wry.]
Have I stolen your title? That doesn’t seem right.
[Not when Cardan takes such clear joy in menacing him thoroughly and often. By contrast, Liem cannot imagine how he could be considered particularly accomplished in that regard.
Though he will admit to being capable of applying himself.]
Perhaps you just aren’t accustomed to being on the receiving end.
[He wiggles his hips slightly against his husband, making a double entendre of the remark.]
Mm. [ His eyes flutter shut again as a sensitized little shiver dances up his spine. He has given up on seeing himself released from his desire for his husband, but it seems that he is yet vulnerable to being victimized also.
Though, with Liem, that never quite means what Cardan would expect it to.
He will regain his arrogance in a moment’s time, anyway, quirking a lazy eyebrow at Liem. ]
And why should I be?
I know where my talents lie.
[ The talents he had cultivated under Balekin’s thorny mentorship: cruelty, callousness, caprice. How lucky for him that his husband had only ever seemed to desire more of his vices.
Still, Liem menaces him indeed. It’s only that Cardan cannot tell him — cannot reveal how much it enchants him to have his lover mussed and loose-limbed in his arms, bare of the armor of impeccable tailoring and professional demands. Even exhausted as he feels, he wants him still. He wants him always.
His touch is a little wistful as it traces along Liem’s cheek, paints light fingertips over the lines of his mouth — the one thing he could not have tonight, at least not in the way he’d wanted. ]
[Even the playful arrogance in his husband’s manner cannot quite dispel the tender, enchanted feeling that has taken root in Liem’s chest as he looks up at his lover. Cardan ever fascinates him with the different facets he allows Liem to glimpse: his tenderness, his temper, his mischief, his pride. He is a whimsical companion, but as a spouse he is steadfast. He is sometimes quick to anger, but always greedy for Liem’s touch. He is plainly used to getting his way, but sometimes indulges Liem to his own detriment.
And even as he smirks lazily down at him, the fingers tracing the contours of Liem’s face remain gentle. Liem has never known anyone quite like him.]
It is never a bad thing to diversify one’s skillset.
[Liem’s lips murmur against warm, soft fingertips. He has to resist the urge to suck them into his mouth, because as much as he would like to, that would make carrying on a conversation challenging.
The gaze he directs up at his husband grows penetrating, though he remains languidly pleased.]
[ In some ways, that doesn't surprise him. He'd noted Liem's slyness from the last -- and first, really -- time that Cardan given him free rein over his pleasure. Back then, he had thought it opportunism; after all, Cardan had all but asked to be tormented.
Now, with Liem's intent gaze on his face, he is no longer so certain. ]
I don't think it suits me. I have always made for an ill-tempered victim.
[ He has never made for much of a victim at all, carnally speaking. He'd always ascribed it to his naturally intimidating qualities. The Folk who weren't afraid of him tended to not be particularly interested, on account of being too old and powerful to take up with spoiled princelings.
But Liem had never been intimidated by him, either. ]
[For some reason, Liem’s perception of his husband has never entirely lined up with how Cardan seems to expect he should see things. He is too dismissive of other Faeries’ opinions of the young prince, and too charmed by qualities Cardan seems to regard as unpleasant. Even his husband’s skepticism only encourages Liem’s intent regard to warm further, unapologetically content with this unpromising summation of his lover’s demeanour.
Opening his mouth, he tips his head just enough to grab Cardan’s fingertips playfully between his teeth. It’s only for a moment; after sliding his tongue against the tips of his captive fingers, he releases them again to press a kiss against those damp fingertips instead.]
I still like you when you’re ill-tempered.
[His hand finds Cardan’s cheek, strokes gently along it like he can’t quite believe he’s real; that he is flesh and blood, and that he still belongs to him even though Liem cannot fathom possessing something so rare.
It doesn’t matter that Cardan has complicated almost every aspect of his life, has made it more difficult and in some ways more dangerous. It doesn’t matter that he is proud and spiteful and demanding, and that he is sometimes disagreeable even with his own lover. No one else could make these things seem irresistible the way Cardan does. There is no one else Liem wishes to be with more.]
[ It's a little frightening, how predictably his breath catches at the soft threat of Liem's teeth on his skin, how immediately thralled he is by that irresistible mouth. Lust flares in his belly, not at all cowed by his recent release nor the way he aches in the aftermath of the poison.
Something about Liem's hand on his face makes his heart constrict, and that’s painful too.
He'll dip down to kiss him, eager to escape the feeling. He wants to be seduced by Liem's taste, by the sweetness of his kisses and the easy desire that quickens at his touch. He wants to think of those things, and not of the strange yearning he sometimes recognizes in his husband’s face, or how, even after all this time, Cardan so often fails to anticipate the thing Liem truly wants. But it has been a strange, difficult night; he does not feel quite like himself. Perhaps it is only that which lends his thoughts their morose tone, now. After all, he has never before let his anxieties distract him from the easy pleasure of his husband’s companionship.
Only after some time will Cardan pull back, a little breathless, to retort: ]
That's only because I've seduced you with my good looks and excellent taste in decorative lacework.
