[Nothing in the world feels quite so good, quite so right as Cardan moving against him, flesh and blood, solid and real, indulging Liem with hungry kisses as he cages him against the silken sheets of their bed. This is what he’d wanted since he first wrapped Cardan in his arms upon his sudden return: his lover’s lithe animal weight covering him, fever-warm in his embrace; Cardan’s familiar scent suffusing his senses. Contentment spills from him with a soft, eager murmur between wanting kisses, now that everything is just as it should be.
Even Cardan’s breathless confession makes unwisely tender desire ache in his chest. It is undoubtedly foolish to let lust-born ramblings hook their greedy claws into his heart, but he has never been able to resist his husband’s tenderness; he simply wants it too much.
All he can do is kiss him again and again, hunger rumbling in his throat at the delicious friction of Cardan’s hips moving against him. Liem cannot help the covetous way the hand splayed over his lover’s back slides down to find his ass, possessive as he rocks against him in turn.]
For less important things than this, [he agrees, because nothing could possibly be more vital just now than the perfect way Cardan feels fitted against him. He is too precious, his touch too overwhelming and his affection too rare. No one else in either of their lands could possibly make Liem feel this way. Liem doesn’t pause to think, doesn’t worry about the wisdom of speaking his thoughts aloud.]
Perfect. [He mumbles against his lover’s mouth, fingers threading softly though his hair.] You’re perfect.
[ He breathes in sharply, caught off guard for the second time -- surely Liem is one of the few people capable of logging each of Cardan's flaws with minute precision. But Cardan is, as always, being too literal; Liem is merely caught up in his lust and his yearning. Cardan knows this, and yet, and yet-- His heart constricts painfully in his chest. He has to turn his face, bury it against the cool column of Liem's neck, and his soft little laugh sounds a little strange even to his own ears. ]
I'm yours, [ Cardan counters, letting his teeth graze over Liem's throat. It's the only thing he can think of to say -- the only thing that matters, really. Besides, he'd much rather be Liem's than anything else.
His palm slides down to Liem's hip, his thigh, urging him to draw his knee up higher. He wants him: wants to press inside him, wants to claim him, wants to fuck the urgency out of them both until all that's left is this soft, terribly dangerous tenderness. It would be so easy now, with Liem still slick and messy from their first go -- he could just keep going like they never even stopped, and the thought pulls from him a noise that's awfully close to a whimper. His tail lashes with it, grazing against Liem's hand on his ass.
He loves that, too. Every time Liem shows his possessive streak, it roils through Cardan like thunder, hot and heady and somehow always unexpected. ]
[How is Liem meant to weather the hot face tucked against his neck, the gentle scrape of teeth there and the soft gust of laughter against his skin, without feeling that he has something irreplaceable in his embrace? How could he wish for anything or anyone else when the man in his arms fits there like he was meant just for him?
Even if that isn’t true, contentment with the unblemished perfection of this moment fills him up until he feels like it must be glowing from his very skin. Cardan is his; here and now, he is Liem’s and no one else’s—and Liem has no intentions of letting him go.
Bliss sighs from him in a soft sound of wordless assent, as he tips his head to offer more of his neck, as he bends his knee, shifting to invite Cardan in. Though the languid sprawl of his body over the sheets doesn’t betray his impatience, he can feel lust winding taut in his belly and aching in his cock with every grind of Cardan’s body against his. The possessive grasp sliding to Cardan’s hip restlessly urges him nearer. It is not enough to just be touching him; he needs Cardan inside him, filling him up and pinning him down, flooding out every thought and sensation that isn’t about him and only him.]
[ It's worse, somehow, that Liem is so soft and languid under his hands and the greedy touch of his mouth; it makes Cardan's impatient need obvious as a white-hot flare. When Liem urges him closer, when he tilts his head, it's all Cardan can do to muffle a groan against his lover's skin, needy and terrible. He can't wait. He can't even pretend that he might.
And because he is foolish, he lifts his face to look at his husband while he shifts to adjust his angle, and then fucks inside him. It's foolish, because he's sure his face is too telling: too flushed with pleasure and greedy desire -- but worse than that, too soft, too obviously full of longing. It feels like nakedness.
