[ 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. ]
[Many times during Cardan’s absence, Liem fantasized about his husband’s return from the sea: about Cardan sweeping him into his arms to return to him with a kiss, before getting his hands all over him with his characteristic impatience. Usually in his fantasies, Liem ended up getting teased for fussing and worrying in his husband’s absence, and Cardan would then distract him thoroughly, until it seemed silly that he had ever worried at all. He had yearned for just that: a reason to feel like he didn’t need to be concerned, about Cardan or anything else. He’d missed it sorely.
None of those fantasies had involved him getting bent over his desk, but as he leans against the messily decorated wood, with Cardan’s weight against him and his arm holding Liem close, contentment wraps around him like a thick, body-warm blanket. For the span of this soft, quiet moment, in the afterglow of their intimacy, everything does indeed seem perfectly well.]
I am glad you’ve returned, husband.
[Pleasurable little shivers still slide beneath his skin at the press of Cardan’s soft lips, the brush of his fingers. If there is anything that he yet wants for, it is the chance to lie down in his lover’s arms and feel all of him pressed close, entwined together skin against skin. He thinks of this as Cardan pulls out, leaving him just a little more bereft, and nuzzles into his husband’s hand as he half-turns, still leaning against the desk. Cupping the long, elegant hand with his own, he strokes the knuckles as he presses gentle kisses to each of Cardan’s fingers, completing his turn to face his lover again.]
What do you think? [An endearment bubbles to his lips unbidden, and he presses his mouth to the soft, warm flesh of Cardan’s palm rather than let it escape. He refuses to complicate their happiness with such things, when he has finally found contentment.] Will you let me steal you back to our rooms now?
[ He laughs, endeared despite himself by Liem's tireless efforts to get them to a more appropriate location -- and then kisses him, warm and slow and hungry. It occurs to him that he should have known so long ago. He should have known when he'd first noticed that he's never tired of kissing Liem, that his husband is the first thing on his mind each evening and the last every morning, that his marriage bed feels cruelly empty without Liem's face nestled against his collarbone.
He'd thought it was just loneliness, but he'd been lonely many a time, and never once so ravenous about it.
Regardless, he has to admit Liem is ultimately right about the location: the longer they stay here, the harder it will be to leave again, and Cardan doesn't want to sleep in Liem's study. When he pulls away, his sigh is regretful. ]
Oh, very well. Put yourself to rights, then, husband.
[ Cardan, for his part, only plans to do up his trousers -- aside from the physical restrictions Liem has imposed on him, he's plainly too impatient to bother retrieving his shirt, tie, or jacket. ]
[No matter how impatient Liem is to coax his husband out of his office and back to their rooms, he cannot deny the allure of the warm, indulgent kiss that Cardan claims first, making pleasure bloom in his chest and seep all the way down to his fingers and toes. He probably couldn’t ever resist such a kiss, no matter the circumstance—as long as it was Cardan kissing him with such slow, deliberate desire. For that lingering moment, even his other desires fade in the face of this irresistible embrace, which he could not possibly pull away from, even if it meant they’d have to spend all day right here in this room.
When Cardan does pull back, Liem finds himself wanting to close the distance between them and kiss him again, regardless. Only with great effort does he wrangle the needy, indulgent part of him into submission and let his hands slide from his husband’s body so he can do as Cardan suggested.]
Let us not get carried away, [he jokes, a little wry. He does not have the patience to do anything resembling actually putting himself to rights; the best he can hope for is to have his pants pulled back on and his shirt mostly done up before mutual impatience spurs them out the door. Even the desire to leave his study without his chest bared reflects a fussiness that is half instinct by now, otherwise he’d have forgotten such concerns entirely in his haste.
When he has accomplished that much, and his neckline is merely rakish rather than actually revealing, the last thing he will do is pluck the imperilled agreement from the disarray on his desk, so he might stash it in a trouser pocket for safekeeping. It wouldn’t do to just leave this lying around.]
[ Cardan's eyebrow twitches upward, insouciant in his hypocrisy. ]
Already? You've just had your fill of me.