[ He'll flash his most roguish grin at Liem, just to prove the point. ]
[It is a testament to how easily Liem becomes lost in his husband, that the slide of Cardan’s mouth on his own manages to banish the thoughts from his head, even though he was powerless to quiet them himself. As long as Cardan keeps kissing him, as long as they are alone and tucked safely in each other’s embrace, no trouble in the world could touch him.
And even if, somewhere at the back of his mind, Liem knows that they must still contend with any number of terrible problems—right now, they seem small and unimportant compared to this. Of course they seem small, when confronted with the warmth of Cardan’s kisses and the dazzling immediacy of his familiar, roguish smile.
Liem’s mouth lifts at the corners, indulgently amused.]
Among other things.
[Liem considers it a major omission that Cardan didn’t include his mischief or his seemingly insatiable desire for physical affection, but perhaps his husband assumes these things go without saying. Sliding his fingers back into soft black hair, Liem leans up to kiss the corner of his husband’s smiling mouth.]
But you are right, of course. You certainly don’t become any less handsome when you’re cross.
[ He could spend forever like this, with pillow talk and Liem’s gentle hands, exchanging kisses like secrets between them. He wants to spend forever like this — or at least long enough for desire to close its tendrils around him again, sweet and certain. He doesn’t care that he’s tired; he doesn’t care about the hour, or the fact that the fire will eventually die in its hearth. He is here, and he is still alive, and the less he thinks about the things that might have happened, the better.
And still, he has to— ]
Liem. [ It sighs out of him, serious, even a little grave. He’s not sure Liem wants him to bring this up, either, and he certainly knows that words are cheap.
[He isn’t expecting the gravity that falls back over Cardan like a cloak. It’s unlike his husband to dwell on unpleasant things; Liem has always known him to avoid them unless he had no other choice, and move on at the first opportunity. When Cardan sighs soberly down at him, Liem’s easy contentment is interrupted completely, replaced with uncertainty.
He doesn’t know why Cardan is revisiting this.]
Yes, [he agrees.
He did save him, for the second time. Perhaps Cardan wouldn’t have had to field two different attempts on his life over the past half-year if he’d still lived in Balekin’s house… but then, perhaps he would have. Either way, he is under the protection of Liem’s house now, and Liem most specifically. If anyone is going to be saving Cardan’s life, it will most likely be him.
Also, the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.]
[ The problem, of course, is that thanking Liem cheapens the act; how can he repay something so precious as his life with mere words? And yet, and still, he feels like he must acknowledge it somehow.
He leans his forehead against his lover’s, closes his eyes. ]
…it is a rare gift.
[ A difficult, heavy thing. But is it not also joyous? Does it not fill him with a strange, anxious pleasure, to know his husband cares for him thus? He cannot help but be greedy for this, too, much as he mislikes seeing Liem upset. ]
Your care and your concern alike. Do not think I value it cheaply.
[Despite his misgivings, Liem cannot help but crave the gentle contact of Cardan’s brow leant against his own. He has no desire to make his husband indebted to him for something he forced him into to begin with, but if this is how Cardan wishes to express his sentiments on the matter, Liem cannot object.
He supposes he can accept a little gratitude. After all, he doesn’t value Cardan’s life remotely cheaply; it would be insulting to expect nothing at all for his actions.]
That pleases me to hear.
[Cool fingers stroke gently through Cardan’s hair as Liem tips his face to brush his nose against his lover’s, his budding apprehension melting from him. For a moment, he is tempted to say something bold—tempted to think that if Cardan values his regard in that way, perhaps it might not be a terrible thing if he knew that he had his love, also. Perhaps he might even be happy.
But he cannot quite make himself believe it. It would be unfair to both of them for him to yearn for the impossible, instead of being happy with what he already has.]
[ It is far too little to wish for, for one. Abysmal as Liem’s standards for a lover seem to be, Cardan knows he has in him the capacity to be greedy. Is he not, in many ways, just as starved as Cardan himself? Is that not why they had fallen in step with each other so well in the first place?
Still, the relief that spreads from Liem’s soft touch is strange. He doesn’t understand it. Liem hadn’t asked for recognition; why was it so important that Cardan said this to him?
…well, whatever it is, now is not the time for self-examination. His mouth curls, louche and indulgent. ]
I desire so many more things from you.
[ This is true — even having been already gifted so much, he can never help wanting. But tonight, he has no desire to ask for anything Liem shouldn’t be prepared to give. Instead, he will move to press his hot, ardent mouth to Liem’s white throat, shivering at the sinuous shifting of their hips against each other as he does.
Even if Cardan has already claimed him, even if weariness weighs down his limbs — if tonight has taught him anything, it’s that their time together may be more transient than either of them thinks. It seems foolish to waste it on sleep. ]
[Cardan reveals one extent of Liem’s lie quickly and efficiently. His contentment of a moment before is interrupted immediately by the hot, irresistible press of his husband’s mouth to his throat; arching automatically, Liem tips his head with a small sigh to offer up the bare line of his neck, acutely aware of how obvious his instant distraction is. It’s like flicking a switch—one that lights his nerves with eagerness to be touched, making Cardan’s every movement against him impossible to ignore.]