But he wants to see Liem more than he wants to keep himself safe.
It's difficult. It proves difficult, to keep his eyes open when sensation overwhelms him so, when every time he moves it leaves him breathless with his pleasure. His hand curls over Liem's face, thumb drawing over his mouth, the achingly familiar shape of it. He doesn't know what to do with all of this tenderness, how to possibly keep it contained inside himself, nor how to let it out. He has so little practice with being tender, and less still with being loving. No one had ever taught him how either of those things were supposed to work.
He has to assume that Liem will think his desperation strange. But there is no helping it, and he cannot stop. Cardan can only claim him, stroke after maddening stroke -- can only slide his hot palm between their bodies to wrap around Liem's erection, revelling in the silken feel of him, eager to urge him closer to the edge.
And, after all, if he can make Liem insane with desire, maybe he won't notice how completely Cardan has lost his mind. ]
[It is moments like this, when Cardan touches him with such tender, insatiable greed, when he spears Liem with that longing gaze, that he feels like he never knew his husband at all. He can neither predict nor comprehend the intensity of the affection directed at him; it seems impossible that he should be the one to inspire such reverence.
He can’t make himself understand it. It lodges in his chest and clenches round his heart, blocking his throat with desperate suddenness and hammering against his ribs like a living thing. He should know better than to feel this way, but Cardan denies him any respite to regain his sense. He can only whimper as the hot stroke of Cardan’s hand joins the rhythm of his thrusts, and close his blurring, stinging eyes against the terrible force of his wanting.
It is all too much: his longing, his bliss, the sea of sensation crashing over him. His arm comes round his lover, heedless of anything but the need to bury his face against the crook of his neck and stamp kiss after breathless kiss there. Love feels like a storm in him, too cataclysmic to contain.]
Cardan— [His breathless whisper is small and tight, murmured between desperate kisses. He bucks up, into the eager stroke of that hand, already half-mad with pleasure and helpless longing. But even so, he still can’t tell him, he can’t—] Cardan, Cardan…
[ Liem hides from him -- and he is hiding, Cardan has done the same often enough to know -- and for a moment, he feels a beat of disappointment. It cannot last: not when his lover's kisses flutter against his vulnerable neck, followed by the caress of breaths Liem shouldn't need to take at all. Wild affection takes hold of him instead; he can only lean his cheek against Liem's hair and grin, vicious with happiness.
And then even this is gone when Liem bucks against him. The sound he makes is feral, wholly animal; his rhythm stutters, jolted off guard by his full-body shudder. His grip on the sheets is white-knuckled for the effort not to come right then and there. But not yet. Not yet-- ]
Husband--
[ He swears, hot at the edge of a moan, his breath harsh in his lungs. And still, he cannot stop -- and still, he moves, greedy for his name on Liem's tongue, for the sounds of his need and the tight grasp of his body. He wants to pin Liem, just like this, and never let him go. He wants to do this for the rest of his eternal life, drenched in sweat and lust, claiming him over and over. ]
[Liem feels the sound that tears from Cardan’s throat sink into him, throbbing in his belly, nestling close to his bones. It inflames his greed, making him clutch covetously at his lover, fingers suddenly digging hard into his lean hip and scarred back. Gasping, Liem arches against the sheets as Cardan’s urgency pushes him hard against the mounting swell of his pleasure.
It’s a distraction, and a relief. Overwhelmed though he is by Cardan’s lust and feral greed, it’s a familiar beast, and he welcomes the chance to be devoured by it.]
Oh—
[Frustration makes him bite down hard on his own lip, his breath still breaking against Cardan’s vulnerable neck, as bright sparks of pleasure flood down his spine. The urge to sink his teeth into him surges as Cardan fucks him relentlessly over his peak, but instead his moan is muffled only by his own bloodied mouth, and then scarcely at all as he paints ragged, besotted kisses over Cardan’s jaw.]
