[ It's both surprising and not at all, the way Liem goes stiff in his grasp just before realization seizes him. Cardan, at least, has had time to get used to it -- to the way his husband looks when desire takes him over, the way longing transforms his sharp edges, the way need adorns him like fine jewelry. No portrait could begin to do it justice. It is only fair that Liem be subjected to it too, now; after all, he's been victimizing Cardan with it all this time.
He is, as always, indulgent: leaving one love bite, then another, before he lets his mouth trail up to Liem's ear. His eyes find his husband's in the mirror, warmly amused. ]
Every time. You look like this every time.
[ It has the air of an accusation -- albeit a breathless, enamoured one. His teeth graze along the outside of Liem's ear, gently threatening. ]
How am I supposed to be anything but fiendish about it, Liem?
[ It's impossible, surely. No lover could see him so soft and full of longing and not wish to overwhelm and torment him, to make him squirm with desire. Or, at least, if such people exist, then they are of an entirely different species from Cardan. ]
[Before, Liem had hidden from his reflection; now, he cannot turn his gaze from it. He feels trapped by the undisguised need he is wearing so indulgently, hypnotized by the bliss that Cardan writes effortlessly across his features.
It is impossibly embarrassing; he feels the heated spread of something close to panic climb his throat as Cardan looks at him with that warm, knowing look, pinning him with it like a final verdict. He knows. He must know. Liem is unmasked, so utterly undone in his hands that he’s astounded his thoughts aren’t stamped plain across his reflection’s forehead.
Cardan, I need you. Make me yours.
But it is also frighteningly seductive: The sight of his husband wrapped possessively around him like a dragon with its hoard, caught in the act of putting his hands and his mouth wherever he pleases. His own drugged desire and infatuated submission, painted across flushed skin and trembling through the softened lines of his body. It is the most heartbreaking, impossible thing he has ever seen: his husband, smugly enjoying a treasure that Liem had long thought to be utterly without value.
Every time, his husband says, and Liem stares at him, feeling more vulnerable than he can recall ever being. But because it’s him, because he is locked in the cage of his arms, menaced by his self-satisfied good humour, this seems somehow intimate and erotic instead of terrifying.]
I belong to you, [he murmurs, as though this were the answer to a question Cardan was asking. Not the one he voiced, clearly—but that’s of no concern to Liem as he lifts a hand to slide it tenderly into his lover’s hair.]
Yes, [ Cardan concedes, and the erotic thrill of it rushes through him like hard liquor, hot and heady. It is strange to imagine, thinking back on their wedding and his noncommittal vows, that they would be here -- that he would feel such a surfeit of possessive tenderness for the man in his arms. That he could be capable of such. That Liem would want it from him.
It's a little terrifying. He doesn't know what his husband sees when he looks at him; it certainly doesn't seem to be the cruel, selfish person Cardan himself sees in the mirror. But then, Liem has yet to see him at his worst. Cardan can only hope that when that day comes, it will be far into the future.
As always, he finds it far easier to plan for the present.
The hand in his hair makes him close his eyes. He breathes Liem in, tightening his grasp around him as he strokes his pleasure higher. He can't help it; he wants him, no matter how difficult or dangerous for them both. He wants to savour this: Liem's lithe body pressed against his, the sound of his breathing, the familiar shape of him in Cardan's hand. Desire pangs through him so hard it feels painful, and when he opens his eyes again, his gaze in the mirror is a little obsessive. He lets it prowl over Liem's reflection as he draws his hand down his chest, over bare skin and lithe muscle. His thumb hooks into Liem's trousers -- already precariously draped over his hips -- to pull them down further, to expose more of him to both their eyes. It is always a perverse pleasure to undress him, to dishevel him, to pull apart that carefully crafted self-control to reveal the man underneath. ]
All of you.
[ He is Cardan's. The sober-eyed man whose office Cardan invades each evening may not be, but this Liem he will claim for his own. ]
[One strange, bewitching thing about this mirror is that although Liem has seen Cardan almost every single night during their marriage, and although he can appreciate him easily enough most times when they are in each other’s arms, something about the image of them together like this stirs unexpected tenderness in his chest. Perhaps it is the completeness of it, of being able to see the whole of them despite being almost as close physically to Cardan as he could possibly be. He has often experienced his husband’s greed for him, but never before has he seen him like his.
He only wishes he could kiss him, too. But Liem is forever wishing he could kiss him; this, at least, he is well used to.