Oh— Still?
[He breathes this, as though the conclusion of their recent intimacy provided any obstacle at all to his own ever-ready desire. There must be a limit, he thinks, even though they have consistently failed to find it. Perhaps if their lives were less busy with other things, less fraught with uncertainty, he might eventually have his fill of Cardan’s touch. But he cannot imagine a world in which that actually came to pass.
The hand in his lover’s hair becomes possessive, a jealous embrace urging him to remain there, painting kisses over Liem’s throat.]
I suppose you’ve caught me.
[In his lie; in Cardan’s clutches. Either way, Liem is equally pleased.]
Always, [ he murmurs, just this side of reverent. Even if he’d been half-hearted about his desire — and he isn’t — it would have been impossible to remain so with Liem’s fingers in his hair growing more forceful, with that arch sending eagerness straight to his cock. This time, when he rocks against Liem, it is fully deliberate. ]
Should you not know by now? My want for you has no end.
[ Though he will tell Liem anyway, as many times as he must. His hands travel down Liem’s sides, grasping his hips so Cardan can pull him closer, still, even if it pulls a gasp from his own lips. He stifles it against Liem’s skin, his breaths already heavy with that same intoxicated desire.
He could be half dead and he would still fall victim to it. He’s pretty sure he is half dead, and it doesn’t matter at all. His husband is here, pliant and permissive and his to claim, his to possess, his and no one else’s. The howling, insatiable avarice this summons from him has long ceased to surprise Cardan. He wants Liem’s tenderness and he wants his careful strength and he wants his abandon, his teeth and his mouth and the tight grip of his body when Cardan moves in him.
His teeth flash against Liem’s throat. ] You turn me into such a beastly creature.
[It’s just as well that Cardan cannot stop wanting his husband, given that Liem has already tried and failed for months to put Cardan out of his mind even some of the time. The rocking of his lover’s hips against him makes relief pool in his belly even as it makes him squirm with impatience; never has his world felt so perfect as when Cardan is being greedy with his person.]
Mm…
[The noise he makes is half agreement, half approval as he splays his fingers with slow, lazy hunger over Cardan’s back. How fortunate he is, to have wed such an insatiable man. Even if his chest does tighten with longing whenever Cardan says those things to him, as though he alone could command such obsession.
But it’s fine even if that isn’t true. It is enough that his lover wants him so avariciously, that for now, he belongs to him in almost every way that matters.]
And when I’m not present, [he supposes breathlessly,] you are instead on your best behaviour.
[ Cardan laughs, apparently delighted to be accused of having been good in any circumstance. His teeth graze tenderly up the side of Liem’s neck; he’ll bite him, indulgently, just under the sharp line of his jaw. ]
When you’re not present, I am far worse, [ he’ll confess, affectionate. ] Ill-tempered, tyrannical. Ask anyone.
[ After all, how is he supposed to keep his good mood when he hasn’t got his favourite victim to harass? It is true that, when Liem spends too long away from the house, or else in closed-door meetings, Cardan will grow antsy and irascible. He has become so used to his husband’s presence, over these past months — there is something reassuring about Liem’s near-constant closeness. Cardan misses his scent, the certainty of his cool touch. He loves the hands that splay over his heated, sensitive skin with its map of scars — loves the breathless cadence in Liem’s voice, the handsome way the firelight plays with his features. His considering stare lingers on Liem’s face. ]
You look younger, like this, [ he’ll tell him, for no reason other than the fact Liem probably doesn’t know. The mussed hair makes him look softer, less Lord and more young master. This is the Liem that he most thinks of as his, removed from his duties and obligations, unguarded and impatient in Cardan’s arms.
It makes desire pulse through him, heady and urgent; surely Liem will be able to feel it, entwined as they still are in each other. ]
[Liem has never had much success with ignoring his own desire for his handsome foreign husband, but the realization forced upon him by the night’s ordeal has only seemed to inflame the longing dwelling in his chest. It flares hot at the sound of his husband’s sudden laugh, trembles beneath his skin as Cardan’s teeth find his throat, pulses painfully through him at the rumble of his lover’s voice in his ear. He can’t suppress the little, wanting squirm that rolls through him as his husband moves against him, or the pulse of need that makes him dig his teeth into his own lip.
The sentiment coiling frantically behind his ribs urges him to capture Cardan’s face in his hands and kiss him until they’re both mad with impatience, and if he doesn’t give in then he’ll probably say something far too honest just to let the feeling out. He needs Cardan to be his, wants to pick him apart and love every little piece of him—his own terrible, difficult, temperamental, impossibly tender man. He can’t ignore it like this, not when he is still reeling from the revelation of it, and not when he is still wrapped around his husband like he is, with Cardan looking down at him like that.]
Enough flattery, [he says, and indulges his want before he can say anything else. Framing Cardan’s lovely, warm face in his hands, Liem pulls him close to kiss him, slow and hungry, and then kiss him again—and he intends to linger until his heart is not quite so eager to leap from his mouth, even if that takes all morning.]