[ Perversely, seeing Liem button up his shirt only makes Cardan want to decorate his throat with tender bruises. But then, if he starts on that, they will get distracted, and then they will never make it out of Liem's office -- better to curtail his hunger. For now.
Of course, he still has to solve the issue of Liem's little condition, since whatever you do with me tonight certainly doesn't exclude travel to their rooms. But that's easy enough: it just means Cardan will have to be the only one walking. Besides, sweeping Liem up in his arms remains delightful; Cardan cannot help his grin when he does so, enchanted by his husband's lithe, compact weight against his body.
Having collected Liem thus, he will step across the room towards the door, the shimmer of glamour gathering around them as he does. It won't fool any vampires -- but the human staff, at least, should let them pass unnoticed under the veil of his magic.
He stops just short of the locked door. ]
Would you mind?
[ He does not direct the question at Liem, but rather the door itself. ]
[Liem’s look of quiet, almost conspiratorial impatience turns a little more serious as he takes in his husband’s insouciant regard. A reply unfurls on his tongue, waiting, but for a moment he lets his expression speak for him instead. His eyes, intently steady on Cardan’s, ask if he truly believes Liem to have been sated at all.
He makes only a small noise of surprise as he is scooped off his feet—and then, with a soft, breathless laugh, tucks himself against his husband as Cardan bears him away toward their rooms. The door opens readily for them, of course, but Liem barely notices the question his spouse directs at it, far more interested in the lean, unclothed body that he again finds himself pressed against.]
No, [he murmurs, leaning closer to Cardan’s jaw to brush his mouth against it.] Never.
[It’s charmingly naive of Cardan to believe that to be true: that Liem might have had his fill of his husband in even the smallest, most temporary regard. Perhaps that is why he so unhesitatingly swept Liem into his arms for their journey; maybe he didn’t expect to be unduly distracted.
The results of this decision are for Cardan to judge, though, as Liem cups a hand against his face and smears hungry, deliberate kisses over his bloodied throat.]
[ He cannot help the pleased loops his tail coils and uncoils into when the door opens upon his request. As far as Cardan is concerned, he has everything he could have reasonably asked for: a successful diplomatic mission, the regard of the house he's been wooing for the past several months, and -- best of all -- his husband, lovely in his warm affection, caught in his arms. All he needs now are several more weeks to enjoy his triumphant homecoming before the next disaster strikes them.
Of course, he doesn't account for the dangers inherent in Liem's affection. He never does. Even with glamour shielding them from mortal sight, the greedy kisses mapping his throat surprise him -- it's a forthrightness he didn't expect from his spouse. His breath stutters in his chest; renewed lust curls hot and eager in his belly. His grip on Liem tightens, covetous. ]
You are so forward tonight.
[ But Liem is right. It will never be enough. He has to close his eyes against it, just for a moment, his throat moving as he swallows. Has the house always been so terribly large? Not for the first time, he wonders why a creature so work-obsessed as his husband keeps his office so far from his bedroom. ]
[If Liem was loath to tryst in his office, he is of course even more reluctant to linger in the house’s corridors, kissing his husband in plain sight of whoever walks by. He remains eager to gain the privacy and relative security of their rooms, where he might finally relax properly, for the first time in weeks; if he had to stop to get his mouth all over his husband, he would be forced to restrain his hunger until they were once again behind closed doors.
Happily for him, the current division of labour means that he can quite easily continue his assault on his husband’s neck while Cardan transports them to their destination. That this only makes him more impatient to arrive seems a reasonable price to pay, compared with the seductive draw of Cardan’s flushed neck at the mercy of his mouth.]
I have had much time— [Liem’s mouth wanders slowly higher, and he nuzzles a kiss beneath Cardan’s ear] —to wish I was kissing you.
[Thoughts of Cardan’s soft skin and quickening breaths and restless, greedy hands have haunted Liem’s waking hours for so much of the past month. He spent so many of his idle moments yearning for what he could not have; now, the object of his desires is very much within his grasp. He cannot fathom continuing to yearn fruitlessly in this circumstance.]