Especially when Cardan is touching him like this. Liem feels his own breath grow harsh and restless as Cardan strokes his urgency higher, denying him his wandering thoughts, swallowing him up so his world shrinks to just Cardan’s embrace and the insistent, heated caress of his hands. His muscles twitch, too sensitive, as Cardan’s palm slides down his body to drag his trousers off his hips, revealing more of him to his own wanton, heavy-lidded gaze.]
Cardan—
[More and more, tension claims the languid eagerness with which he’d been draping against his husband. He shifts beneath his touch, hips restless with the climbing demands of his pleasure.]
He wants Liem to watch -- wants him to see the apex of his pleasure, wants him to know what he looks like when he falls apart. His own gaze in the mirror is serious, intent; he has lost the indulgent smugness from before. How could he maintain it, when watching Liem is driving him just as insane? His arm wraps around his husband, tightens, pulling him closer against Cardan's body and the erection trapped beneath the fabric of his trousers. That is torturous, too. When Liem moves his hips, he hisses-- bites back a moan, his hand on Liem's cock stuttering.
But he won't look away, either. Even if it's tempting-- even if the bare crook of Liem's neck beckons to him, seductive. He wants to put his mouth to it, wants to mark it again, wants to claim him in every way he can. But he cannot -- will not -- miss the moment his husband finds release. ]
I want you to see yourself.
[ Overwhelmed, oversensitive -- he wants Liem to see himself at his most taut and desperate, when desire makes poetry of his body, when all of his careful control slips away. ]
[It is hard to do what Cardan asks. Despite Liem’s earnest desire to submit to his demands, he is swamped with the much more physical and immediate demands of sensation, of insistent, unrelenting pleasure. He cares not at all for his reflection when Cardan pulls him tighter against his body, against his own arousal. His heavy eyelids want to flutter and sink closed when the hand stroking him stutters and returns to its urgent rhythm.
But the intensity of Cardan’s gaze traps him. Every time the rising tide of sensation washes over him, making his lashes dip and his eyes go unfocused, the force of that stare brings him back again, forcing his attention back to the mirror—to his own wanton reflection, bare and vulnerable in pleasure-soaked surrender. He sees as well as feels his own eager breaths, sees the helpless desire accompanying each soft, half-denied moan to escape his throat.
He can no more refuse that gaze than he can deny his own climbing, swelling ecstasy. The tender fingers in Cardan’s hair tremble and clutch as Liem bucks into his husband’s grip, his breath harsh in his throat. Even if he sees it from beneath his own lowered lashes, even if he is too enthralled by Cardan’s touch and scent to care for his own naked visage, he sees himself arch back against his husband, urgent and greedy and abandoned, as orgasm takes him. He looks as insatiable and as helpless as he feels—like he might let Cardan take him again and again and still, even then, remain a slave to his own want.
Even caught in the throes of his own pleasure, Liem cannot deny this to be truth.]
[ Cardan is pretty sure that he stops breathing for a while. It becomes unimportant -- not nearly as important as watching desire claim Liem, stroke by stroke and breath by breath, until the entire gorgeous length of his body is straining against it, arching into it, and, oh--
The noise that escapes him is hungry; his own gaze in the mirror turns a little desperate. It takes effort not to squirm against Liem — he’s so pitifully hard and terribly impatient, and his husband is right there, pliant and tender and dripping with eroticism. He drags in a torturously slow breath instead, trying to steady the wild racing of his own heart. It doesn’t work — of course it doesn’t work. Instead, he leans into Liem, over him, to press soft lips to his temple, his hair, the gentle point of his ear. ]
You did so well, [ he breathes, and despite meaning to praise Liem, his tone comes dangerously close to reverence. ] Look at how irresistible you are—
[ Well, Liem should feel it, certainly, in Cardan’s hungry hands skimming up to his hips, his waist, in the erection straining against the fabric of Cardan’s trousers, in the thundering of Cardan’s blood. ]
Turn around, [ Cardan demands, even as his hands direct Liem into the movement. The mirror was delightful, will remain delightful for trysts to come — but he wants to kiss his husband, now, and then he wants to take him to bed. ]
[The aftermath of his orgasm is a fraught time for Liem to be subjected to anything, let alone Cardan’s tender praise and gentle, wandering kisses. He is still aching with the slowly receding swell of his pleasure, still trying to quiet his breath and recall the vestiges of his composure. He has not yet recovered them when his husband leans closer to press warm lips against his temple, to murmur against his ear, so that a soft, wanting noise slips from Liem even as he feels his spent cock throb in alert, oversensitive protest.
