Being within reach of your mouth? [ he asks, managing to sound amused even through his breathlessness. That is obviously not what Liem meant, but it doesn't matter; if his husband will demand concessions from him, then Cardan would at least reserve the right to tease him. ]
Of course it is. I spend few hours of my day not wishing I were indulging in it.
[ Having wrestled open his own trousers, Cardan will take a moment to shrug off his shirt, though the gesture is impatient. All of him is impatient; when he takes himself in hand, the noise that rises from his throat is hungry. When he wraps long, feverish fingers around them both, his breath stutters, too preoccupied with the hot spike of need to remember even this.
So it's going to be like this, he thinks, even as he buries his gasps against Liem's neck, shuddering into the stroke of his own hand. Far from the seduction he'd envisioned, and yet somehow exactly how he'd known it would happen. In the end, his need is artless and animal, embarrassingly honest. He just wants the pleasure of Liem's body against his own, wants to kiss his dangerous mouth and feel his tender, greedy hands on his skin. But then, the desire between them isn't, has never been particularly complicated, for all that it has Cardan in its clutches so completely. ]
Are you-- [ He pauses, breathes out, swallows; his eyes flutter closed, briefly distracted by his own touch, by the silken feeling of Liem's cock against his own. ] Are you going to make me wait for your bite, Liem?
[ That would be cruel; the only thing crueler would be to make Cardan plead for it again. ]
[Cardan’s reply makes warm amusement twitch at the corners of Liem’s mouth, even as he busies himself with keeping his clever husband breathless with a stream of ardent, deliberate kisses. Despite his teasing, Cardan may come to regret his promise before the night is over; Liem has spent the entirety of the last month wishing he could kiss his husband, and he intends on taking full advantage of every bit of exposed skin his hungry mouth can reach.
Even when Liem himself is still distracted by the feverish slide of Cardan’s cock against his own and the delectable way his lover’s heated breaths break against his throat. Even when his insistent stroking makes Liem arch and sigh with mixed relief and desire that trembles all the way through him, painfully keen.]
Should I? [he muses, lips brushing Cardan’s ear as one hand splays over his ribs. Freed of his mission to divest his lover of his shirt, Liem slides his touch round to run his fingers down the long length of Cardan’s spine, all the way down to his hips. Strange that even the familiar feel of Cardan’s scarred skin beneath his hands should feel so comforting. It feels like home.
And he misses the taste of home, too, even wrapped as he is in his husband’s touch and his husband’s scent. Liem presses a cool, hungry kiss just beneath Cardan’s ear, and the pulse beating there makes lust pulse in his cock and the back of his throat.]
I missed this, too, [he whispers, and with a small hum that turns to a whimper, he sinks his teeth into his husband’s throat.]
[ Contrary to Balekin's many theories on the subject, the mind is bad at remembering pain; it's why Cardan only ever recalls in detail the wild, exhilarating thrill of Liem's bite. It's why the bright, keen spark of hurt is always startling in its intensity -- but especially so now, after a month without. It runs up his spine in a pleasurable shiver; he has to bite his lip and tilt his head back in further invitation, his eyes shut against the pleasure that roils through him.
And still, and still, the ferocity of his relief wrings a helpless, wanton moan from him. Liem wanted him to cease with denial -- well, he's not certain he could deny his husband at all anymore. It's frightening, how Liem's mouth on his throat fills him with not only desire, but also terrible, treacherous tenderness. How foolish, to want to be predated upon; how little he cares about being foolish. ]
I'm so greedy for you, [ he murmurs, because no matter how much Liem may have missed this, he is certain he's missed it more. It's strange that a predator's teeth at his neck should bring him comfort -- but what could be more comforting than his spouse nestled up against him, his scent on Cardan's skin, claimed by him in every way that matters? He can think of no other intimacy as precious as this one. ]
[If Cardan has come back greedy from his trip beneath the waves, at least he is not the only one who has been affected by their long weeks of separation. Blood hits Liem’s tongue, and he bucks into Cardan’s grip, his own fingers digging into bared skin as pleasure riots through him, warm and vibrant and exploding with life. Even when he tries to pause, groaning a heartfelt curse against his lover’s bloodied throat, the wild swell of sensation drags him up against his peak, so relentless he can’t hope to refuse it.
Nor can he refuse the elegant length of Cardan’s freshly bitten neck, tempting him back for another taste—no, a drink, fuller this time. Cardan tastes so divine, and Liem has fasted for so long with only the blood of animals to sustain him. Drowned in indulgence, he abandons the pretense of restraint, squirming against Cardan’s cock as he drinks him down. By the time he drags his tongue up the curve of his neck, Liem is buzzing with sensation and frantic with need, his breath suddenly harsh in his lungs.]
Cardan.
[He breathes the name like a prayer as orgasm overtakes him, erasing everything else, everything but this. Cardan, whose hands are on him, whose blood coats his tongue, whose arms are where he belongs.]
[ He never quite expects this, either: the way tasting blood transforms his spouse. Or maybe his month under the waves has just led him to forget this too -- the astonishing way in which need overtakes Liem, the full, breathtaking spectacle of his indulgence. He's not prepared for it at all. When Liem bucks against him, when his grip grows hard and demanding-- it's shocking, the way it spikes Cardan's lust and his heartbeat alike. How is any man meant to withstand this? The throb of the bite in his neck, the slickness of Liem's mouth wet with Cardan's lifeblood, his delicious, maddening squirming-- how can he do anything but groan, vicious with hunger, and stroke them both urgently closer to the edge? He wants Liem's desire; he wants those harsh, desperate breaths. He would happily let his husband drain him dry if it meant more of this frantic need and helpless reverence in Liem's voice.
It strikes something lean and needy in him, some ancient, terrible hunger. It makes him feel irreplaceable -- like Liem needs him, him specifically, and not just the first handsome, terrible man who decided to stay by his side. He can't help the jealous greed that makes him clutch Liem close, makes him gasp with sensation as his husband spills over his hand. He shudders, his teeth gritting against the onslaught of his own desire, his breathing ragged.
A minute or an hour could have passed by the time he opens his eyes, pulling back just enough to cup Liem's cheek with his hand. He will study the heartbreaking beauty of his husband's face, the serious mouth anointed in Cardan's blood, those strikingly crystalline eyes. It seems like no matter what he does, the tenderness of wanting still pulses in his chest.
He doesn't know what to say. No, that's not true -- he's only half certain that if he opens his mouth, all the awful, too-sincere feelings he has will spill out and ruin a perfectly good reunion.
In the end, he only tilts his face to press his lips to the much-maligned space between Liem's brows, and says nothing at all. ]
[Liem does not come down from his peak so much as float into a shallow trough in his pleasure, the flood of it calmer than before but still quite capable of bobbing him upwards again. He is still too mired in the myriad delights caressing his senses for sobriety to claim him, and in any case, how could any man fail to be greedy for more with Cardan fitted against him, radiant with pleasure and the flush of his exertion? His husband has always been handsome, but at present he looks absolutely delicious.