[ He opens his mouth to protest — there is no such thing as enough flattery — but finds himself being seduced instead. Cardan’s retort is swallowed up by the impatient, needy noise that escapes him, by the way his heart jumps in his chest at the touch of Liem’s elegant hands on his face.
He likes his lover a little off-balance, delights in mussing his carefully put-together polish — but none of that is half as dangerous as Liem’s deliberate hunger. The world slides out of focus when Liem kisses him; there is only his husband and his bright-eyed regard and his considered, determined assault on Cardan’s ability to retain coherent thought. It takes pitifully little of this for his simmering desire to become desperate, surging fever-hot in his veins. He has to close his eyes against it. He’s breathless, gasping between kisses; his stomach is taut with tension; his fingers fist in the sheets, a little tortured. Still, he is not breathless, nor tense, nor tortured enough to stop. No yet, and probably not ever.
He cannot conceive of anyone having the fullness of Liem’s regard and being able to turn away. ]
[Liem so rarely indulges his wants like this… and for what? In this moment, with Cardan just where he wants him, kissing him like he never wants to stop, he cannot fathom anything more important than this. He may as well indulge, because he doesn’t know when next he’ll have the chance, and he cannot stand the thought of letting the opportunity slip by altogether—not when the wanton sound of his husband’s impatience makes craving pang so fiercely through him.
His goal is not exactly to drive Cardan mad—but if he is, then at least Liem isn’t the only one overcome by his longing.]
Cardan.
[Liem sighs against his mouth, then catches his lip between his teeth, arching insistently against his lover. If Cardan’s want truly has no end, then he may as well use it to blunt the keen edge of his own. After all, it is Cardan’s fault he is so tormented by desire. Pulling back, he stares up into his lover’s black gaze, still cradling his face between his hands.]
I love that you’re so hungry. It’s so beguiling on you.
[ Cardan isn’t paying much attention when Liem breathes his name. He’s too busy being driven a little insane; lust pierces through him when he feels the threat of those fangs against his skin. He feels pinned by it, even though he’s the one pressing Liem into the sheets, still sheathed snugly inside him, and oh— Even though Liem is his, even though he knows his husband would let him do just as he pleases…
The compliment surprises him; he blinks, a little caught off guard. Liem is right; he is hungry. It’s just that he cannot remember the last time anyone had called him on it. But is this not the way in which they are the same? Liem has equated his craving for blood to sex. Even so, to Cardan, it has looked more and more like the craving borne of loneliness: an aching, inescapable greed for companionship, for affection, for being someone's first choice.
For such a long time, he'd told himself he did not care about any of that. ]
I am starving, [ he admits, and the look he gives Liem is a little too serious to be flirtation. His fingers detach from the sheets, closing around his lover’s wrist instead, so that Cardan can press his mouth to his cool palm. ]
[Liem never expects it when Cardan responds to his flirtation in this way; with that earnest, sober look, and the tender press of his mouth against Liem’s hand. He is caught off guard by it, unprepared for confession when he’d anticipated, if anything, smug pleasure.
It is only another sign of Liem’s infatuation that he finds the former just as devastatingly irresistible as he would have found the latter. But then, Cardan could tell him anything at all, accompanied by those warm kisses, and he would still be helpless to resist him.
Cardan must know it, but perhaps it bears repeating.]
Well, I am ever greedy for both your desire and your affection.
[One cool thumb strokes Cardan’s cheek, reverently tender in spite of the aforementioned greed scorching its way through him. Every shift of his lover, against him, inside him, makes him ache with impatience—but it’s a good ache. The kind he could hold onto forever, as long as Cardan stays entwined with him like this.]
[ Here, at least, his arrogance returns. Cardan’s brow quirks with his amusement. ]
Oh, I should hope so.
[ He wants to indulge them both. He wants to— splay his hand over Liem’s ribs, his stomach, sliding fever-hot fingers between them to wrap around his husband’s erection.
He wants to, and does. His first stroke is languid, deceptively leisurely. He moves in him not at all. It takes every ounce of self-control he has. Instead, he dips down — puts his mouth to Liem’s ear, even though it will make the ragged way he’s breathing all too apparent. But he’s more concerned about menacing Liem than he is about seeming unaffected. ]
It would have been strange for you to court them, otherwise.
[ He purrs it like an accusation, like it will hide the impatience in his breath, in his heartbeat, in the tail coiling restlessly over the sheets. For just a moment longer, he will balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and anticipation, drawing it out until his desire feels sharp enough to cut.
And then— when he moves, when he finally fucks into his lover, that same breath stutters in his throat altogether; he has to close his eyes and whisper Liem’s name, a little desperate, already coming a little undone himself. ]
[Cardan’s menacing so easily undoes Liem’s composure. Desire chases those warm, unhurried fingers as they slide down his body to find his erection, and his breath catches in his throat at that first, languid stroke. Somehow, the lazy pace of his lover’s touch only inflames his impatience, making him shift and press restlessly back against the sheets as Cardan’s lips brush his ear, swallowing him up instantly in his own wanting.