He is looking at how irresistible he is—and at how easily Cardan’s tender encouragement deepens the faint, cool flush colouring his pale skin. It seems pitifully obvious to him how helpless he is against his lover’s indulgent doting, and he’s not sure whether Cardan’s apparent, urgent hunger might distract him from it, or draw him in like a shark scenting blood. He doesn’t know how much more of this he could weather.
Thankfully, Cardan’s demand frees him from the further humiliation of spectating his own desperate desire. He turns eagerly into the refuge of his embrace, sliding restless hands beneath Cardan’s lewdly dishevelled shirt, stretching up to kiss him with insatiable impatience. If his climax had at all threatened to satisfy him, Cardan has denied him that tranquility quite stubbornly.]
I need you, [he mutters.] You always make me need you.
[ He runs greedy hands up and then down the length of his husband's body -- his flanks, his back, his hips, his ass. Cardan's groping of him is entirely unabashed; he only wants Liem close, only wants those hands on his skin and that eager mouth on his own. He wants so many things, all at once: to kiss the delicate lilac of Liem's flush as it covers his cheeks; to lift him into his arms and feel his familiar, lithe weight cradled against his own body; to feel him, skin to bare skin--
Well, the last one will have to wait, given how painfully clothed he still is. But he will lift Liem, fielding a happy shiver at his closeness, and he will kiss his face, and then he'll turn from the mirror to convey them to the giant bed.]
Insatiable, [ Cardan says, and isn't sure which one of them he's accusing.
No, that's a lie; the smile that twitches onto his face is a little too sharp and a little too honest. ]
...I wish to have you. I wish to claim you until being mine is the only thing you know.
[Liem takes such shameful, greedy pleasure in the way his husband scoops him up, the way he holds him close and decorates his face with his warm, tender kisses. He should be beyond needing such comforts, and yet he cannot deny the immediate, bone-deep relief Cardan’s affection instills in him every single time. Liem’s chest feels tight with it; he wants nothing more than to let his husband do with him whatever he likes, unendingly, until the day Cardan’s gaze finally turns elsewhere.
At least that day must certainly be far in the future. For now Liem is pierced by his lover’s intent, longing stare, caught in his covetous hands—just where he most wishes to belong. He slides a hand round to cup the back of Cardan’s neck, tender and affectionate and so perfectly filled with his stolen, unearned happiness.]
My fondest wish, [Liem tells him. If only the scant, precious moments when he forgets everything else but Cardan’s closeness could be spun out for eternity. If only reality did not deny him so stubbornly with its demands.
But while they are here, in the private refuge of the chambers they share, there is nothing to deny them their wishes. Cardan can have someone who is only his, someone whose head could never be turned by anyone else, and Liem can belong to somebody who treats him like someone worth cherishing. They can both indulge their own soap bubble fantasies, and never mind when or how they might eventually end.]
[ Cardan huffs out a soft laugh, strangely amazed. Liem's response would be a bit of dramatic flattery, surely, were it not for the startling sincerity with which his husband delivers it. It's overwhelming, to see Liem so soft with affection. It makes the breath catch in Cardan's throat, makes his heart clench tight in his chest. He wishes so fervently for a way to cage these moments, to catch them in a bottle and put them on a shelf somewhere -- but then, what use is joy that has long died?
He ever desires the impossible.
When he lays Liem out on the bed, it is with the care one puts into arranging a rare flower -- heedless of his own greed, which still burns restlessly just under his skin. He throbs with it every time he inhales Liem's scent; each touch from those cool hands leaves him breathless all over. But the months he's spent with his husband had, as it turns out, made him perverse: even though he aches with unfulfilled lust, he does not rip Liem's trousers off him, does not cover him with his body and press him into the sheets with the sheer weight of his desire. Instead, his mouth on Liem's jaw is careful, deliberate. It remains so as it travels down the length of his throat, paints kisses over his collar bones, down his chest. Cardan wants to take his time; he wants to savour him.
And he wants, quite badly, to suck Liem's off. His husband had denied him this the night of his return.
[Every time Liem looks at Cardan like this, every time he touches him tenderly and tells him something a little too honest, he feels like he’s gotten away with something. The way his husband just laughs, or smiles, or gives him one of his intent looks—and then carries on, still greedy and ardent as ever, suggests that Cardan doesn’t quite understand the depths of lonely, needy desire underlying Liem’s sentiment. Or perhaps he simply doesn’t care.