Liem stares back into his face, entirely seduced by the hand cupping his cheek, manfully resisting the desire to simply nuzzle into that touch like a tame animal. Though he is always hungry for Cardan’s touch, it is especially challenging now to recall why he shouldn’t simply abandon his dignity and give himself entirely to the pleasure of it. The anxiety usually warning him to hold part of himself back won’t quite surface just now, drowned out by every other part of him jointly insisting it would feel so nice…
Especially when Cardan’s soft, warm lips press gently against his brow, and he has to close his eyes against the surge of wild, pathetic eagerness the kiss evokes in him.
It just isn’t fair. It really isn’t fair for Cardan to make his tenderness so rare a commodity, so that Liem has no choice but to covet it with all his unbeating, yearning heart. It would be easier if he had married a gentle man, one who was so free with his affection that Liem could easily reassure himself that he wasn’t special after all for receiving it. Instead he feels the treacherous seed of hope take root each time, knowing he’ll have to make his fingers bleed digging it up again.
In the end, he cannot stop himself from leaning with a soft sigh into Cardan’s touch, or cupping his husband’s warm, elegant hand with his own. He has surely long since convinced his husband already that he is an incurable romantic, anyway. Given Cardan’s proclivities, that doesn’t seem like the end of the world.]
The longer we stay here, [he observes quietly,] the more irritating it will be to journey back to our rooms.
[Mostly, he thinks, because they are bound to become less dressed the longer they remain together in one place—and he does not intend to leave his office while even partially naked.]
[ Of all the things Cardan expects Liem to suggest, journeying back to their rooms is not one of them. Which is stupid, thinking back on it: he should have known. After all, his husband is so enamoured with privacy — and it’s not like they had ever gotten past kissing during any of their pleasant diversions in this office. Perhaps Gusairne’s insistence on being a pest has not been the only thing standing in their way all this time.
The tip of his tail twitches against Liem’s thigh. ]
Husband, [ he says, his tone terrifically pleasant, ] I wish to fuck you very much. [ This, he imagines, is not news. ]
…but if you imagined I’ve the patience for journeying halfway across this mansion, you are being quite insane.
[ Normally he’d do his best to be more considerate of Liem’s comfort, of his desires — for all that Cardan deals gleefully in denial, he has tried his best to give Liem that which he truly wants. But he has made a three days’ journey in half the time, and he most definitely did not do so for the privilege of traversing hallways with the world’s most distracting erection. Even now, he’s achingly hard; just pulling his fingers away from between them both makes him shiver and sink teeth into his lip. He feels nigh-feverish with need, too full of it, his skin hypersensitive to Liem’s cool touch. The idea of doing up his clothes, of dodging servants, all while within reach of his lover’s mouth— it’s impossible. Liem might as well have asked him to gainsay the sun into ceasing its ascent. ]
[The poorly disguised dissatisfaction with which Cardan receives his observation brings a laugh to Liem’s bloodstained lips, spreading them into a grin. He had not expected to be accused so just now, and finds to his own surprise that he is rather delighted.]
You always know just how to charm me.
[His expression is warm as he shivers through the withdrawal of Cardan’s touch from his oversensitive cock, enamoured even now with all the ways they fit together, now that he is once again in his husband’s clutches. Idly, Liem strokes his hand over Cardan’s ribs, fingers splaying and trailing lightly down his belly, wrapped up in the need to touch and keep touching.]
You have the inconvenience of my clothes and my mouth and your own impatience to contend with, and still you wish to fuck me here. Perverse creature.
[Liem’s tongue glides over his bottom lip, tasting the traces of Cardan still wetly clinging there. His husband has already granted him leave to use his mouth on him; it seems the opposite of insanity to use it to address his most immediate problem. Also, Cardan looks so delectably debauched already, he can’t imagine wanting to fuck around with boots and trousers just to fuck here, specifically. Unless his husband has some sentimental attachment to the idea of fucking him as soon as possible, but that seems unlikely to him, particularly after he already opted to enjoy a tormenting little diversion on his knees.]
I think you want very much to finally fuck me here on my desk, [he teases mildly,] and you’re just loath to let the opportunity escape.
Edited (icon was bugging me) 2024-07-14 18:00 (UTC)
[ Liem's cool fingers make his breath catch as they slide down over his abdomen. Combined with the insistent buzz of barely repressed need, it's immensely distracting -- as is the warm, uncommonly pleased expression on Liem's face, baring those dangerous teeth. He's only half paying attention when Liem calls him a perverse creature. Cardan blinks; it is oddly delightful to be so maligned by his proper, polite husband. Perhaps a month without him has emboldened Liem in ways he hadn't anticipated.
It's just that it's difficult to concentrate, still, with the seductive swipe of Liem's tongue over the curve of his lip. His eyes follow the movement, intent and hungry. If Liem truly meant to dissuade him from fucking in the office, he has chosen a truly losing strategy for doing so.
...which doesn't make sense, not really, not even to Cardan's lust-addled mind. He frowns, then glances up, though not before letting his warm thumb trace the path of Liem's tongue, denting the soft skin of Liem's lip. He wants to kiss that tantalizing mouth; it has been at least a couple of minutes since he'd last done so, and it feels like far too long.
Not even Liem's accusation can shift his focus entirely. Still, he will answer to it, because this, too, makes desire flare in his veins. ]
That, [ he replies, with the utmost sincerity, ] I cannot deny.
[ After all, he has imagined it so often; he imagines it now, in vivid, colourful detail. He thinks of Liem's askew shirt and his fingers splayed over the papers. He thinks of how much he's missed this-- burying himself in his husband, feeling every shiver and every sigh, the exquisite grip of his body, the way he moves against Cardan, as if he can't help himself. He wants it, he wants it. He wants it so badly it shivers through him like a fever, aching and terrible. ]
Besides, [ he murmurs, finally allowing himself to lean close, his lips a breath from Liem's, ] I've never thought your mouth an inconvenience.
[ Worse and better things, yes, but not that.
It doesn't matter, anyway. What matters is the simple, greedy joy of kissing his husband, breathless and foolish with desire, regardless of whatever scheme Liem might be herding him towards. ]
[Cardan looks exquisite like this, caught in his own desire, intent and hungry and perhaps also a little suspicious. As always, Liem wants to see more, wants his husband deep in the throes of greed and pushed beyond the limits of his composure. As always, he is distracted, hopelessly and immediately, by the touch caressing his mouth.
There are some things wrong with his idea, he must admit as Cardan leans close. One of those things is that Cardan cannot kiss him if Liem’s mouth is occupied with his cock; and when those warm lips find his again, pulling a little wanting sound from his throat as he meets his kiss, Liem cannot imagine giving them up even to persuade his husband back to their rooms sooner.
He also, for some reason, failed to predict how Cardan’s insistent desire would make him want to drop everything and simply let him have his way.]
Very well.
[His assent is mumbled against Cardan’s mouth, squeezed in between greedy kisses he cannot make himself want to resist. In any case, he badly wants to be fucked; his blood-teased body has not stopped singing with a needy hunger for touch, regardless of his recent orgasm, and the idea of putting himself back together and walking to his room does admittedly sound rather like torture. He would much rather occupy himself by sliding his hands into his husband’s undone trousers to grab his ass.]