[ His intake of breath is impatient; he shivers under the onslaught of that cool mouth in the ticklishly sensitive space just under his ear. ]
And now you revenge yourself on me, I see.
[ Though he cannot be cross... well, no, he can be a little cross. If not at Liem, then at the length of the hallways, or at the few servants that cross their path. None see them beneath the veil of his glamour, but that does not spare them Cardan's frustrated glare as he hurries along, increasingly desperate to get to the privacy of their rooms.
The moment he has stepped through the door, Liem will find himself pressed to the other side of it, caged by Cardan's body and his hungry hands. He hasn't the patience to make it to their bed: he's too sensitized, too heated, liable to combust if he doesn't kiss Liem right this moment. ]
I ought to have you right here, [ he will murmur, half-serious, between urgent kisses, ] as your just deserts for teasing me so.
[Liem smiles against the warm column of Cardan’s neck as his husband ferries him crossly through the manor, hurried on by Liem’s kisses and his own impatience. Liem had not thought to wield his affection as vengeance for his husband’s long absence, but there is something charming about Cardan’s insistence on regarding it as such. His lover has only just arrived, and already Liem is discovering a kind of nostalgic fondness for the return of his temperamental husband’s moods. He’s missed him terribly, prickles and all.]
Only if kisses can be revenge.
[If they can, then Liem is revenging himself quite thoroughly on his hurried spouse—though he has only until the doors close behind them to mark Cardan’s throat to his satisfaction. As soon as they are in private again, he finds his feet under him once more and is once again busy eagerly fielding Cardan’s heated kisses.
It could be problematic that they haven’t made it all the way to their bed, because Liem is liable to melt under this assault. Certainly he makes heavy use of the door’s steadying presence at his back as he meets his kisses, both his hands rising to frame Cardan’s face.
Perversely, despite his desire to have Cardan in the convenience of their bedroom, the murmured threat sends an excited prickle shivering down his spine. No matter how prudent patience might be, some part of him always wants to be touched now—especially when Cardan’s vitality still teases his tongue and throbs beneath his skin.
As long as I get you in my bed soon, [he whispers. Whether it’s now or after Cardan indulges his impatience, Liem still wants his husband bare and wrapped around him in the bed that has, for the past month, seemed so horribly empty without him.]
[ As much as he loves the thrill of caging Liem against any surface, he has to agree -- this once -- that he would rather said surface were their bed. Here, in the familiar surroundings of their rooms, Cardan is suddenly eager to get his husband out of his clothes. Lingering at the door does not make the task any easier, though he can at least start with Liem's oh-so-fussily buttoned-up shirt. ]
Then you ought to take me there, [ he quips, even as his fingers splay beneath Liem's collar, greedy to touch more of him, too impatient to bother with buttons immediately. Still, despite his urgency -- and Liem's prior example of the same -- he is not savage enough to rip the shirt open like a brute. ]
...only you would get this dressed between fucks, [ he will gripe, on follow-up. His heated sigh against Liem's mouth is restless; it is followed by the sharp nip of his teeth, and then, the hurried labour of unfastening the damn shirt properly, so that he may sweep his hands over Liem's bare skin once again. Liem can figure out how to get them to bed; Cardan is preoccupied with smearing his mouth over his jaw, with breathing him in. Only Liem, he thinks, can get him this artlessly eager; only his husband provokes this lurid, untamable desire in him, pulsing beneath his ribs, too urgent to be civilized about.
Not that he bothers with being particularly civilized most nights, to be entirely fair. ]
[As usual, Liem finds that Cardan has no intention of making his own demands easy to actually fulfill. How is he to take Cardan anywhere when his husband is so clearly loath to stop kissing Liem for even a moment? And Liem has no wish to escape the mouth and hands wandering eagerly over his skin—not when their caress feels so perfect, and he has yearned for it for so long.
He will simply have to make do. His view of the room is good enough, now that his husband has started kissing his jaw; he nudges Cardan backward, sending them meandering half-blindly toward the bedroom door as he slides his fingers into his husband’s soft black curls. His head tips with a soft sigh, exposing his throat to the transit of that hungry mouth.]