Either way, each time he confesses like this without consequence, he feels himself grow a little bolder, feels himself lose some of his caution. Someday, he knows, he will forget himself because of this, and say something he will truly regret. It is simply too easy to share parts of himself with Cardan—even those he should know better than to share with anyone at all.
Cardan makes it easy, when he lays Liem gently down on the bed and maps his bare skin with his kisses. Liem sighs as Cardan’s mouth wanders down his throat and over his collar bones, sparking flutters of warmth in his belly and beneath his skin. Liem’s fingers slide into his soft curls without a single thought, tenderly possessive, as the heat of Cardan’s kisses travels ever lower—down his chest, sending eagerness sparking pleasurably, impatiently down his spine.
His blood is to blame for some of that, of course: the blood still smeared over Liem’s lips and lighting up his senses with rich, indulgent complexity. But it is Cardan whose touch and scent and closeness so swiftly inflame Liem’s lust with impatient, aching greed, making his cock start to rouse and stiffen with what seems like barely any encouragement at all. He needs him again, already, unceasingly; he’d fear Cardan must have done something to him if the real cause were not so nakedly obvious.
He just wants him so terribly, embarrassingly much.]
[ Sometimes his own patience takes him by surprise. He's so irrepressibly possessed with longing; it roils through him, terrible and all-encompassing, from his throat to the tips of his fingers. They draw slowly down from Liem's ribs to his hips, the waistband of his trousers. His kisses follow them, though he cannot help but linger a little over Liem's stomach -- irresistible, now that he knows his husband is ticklish there. He wants to hear the sound of his laughter, wants to feel him squirm a little under the grip of Cardan's hands. His mouth is smug where it curls against Liem's soft skin.
Never, never has he liked anyone this uncomplicatedly much.
But he doesn't torment Liem for long -- not with this, anyway. Cardan's hands drag the trousers the rest of the way down from Liem's slim hips. His mouth presses to the top of a hip bone, drags over the sharp slant of it with barely-repressed greed. ]
This reminds me, [ he murmurs, a little breathless, ] of the first time I fucked you.
[ On this bed, in this room, months and eternities ago -- except they'd both been wearing fewer clothes and far more armour. ]
[Liem is so caught up in his own heady, breathless desire that he doesn’t anticipate it when Cardan’s wandering mouth finds his stomach. He is too beguiled by the warm hands sliding down his flanks, too eager for the pleasure Cardan’s kisses quicken beneath his skin. When those kisses trail down to his belly and linger there…]
Ah—
[His muscles jump and tense beneath Cardan’s caress, too sensitive, staying ticklishly taut despite the infatuated contentment still making him melt against the bed. He trembles with each deliberate brush of his lover’s mouth, his lips a firm line, shallow half-breaths huffing out with each tease of contact and each unbidden twitch.
And still, no matter how much it torments him, he can only be desperate for more of that warm, tender touch. He can never have enough.]
I told you to be greedy, [he recalls softly, in the wake of the heated kisses Cardan stamps against his hip. He had said just for one night, but even at the time, he had known that wasn’t really what he meant; wasn’t what he wanted. There could never be a limit to how greedy he wished his husband, his lover and partner to be with him. It would never be too much. At the time, he had thought it would never even be enough.
Though maybe it could be, if it was always like this. If it was Cardan’s greed, Cardan’s wandering kisses and breathless murmurs and covetous hands, he could be satisfied with that. And as long as he could keep making him smile, too. For as long as it lasted, at least—that would be enough.]
And I've never stopped since, [ he replies, smugly, like he'd accomplished a particularly impressive task. In truth, he's been greedy his entire life -- all his marriage did was narrow his focus. He's greedy for Liem, now: for his gentle hands and his rare laughs, for his restless breaths, for the way he seems forever starved for Cardan's kisses. Cardan is greedy for his affection and his regard, for the feeling of belonging to someone who needs him.
And, most of all, he is greedy for Liem's pleasure. He's far greedier for Liem's than he is for his own; it's why he takes the time to suck a mark onto the delicate skin just above the crease of hip and thigh, why his touch remains leisurely despite the heat just under his skin. His hands splay over his husband's legs, drawing tenderly down the inside of his thighs. This is his, and Liem's restless sighs are his-- his tithe for driving his husband just a little more insane, as he plans to do. ]
You have made of me a creature of such terrible need. [ But the way he says it, it's a promise, not a complaint. Need sighs his way out of him when he turns his face to brush his mouth over Liem's cock, covetous for the feel of him, for his familiar shape. It makes lust pulse heavily through his own caged erection; his eyes close with it, momentarily unmoored.