It is cruel that his husband’s hastened breath and eager heartbeat should press so readily against his senses while Cardan still refuses to fuck him. He must know that Liem can think of nothing else with his husband still inside him, still atop him, caging him against the sheets.
But just as he always has, Liem continues to find Cardan’s cruelties irresistible.]
I am not that strange, [he murmurs—and then gasps, sliding his arm eagerly around his lover as Cardan fucks into him. It’s not strange at all to be greedy for this, surely; for the low sound of Cardan’s voice in his ear, the urgency gripping the taut body beneath his hands. His touch drags down over flank and hip to slide round Cardan’s thigh, just below the lean curve of his ass, his grip covetous and insistent.
He wants Cardan to fuck him again, and he wants to hear his name on Cardan’s lips again, and he wants Cardan to claim him, as many times as it takes, until he forgets that he has ever belonged to anyone but him. The one thing he can never have, he wants with a desperation that chokes the words from him, so all that escapes is a frustrated whimper that he buries against Cardan’s shoulder.]
[ He has never known anything more fulfilling than the urgency of that gasp and the demanding clutch of Liem’s hands on his body. He feels feral with his longing to have this and only this, only the pleasure of Liem’s desperation, of his unending, insistent desire. Never had Cardan wanted someone so incessantly. Never has he been wanted so in return. ]
What you do to me—
[ His accusation breaks off, too breathless and too caught up in his desire. He had meant to be more measured, had meant to control himself — but he can’t. Animal need surges through him, claws at his throat, throbs through his cock, fever-hot and impossible to deny. When he ruts into his husband, it is with a savage desperation of his own. He has no room for patience nor finesse — only the urgent stroke of his fingers and the heavy, insistent thrusts pinning his Liem against the fine sheets.
It’s maddening — the friction, the silken tightness of him, the whimper muffled against his shoulder. He doesn’t know the spell by which Liem turns him into this creature; he can only be grateful that his husband is equally desperate, equally wanting, that he has glimpsed the yawning abyss of Cardan’s avarice and not flinched even once. ]
[When Liem first met his new groom, he never could have imagined that his husband would become so insatiable for him, or that Liem would find his hunger so addictive. Obviously the haughty, temperamental man he married would never be more than a stranger briefly living in his house. His allure did not change that truth.
But Liem was wrong. Cardan is not a stranger; he is his, became his frighteningly quickly, and he enmeshed himself so totally in Liem’s life that if he were to disappear from it now, only an unrecognizable ruin would be left behind. The power Cardan has over him frightens him to contemplate.
But the obsession Liem demands from his lover thrills him as nothing else has.
He cannot help but chase the lure of it. His hard, desperate grip urges Cardan on, would deny his patience even if his lover had any to lean on, even as his own hips roll to meet each greedy thrust. Need throbs through him, blooming insatiably in his chest and surging in hungry waves down to his belly, his cock, to every inch of him that aches so keenly for Cardan’s touch. Given their ruthless pace, the ragged cadence of his lover’s breaths is almost enough by itself to push him over the edge. Liem clutches at him more fiercely, nails biting into the meat of his thigh as he smears kisses over the fevered curve of his neck.]
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The smile he directs at his husband is wry.]
Have I stolen your title? That doesn’t seem right.
[Not when Cardan takes such clear joy in menacing him thoroughly and often. By contrast, Liem cannot imagine how he could be considered particularly accomplished in that regard.
Though he will admit to being capable of applying himself.]
Perhaps you just aren’t accustomed to being on the receiving end.
[He wiggles his hips slightly against his husband, making a double entendre of the remark.]
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Though, with Liem, that never quite means what Cardan would expect it to.
He will regain his arrogance in a moment’s time, anyway, quirking a lazy eyebrow at Liem. ]
And why should I be?
I know where my talents lie.
[ The talents he had cultivated under Balekin’s thorny mentorship: cruelty, callousness, caprice. How lucky for him that his husband had only ever seemed to desire more of his vices.
Still, Liem menaces him indeed. It’s only that Cardan cannot tell him — cannot reveal how much it enchants him to have his lover mussed and loose-limbed in his arms, bare of the armor of impeccable tailoring and professional demands. Even exhausted as he feels, he wants him still. He wants him always.
His touch is a little wistful as it traces along Liem’s cheek, paints light fingertips over the lines of his mouth — the one thing he could not have tonight, at least not in the way he’d wanted. ]
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And even as he smirks lazily down at him, the fingers tracing the contours of Liem’s face remain gentle. Liem has never known anyone quite like him.]
It is never a bad thing to diversify one’s skillset.
[Liem’s lips murmur against warm, soft fingertips. He has to resist the urge to suck them into his mouth, because as much as he would like to, that would make carrying on a conversation challenging.
The gaze he directs up at his husband grows penetrating, though he remains languidly pleased.]
Besides, I like being able to menace you.
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[ In some ways, that doesn't surprise him. He'd noted Liem's slyness from the last -- and first, really -- time that Cardan given him free rein over his pleasure. Back then, he had thought it opportunism; after all, Cardan had all but asked to be tormented.