Have your wish, then.
[At least, if Cardan can manage to finally finish the job he’d started and get enough of Liem’s clothes off to fuck him—a task Liem shows no obvious inclination to help with.]
[ This is admittedly not where he'd expected Liem's hands to be heading, but Cardan gasps and arches against him anyway, all too eager for his touch. It's obscene, how Liem's kisses always manage to entrap him so completely, his husband's greed only inflaming his own. His own hands slide down to Liem's thighs, curl under him, so that Cardan can lift him up and against his own body. He only means to get Liem off the desk -- as he needs to, if he's going to deal with the trousers -- but he can't help but linger like that, for a moment. Even with impatience burning in his veins and need throbbing through him, he wants to savour the weight of Liem's lithe weight in his arms, pressed up against him so deliciously.
It is a terrible, unrelenting tease. He wants the man in his embrace with a disquieting ferocity; even a thousand lifetimes' worth of kisses could never be enough. His heart flutters in his chest, shot through with the strange pain of yearning. He wants Liem's need and his closeness and his regard, wants his devotion and the care of those tender hands, and the predation of those sharp fangs, and everything else besides.
Never has Cardan wanted so badly to belong to someone else. He has to close his eyes to his own naked longing, has to lean his brow against Liem's, breathe in his ink-and-blood scent. ]
You lay such terrible waste to my composure.
[ The way he sets Liem down on his own feet has the gentleness of reluctance about it. He consoles himself by burying his nose in Liem's soft hair as he leans around his husband, reaching for one of his desk drawers. This he will pull open, then rummage in, even as his arm around Liem's waist keeps him pressed close.
Well, it would be embarrassing if he did all that and then realized he was unprepared.
But, having successfully found the crystal vial he'd sought, he will place it beside some tidily stacked papers, close the drawer, and then hook his fingers decisively in the waistband of Liem's trousers. His villainous grin should spell trouble. ]
[The heated press of Cardan’s body against his sends pleasure racing beneath Liem’s skin, startling an eager breath from him as he clutches tighter at the man in his grasp, his hands dragging possessively up Cardan’s back. He keeps discovering new things to feel greedy about: Cardan’s hungry kisses, Cardan’s intemperate arousal, Cardan’s hands scooping him close like a prized possession, Cardan’s brow pressed gently against his own. He missed so many things about his husband over the past weeks. Having rediscovered these pleasures again, he can’t imagine relinquishing them for anything.]
Good.
[He hasn’t seen his husband in a month; he doesn’t want him to be composed now, when they are finally together again. If Cardan could keep his composure while Liem’s own wants were running rampant through him, bruising in their urgency, Liem doesn’t think he could keep himself from resenting it.
He would much rather have Cardan’s face pressed into his hair and Cardan’s arm hugging him near while his mischievous husband paws through his desk in search of oil Liem didn’t even know was hidden there.]
You are like a busy little jay, stashing treats for the hard months, [he accuses, regarding his husband with an intent look that nevertheless falls well short of being stern.] How long has that been there?
[ Liem's accusation distracts him into a laugh, delighted as he is with the comparison. Never, he thinks, has he been so eager to be disciplined as through his husband's gentle reprimands. ]
Since the time the doctor told you to stop drinking from me, [ he admits. He'd had much extra time, what with the excess of rest he was expected to be taking, and much incentive to tempt Liem into breaking his stubborn promises. Cardan's hand flies up to mold itself to Liem's cheek once more -- and if he kisses him again, fervent and breathless, it's because it will have to hold him over for the next little while. ]
Turn around, husband, will you?
[ It's the obvious choice: since he cannot even hope to get Liem out of his boots without his husband's cooperation, and since Liem seems ill-inclined to humour him, the only option left is not to bother with the boots at all.
And, after all, what could be more delightfully perverse than bending his husband over his own desk? ]
[No matter how difficult his husband might act or how villainous his schemes, Liem remains easily seduced by the softness of Cardan’s hand on his cheek and Cardan’s mouth against his own. The pointed look he aims up at Cardan dissolves beneath that fervent kiss, and Liem forgets the admonishment rising to his lips well before they become unoccupied again. It feels far more urgent to splay his hands over Cardan’s chest and fit himself against him, just for another moment more, to soak up his lover’s kiss like a thirsty, wilted plant.]
Mm…
[Liem’s brows draw together slightly at his husband’s request, and the prospect of relinquishing the warm body beneath his hands and tempting his mouth. His mouth… Cardan did promise to be in reach of it…
Even so, it is only the cozy, delectable feeling of being so indulgently kissed that persuades Liem to acquiesce. He might well agree to anything at all, as long as Cardan murmured it against his mouth with Liem’s face cradled against his palm. Especially with his body pleasantly alert and singing with each covetous touch and each caress of warm breath against his skin. He regards his husband hungrily, his eyes thin rings of pale blue around pupils gone wide and with rapt attention.]
Only because you are so dashingly persuasive.
[He will slide one hand fondly up Cardan’s throat, tenderly tracing the sharp line of his jaw, indulging in the little thrill even this simple pleasure provokes, before finally turning round and spreading his hands on his desk instead.]
[ In the moment, he nearly wishes he weren’t so dashingly persuasive. He is ever greedy: he wants Liem’s mouth and he wants his possessive desire and he wants his lust-darkened gaze. It’s just that he also feels breathless with agonized need; it meddles in his thoughts, makes patience impossible. How he will survive actually fucking his husband, Cardan does not know and does not particularly care.
When Liem turns, Cardan’s hand stays on his cheek — and then slips lower. It is his turn to splay fingers over Liem’s elegant throat, his palm warm against his lover’s cool skin. Looking at him now, Liem hardly seems like the submissive lover his fantasies had always supplied for this scenario. He looks like he usually does at work — the calm, competent young master, except with more dishabille.
As is usual for his fantasies, Cardan finds that he likes this better.
He will, naturally, contribute to Liem’s state of undress by finally, finally pulling the trousers down, off his slim hips, down over his thighs. He only needs them low enough that he can press against Liem, greedy and eager, impatient to feel his nakedness against his own. It sends an electric shiver of lust through him; for a moment, it’s all he can do to breathe through it.
His voice is rough against Liem’s ear. ]
You’re going to have to anoint me, husband.
[ The expectant wriggle of his fingers implies that he means the lube. He imagines he could uncork it one-handed, and he could get the oil over his hand — but the mess might very well make Liem cross, and Cardan is not eager to expand on his current list of offenses. ]
[The erotic, shivery pleasure of Cardan’s hand caressing his throat, Cardan’s body pressed flush against him from behind and Cardan’s voice rumbling low in his ear soon convinces Liem of the merits of this new arrangement. The lips threatening his neck and the greedy presence at his back well and truly occupy his attention, making lust pulse harder through him, already mounting again.]
I am ever at your service, [he murmurs, fingers sliding blindly along the polished wood even as he tips his head to accommodate the hand splayed over his throat. Increasingly, his habitual indulgence of Cardan’s whims has become less a manifestation of duty and more one of hopeless affection. Even when he must spend his efforts in other ways, he remains ever eager for opportunities to please his insatiable spouse—and, always, chances to feel his hands on him.