They're half-lidded when he looks up a moment later, having settled into kneeling on the lush rug. His hands, which have been busy dragging Liem's trousers down further, now urge his thighs to spread further apart -- only because he can. Because he wants to see him.
[Cardan’s greed for him ever torments Liem with his own special kind of desperation. It drives him insane: the way Cardan’s eyes prowl over him, the way his hands slide possessively over his body, Cardan’s hunger to mark his skin and the effortless way he helps himself to every part of Liem that he pleases. No one has ever wanted him with such single-minded intensity; it seems impossible that Cardan of all people would need him so feverishly.
Liem wants to give him everything: all he demands and more, even the things he knows Cardan will never ask for. When they are like this, he cannot stop himself from wanting.]
I love… being your favourite…
[A small, eager sound slips from him as Cardan’s mouth teases his erection, making him squirm with impatience. The expression he tilts down at Cardan is soft with helpless desire beneath the embarrassed flush still tinting his skin. He is too wanting with him, too vulnerable, but he cannot be anything else. Now and always, he can only surrender eagerly to Cardan’s hunger.]
[ Sometimes Cardan considers whether it would truly be so difficult to copy himself, so that he may have extra hands and an extra mouth to put on his husband. How inconsiderate of Liem to look so erotic -- how inconsiderate, for that unforgivably soft, flushed look to be so striking. It makes Cardan a little breathless, makes something dangerously covetous flutter to life in his belly.
The glance he levels at Liem is serious. He keeps it on his face, watching, even as he presses deliberate, open-mouthed kisses down the silken length of his cock. If Liem wants him to be greedy, then Cardan wants everything -- every look, every sound, every twitch of his sensitized body. He wants to drink Liem down to the dregs; he wants to have him until they both ache with excess. He wants to feel the weight of him on his tongue--
Fuck, does he want it. It strikes him like lightning, suddenly unbearable. His senses are full of Liem's scent, of his soft breaths and the minute shifts of his body -- he can't resist him. He can't. His breath out is a little tortured; it's all the warning Liem will get before Cardan leans in, fervent and covetous, to take him all at once into the heat of his mouth. ]
[The look Cardan spears him with as he paints kisses over his cock has excitement sizzling in Liem’s stomach and sparking beneath his skin. He’s held tight by that gaze, despite the way the heated caresses smearing over sensitive skin make his lashes dip and his breaths go heavy with impatience.
Cardan is so dangerous like this. The force of his desire pins Liem like a weight, sparks him alight, filling him with his own helpless need to indulge his every demand. He simply cannot resist it; not for the first time, it occurs to him that if Cardan continued to demand his pleasure even after nightfall, Liem would be powerless to object at all. How could he? There is nothing in the world he wants more than Cardan’s hungry obsession, no matter how inconvenient or ill-timed.
Even when Cardan teases him like this, making him ache with cruelly mounting frustration. Even when he drinks in Liem’s hurried, unsteady breaths with an obvious greed that only demands ever more. More desire, more desperation, more indulgence, more and more without end, so Cardan’s greed is only ever stoked by the storm of Liem’s arousal.
Until he swallows Liem up, and drags a sudden moan from him as he arches against the sheets.]
Ah—
[Suddenly the slide of Cardan’s mouth is not teasing at all, and pleasure rolls into Liem hard enough to rob him of every remaining thought. He trembles beneath his lover’s touch, and his sudden grip in Cardan’s hair might seem punitive if not for the hunger in his expression.]
[ He moans, too, indulgent and obscene against Liem's cock, spurred on by the hard grip in his hair and the obvious pleasure in his husband's voice. His tail swishes side to side, demonstrative in his self-satisfaction. Still, his forearm is unforgiving as it pins Liem's hips to the bed. He is merciless about this, not because he couldn't take it -- Liem fucking up into his mouth -- but because he loves this, too, loves feeling him tense and strained under his hands, loves the thrill of power that comes with the control.
Besides, Liem should hardly need to move: Cardan is ruthless in working him, his hand and mouth exacting in their demand for his pleasure. He never feels so heated as when he's with Liem, like he's made of fire and need alone, like he can breathe heat into his husband just by touching him. When he finally needs to come up to breathe, he will do so by drawing his tongue up the underside of Liem's cock, luxuriating in the familiar shape of him. It feels indulgent, this, to have him so unreservedly after such a long time away. ]
I want to never let you go, [ he murmurs, and when he looks up at Liem, his breath stutters in his chest, just a little bit. It's only that he is so heartbreakingly beautiful when hunger takes him; it's only that Cardan feels a little pierced by the look in his bright eyes.