Now, with Liem's intent gaze on his face, he is no longer so certain. ]
I don't think it suits me. I have always made for an ill-tempered victim.
[ He has never made for much of a victim at all, carnally speaking. He'd always ascribed it to his naturally intimidating qualities. The Folk who weren't afraid of him tended to not be particularly interested, on account of being too old and powerful to take up with spoiled princelings.
But Liem had never been intimidated by him, either. ]
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Opening his mouth, he tips his head just enough to grab Cardan’s fingertips playfully between his teeth. It’s only for a moment; after sliding his tongue against the tips of his captive fingers, he releases them again to press a kiss against those damp fingertips instead.]
I still like you when you’re ill-tempered.
[His hand finds Cardan’s cheek, strokes gently along it like he can’t quite believe he’s real; that he is flesh and blood, and that he still belongs to him even though Liem cannot fathom possessing something so rare.
It doesn’t matter that Cardan has complicated almost every aspect of his life, has made it more difficult and in some ways more dangerous. It doesn’t matter that he is proud and spiteful and demanding, and that he is sometimes disagreeable even with his own lover. No one else could make these things seem irresistible the way Cardan does. There is no one else Liem wishes to be with more.]
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Something about Liem's hand on his face makes his heart constrict, and that’s painful too.
He'll dip down to kiss him, eager to escape the feeling. He wants to be seduced by Liem's taste, by the sweetness of his kisses and the easy desire that quickens at his touch. He wants to think of those things, and not of the strange yearning he sometimes recognizes in his husband’s face, or how, even after all this time, Cardan so often fails to anticipate the thing Liem truly wants. But it has been a strange, difficult night; he does not feel quite like himself. Perhaps it is only that which lends his thoughts their morose tone, now. After all, he has never before let his anxieties distract him from the easy pleasure of his husband’s companionship.
Only after some time will Cardan pull back, a little breathless, to retort: ]
That's only because I've seduced you with my good looks and excellent taste in decorative lacework.
[ He'll flash his most roguish grin at Liem, just to prove the point. ]
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And even if, somewhere at the back of his mind, Liem knows that they must still contend with any number of terrible problems—right now, they seem small and unimportant compared to this. Of course they seem small, when confronted with the warmth of Cardan’s kisses and the dazzling immediacy of his familiar, roguish smile.
Liem’s mouth lifts at the corners, indulgently amused.]
Among other things.
[Liem considers it a major omission that Cardan didn’t include his mischief or his seemingly insatiable desire for physical affection, but perhaps his husband assumes these things go without saying. Sliding his fingers back into soft black hair, Liem leans up to kiss the corner of his husband’s smiling mouth.]
But you are right, of course. You certainly don’t become any less handsome when you’re cross.
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And still, he has to— ]
Liem. [ It sighs out of him, serious, even a little grave. He’s not sure Liem wants him to bring this up, either, and he certainly knows that words are cheap.
He says it anyway. ]
You saved me.
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He doesn’t know why Cardan is revisiting this.]
Yes, [he agrees.
He did save him, for the second time. Perhaps Cardan wouldn’t have had to field two different attempts on his life over the past half-year if he’d still lived in Balekin’s house… but then, perhaps he would have. Either way, he is under the protection of Liem’s house now, and Liem most specifically. If anyone is going to be saving Cardan’s life, it will most likely be him.
Also, the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.]
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He leans his forehead against his lover’s, closes his eyes. ]
…it is a rare gift.
[ A difficult, heavy thing. But is it not also joyous? Does it not fill him with a strange, anxious pleasure, to know his husband cares for him thus? He cannot help but be greedy for this, too, much as he mislikes seeing Liem upset. ]
Your care and your concern alike. Do not think I value it cheaply.
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He supposes he can accept a little gratitude. After all, he doesn’t value Cardan’s life remotely cheaply; it would be insulting to expect nothing at all for his actions.]
That pleases me to hear.
[Cool fingers stroke gently through Cardan’s hair as Liem tips his face to brush his nose against his lover’s, his budding apprehension melting from him. For a moment, he is tempted to say something bold—tempted to think that if Cardan values his regard in that way, perhaps it might not be a terrible thing if he knew that he had his love, also. Perhaps he might even be happy.
But he cannot quite make himself believe it. It would be unfair to both of them for him to yearn for the impossible, instead of being happy with what he already has.]
I couldn’t wish for anything more.
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[ It is far too little to wish for, for one. Abysmal as Liem’s standards for a lover seem to be, Cardan knows he has in him the capacity to be greedy. Is he not, in many ways, just as starved as Cardan himself? Is that not why they had fallen in step with each other so well in the first place?
Still, the relief that spreads from Liem’s soft touch is strange. He doesn’t understand it. Liem hadn’t asked for recognition; why was it so important that Cardan said this to him?
…well, whatever it is, now is not the time for self-examination. His mouth curls, louche and indulgent. ]
I desire so many more things from you.