His fingers close around the vial, carefully prize the stopper out so he can borrow his husband’s hand and pour oil into his palm. Delicately, Liem replaces the vial on the desk and turns his attention to coating Cardan’s long fingers.
Somehow even this little chore, volunteering his hands for his husband before Cardan penetrates him, makes a little thrill heat the space just behind his ribs. Excitement mixes with unbidden sentiment at the prospect of Cardan’s deliberate touch, imminent now after long weeks of absence.
Because he likes being his. He likes spending his effort on things his husband will appreciate; it is far more rewarding than any of his other occupations. And that, in its own right, fills him again with eagerness.]
[ There is a reason why Cardan prefers to be on the offensive, to act rather than be acted upon. Even now, as Liem does the thing Cardan asked of him, slicks his fingers with a silken layer of oil, he is seized by terrible impatience. He wants too much, feels too keenly. Every inch of his skin is sensitized to his lover's touch. His mouth finds the nape of Liem's neck, paints breathless, eager kisses over soft skin.
He tries to focus: on the alluring shape of Liem's throat beneath his hand, on the interesting way it vibrates with his lover's murmur. His fingers stroke, restless, tracing the line of Liem's jaw, the tender space just below it, where a pulse would beat on anyone else. It's difficult. It's exquisitely challenging not to squirm in place, not to grind against his lover, needy and senseless. His tail coils restlessly around them, the tip curling over Liem's knee. Cardan's desire has been teased so keen and so raw -- by the month spend under the waves, by the long journey home, by the aching bite wound on his neck and the sight of Liem caught in the throes of his climax. How could any man remain composed?
And he isn't. And he cannot be. He will barely wait for Liem to finish before withdrawing his fingers from his grasp. Even the distance required of him to slip his hand between their bodies is torturous; he nearly whimpers with it, though it is not even the worst of the torments in store for him yet.
The worst is this: the grip of Liem's body, tight and silken and perfect, as he presses inside. He bites his lip -- and then thinks better of it, and bites Liem's shoulder instead. The noise at the back of his throat is made of raw need. It hammers through his veins, speeds his pulse; he is so full of it he might burst, with no recourse and no salvation save for the man before him. ]
Liem...
[ The desperation creeps into his voice, and he does not even have it in him to be embarrassed of his own pathetic eagerness. ]
[If Cardan isn’t trying to drive Liem insane with sheer, lustful impatience, he is doing an impeccable impression of someone who is. Liem is collared by the restless hand caressing his throat, the kisses scorching his skin like studs of sun-warmed silver. Being anything less than painfully, desperately aware of that tantalizing contact is an impossibility, and when the fingers in his grasp pull away to press inside him, the flame of need filling him only flares hotter. It gathers at the back of his throat, senseless and unbidden as his oil-stained fingers curl uselessly against the desk’s polished surface; when the teeth bite down on his shoulder, twinned delight and frustration jar his moan free.
He needs this: Cardan’s tenderness and wanton affection; the comforting, maddening feeling of Cardan’s hand cupping his throat; the thrill of belonging to someone precious, of being taken and penetrated and possessed. He has been too long without this; it is too much, drowning his blood-teased senses in an orgy of starved indulgence. It’s driving him mad, and he needs it to never stop.]
Oh, fuck, [he says, like a revelation: a realization that he cannot possibly be contained about this, and possibly might never be again, no matter how many times Cardan touches him. Cardan is too hungry to let such a thing escape him, surely. The thought thrills Liem even as it seems a shiver of anxiety down to the pit of his stomach.
He is so hopelessly Cardan’s, in every way he could possibly be, and the desperate way Cardan says his name only makes his dizzying need for him pulse more urgently. He needs his desire, he needs his touch, he needs, needs, needs—]
[ Liem’s voice runs through Cardan with a shiver; it’s too evocative of his own blinding, overwhelming need for him. To be close to him, to have him, to watch him become taut and overcome with desire as Cardan’s fingers diligently work him open. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through this; he’s caught between the twin storms of lust and terrible, all-encompassing affection. He cannot think. ]
You are so—
[ He breaks off the sentence, bites down on his lip, hard. He doesn’t know what Liem is; what he knows is how he feels about it. The confession stutters at the back of his throat, treacherously ready to leap out and ruin everything. He can’t tell Liem. Not now, not yet. Not when he hasn’t proven it to him yet.
Not when the thought still frightens him so much. And anyway, he’s— ]
Only you. [ His mouth smears over Liem’s neck, catches on his ear. ] That whole month, I thought only of you. Please… [ He breathes it, no less desperate than before. He still cannot bring himself to care; he’s already coming unmoored. ]
Liem, I can’t—
[ Can’t watch and feel and hear him, his sounds of pleasure and the tight grip of his body and the tender column of his throat. He doesn’t want to hurry his lover, but—
But he’s going to lose what little mind he has left if he doesn’t get to claim him soon. ]
[Liem hadn’t dared to guess what Cardan’s return might finally be like, after his weeks of absence and long nights of silence—but he would not have guessed it would be like this. He could not have anticipated the helpless longing in his lover’s voice, or the desperate, starved need turning his composure so quickly to shambles. I thought only of you, Cardan breathes against kiss-damp skin, and even Liem must believe it.
Everything else flees from his mind in the face of it. He wants nothing else but this: Cardan’s breathless affection and heedless, almost plaintive desire. It shivers through him, seductive and terrifying, as his body bends and shifts obligingly into his lover’s touch. He cannot imagine anything more perfect.]
Just fuck me, [he pants, impatiently. What draw does patience hold for him, after such a long wait? What care does he have for making himself ready when every single part of him has longed for Cardan for weeks? He cannot wait any longer for his lover to have him, any more than Cardan can.]
[ Cardan stills, frozen mid-breath; though his lover cannot see it, his eyes fly open. He had little enough tethering him to temperance as it is. Liem’s impatient, breathless demand makes the last of it dissipate, as a snowflake in a blazing fire.
Make me yours tears through him with a pang of lust so heavy it hurts.
There is no more stillness after that. He wishes, dearly, to grasp Liem by the hips — but he can’t, he can’t, for the palm wrapped possessively around his lover’s throat. He will make do with one hand: pulling out, lining himself up — and he is so piteously, terribly hard even this makes him gasp under his breath — and then fucking inside him in one greedy, glorious thrust. The desperate groan it tears from him is unavoidable, as is his iron-hard grip on Liem’s hip.
Oh, he can’t wait any longer at all. ]
You are mine. [ He stamps the words like an oath against his husband’s temple, so low and forceful they are nearly a growl. How could he be anything but, when Cardan’s very blood sings with ecstasy where they touch, when Liem fills every one of his senses so completely? ] All of you—
[ Pulling out is torture, too; he does it anyway, so he can take Liem again, and again, letting go of his hip so he can brace himself against the desk. And if the fingers on Liem’s throat creep up, if they find the soft curve of his bottom lip and push past it, inside his mouth— well, is that not his, too? ]
[Never in his life can Liem recall being so eager to be fucked: not the first time in their rooms, after that bloody assassination attempt; not on that endless, liquor-softened day after Balekin’s party; not on that rug beneath Elfhame’s stars, where he had been so assiduously seduced. Not even after Cardan nearly died for the second time, when Liem had feared he might never touch him again.