He swallows, breathes, and then dips back down, to cover the hammering of his heart with the eager caress of his mouth, so that Liem's desire may help obfuscate his own. ]
[It seems a wonder that Cardan has breath and wit left to say anything at all, in between the ardent efforts that have so thoroughly robbed Liem of his own faculties. Liem cannot recall what he was saying before, or how he might have meant to finish his thought. He is too overcome by the urgent heat of Cardan’s mouth and the caress of his hand, demanding his pleasure so he has no choice but to surrender it without reserve, trading coherence for the ragged gasps and soft, stuttered moans that his husband pulls from him time after time.
It’s so easy to let him. The hands demanding his submission are so familiar. The dark eyes staring back at him invite him to fall into them. He lives for this; he loves being Cardan’s, loves giving him everything, again and again. Being his feels safe; it feels right. And it makes him dare to not just want more, but expect it. He cannot recall ever before feeling this indulged.
When Cardan swallows him up again, Liem lets the sensation swallow him up too.
He still feels greedy for him. As his pleasure swells with each tight, heated stroke, as Liem drowns in him, still he wants impossibly more—more tenderness, more hunger, more of that aching want that makes hopeful anxiety flutter unbidden in his stomach. Like the sweet, seductive blood in his veins, Cardan makes Liem crave him more with each indulgence, until he is desperate with it, overwhelmed and taut with the urgency of his pleasure. Until his want for him consumes everything, leaving just one thought in his head, right at the heart of that storm of sensation.]
[ He is never sure what he wants in moments like this -- or rather, it is that he wants too many things at once. He wants to see Liem come, wants to feel the tension build in his body, beautiful with strain, and then flow out of him all at once. Cardan wants to taste him on his tongue and watch him subside in languid relaxation--
And he wants the opposite just as well: to watch his husband teeter on the edge, to count his tortured breaths when relief is snatched away from him just in time. He wants to be generous and cruel and tender and punishing, all at once. Always, always, he wants everything Liem has to give him.
But he is, as ever, a terrible man. He will wait-- will stroke that tension higher, will take Liem deeper into the heat of his mouth, devout in his efforts. Only when his husband says his name like that, soft and caught and desperate--
Only then will he breathe in, and then he will stop, pulling his mouth off with a languid, casual movement. The smile he aims up at Liem is tremendously predatory, all teeth and tender malice. ]
Liem. My dearest, delectable Liem--
[ He's a little hoarse with it. The hand on Liem's cock does not stop moving -- feather-light, restless caresses, as if Cardan cannot quite help but touch him, despite his villainous intent. ]
Don't come. Not yet. I want to feel you.
[ He wants to be fucking him, is what he means, and the thought makes his heart speed with avarice. ]
[Somehow, he doesn’t come. Somehow, when Cardan pulls away to smile up at him, menacing in his languid affection, Liem stops himself short. Even though he can still feel his lover’s breath warm on his skin. Even though Cardan’s touch still slides teasingly over his aching, eager cock. Liem whimpers in frustrated objection, teeth digging into his lip, but somehow he keeps the impatience Cardan has fostered from nudging him over the edge.
But he is still impatient, especially when Cardan calls him delectable. It is a torment, this tender, teasing denial, and although Cardan is the one calling him irresistible, Liem doubts his husband could possibly feel any more feverish for his body than he already is for his touch. He is already so desperate, even his husband’s idle little caresses keep Liem trembling with cruelly indulged need.
And he loves it. He loves being like this for Cardan and no one else. He loves how only Cardan can make him feel this way, more alive and eager and coveted than any fantasy ever could.]
Hah… [His breaths are still restless as he gazes down at Cardan, focusing on him again with an effort.] But you just can’t resist… getting your mouth on me…
No, [ he admits, easily. His eyes meet Liem's, and he's still smiling, except that now fondness creeps into the corners of his mouth, makes his black gaze soft in a way he doesn't quite intend. Liem always does this to him -- always lays bare Cardan's affection, whether he likes it or not.
It's just that it is impossible to see Liem so, trembling and tormented, and not feel a little awed to have him. Awed, and desperately horny; Liem is not the only one aching with need. Cardan feels feverish with it, oversensitive and impatient. The arm pinning Liem's hips retreats; instead, his hand draws up his husband's thigh, greedy to feel him, to touch him. ]
I love putting my mouth on you.