I thought you liked undressing me.
[His efforts to steer them towards their bedroom does not prevent him from teasing.]
[ Cardan sighs, eager with longing, his hands restless as they finish up with Liem's buttons and move to push the shirt off his shoulders. Liem isn't wrong: Cardan is greedy to have him bared for his hands, to reacquaint himself with the trim, lithe shape of him, all moon-pale skin untouched by scar nor blemish.
Save, of course, for the marks Cardan plans on leaving, however temporary. It makes possessive heat thrum through him, insistent. ]
I love wine, [ he retorts, still a little testy, ] just not when I'm starved for dinner.
[ He has his tutors to thank for his ability to undress Liem while shuffling backward; if they hadn't made of him so accomplished a dancer, he's not certain he could have managed to multitask. His husband is so patently distracting. His thoughts are so terribly full of Liem's hands and his taste and the cadence of his gentle sigh.
When Liem offers the tender line of his throat to him, he decides even multitasking is insufficient. The restless hands slide down to Liem's waist, then lower -- so that Cardan can pluck him off of the floor once more, lifting him against his body. Liem had his chance, but it is obvious that carrying him will take much less time. Cardan's long, decisive strides will take him across the sitting room in half the time it would have taken otherwise.
And if the repositioning makes it easier to decorate Liem's throat with love bites, all the better. ]
[Liem murmurs it, his voice low as he reluctantly slides his hands down Cardan’s shoulders and then free of his body, so his undone shirt can pool on the floor beneath him. A smile tries to form at the corners of his lips, but rather than amusement, he finds that Cardan’s retort only summons a fresh flare of hunger. As ever, he covets husband’s desire more than anything; how fortunate then that he married an endlessly greedy man.
He doesn’t know what he’d do if Cardan returned from the Undersea having come to his senses and recalled the existence of other handsome men, ones more charming than his sober, introverted husband. Liem keeps expecting the spell to break and Cardan to grow dissatisfied—with him, with their tiring circumstances, with their work-filled schedule. He keeps expecting Cardan to grow unhappy in some way that’s beyond him to solve.
But his husband remains hungry for, above all else, him—and Liem remains helpless to resist his demands. When Cardan lifts him against his body again, breath hot on his throat, pleasure hums beneath Liem’s skin as he clutches at his lover’s shoulders. He could never tire of this: not in a hundred years, or a hundred human lifetimes. The noise that escapes him sounds embarrassingly like relief.]
[ Cardan has to admit that autonomous doors are a significant improvement in his life. This way, nothing bars him from sweeping into their bedroom -- both strange and familiar after his time away, though the most overwhelming thing about it is how much it smells like home. Like Liem. He closes his eyes against the strangely uncomplicated happiness that blooms in his chest, and for a moment only breathes his husband in.
Then he will cross the room to deposit Liem onto the bed, following him with one knee on the plush mattress, so that he may cage his husband in once more. Liem is such a compact man; it is only fair that Cardan use his one physical advantage to bully him whenever possible. ]
Of course I'm starved.
[ He wants Liem to be, too -- so that Cardan can overwhelm him, can hear more of his desperation and his relief, can make Liem his so indelibly that he will never know doubt again.
Which brings them back to the problem of Liem's shoes. Cardan was going to make his husband deal with it, because it was Liem's idea, and Liem is furthermore the one who insists on no footwear in bed. But it occurs to him that he can probably manage the shoes just fine, with Liem being sat at the edge of the bed like this.
...in just a moment. His eyebrow quirks as he leans in, his mouth a breath from Liem's. His smile is smug. ] Do I seem otherwise, Liem?
[ Surely he cannot. Even without glancing in the mirror, he knows what he must look like: flushed and dishevelled, pulse throbbing desperately in his bloodied throat, his eyes unerringly focused on his husband. His tail taps eagerly against the side of Liem's knee, incapable of keeping still. Here, in their bedroom, poised over their marriage bed, his desire must be the most obvious thing in the world.