He has never been so hopelessly caught up in his own want. It soaks everything, throbbing in his veins, spilling from his lungs with each restless breath. When Cardan finally thrusts into him, he cannot tell where his lover’s desperate groan ends and his own begins. He is drowned in the low voice brushing his temple, pinned by the feverish body caging him against the desk. The fingers invading his mouth coax from him only a soft, surprised moan—muffled almost immediately as he indulges the urge to suck.
Lust whimpers piteously through him, helpless and aching. Perversely, and hopelessly, he cannot help but try to leash it.
And if having Cardan’s cock inside him is a little tight, if he feels strained taut and breathless around him when he gives Liem what he’d demanded, that’s just fine. He likes feeling that he’s been a little too eager, indulged a little too rashly—and he covets Cardan’s own impatience just as much.]
[ Every breath is a fight; every time he buries himself in Liem's body, the impossibly tight, silken stroke of sensation drags another wanton gasp from him. It sears through him, white-hot and inescapable. He knows he is racing his own pleasure: already it is dangerously close to catching up, chasing him towards the precipice of climax until he’s teetering on its edge, trying to hold on with the last of his composure.
Like every other time, it is too soon.
He doesn’t want it to end. This maddening, terrible, precious need— his husband, all eager demand and dangerous, tender mouth closed around his fingers— Liem’s dutiful letters and his longing and the affection Cardan thought he’d never win, let alone deserve. He wants to hold these things near, wants to hoard them like a jealous dragon in some cave, and eat any who would come to take them from him.
But, as is usually the case, what he wants does not matter.
Orgasm slams into him all at once, disorienting in its blind ferocity. He does not know what noise he makes, except that it is probably obscene, and that he muffles it ineffectually against Liem’s neck. Liem, who feels exquisite; Liem, whose stubborn greed always catches him off-guard; Liem, who has haunted him for weeks, lingering in his every thought.
If Cardan cannot claim him now, then Liem has certainly accomplished the converse: no one has ever owned Cardan’s heart nor his desire so completely as this. ]
[With the very first heedless, hungry thrust, Liem can already tell that his pleasure is going to claim him again, recent climax or not. He can feel it in the lust that shoots straight to his cock and hear it in the muffled sounds he makes around Cardan’s fingers. He is too greedy, too sensitized, and too perversely delighted by the indulgence of being claimed so comprehensively by the lover he is so besotted by. It is a mercy that Cardan is so senseless with his own need; at least that way Liem’s perversion can go unremarked.
He has no chance of resisting the pull of it, even though he forces his shaking hands to remain on the desk’s surface, refusing to urge himself along any faster. The neglect only makes him ache more desperately, drunk on Cardan’s touch and Cardan’s pleasure; when he feels Cardan’s climax take him, hears it in the wildness of his pulse and the stifled moan breaking against his neck, it is too much. All his pleasure and want and senseless, longing affection crash over him at once, breaking through the paltry dam of his restraint; he bucks helplessly against empty air, trembling with the effort of not accidentally biting his lover’s fingers as he makes a god awful mess of his desk.
But he can’t find it in him to care about that, wrapped up as he is in the most important thing, which is the man in whose clutches he so earnestly belongs.]
Liem… [ His eyes are shut; his breath flutters in and out of his body, frantic still. After a very long moment, he’ll pull his hand off the desk to wrap the arm tightly around Liem instead, shivering with his closeness. Pleasure still dances over his skin, nearly painful. He’s so sensitive, so overwhelmed, so terribly taken with his husband.
Eventually, once his heart has stopped racing so badly, he will lift his head to brush his mouth over Liem’s ear, pressing a tired kiss there. His damp fingertips curl over his lover’s cheek, deceptively gentle. ]
I am glad to be home.
[ He’s also exhausted, though it hardly matters. Sometimes, Cardan wonders which one of them is more helplessly beset with greed. Every time he thinks himself relentless, every time he wonders if this time he will ask too much of his lover, he finds himself not so much wrong as outdone. It scares him, a little, what sort of madness they might drive each other towards if left to their own devices.
But not enough to stop, naturally. Urgency still simmers under his skin; he knows it will claim him again before long. His inhale against Liem’s hair is a little tortured. When he grasps Liem’s hip and pulls out, the soft noise he makes is a little too plaintive.
He wants Liem to turn around. He wants to kiss that soft mouth. He wants so many things, still — there is no end to them. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Of course it is. I spend few hours of my day not wishing I were indulging in it.
[ Having wrestled open his own trousers, Cardan will take a moment to shrug off his shirt, though the gesture is impatient. All of him is impatient; when he takes himself in hand, the noise that rises from his throat is hungry. When he wraps long, feverish fingers around them both, his breath stutters, too preoccupied with the hot spike of need to remember even this.
So it's going to be like this, he thinks, even as he buries his gasps against Liem's neck, shuddering into the stroke of his own hand. Far from the seduction he'd envisioned, and yet somehow exactly how he'd known it would happen. In the end, his need is artless and animal, embarrassingly honest. He just wants the pleasure of Liem's body against his own, wants to kiss his dangerous mouth and feel his tender, greedy hands on his skin. But then, the desire between them isn't, has never been particularly complicated, for all that it has Cardan in its clutches so completely. ]
Are you-- [ He pauses, breathes out, swallows; his eyes flutter closed, briefly distracted by his own touch, by the silken feeling of Liem's cock against his own. ] Are you going to make me wait for your bite, Liem?
[ That would be cruel; the only thing crueler would be to make Cardan plead for it again. ]
no subject
Even when Liem himself is still distracted by the feverish slide of Cardan’s cock against his own and the delectable way his lover’s heated breaths break against his throat. Even when his insistent stroking makes Liem arch and sigh with mixed relief and desire that trembles all the way through him, painfully keen.]
Should I? [he muses, lips brushing Cardan’s ear as one hand splays over his ribs. Freed of his mission to divest his lover of his shirt, Liem slides his touch round to run his fingers down the long length of Cardan’s spine, all the way down to his hips. Strange that even the familiar feel of Cardan’s scarred skin beneath his hands should feel so comforting. It feels like home.
And he misses the taste of home, too, even wrapped as he is in his husband’s touch and his husband’s scent. Liem presses a cool, hungry kiss just beneath Cardan’s ear, and the pulse beating there makes lust pulse in his cock and the back of his throat.]