[ He's too aware of it when he says things like this, now. I love the way you look in this tie. I love the hideous wallpaper you put in the sitting room. I love the touch of those hands, and the taste of that mouth, and the way your breath slides out of you when I take you in my arms. Dozens of little loves sprinkled through their nights -- pieces of a bigger, more frightening thing, one that he cannot voice at all.
And Liem is right: he cannot resist. It's why he leans in, hot breath ghosting over Liem's cock -- and then pauses. The look he flicks up at Liem's face is evaluating. ]
Are you going to come? Be honest.
[ His smile suggests there's a right answer and a wrong answer, but also that he's inclined to be generous even if Liem says yes. Probably. ]
[Liem is so easily distracted by the fluttering he feels in his stomach whenever Cardan looks at him with that indulgent fondness. He would weather anything, suffer any whim no matter how cruel, to see Cardan smile at him like that, again and again and again. Even the lurking threat of his climax, still tormenting him with each teasing slide of skin or brush of breath against his cock, pales in comparison to his helpless desire to earn another scrap of his lover’s warmth.
He is so hopelessly at Cardan’s mercy. At this point, the question is not whether his husband has noticed, because that ship has surely long sailed, but how ruthlessly he intends to take advantage now that he has.]
Ah…
[Is he going to come? Liem cannot help but view the question as a challenge, one he might pit himself against in order to earn more of his lover’s pleasure. Given his insatiable desire for Cardan’s approval, he doesn’t even consciously intend the steadying breath he takes as he considers the question, or the stubbornness that settles into his expression as he stares back at him.]
No, [he insists, in spite of the lust still pulsing through him. It’s not a lie, though calling it truth might be a little optimistic; it is a promise, more than anything.
But even a mundane promise must carry its own kind of magic, he thinks; what else would you call the power of words that can bring about a new reality when spoken? Not because of any outside force, but through simple dedication to seeing it through, turning solid and real where nothing existed before. That must be worth something.]
[ His smile widens to a grin, quick and bright. He hadn't intended to torment his husband with denial -- not terribly, anyway. But Liem is so sensitive, so responsive to his touch; it makes Cardan want to spend forever like this, mouth wrapped fervently around his hard cock. Liem's stubbornness is so charming; Cardan loves the way his reasonable, sensible husband seems eager to throw caution away in the service of pleasing him. It makes a ruthless, needy delight coil in his belly -- makes him a little breathless around his own aching arousal. Need pulses hard in his throat, and for a moment he must close his eyes and steel himself.
He goes slow. He knows what Liem looks like when he's caught up in pleasure; despite his promise, Cardan knows that he's still close. If he redoubled his efforts, he is certain he could prove Liem a liar -- but for once, that's not what he wants. He intends for it to be just a little difficult, wants to see Liem squirm and whine and bury his hands in Cardan's hair. And he wants to taste him, still. He always, always does. When he drags his tongue up the shaft, when he paints heated, slow kisses over the head -- it's because he's missed this. It's because he spent a month not having him, and even though he wants to fuck Liem desperately, it's difficult to pull himself away. Liem's pleasure is addictive; the feeling that he's at Cardan's mercy is addictive. He wants both, so terribly much--
And they can both take this, surely, for just a little while longer. ]
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He is, as always, indulgent: leaving one love bite, then another, before he lets his mouth trail up to Liem's ear. His eyes find his husband's in the mirror, warmly amused. ]
Every time. You look like this every time.
[ It has the air of an accusation -- albeit a breathless, enamoured one. His teeth graze along the outside of Liem's ear, gently threatening. ]
How am I supposed to be anything but fiendish about it, Liem?
[ It's impossible, surely. No lover could see him so soft and full of longing and not wish to overwhelm and torment him, to make him squirm with desire. Or, at least, if such people exist, then they are of an entirely different species from Cardan. ]
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It is impossibly embarrassing; he feels the heated spread of something close to panic climb his throat as Cardan looks at him with that warm, knowing look, pinning him with it like a final verdict. He knows. He must know. Liem is unmasked, so utterly undone in his hands that he’s astounded his thoughts aren’t stamped plain across his reflection’s forehead.
Cardan, I need you. Make me yours.
But it is also frighteningly seductive: The sight of his husband wrapped possessively around him like a dragon with its hoard, caught in the act of putting his hands and his mouth wherever he pleases. His own drugged desire and infatuated submission, painted across flushed skin and trembling through the softened lines of his body. It is the most heartbreaking, impossible thing he has ever seen: his husband, smugly enjoying a treasure that Liem had long thought to be utterly without value.