[Liem had not realized the inconvenience his own house was inflicting on him until it was finally lifted, and his husband was now free to carry him about regardless of intervening doors. He has been carried through every single door from his office to his bed, and as Cardan deposits him onto the covers and half crawls on after him, he finds that he has rarely felt so agreeably spoiled. Would that he could have his husband’s hands on him for the entire trip between his office and his bedroom every single night.
He loves the covetous feel of Cardan’s touch, and he loves the way those handsome black eyes seem glued to him, even after their tryst in the office. He missed this, while Cardan was on his trip: his husband’s ardour and elegance and careless intensity. Now that he has it again, now that he has him, he cannot resist the impulse to reach up and trace his fingertips along his lover’s face, his thumb coming briefly between them to trace the lush curve of Cardan’s lip. Holding his jaw in a gentle grip, he studies his husband like an exquisite artwork.]
No, [he agrees. His husband looks too intent, too flushed, too impatient for anything less. It is a terrifically attractive look on him: one that makes Liem wish wholeheartedly to be devoured.] You’ve the look of a man who has never known satiety.
[Liem has no wish to deprive him further. He tips his mouth to catch Cardan’s in an indulgent kiss, finally, in their own room and their own bed.]
[ This is exactly what he'd wanted: Liem's regard, yes -- and the touch of his cool hands, ever soothing against his own flushed skin -- but most of all, the unhurried, voluptuous pleasure of Liem's mouth on his. They so rarely have time to take to truly revel in each other. Even just now, in Liem's office, their tryst has been hurried, driven by his desperate impatience to reclaim his husband, to fuck away the weeks of absence and distance between them.
He doesn't let himself be impatient now. They are in their bedroom, the night is still young, and Liem cannot possibly have appointments he still wishes to attend. Cardan wants to enjoy him -- if he's not to deny Liem tonight, then he would indulge them both. His eyes slide shut as he threads fingers into his husband's hair, keeping him close as he shifts to reach for his own boot.
If it takes a little bit of wriggling to get it off -- well, that's its own bit of indulgence, given how he's practically on top of Liem. Giddy pleasure dances up his spine, eager for the luxury of having his lover all to himself, to undress and to claim and to fall asleep with, once pleasure has exhausted them, wrapped around each other like two halves of a whole. Dropping the boot to the floor below, he shifts again, switching weight to his other knee so that he can repeat the process. ]
And will you sate me tonight, Liem? [ he will murmur, a little breathlessly, against the corner of his husband's mouth. ]
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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. ]
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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—]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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? ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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None of those fantasies had involved him getting bent over his desk, but as he leans against the messily decorated wood, with Cardan’s weight against him and his arm holding Liem close, contentment wraps around him like a thick, body-warm blanket. For the span of this soft, quiet moment, in the afterglow of their intimacy, everything does indeed seem perfectly well.]
I am glad you’ve returned, husband.
[Pleasurable little shivers still slide beneath his skin at the press of Cardan’s soft lips, the brush of his fingers. If there is anything that he yet wants for, it is the chance to lie down in his lover’s arms and feel all of him pressed close, entwined together skin against skin. He thinks of this as Cardan pulls out, leaving him just a little more bereft, and nuzzles into his husband’s hand as he half-turns, still leaning against the desk. Cupping the long, elegant hand with his own, he strokes the knuckles as he presses gentle kisses to each of Cardan’s fingers, completing his turn to face his lover again.]
What do you think? [An endearment bubbles to his lips unbidden, and he presses his mouth to the soft, warm flesh of Cardan’s palm rather than let it escape. He refuses to complicate their happiness with such things, when he has finally found contentment.] Will you let me steal you back to our rooms now?
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He'd thought it was just loneliness, but he'd been lonely many a time, and never once so ravenous about it.
Regardless, he has to admit Liem is ultimately right about the location: the longer they stay here, the harder it will be to leave again, and Cardan doesn't want to sleep in Liem's study. When he pulls away, his sigh is regretful. ]
Oh, very well. Put yourself to rights, then, husband.