I missed this, too, [he whispers, and with a small hum that turns to a whimper, he sinks his teeth into his husband’s throat.]
no subject
And still, and still, the ferocity of his relief wrings a helpless, wanton moan from him. Liem wanted him to cease with denial -- well, he's not certain he could deny his husband at all anymore. It's frightening, how Liem's mouth on his throat fills him with not only desire, but also terrible, treacherous tenderness. How foolish, to want to be predated upon; how little he cares about being foolish. ]
I'm so greedy for you, [ he murmurs, because no matter how much Liem may have missed this, he is certain he's missed it more. It's strange that a predator's teeth at his neck should bring him comfort -- but what could be more comforting than his spouse nestled up against him, his scent on Cardan's skin, claimed by him in every way that matters? He can think of no other intimacy as precious as this one. ]
no subject
Nor can he refuse the elegant length of Cardan’s freshly bitten neck, tempting him back for another taste—no, a drink, fuller this time. Cardan tastes so divine, and Liem has fasted for so long with only the blood of animals to sustain him. Drowned in indulgence, he abandons the pretense of restraint, squirming against Cardan’s cock as he drinks him down. By the time he drags his tongue up the curve of his neck, Liem is buzzing with sensation and frantic with need, his breath suddenly harsh in his lungs.]
Cardan.
[He breathes the name like a prayer as orgasm overtakes him, erasing everything else, everything but this. Cardan, whose hands are on him, whose blood coats his tongue, whose arms are where he belongs.]
Cardan—
no subject
It strikes something lean and needy in him, some ancient, terrible hunger. It makes him feel irreplaceable -- like Liem needs him, him specifically, and not just the first handsome, terrible man who decided to stay by his side. He can't help the jealous greed that makes him clutch Liem close, makes him gasp with sensation as his husband spills over his hand. He shudders, his teeth gritting against the onslaught of his own desire, his breathing ragged.
A minute or an hour could have passed by the time he opens his eyes, pulling back just enough to cup Liem's cheek with his hand. He will study the heartbreaking beauty of his husband's face, the serious mouth anointed in Cardan's blood, those strikingly crystalline eyes. It seems like no matter what he does, the tenderness of wanting still pulses in his chest.
He doesn't know what to say. No, that's not true -- he's only half certain that if he opens his mouth, all the awful, too-sincere feelings he has will spill out and ruin a perfectly good reunion.
In the end, he only tilts his face to press his lips to the much-maligned space between Liem's brows, and says nothing at all. ]
no subject
Liem stares back into his face, entirely seduced by the hand cupping his cheek, manfully resisting the desire to simply nuzzle into that touch like a tame animal. Though he is always hungry for Cardan’s touch, it is especially challenging now to recall why he shouldn’t simply abandon his dignity and give himself entirely to the pleasure of it. The anxiety usually warning him to hold part of himself back won’t quite surface just now, drowned out by every other part of him jointly insisting it would feel so nice…
Especially when Cardan’s soft, warm lips press gently against his brow, and he has to close his eyes against the surge of wild, pathetic eagerness the kiss evokes in him.
It just isn’t fair. It really isn’t fair for Cardan to make his tenderness so rare a commodity, so that Liem has no choice but to covet it with all his unbeating, yearning heart. It would be easier if he had married a gentle man, one who was so free with his affection that Liem could easily reassure himself that he wasn’t special after all for receiving it. Instead he feels the treacherous seed of hope take root each time, knowing he’ll have to make his fingers bleed digging it up again.
In the end, he cannot stop himself from leaning with a soft sigh into Cardan’s touch, or cupping his husband’s warm, elegant hand with his own. He has surely long since convinced his husband already that he is an incurable romantic, anyway. Given Cardan’s proclivities, that doesn’t seem like the end of the world.]
The longer we stay here, [he observes quietly,] the more irritating it will be to journey back to our rooms.
[Mostly, he thinks, because they are bound to become less dressed the longer they remain together in one place—and he does not intend to leave his office while even partially naked.]
no subject
The tip of his tail twitches against Liem’s thigh. ]
Husband, [ he says, his tone terrifically pleasant, ] I wish to fuck you very much. [ This, he imagines, is not news. ]
…but if you imagined I’ve the patience for journeying halfway across this mansion, you are being quite insane.
[ Normally he’d do his best to be more considerate of Liem’s comfort, of his desires — for all that Cardan deals gleefully in denial, he has tried his best to give Liem that which he truly wants. But he has made a three days’ journey in half the time, and he most definitely did not do so for the privilege of traversing hallways with the world’s most distracting erection. Even now, he’s achingly hard; just pulling his fingers away from between them both makes him shiver and sink teeth into his lip. He feels nigh-feverish with need, too full of it, his skin hypersensitive to Liem’s cool touch. The idea of doing up his clothes, of dodging servants, all while within reach of his lover’s mouth— it’s impossible. Liem might as well have asked him to gainsay the sun into ceasing its ascent. ]
no subject
You always know just how to charm me.
[His expression is warm as he shivers through the withdrawal of Cardan’s touch from his oversensitive cock, enamoured even now with all the ways they fit together, now that he is once again in his husband’s clutches. Idly, Liem strokes his hand over Cardan’s ribs, fingers splaying and trailing lightly down his belly, wrapped up in the need to touch and keep touching.]
You have the inconvenience of my clothes and my mouth and your own impatience to contend with, and still you wish to fuck me here. Perverse creature.
[Liem’s tongue glides over his bottom lip, tasting the traces of Cardan still wetly clinging there. His husband has already granted him leave to use his mouth on him; it seems the opposite of insanity to use it to address his most immediate problem. Also, Cardan looks so delectably debauched already, he can’t imagine wanting to fuck around with boots and trousers just to fuck here, specifically. Unless his husband has some sentimental attachment to the idea of fucking him as soon as possible, but that seems unlikely to him, particularly after he already opted to enjoy a tormenting little diversion on his knees.]
I think you want very much to finally fuck me here on my desk, [he teases mildly,] and you’re just loath to let the opportunity escape.
no subject
It's just that it's difficult to concentrate, still, with the seductive swipe of Liem's tongue over the curve of his lip. His eyes follow the movement, intent and hungry. If Liem truly meant to dissuade him from fucking in the office, he has chosen a truly losing strategy for doing so.
...which doesn't make sense, not really, not even to Cardan's lust-addled mind. He frowns, then glances up, though not before letting his warm thumb trace the path of Liem's tongue, denting the soft skin of Liem's lip. He wants to kiss that tantalizing mouth; it has been at least a couple of minutes since he'd last done so, and it feels like far too long.
Not even Liem's accusation can shift his focus entirely. Still, he will answer to it, because this, too, makes desire flare in his veins. ]
That, [ he replies, with the utmost sincerity, ] I cannot deny.
[ After all, he has imagined it so often; he imagines it now, in vivid, colourful detail. He thinks of Liem's askew shirt and his fingers splayed over the papers. He thinks of how much he's missed this-- burying himself in his husband, feeling every shiver and every sigh, the exquisite grip of his body, the way he moves against Cardan, as if he can't help himself. He wants it, he wants it. He wants it so badly it shivers through him like a fever, aching and terrible. ]
Besides, [ he murmurs, finally allowing himself to lean close, his lips a breath from Liem's, ] I've never thought your mouth an inconvenience.
[ Worse and better things, yes, but not that.