[ It's always too much, this -- always overwhelming, always astounding in its intensity. When Liem gets like this, with his voice breaking away from his own control; when he clutches at Cardan with the hard strength of his hands; when he pants his pleasure against Cardan's skin and then grows tight around him--
It's astonishing. It's impossible. He cannot imagine having Liem like this and not losing his mind -- and he does, every time, as his own dizzying need mounts in him, filling him up until he can't breathe around it. Liem moans and Cardan's hips snap forward, into him, as if compelled by a higher power. He's done, he knows it; he makes it through another sharp thrust, a third, and then simply unravels, coming apart in his husband's arms with a hard shudder that travels all the way to the tip of his tail.
But that's fine, it's just fine, since that's where he's meant to be in the first place.
In the aftermath, as soon as he can breathe again, he will slip off of Liem and roll onto his side, the better to stare at him in the afterglow. He frowns, a little distracted, at the fresh blood on Liem's mouth, reaching out to draw a fingertip over the wound. ]
It's profoundly unfair, [ he will complain, dipping just inside Liem's mouth to touch one of those sharp fangs, ] that I do not have a pair of these.
[ Sometimes he wants to bite Liem the way Liem gets to bite him, wants to mark him for longer than half an hour at a time. Surely that cannot be so wrong. ]
[Nothing makes Liem greedy for the pleasure of his husband’s body tucked against him quite like the dizzying heights of climax and the divine, languid descent back down from the peak. Liem holds Cardan close as he regains his composure, breathing him in and listening to his heart gradually slow from its breakneck pace. When his husband peels away to roll onto his side, Liem insists on pursuing him, his arm loose around Cardan’s waist and his socked feet tangled with his spouse’s.
The finger pressing inside his mouth makes him blink—and then smile as he gently grabs the digit between his teeth in playful admonishment. Even after he releases the finger, the smile remains.]
They would suit you.
[Cardan would look unfairly handsome with a pair of sharp fangs gracing his wicked, dangerous smile. He is already skilled enough at menacing Liem even without them; if Cardan could bite him properly, Liem would lose his head with embarrassing swiftness.]
And it is a tragedy that your marks are inevitably gone before I get dressed again.
[ He sighs, a little rueful — at his lack of fangs, at Liem’s terribly quick healing, at the fact that even the gentlest threat of his husband’s teeth still makes his heart speed and his mouth a little dry. It’s almost as if he hadn’t just come at all, let alone for the second time in the past hour. Urgency still buzzes under his skin, crowding on the pleasant heaviness that comes with release.
He draws his hand up to brush a strand of hair away from Liem’s brow. Cardan hadn’t really looked at him yet — not truly, not enough to take him in. Not enough to make up for the past month’s loneliness. He looks now, cataloguing the sharp elegance of his husband’s face: the striking eyes, the aquiline nose, the bloodied mouth that he can’t help but want to touch. His smiles always make him look younger, though he still seems tired; it’s perverse, probably, that seeing him so only makes Cardan’s chest pang with greedy affection. ]
Perhaps I need to find a different way to claim you, then.
[ He doesn’t know exactly what that might be, but the idea is appealing even in its vague, unformed shape. They both wear their rings, of course — but surely that isn’t the same as the intimate claim of a bite half-hidden by Cardan’s shirt collar. He wants both, as he always does. ]
[No matter how long they remain married or how many times they touch, the brush of Cardan’s warm fingers against his face always makes Liem’s breath catch with bright, irrepressible yearning. He wants Cardan’s clever hands capturing his face, touching his hair, playing with his clothes—all the things he would have no patience for from anyone else. These gestures reek of ownership, but he already belongs to Cardan, and he is ever eager for signs that Cardan is happy to keep him.]
And how would you do that?
[Liem resists the urge to chase after his husband’s hand for only a moment before deciding there’s no point, and tilting his head to nuzzle against Cardan’s soft, uncallused palm. Truly the only thing standing in the way of his husband’s mission to claim him decisively is Liem’s uncooperative physiology. Liem himself could not be more agreeable.
Probably he is pushing his luck, relying so heavily on Cardan’s hunger for intimacy after his long weeks away. But his husband has always been fond of touch, and even if he embarrasses himself with his besotted manner, he doubts Cardan will object. Just as well, since Liem cannot bear to restrain himself from touching him just now. Even the hand splayed over Cardan’s back is more affectionate than he means it to be, stroking along his spine and down the velvety base of his tail with idle companionability.]