[ This is true — even having been already gifted so much, he can never help wanting. But tonight, he has no desire to ask for anything Liem shouldn’t be prepared to give. Instead, he will move to press his hot, ardent mouth to Liem’s white throat, shivering at the sinuous shifting of their hips against each other as he does.
Even if Cardan has already claimed him, even if weariness weighs down his limbs — if tonight has taught him anything, it’s that their time together may be more transient than either of them thinks. It seems foolish to waste it on sleep. ]
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Oh— Still?
[He breathes this, as though the conclusion of their recent intimacy provided any obstacle at all to his own ever-ready desire. There must be a limit, he thinks, even though they have consistently failed to find it. Perhaps if their lives were less busy with other things, less fraught with uncertainty, he might eventually have his fill of Cardan’s touch. But he cannot imagine a world in which that actually came to pass.
The hand in his lover’s hair becomes possessive, a jealous embrace urging him to remain there, painting kisses over Liem’s throat.]
I suppose you’ve caught me.
[In his lie; in Cardan’s clutches. Either way, Liem is equally pleased.]
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Should you not know by now? My want for you has no end.
[ Though he will tell Liem anyway, as many times as he must. His hands travel down Liem’s sides, grasping his hips so Cardan can pull him closer, still, even if it pulls a gasp from his own lips. He stifles it against Liem’s skin, his breaths already heavy with that same intoxicated desire.
He could be half dead and he would still fall victim to it. He’s pretty sure he is half dead, and it doesn’t matter at all. His husband is here, pliant and permissive and his to claim, his to possess, his and no one else’s. The howling, insatiable avarice this summons from him has long ceased to surprise Cardan. He wants Liem’s tenderness and he wants his careful strength and he wants his abandon, his teeth and his mouth and the tight grip of his body when Cardan moves in him.
His teeth flash against Liem’s throat. ] You turn me into such a beastly creature.
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Mm…
[The noise he makes is half agreement, half approval as he splays his fingers with slow, lazy hunger over Cardan’s back. How fortunate he is, to have wed such an insatiable man. Even if his chest does tighten with longing whenever Cardan says those things to him, as though he alone could command such obsession.
But it’s fine even if that isn’t true. It is enough that his lover wants him so avariciously, that for now, he belongs to him in almost every way that matters.]
And when I’m not present, [he supposes breathlessly,] you are instead on your best behaviour.
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When you’re not present, I am far worse, [ he’ll confess, affectionate. ] Ill-tempered, tyrannical. Ask anyone.
[ After all, how is he supposed to keep his good mood when he hasn’t got his favourite victim to harass? It is true that, when Liem spends too long away from the house, or else in closed-door meetings, Cardan will grow antsy and irascible. He has become so used to his husband’s presence, over these past months — there is something reassuring about Liem’s near-constant closeness. Cardan misses his scent, the certainty of his cool touch. He loves the hands that splay over his heated, sensitive skin with its map of scars — loves the breathless cadence in Liem’s voice, the handsome way the firelight plays with his features. His considering stare lingers on Liem’s face. ]
You look younger, like this, [ he’ll tell him, for no reason other than the fact Liem probably doesn’t know. The mussed hair makes him look softer, less Lord and more young master. This is the Liem that he most thinks of as his, removed from his duties and obligations, unguarded and impatient in Cardan’s arms.
It makes desire pulse through him, heady and urgent; surely Liem will be able to feel it, entwined as they still are in each other. ]
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The sentiment coiling frantically behind his ribs urges him to capture Cardan’s face in his hands and kiss him until they’re both mad with impatience, and if he doesn’t give in then he’ll probably say something far too honest just to let the feeling out. He needs Cardan to be his, wants to pick him apart and love every little piece of him—his own terrible, difficult, temperamental, impossibly tender man. He can’t ignore it like this, not when he is still reeling from the revelation of it, and not when he is still wrapped around his husband like he is, with Cardan looking down at him like that.]
Enough flattery, [he says, and indulges his want before he can say anything else. Framing Cardan’s lovely, warm face in his hands, Liem pulls him close to kiss him, slow and hungry, and then kiss him again—and he intends to linger until his heart is not quite so eager to leap from his mouth, even if that takes all morning.]
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He likes his lover a little off-balance, delights in mussing his carefully put-together polish — but none of that is half as dangerous as Liem’s deliberate hunger. The world slides out of focus when Liem kisses him; there is only his husband and his bright-eyed regard and his considered, determined assault on Cardan’s ability to retain coherent thought. It takes pitifully little of this for his simmering desire to become desperate, surging fever-hot in his veins. He has to close his eyes against it. He’s breathless, gasping between kisses; his stomach is taut with tension; his fingers fist in the sheets, a little tortured. Still, he is not breathless, nor tense, nor tortured enough to stop. No yet, and probably not ever.
He cannot conceive of anyone having the fullness of Liem’s regard and being able to turn away. ]
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His goal is not exactly to drive Cardan mad—but if he is, then at least Liem isn’t the only one overcome by his longing.]
Cardan.
[Liem sighs against his mouth, then catches his lip between his teeth, arching insistently against his lover. If Cardan’s want truly has no end, then he may as well use it to blunt the keen edge of his own. After all, it is Cardan’s fault he is so tormented by desire. Pulling back, he stares up into his lover’s black gaze, still cradling his face between his hands.]