It doesn't matter, anyway. What matters is the simple, greedy joy of kissing his husband, breathless and foolish with desire, regardless of whatever scheme Liem might be herding him towards. ]
no subject
There are some things wrong with his idea, he must admit as Cardan leans close. One of those things is that Cardan cannot kiss him if Liem’s mouth is occupied with his cock; and when those warm lips find his again, pulling a little wanting sound from his throat as he meets his kiss, Liem cannot imagine giving them up even to persuade his husband back to their rooms sooner.
He also, for some reason, failed to predict how Cardan’s insistent desire would make him want to drop everything and simply let him have his way.]
Very well.
[His assent is mumbled against Cardan’s mouth, squeezed in between greedy kisses he cannot make himself want to resist. In any case, he badly wants to be fucked; his blood-teased body has not stopped singing with a needy hunger for touch, regardless of his recent orgasm, and the idea of putting himself back together and walking to his room does admittedly sound rather like torture. He would much rather occupy himself by sliding his hands into his husband’s undone trousers to grab his ass.]
Have your wish, then.
[At least, if Cardan can manage to finally finish the job he’d started and get enough of Liem’s clothes off to fuck him—a task Liem shows no obvious inclination to help with.]
no subject
It is a terrible, unrelenting tease. He wants the man in his embrace with a disquieting ferocity; even a thousand lifetimes' worth of kisses could never be enough. His heart flutters in his chest, shot through with the strange pain of yearning. He wants Liem's need and his closeness and his regard, wants his devotion and the care of those tender hands, and the predation of those sharp fangs, and everything else besides.
Never has Cardan wanted so badly to belong to someone else. He has to close his eyes to his own naked longing, has to lean his brow against Liem's, breathe in his ink-and-blood scent. ]
You lay such terrible waste to my composure.
[ The way he sets Liem down on his own feet has the gentleness of reluctance about it. He consoles himself by burying his nose in Liem's soft hair as he leans around his husband, reaching for one of his desk drawers. This he will pull open, then rummage in, even as his arm around Liem's waist keeps him pressed close.
Well, it would be embarrassing if he did all that and then realized he was unprepared.
But, having successfully found the crystal vial he'd sought, he will place it beside some tidily stacked papers, close the drawer, and then hook his fingers decisively in the waistband of Liem's trousers. His villainous grin should spell trouble. ]
Luckily, my resourcefulness has only grown.
no subject
Good.
[He hasn’t seen his husband in a month; he doesn’t want him to be composed now, when they are finally together again. If Cardan could keep his composure while Liem’s own wants were running rampant through him, bruising in their urgency, Liem doesn’t think he could keep himself from resenting it.
He would much rather have Cardan’s face pressed into his hair and Cardan’s arm hugging him near while his mischievous husband paws through his desk in search of oil Liem didn’t even know was hidden there.]
You are like a busy little jay, stashing treats for the hard months, [he accuses, regarding his husband with an intent look that nevertheless falls well short of being stern.] How long has that been there?
no subject
Since the time the doctor told you to stop drinking from me, [ he admits. He'd had much extra time, what with the excess of rest he was expected to be taking, and much incentive to tempt Liem into breaking his stubborn promises. Cardan's hand flies up to mold itself to Liem's cheek once more -- and if he kisses him again, fervent and breathless, it's because it will have to hold him over for the next little while. ]
Turn around, husband, will you?
[ It's the obvious choice: since he cannot even hope to get Liem out of his boots without his husband's cooperation, and since Liem seems ill-inclined to humour him, the only option left is not to bother with the boots at all.
And, after all, what could be more delightfully perverse than bending his husband over his own desk? ]
no subject
Mm…
[Liem’s brows draw together slightly at his husband’s request, and the prospect of relinquishing the warm body beneath his hands and tempting his mouth. His mouth… Cardan did promise to be in reach of it…
Even so, it is only the cozy, delectable feeling of being so indulgently kissed that persuades Liem to acquiesce. He might well agree to anything at all, as long as Cardan murmured it against his mouth with Liem’s face cradled against his palm. Especially with his body pleasantly alert and singing with each covetous touch and each caress of warm breath against his skin. He regards his husband hungrily, his eyes thin rings of pale blue around pupils gone wide and with rapt attention.]
Only because you are so dashingly persuasive.
[He will slide one hand fondly up Cardan’s throat, tenderly tracing the sharp line of his jaw, indulging in the little thrill even this simple pleasure provokes, before finally turning round and spreading his hands on his desk instead.]
no subject
When Liem turns, Cardan’s hand stays on his cheek — and then slips lower. It is his turn to splay fingers over Liem’s elegant throat, his palm warm against his lover’s cool skin. Looking at him now, Liem hardly seems like the submissive lover his fantasies had always supplied for this scenario. He looks like he usually does at work — the calm, competent young master, except with more dishabille.
As is usual for his fantasies, Cardan finds that he likes this better.
He will, naturally, contribute to Liem’s state of undress by finally, finally pulling the trousers down, off his slim hips, down over his thighs. He only needs them low enough that he can press against Liem, greedy and eager, impatient to feel his nakedness against his own. It sends an electric shiver of lust through him; for a moment, it’s all he can do to breathe through it.
His voice is rough against Liem’s ear. ]
You’re going to have to anoint me, husband.
[ The expectant wriggle of his fingers implies that he means the lube. He imagines he could uncork it one-handed, and he could get the oil over his hand — but the mess might very well make Liem cross, and Cardan is not eager to expand on his current list of offenses. ]
no subject
I am ever at your service, [he murmurs, fingers sliding blindly along the polished wood even as he tips his head to accommodate the hand splayed over his throat. Increasingly, his habitual indulgence of Cardan’s whims has become less a manifestation of duty and more one of hopeless affection. Even when he must spend his efforts in other ways, he remains ever eager for opportunities to please his insatiable spouse—and, always, chances to feel his hands on him.
His fingers close around the vial, carefully prize the stopper out so he can borrow his husband’s hand and pour oil into his palm. Delicately, Liem replaces the vial on the desk and turns his attention to coating Cardan’s long fingers.
Somehow even this little chore, volunteering his hands for his husband before Cardan penetrates him, makes a little thrill heat the space just behind his ribs. Excitement mixes with unbidden sentiment at the prospect of Cardan’s deliberate touch, imminent now after long weeks of absence.
Because he likes being his. He likes spending his effort on things his husband will appreciate; it is far more rewarding than any of his other occupations. And that, in its own right, fills him again with eagerness.]
no subject
He tries to focus: on the alluring shape of Liem's throat beneath his hand, on the interesting way it vibrates with his lover's murmur. His fingers stroke, restless, tracing the line of Liem's jaw, the tender space just below it, where a pulse would beat on anyone else. It's difficult. It's exquisitely challenging not to squirm in place, not to grind against his lover, needy and senseless. His tail coils restlessly around them, the tip curling over Liem's knee. Cardan's desire has been teased so keen and so raw -- by the month spend under the waves, by the long journey home, by the aching bite wound on his neck and the sight of Liem caught in the throes of his climax. How could any man remain composed?
And he isn't. And he cannot be. He will barely wait for Liem to finish before withdrawing his fingers from his grasp. Even the distance required of him to slip his hand between their bodies is torturous; he nearly whimpers with it, though it is not even the worst of the torments in store for him yet.