[ For all the eagerness that still lives under his skin, he has to admit that this is inordinately peaceful: lying here in the familiar quiet of their bedroom, his legs tangled with Liem's as his husband nuzzles into his hand like an affectionate cat. He can't help but grin at him, toothy with pleasure.
Both his glee and Liem's question distract him enough that the downward transit of Liem's hand doesn't register. Maybe that's why the touch at the base of his tail surprises him into a shiver. Most of his previous lovers would not have been so brazen -- but then, Liem has never been even a little bit afraid of him. He cannot bite back the urge to squirm a little at the sparks that fly up his spine.
...but he was answering. He opens his eyes to look at his husband, centering himself again on his familiar, comfortably possessive thoughts. ]
There is jewellery for that sort of thing, I suppose. Or magic.
[ His predatory leer suggests he's not entirely serious. ]
I could enchant my claim in flaming script above your head.
[Liem is delighted by the shiver that his languid caress inspires in his husband—even more so than by the discovery that Cardan’s tail is somehow even softer than it looks. He feels like he’s discovered a pair of wonderful little secrets, just by dint of being relaxed enough not to skirt around them. Perhaps he ought to indulge his curiosity more often, at least where his husband is concerned.
He makes no move to withdraw his fingers from their affectionate exploration down Cardan’s spine.]
Oh?
[Liem’s regard of his spouse takes on a skeptical air as he lifts a brow at him. He has seen Cardan use magic so infrequently, it had not occurred to him that this was a use he could find for it. Faerie magic can often seem quite subtle, but flaming script above his head would be anything but.
The matter of jewellery is actually intriguing, but something in him prevents Liem from expressing this thought aloud. He can sense immediately that he’ll want to sit on it more before concluding how he’d like to treat the idea.]
And label me like a table setting? “Reserved for Prince Cardan’s personal use.”
[ It is distracting, actually, now that he's cognizant of it: Liem's leisurely caress makes his skin tingle with hyper-awareness. The fluffy tip of his tail trembles with it, involuntarily. Cardan's eyes on Liem's face are half-lidded, even as he works to keep his expression steady.
It helps, at least, that Liem's suggestion makes his leer deepen. He cants close, brushing his smiling mouth over Liem's cheek, more breath than kiss. ]
You make it sound so tempting.
[ Two can play this game; his own hand traces down the elegant line of Liem's back, splaying over the curve of his ass, suggestive. ]
Are you not?
[ His to use, to toy with, to torment. He would have to be blind and stupid not to have noticed that -- as accommodating as his husband is -- he seems particularly lured by Cardan's more selfish fancies. He doesn't really understand it, but perhaps he doesn't need to; it certainly hasn't stopped him from engaging in the behaviour. ]
[Liem’s only immediate response to Cardan’s smug query is a pleased hum as Cardan’s breath tickles his cheek and his hand splays over his ass. His husband’s leer rouses a wanting little flutter in his belly, heedless of the languor that should rightly have settled over him after their recent couplings. Because Cardan is correct: he is hungry to be possessed by him, and ever eager to let his husband treat him as a favourite toy with which no one else is allowed to play. Nothing excites Liem quite like Cardan’s utter greed for him. Perhaps that makes him a pervert, or just a hopeless fool.
But in that case he is doubly the fool, considering the surge of helpless affection that flutters alongside his want. It makes even less sense that his husband’s entitlement should inspire such tenderness in him, but then, Liem’s good sense had clearly deserted him well before they made it back to their bedroom.]
I didn’t say that, [he murmurs, and tips his face to catch that smirking mouth in a true kiss, slow and indulgent. Warm in the only way that he can be, as he insinuates himself more snugly against his husband’s body, hands stroking tenderly over heated skin.
He is Cardan’s; in almost every way that matters, he belongs to him. Heart and body, whether he is plotting Faerie schemes or in his husband’s arms. Whether Cardan claims him with words or with magic or not at all.]