[ Cardan, for his part, only plans to do up his trousers -- aside from the physical restrictions Liem has imposed on him, he's plainly too impatient to bother retrieving his shirt, tie, or jacket. ]
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When Cardan does pull back, Liem finds himself wanting to close the distance between them and kiss him again, regardless. Only with great effort does he wrangle the needy, indulgent part of him into submission and let his hands slide from his husband’s body so he can do as Cardan suggested.]
Let us not get carried away, [he jokes, a little wry. He does not have the patience to do anything resembling actually putting himself to rights; the best he can hope for is to have his pants pulled back on and his shirt mostly done up before mutual impatience spurs them out the door. Even the desire to leave his study without his chest bared reflects a fussiness that is half instinct by now, otherwise he’d have forgotten such concerns entirely in his haste.
When he has accomplished that much, and his neckline is merely rakish rather than actually revealing, the last thing he will do is pluck the imperilled agreement from the disarray on his desk, so he might stash it in a trouser pocket for safekeeping. It wouldn’t do to just leave this lying around.]
That is all I have the patience for.
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Already? You've just had your fill of me.
[ Perversely, seeing Liem button up his shirt only makes Cardan want to decorate his throat with tender bruises. But then, if he starts on that, they will get distracted, and then they will never make it out of Liem's office -- better to curtail his hunger. For now.
Of course, he still has to solve the issue of Liem's little condition, since whatever you do with me tonight certainly doesn't exclude travel to their rooms. But that's easy enough: it just means Cardan will have to be the only one walking. Besides, sweeping Liem up in his arms remains delightful; Cardan cannot help his grin when he does so, enchanted by his husband's lithe, compact weight against his body.
Having collected Liem thus, he will step across the room towards the door, the shimmer of glamour gathering around them as he does. It won't fool any vampires -- but the human staff, at least, should let them pass unnoticed under the veil of his magic.
He stops just short of the locked door. ]
Would you mind?
[ He does not direct the question at Liem, but rather the door itself. ]
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He makes only a small noise of surprise as he is scooped off his feet—and then, with a soft, breathless laugh, tucks himself against his husband as Cardan bears him away toward their rooms. The door opens readily for them, of course, but Liem barely notices the question his spouse directs at it, far more interested in the lean, unclothed body that he again finds himself pressed against.]
No, [he murmurs, leaning closer to Cardan’s jaw to brush his mouth against it.] Never.
[It’s charmingly naive of Cardan to believe that to be true: that Liem might have had his fill of his husband in even the smallest, most temporary regard. Perhaps that is why he so unhesitatingly swept Liem into his arms for their journey; maybe he didn’t expect to be unduly distracted.
The results of this decision are for Cardan to judge, though, as Liem cups a hand against his face and smears hungry, deliberate kisses over his bloodied throat.]
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Of course, he doesn't account for the dangers inherent in Liem's affection. He never does. Even with glamour shielding them from mortal sight, the greedy kisses mapping his throat surprise him -- it's a forthrightness he didn't expect from his spouse. His breath stutters in his chest; renewed lust curls hot and eager in his belly. His grip on Liem tightens, covetous. ]
You are so forward tonight.
[ But Liem is right. It will never be enough. He has to close his eyes against it, just for a moment, his throat moving as he swallows. Has the house always been so terribly large? Not for the first time, he wonders why a creature so work-obsessed as his husband keeps his office so far from his bedroom. ]
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Happily for him, the current division of labour means that he can quite easily continue his assault on his husband’s neck while Cardan transports them to their destination. That this only makes him more impatient to arrive seems a reasonable price to pay, compared with the seductive draw of Cardan’s flushed neck at the mercy of his mouth.]
I have had much time— [Liem’s mouth wanders slowly higher, and he nuzzles a kiss beneath Cardan’s ear] —to wish I was kissing you.
[Thoughts of Cardan’s soft skin and quickening breaths and restless, greedy hands have haunted Liem’s waking hours for so much of the past month. He spent so many of his idle moments yearning for what he could not have; now, the object of his desires is very much within his grasp. He cannot fathom continuing to yearn fruitlessly in this circumstance.]