The worst is this: the grip of Liem's body, tight and silken and perfect, as he presses inside. He bites his lip -- and then thinks better of it, and bites Liem's shoulder instead. The noise at the back of his throat is made of raw need. It hammers through his veins, speeds his pulse; he is so full of it he might burst, with no recourse and no salvation save for the man before him. ]
Liem...
[ The desperation creeps into his voice, and he does not even have it in him to be embarrassed of his own pathetic eagerness. ]
no subject
He needs this: Cardan’s tenderness and wanton affection; the comforting, maddening feeling of Cardan’s hand cupping his throat; the thrill of belonging to someone precious, of being taken and penetrated and possessed. He has been too long without this; it is too much, drowning his blood-teased senses in an orgy of starved indulgence. It’s driving him mad, and he needs it to never stop.]
Oh, fuck, [he says, like a revelation: a realization that he cannot possibly be contained about this, and possibly might never be again, no matter how many times Cardan touches him. Cardan is too hungry to let such a thing escape him, surely. The thought thrills Liem even as it seems a shiver of anxiety down to the pit of his stomach.
He is so hopelessly Cardan’s, in every way he could possibly be, and the desperate way Cardan says his name only makes his dizzying need for him pulse more urgently. He needs his desire, he needs his touch, he needs, needs, needs—]
no subject
You are so—
[ He breaks off the sentence, bites down on his lip, hard. He doesn’t know what Liem is; what he knows is how he feels about it. The confession stutters at the back of his throat, treacherously ready to leap out and ruin everything. He can’t tell Liem. Not now, not yet. Not when he hasn’t proven it to him yet.
Not when the thought still frightens him so much. And anyway, he’s— ]
Only you. [ His mouth smears over Liem’s neck, catches on his ear. ] That whole month, I thought only of you. Please… [ He breathes it, no less desperate than before. He still cannot bring himself to care; he’s already coming unmoored. ]
Liem, I can’t—
[ Can’t watch and feel and hear him, his sounds of pleasure and the tight grip of his body and the tender column of his throat. He doesn’t want to hurry his lover, but—
But he’s going to lose what little mind he has left if he doesn’t get to claim him soon. ]
no subject
Everything else flees from his mind in the face of it. He wants nothing else but this: Cardan’s breathless affection and heedless, almost plaintive desire. It shivers through him, seductive and terrifying, as his body bends and shifts obligingly into his lover’s touch. He cannot imagine anything more perfect.]
Just fuck me, [he pants, impatiently. What draw does patience hold for him, after such a long wait? What care does he have for making himself ready when every single part of him has longed for Cardan for weeks? He cannot wait any longer for his lover to have him, any more than Cardan can.]
Cardan, make me yours.
[Again. As many times as it takes.]
no subject
Make me yours tears through him with a pang of lust so heavy it hurts.
There is no more stillness after that. He wishes, dearly, to grasp Liem by the hips — but he can’t, he can’t, for the palm wrapped possessively around his lover’s throat. He will make do with one hand: pulling out, lining himself up — and he is so piteously, terribly hard even this makes him gasp under his breath — and then fucking inside him in one greedy, glorious thrust. The desperate groan it tears from him is unavoidable, as is his iron-hard grip on Liem’s hip.
Oh, he can’t wait any longer at all. ]
You are mine. [ He stamps the words like an oath against his husband’s temple, so low and forceful they are nearly a growl. How could he be anything but, when Cardan’s very blood sings with ecstasy where they touch, when Liem fills every one of his senses so completely? ] All of you—
[ Pulling out is torture, too; he does it anyway, so he can take Liem again, and again, letting go of his hip so he can brace himself against the desk. And if the fingers on Liem’s throat creep up, if they find the soft curve of his bottom lip and push past it, inside his mouth— well, is that not his, too? ]
no subject
He has never been so hopelessly caught up in his own want. It soaks everything, throbbing in his veins, spilling from his lungs with each restless breath. When Cardan finally thrusts into him, he cannot tell where his lover’s desperate groan ends and his own begins. He is drowned in the low voice brushing his temple, pinned by the feverish body caging him against the desk. The fingers invading his mouth coax from him only a soft, surprised moan—muffled almost immediately as he indulges the urge to suck.
Lust whimpers piteously through him, helpless and aching. Perversely, and hopelessly, he cannot help but try to leash it.
And if having Cardan’s cock inside him is a little tight, if he feels strained taut and breathless around him when he gives Liem what he’d demanded, that’s just fine. He likes feeling that he’s been a little too eager, indulged a little too rashly—and he covets Cardan’s own impatience just as much.]
no subject
Like every other time, it is too soon.
He doesn’t want it to end. This maddening, terrible, precious need— his husband, all eager demand and dangerous, tender mouth closed around his fingers— Liem’s dutiful letters and his longing and the affection Cardan thought he’d never win, let alone deserve. He wants to hold these things near, wants to hoard them like a jealous dragon in some cave, and eat any who would come to take them from him.
But, as is usually the case, what he wants does not matter.
Orgasm slams into him all at once, disorienting in its blind ferocity. He does not know what noise he makes, except that it is probably obscene, and that he muffles it ineffectually against Liem’s neck. Liem, who feels exquisite; Liem, whose stubborn greed always catches him off-guard; Liem, who has haunted him for weeks, lingering in his every thought.
If Cardan cannot claim him now, then Liem has certainly accomplished the converse: no one has ever owned Cardan’s heart nor his desire so completely as this. ]
no subject
He has no chance of resisting the pull of it, even though he forces his shaking hands to remain on the desk’s surface, refusing to urge himself along any faster. The neglect only makes him ache more desperately, drunk on Cardan’s touch and Cardan’s pleasure; when he feels Cardan’s climax take him, hears it in the wildness of his pulse and the stifled moan breaking against his neck, it is too much. All his pleasure and want and senseless, longing affection crash over him at once, breaking through the paltry dam of his restraint; he bucks helplessly against empty air, trembling with the effort of not accidentally biting his lover’s fingers as he makes a god awful mess of his desk.
But he can’t find it in him to care about that, wrapped up as he is in the most important thing, which is the man in whose clutches he so earnestly belongs.]
no subject
Eventually, once his heart has stopped racing so badly, he will lift his head to brush his mouth over Liem’s ear, pressing a tired kiss there. His damp fingertips curl over his lover’s cheek, deceptively gentle. ]
I am glad to be home.
[ He’s also exhausted, though it hardly matters. Sometimes, Cardan wonders which one of them is more helplessly beset with greed. Every time he thinks himself relentless, every time he wonders if this time he will ask too much of his lover, he finds himself not so much wrong as outdone. It scares him, a little, what sort of madness they might drive each other towards if left to their own devices.
But not enough to stop, naturally. Urgency still simmers under his skin; he knows it will claim him again before long. His inhale against Liem’s hair is a little tortured. When he grasps Liem’s hip and pulls out, the soft noise he makes is a little too plaintive.
He wants Liem to turn around. He wants to kiss that soft mouth. He wants so many things, still — there is no end to them. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)