[ He had known -- even before he'd burst into Liem's office, half-feral with longing -- that they would end up like this: entwined in each other, not so much starting and finishing as ebbing and flowing. It's just that he has so much affection to catch up on, after so much time away. It's just that he can never stop wanting Liem, not even when it's unwise.
And he cannot think of a single reason why it would be unwise now.
He doesn't bother bating his hunger when Liem moves closer to kiss him. They have most of the night and the entire day following; perhaps this would have made him complacent in another circumstance. Now, it feels like both a luxury and a resource he ought to manage carefully, to wring the most out of, before the storm of work problems and party invitations and various attempts on his life and dignity catches up to them again.
But tonight, Liem is his: to have, to want, to reclaim, and he is determined to prove himself equal to the task. ]
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Even Cardan’s breathless confession makes unwisely tender desire ache in his chest. It is undoubtedly foolish to let lust-born ramblings hook their greedy claws into his heart, but he has never been able to resist his husband’s tenderness; he simply wants it too much.
All he can do is kiss him again and again, hunger rumbling in his throat at the delicious friction of Cardan’s hips moving against him. Liem cannot help the covetous way the hand splayed over his lover’s back slides down to find his ass, possessive as he rocks against him in turn.]
For less important things than this, [he agrees, because nothing could possibly be more vital just now than the perfect way Cardan feels fitted against him. He is too precious, his touch too overwhelming and his affection too rare. No one else in either of their lands could possibly make Liem feel this way. Liem doesn’t pause to think, doesn’t worry about the wisdom of speaking his thoughts aloud.]
Perfect. [He mumbles against his lover’s mouth, fingers threading softly though his hair.] You’re perfect.
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I'm yours, [ Cardan counters, letting his teeth graze over Liem's throat. It's the only thing he can think of to say -- the only thing that matters, really. Besides, he'd much rather be Liem's than anything else.
His palm slides down to Liem's hip, his thigh, urging him to draw his knee up higher. He wants him: wants to press inside him, wants to claim him, wants to fuck the urgency out of them both until all that's left is this soft, terribly dangerous tenderness. It would be so easy now, with Liem still slick and messy from their first go -- he could just keep going like they never even stopped, and the thought pulls from him a noise that's awfully close to a whimper. His tail lashes with it, grazing against Liem's hand on his ass.
He loves that, too. Every time Liem shows his possessive streak, it roils through Cardan like thunder, hot and heady and somehow always unexpected. ]
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Even if that isn’t true, contentment with the unblemished perfection of this moment fills him up until he feels like it must be glowing from his very skin. Cardan is his; here and now, he is Liem’s and no one else’s—and Liem has no intentions of letting him go.
Bliss sighs from him in a soft sound of wordless assent, as he tips his head to offer more of his neck, as he bends his knee, shifting to invite Cardan in. Though the languid sprawl of his body over the sheets doesn’t betray his impatience, he can feel lust winding taut in his belly and aching in his cock with every grind of Cardan’s body against his. The possessive grasp sliding to Cardan’s hip restlessly urges him nearer. It is not enough to just be touching him; he needs Cardan inside him, filling him up and pinning him down, flooding out every thought and sensation that isn’t about him and only him.]
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And because he is foolish, he lifts his face to look at his husband while he shifts to adjust his angle, and then fucks inside him. It's foolish, because he's sure his face is too telling: too flushed with pleasure and greedy desire -- but worse than that, too soft, too obviously full of longing. It feels like nakedness.
But he wants to see Liem more than he wants to keep himself safe.
It's difficult. It proves difficult, to keep his eyes open when sensation overwhelms him so, when every time he moves it leaves him breathless with his pleasure. His hand curls over Liem's face, thumb drawing over his mouth, the achingly familiar shape of it. He doesn't know what to do with all of this tenderness, how to possibly keep it contained inside himself, nor how to let it out. He has so little practice with being tender, and less still with being loving. No one had ever taught him how either of those things were supposed to work.
He has to assume that Liem will think his desperation strange. But there is no helping it, and he cannot stop. Cardan can only claim him, stroke after maddening stroke -- can only slide his hot palm between their bodies to wrap around Liem's erection, revelling in the silken feel of him, eager to urge him closer to the edge.