I tired of wishing.
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And now you revenge yourself on me, I see.
[ Though he cannot be cross... well, no, he can be a little cross. If not at Liem, then at the length of the hallways, or at the few servants that cross their path. None see them beneath the veil of his glamour, but that does not spare them Cardan's frustrated glare as he hurries along, increasingly desperate to get to the privacy of their rooms.
The moment he has stepped through the door, Liem will find himself pressed to the other side of it, caged by Cardan's body and his hungry hands. He hasn't the patience to make it to their bed: he's too sensitized, too heated, liable to combust if he doesn't kiss Liem right this moment. ]
I ought to have you right here, [ he will murmur, half-serious, between urgent kisses, ] as your just deserts for teasing me so.
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Only if kisses can be revenge.
[If they can, then Liem is revenging himself quite thoroughly on his hurried spouse—though he has only until the doors close behind them to mark Cardan’s throat to his satisfaction. As soon as they are in private again, he finds his feet under him once more and is once again busy eagerly fielding Cardan’s heated kisses.
It could be problematic that they haven’t made it all the way to their bed, because Liem is liable to melt under this assault. Certainly he makes heavy use of the door’s steadying presence at his back as he meets his kisses, both his hands rising to frame Cardan’s face.
Perversely, despite his desire to have Cardan in the convenience of their bedroom, the murmured threat sends an excited prickle shivering down his spine. No matter how prudent patience might be, some part of him always wants to be touched now—especially when Cardan’s vitality still teases his tongue and throbs beneath his skin.
As long as I get you in my bed soon, [he whispers. Whether it’s now or after Cardan indulges his impatience, Liem still wants his husband bare and wrapped around him in the bed that has, for the past month, seemed so horribly empty without him.]
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Then you ought to take me there, [ he quips, even as his fingers splay beneath Liem's collar, greedy to touch more of him, too impatient to bother with buttons immediately. Still, despite his urgency -- and Liem's prior example of the same -- he is not savage enough to rip the shirt open like a brute. ]
...only you would get this dressed between fucks, [ he will gripe, on follow-up. His heated sigh against Liem's mouth is restless; it is followed by the sharp nip of his teeth, and then, the hurried labour of unfastening the damn shirt properly, so that he may sweep his hands over Liem's bare skin once again. Liem can figure out how to get them to bed; Cardan is preoccupied with smearing his mouth over his jaw, with breathing him in. Only Liem, he thinks, can get him this artlessly eager; only his husband provokes this lurid, untamable desire in him, pulsing beneath his ribs, too urgent to be civilized about.
Not that he bothers with being particularly civilized most nights, to be entirely fair. ]
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He will simply have to make do. His view of the room is good enough, now that his husband has started kissing his jaw; he nudges Cardan backward, sending them meandering half-blindly toward the bedroom door as he slides his fingers into his husband’s soft black curls. His head tips with a soft sigh, exposing his throat to the transit of that hungry mouth.]
I thought you liked undressing me.
[His efforts to steer them towards their bedroom does not prevent him from teasing.]
Or is it only having me nude you enjoy?
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Save, of course, for the marks Cardan plans on leaving, however temporary. It makes possessive heat thrum through him, insistent. ]
I love wine, [ he retorts, still a little testy, ] just not when I'm starved for dinner.
[ He has his tutors to thank for his ability to undress Liem while shuffling backward; if they hadn't made of him so accomplished a dancer, he's not certain he could have managed to multitask. His husband is so patently distracting. His thoughts are so terribly full of Liem's hands and his taste and the cadence of his gentle sigh.
When Liem offers the tender line of his throat to him, he decides even multitasking is insufficient. The restless hands slide down to Liem's waist, then lower -- so that Cardan can pluck him off of the floor once more, lifting him against his body. Liem had his chance, but it is obvious that carrying him will take much less time. Cardan's long, decisive strides will take him across the sitting room in half the time it would have taken otherwise.