I love that you’re so hungry. It’s so beguiling on you.
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The compliment surprises him; he blinks, a little caught off guard. Liem is right; he is hungry. It’s just that he cannot remember the last time anyone had called him on it. But is this not the way in which they are the same? Liem has equated his craving for blood to sex. Even so, to Cardan, it has looked more and more like the craving borne of loneliness: an aching, inescapable greed for companionship, for affection, for being someone's first choice.
For such a long time, he'd told himself he did not care about any of that. ]
I am starving, [ he admits, and the look he gives Liem is a little too serious to be flirtation. His fingers detach from the sheets, closing around his lover’s wrist instead, so that Cardan can press his mouth to his cool palm. ]
I always have been.
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It is only another sign of Liem’s infatuation that he finds the former just as devastatingly irresistible as he would have found the latter. But then, Cardan could tell him anything at all, accompanied by those warm kisses, and he would still be helpless to resist him.
Cardan must know it, but perhaps it bears repeating.]
Well, I am ever greedy for both your desire and your affection.
[One cool thumb strokes Cardan’s cheek, reverently tender in spite of the aforementioned greed scorching its way through him. Every shift of his lover, against him, inside him, makes him ache with impatience—but it’s a good ache. The kind he could hold onto forever, as long as Cardan stays entwined with him like this.]
So indulge your hunger with me.
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Oh, I should hope so.
[ He wants to indulge them both. He wants to— splay his hand over Liem’s ribs, his stomach, sliding fever-hot fingers between them to wrap around his husband’s erection.
He wants to, and does. His first stroke is languid, deceptively leisurely. He moves in him not at all. It takes every ounce of self-control he has. Instead, he dips down — puts his mouth to Liem’s ear, even though it will make the ragged way he’s breathing all too apparent. But he’s more concerned about menacing Liem than he is about seeming unaffected. ]
It would have been strange for you to court them, otherwise.
[ He purrs it like an accusation, like it will hide the impatience in his breath, in his heartbeat, in the tail coiling restlessly over the sheets. For just a moment longer, he will balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and anticipation, drawing it out until his desire feels sharp enough to cut.
And then— when he moves, when he finally fucks into his lover, that same breath stutters in his throat altogether; he has to close his eyes and whisper Liem’s name, a little desperate, already coming a little undone himself. ]
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It is cruel that his husband’s hastened breath and eager heartbeat should press so readily against his senses while Cardan still refuses to fuck him. He must know that Liem can think of nothing else with his husband still inside him, still atop him, caging him against the sheets.
But just as he always has, Liem continues to find Cardan’s cruelties irresistible.]
I am not that strange, [he murmurs—and then gasps, sliding his arm eagerly around his lover as Cardan fucks into him. It’s not strange at all to be greedy for this, surely; for the low sound of Cardan’s voice in his ear, the urgency gripping the taut body beneath his hands. His touch drags down over flank and hip to slide round Cardan’s thigh, just below the lean curve of his ass, his grip covetous and insistent.
He wants Cardan to fuck him again, and he wants to hear his name on Cardan’s lips again, and he wants Cardan to claim him, as many times as it takes, until he forgets that he has ever belonged to anyone but him. The one thing he can never have, he wants with a desperation that chokes the words from him, so all that escapes is a frustrated whimper that he buries against Cardan’s shoulder.]
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What you do to me—
[ His accusation breaks off, too breathless and too caught up in his desire. He had meant to be more measured, had meant to control himself — but he can’t. Animal need surges through him, claws at his throat, throbs through his cock, fever-hot and impossible to deny. When he ruts into his husband, it is with a savage desperation of his own. He has no room for patience nor finesse — only the urgent stroke of his fingers and the heavy, insistent thrusts pinning his Liem against the fine sheets.
It’s maddening — the friction, the silken tightness of him, the whimper muffled against his shoulder. He doesn’t know the spell by which Liem turns him into this creature; he can only be grateful that his husband is equally desperate, equally wanting, that he has glimpsed the yawning abyss of Cardan’s avarice and not flinched even once. ]
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But Liem was wrong. Cardan is not a stranger; he is his, became his frighteningly quickly, and he enmeshed himself so totally in Liem’s life that if he were to disappear from it now, only an unrecognizable ruin would be left behind. The power Cardan has over him frightens him to contemplate.
But the obsession Liem demands from his lover thrills him as nothing else has.
He cannot help but chase the lure of it. His hard, desperate grip urges Cardan on, would deny his patience even if his lover had any to lean on, even as his own hips roll to meet each greedy thrust. Need throbs through him, blooming insatiably in his chest and surging in hungry waves down to his belly, his cock, to every inch of him that aches so keenly for Cardan’s touch. Given their ruthless pace, the ragged cadence of his lover’s breaths is almost enough by itself to push him over the edge. Liem clutches at him more fiercely, nails biting into the meat of his thigh as he smears kisses over the fevered curve of his neck.]
Ah, Cardan—
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