And, after all, if he can make Liem insane with desire, maybe he won't notice how completely Cardan has lost his mind. ]
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He can’t make himself understand it. It lodges in his chest and clenches round his heart, blocking his throat with desperate suddenness and hammering against his ribs like a living thing. He should know better than to feel this way, but Cardan denies him any respite to regain his sense. He can only whimper as the hot stroke of Cardan’s hand joins the rhythm of his thrusts, and close his blurring, stinging eyes against the terrible force of his wanting.
It is all too much: his longing, his bliss, the sea of sensation crashing over him. His arm comes round his lover, heedless of anything but the need to bury his face against the crook of his neck and stamp kiss after breathless kiss there. Love feels like a storm in him, too cataclysmic to contain.]
Cardan— [His breathless whisper is small and tight, murmured between desperate kisses. He bucks up, into the eager stroke of that hand, already half-mad with pleasure and helpless longing. But even so, he still can’t tell him, he can’t—] Cardan, Cardan…
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And then even this is gone when Liem bucks against him. The sound he makes is feral, wholly animal; his rhythm stutters, jolted off guard by his full-body shudder. His grip on the sheets is white-knuckled for the effort not to come right then and there. But not yet. Not yet-- ]
Husband--
[ He swears, hot at the edge of a moan, his breath harsh in his lungs. And still, he cannot stop -- and still, he moves, greedy for his name on Liem's tongue, for the sounds of his need and the tight grasp of his body. He wants to pin Liem, just like this, and never let him go. He wants to do this for the rest of his eternal life, drenched in sweat and lust, claiming him over and over. ]
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It’s a distraction, and a relief. Overwhelmed though he is by Cardan’s lust and feral greed, it’s a familiar beast, and he welcomes the chance to be devoured by it.]
Oh—
[Frustration makes him bite down hard on his own lip, his breath still breaking against Cardan’s vulnerable neck, as bright sparks of pleasure flood down his spine. The urge to sink his teeth into him surges as Cardan fucks him relentlessly over his peak, but instead his moan is muffled only by his own bloodied mouth, and then scarcely at all as he paints ragged, besotted kisses over Cardan’s jaw.]
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It's astonishing. It's impossible. He cannot imagine having Liem like this and not losing his mind -- and he does, every time, as his own dizzying need mounts in him, filling him up until he can't breathe around it. Liem moans and Cardan's hips snap forward, into him, as if compelled by a higher power. He's done, he knows it; he makes it through another sharp thrust, a third, and then simply unravels, coming apart in his husband's arms with a hard shudder that travels all the way to the tip of his tail.
But that's fine, it's just fine, since that's where he's meant to be in the first place.
In the aftermath, as soon as he can breathe again, he will slip off of Liem and roll onto his side, the better to stare at him in the afterglow. He frowns, a little distracted, at the fresh blood on Liem's mouth, reaching out to draw a fingertip over the wound. ]
It's profoundly unfair, [ he will complain, dipping just inside Liem's mouth to touch one of those sharp fangs, ] that I do not have a pair of these.
[ Sometimes he wants to bite Liem the way Liem gets to bite him, wants to mark him for longer than half an hour at a time. Surely that cannot be so wrong. ]
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The finger pressing inside his mouth makes him blink—and then smile as he gently grabs the digit between his teeth in playful admonishment. Even after he releases the finger, the smile remains.]
They would suit you.
[Cardan would look unfairly handsome with a pair of sharp fangs gracing his wicked, dangerous smile. He is already skilled enough at menacing Liem even without them; if Cardan could bite him properly, Liem would lose his head with embarrassing swiftness.]
And it is a tragedy that your marks are inevitably gone before I get dressed again.
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He draws his hand up to brush a strand of hair away from Liem’s brow. Cardan hadn’t really looked at him yet — not truly, not enough to take him in. Not enough to make up for the past month’s loneliness. He looks now, cataloguing the sharp elegance of his husband’s face: the striking eyes, the aquiline nose, the bloodied mouth that he can’t help but want to touch. His smiles always make him look younger, though he still seems tired; it’s perverse, probably, that seeing him so only makes Cardan’s chest pang with greedy affection. ]
Perhaps I need to find a different way to claim you, then.