And if the repositioning makes it easier to decorate Liem's throat with love bites, all the better. ]
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[Liem murmurs it, his voice low as he reluctantly slides his hands down Cardan’s shoulders and then free of his body, so his undone shirt can pool on the floor beneath him. A smile tries to form at the corners of his lips, but rather than amusement, he finds that Cardan’s retort only summons a fresh flare of hunger. As ever, he covets husband’s desire more than anything; how fortunate then that he married an endlessly greedy man.
He doesn’t know what he’d do if Cardan returned from the Undersea having come to his senses and recalled the existence of other handsome men, ones more charming than his sober, introverted husband. Liem keeps expecting the spell to break and Cardan to grow dissatisfied—with him, with their tiring circumstances, with their work-filled schedule. He keeps expecting Cardan to grow unhappy in some way that’s beyond him to solve.
But his husband remains hungry for, above all else, him—and Liem remains helpless to resist his demands. When Cardan lifts him against his body again, breath hot on his throat, pleasure hums beneath Liem’s skin as he clutches at his lover’s shoulders. He could never tire of this: not in a hundred years, or a hundred human lifetimes. The noise that escapes him sounds embarrassingly like relief.]
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Then he will cross the room to deposit Liem onto the bed, following him with one knee on the plush mattress, so that he may cage his husband in once more. Liem is such a compact man; it is only fair that Cardan use his one physical advantage to bully him whenever possible. ]
Of course I'm starved.
[ He wants Liem to be, too -- so that Cardan can overwhelm him, can hear more of his desperation and his relief, can make Liem his so indelibly that he will never know doubt again.
Which brings them back to the problem of Liem's shoes. Cardan was going to make his husband deal with it, because it was Liem's idea, and Liem is furthermore the one who insists on no footwear in bed. But it occurs to him that he can probably manage the shoes just fine, with Liem being sat at the edge of the bed like this.
...in just a moment. His eyebrow quirks as he leans in, his mouth a breath from Liem's. His smile is smug. ] Do I seem otherwise, Liem?
[ Surely he cannot. Even without glancing in the mirror, he knows what he must look like: flushed and dishevelled, pulse throbbing desperately in his bloodied throat, his eyes unerringly focused on his husband. His tail taps eagerly against the side of Liem's knee, incapable of keeping still. Here, in their bedroom, poised over their marriage bed, his desire must be the most obvious thing in the world.
For once, this is exactly what he wants. ]
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He loves the covetous feel of Cardan’s touch, and he loves the way those handsome black eyes seem glued to him, even after their tryst in the office. He missed this, while Cardan was on his trip: his husband’s ardour and elegance and careless intensity. Now that he has it again, now that he has him, he cannot resist the impulse to reach up and trace his fingertips along his lover’s face, his thumb coming briefly between them to trace the lush curve of Cardan’s lip. Holding his jaw in a gentle grip, he studies his husband like an exquisite artwork.]
No, [he agrees. His husband looks too intent, too flushed, too impatient for anything less. It is a terrifically attractive look on him: one that makes Liem wish wholeheartedly to be devoured.] You’ve the look of a man who has never known satiety.
[Liem has no wish to deprive him further. He tips his mouth to catch Cardan’s in an indulgent kiss, finally, in their own room and their own bed.]
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He doesn't let himself be impatient now. They are in their bedroom, the night is still young, and Liem cannot possibly have appointments he still wishes to attend. Cardan wants to enjoy him -- if he's not to deny Liem tonight, then he would indulge them both. His eyes slide shut as he threads fingers into his husband's hair, keeping him close as he shifts to reach for his own boot.
If it takes a little bit of wriggling to get it off -- well, that's its own bit of indulgence, given how he's practically on top of Liem. Giddy pleasure dances up his spine, eager for the luxury of having his lover all to himself, to undress and to claim and to fall asleep with, once pleasure has exhausted them, wrapped around each other like two halves of a whole. Dropping the boot to the floor below, he shifts again, switching weight to his other knee so that he can repeat the process. ]
And will you sate me tonight, Liem? [ he will murmur, a little breathlessly, against the corner of his husband's mouth. ]
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