[ He doesn’t know exactly what that might be, but the idea is appealing even in its vague, unformed shape. They both wear their rings, of course — but surely that isn’t the same as the intimate claim of a bite half-hidden by Cardan’s shirt collar. He wants both, as he always does. ]
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And how would you do that?
[Liem resists the urge to chase after his husband’s hand for only a moment before deciding there’s no point, and tilting his head to nuzzle against Cardan’s soft, uncallused palm. Truly the only thing standing in the way of his husband’s mission to claim him decisively is Liem’s uncooperative physiology. Liem himself could not be more agreeable.
Probably he is pushing his luck, relying so heavily on Cardan’s hunger for intimacy after his long weeks away. But his husband has always been fond of touch, and even if he embarrasses himself with his besotted manner, he doubts Cardan will object. Just as well, since Liem cannot bear to restrain himself from touching him just now. Even the hand splayed over Cardan’s back is more affectionate than he means it to be, stroking along his spine and down the velvety base of his tail with idle companionability.]
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Both his glee and Liem's question distract him enough that the downward transit of Liem's hand doesn't register. Maybe that's why the touch at the base of his tail surprises him into a shiver. Most of his previous lovers would not have been so brazen -- but then, Liem has never been even a little bit afraid of him. He cannot bite back the urge to squirm a little at the sparks that fly up his spine.
...but he was answering. He opens his eyes to look at his husband, centering himself again on his familiar, comfortably possessive thoughts. ]
There is jewellery for that sort of thing, I suppose. Or magic.
[ His predatory leer suggests he's not entirely serious. ]
I could enchant my claim in flaming script above your head.
[ Probably. For at least an hour or two. ]
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He makes no move to withdraw his fingers from their affectionate exploration down Cardan’s spine.]
Oh?
[Liem’s regard of his spouse takes on a skeptical air as he lifts a brow at him. He has seen Cardan use magic so infrequently, it had not occurred to him that this was a use he could find for it. Faerie magic can often seem quite subtle, but flaming script above his head would be anything but.
The matter of jewellery is actually intriguing, but something in him prevents Liem from expressing this thought aloud. He can sense immediately that he’ll want to sit on it more before concluding how he’d like to treat the idea.]
And label me like a table setting? “Reserved for Prince Cardan’s personal use.”
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It helps, at least, that Liem's suggestion makes his leer deepen. He cants close, brushing his smiling mouth over Liem's cheek, more breath than kiss. ]
You make it sound so tempting.
[ Two can play this game; his own hand traces down the elegant line of Liem's back, splaying over the curve of his ass, suggestive. ]
Are you not?
[ His to use, to toy with, to torment. He would have to be blind and stupid not to have noticed that -- as accommodating as his husband is -- he seems particularly lured by Cardan's more selfish fancies. He doesn't really understand it, but perhaps he doesn't need to; it certainly hasn't stopped him from engaging in the behaviour. ]
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But in that case he is doubly the fool, considering the surge of helpless affection that flutters alongside his want. It makes even less sense that his husband’s entitlement should inspire such tenderness in him, but then, Liem’s good sense had clearly deserted him well before they made it back to their bedroom.]
I didn’t say that, [he murmurs, and tips his face to catch that smirking mouth in a true kiss, slow and indulgent. Warm in the only way that he can be, as he insinuates himself more snugly against his husband’s body, hands stroking tenderly over heated skin.
He is Cardan’s; in almost every way that matters, he belongs to him. Heart and body, whether he is plotting Faerie schemes or in his husband’s arms. Whether Cardan claims him with words or with magic or not at all.]
no subject
And he cannot think of a single reason why it would be unwise now.
He doesn't bother bating his hunger when Liem moves closer to kiss him. They have most of the night and the entire day following; perhaps this would have made him complacent in another circumstance. Now, it feels like both a luxury and a resource he ought to manage carefully, to wring the most out of, before the storm of work problems and party invitations and various attempts on his life and dignity catches up to them again.
But tonight, Liem is his: to have, to want, to reclaim, and he is determined to prove himself equal to the task. ]