Every time, his husband says, and Liem stares at him, feeling more vulnerable than he can recall ever being. But because it’s him, because he is locked in the cage of his arms, menaced by his self-satisfied good humour, this seems somehow intimate and erotic instead of terrifying.]
I belong to you, [he murmurs, as though this were the answer to a question Cardan was asking. Not the one he voiced, clearly—but that’s of no concern to Liem as he lifts a hand to slide it tenderly into his lover’s hair.]
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It's a little terrifying. He doesn't know what his husband sees when he looks at him; it certainly doesn't seem to be the cruel, selfish person Cardan himself sees in the mirror. But then, Liem has yet to see him at his worst. Cardan can only hope that when that day comes, it will be far into the future.
As always, he finds it far easier to plan for the present.
The hand in his hair makes him close his eyes. He breathes Liem in, tightening his grasp around him as he strokes his pleasure higher. He can't help it; he wants him, no matter how difficult or dangerous for them both. He wants to savour this: Liem's lithe body pressed against his, the sound of his breathing, the familiar shape of him in Cardan's hand. Desire pangs through him so hard it feels painful, and when he opens his eyes again, his gaze in the mirror is a little obsessive. He lets it prowl over Liem's reflection as he draws his hand down his chest, over bare skin and lithe muscle. His thumb hooks into Liem's trousers -- already precariously draped over his hips -- to pull them down further, to expose more of him to both their eyes. It is always a perverse pleasure to undress him, to dishevel him, to pull apart that carefully crafted self-control to reveal the man underneath. ]
All of you.
[ He is Cardan's. The sober-eyed man whose office Cardan invades each evening may not be, but this Liem he will claim for his own. ]
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He only wishes he could kiss him, too. But Liem is forever wishing he could kiss him; this, at least, he is well used to.
Especially when Cardan is touching him like this. Liem feels his own breath grow harsh and restless as Cardan strokes his urgency higher, denying him his wandering thoughts, swallowing him up so his world shrinks to just Cardan’s embrace and the insistent, heated caress of his hands. His muscles twitch, too sensitive, as Cardan’s palm slides down his body to drag his trousers off his hips, revealing more of him to his own wanton, heavy-lidded gaze.]
Cardan—
[More and more, tension claims the languid eagerness with which he’d been draping against his husband. He shifts beneath his touch, hips restless with the climbing demands of his pleasure.]
Hah… Yes…
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He wants Liem to watch -- wants him to see the apex of his pleasure, wants him to know what he looks like when he falls apart. His own gaze in the mirror is serious, intent; he has lost the indulgent smugness from before. How could he maintain it, when watching Liem is driving him just as insane? His arm wraps around his husband, tightens, pulling him closer against Cardan's body and the erection trapped beneath the fabric of his trousers. That is torturous, too. When Liem moves his hips, he hisses-- bites back a moan, his hand on Liem's cock stuttering.
But he won't look away, either. Even if it's tempting-- even if the bare crook of Liem's neck beckons to him, seductive. He wants to put his mouth to it, wants to mark it again, wants to claim him in every way he can. But he cannot -- will not -- miss the moment his husband finds release. ]
I want you to see yourself.
[ Overwhelmed, oversensitive -- he wants Liem to see himself at his most taut and desperate, when desire makes poetry of his body, when all of his careful control slips away. ]
You can do that for me, can't you? Liem.
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But the intensity of Cardan’s gaze traps him. Every time the rising tide of sensation washes over him, making his lashes dip and his eyes go unfocused, the force of that stare brings him back again, forcing his attention back to the mirror—to his own wanton reflection, bare and vulnerable in pleasure-soaked surrender. He sees as well as feels his own eager breaths, sees the helpless desire accompanying each soft, half-denied moan to escape his throat.
He can no more refuse that gaze than he can deny his own climbing, swelling ecstasy. The tender fingers in Cardan’s hair tremble and clutch as Liem bucks into his husband’s grip, his breath harsh in his throat. Even if he sees it from beneath his own lowered lashes, even if he is too enthralled by Cardan’s touch and scent to care for his own naked visage, he sees himself arch back against his husband, urgent and greedy and abandoned, as orgasm takes him. He looks as insatiable and as helpless as he feels—like he might let Cardan take him again and again and still, even then, remain a slave to his own want.
Even caught in the throes of his own pleasure, Liem cannot deny this to be truth.]
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The noise that escapes him is hungry; his own gaze in the mirror turns a little desperate. It takes effort not to squirm against Liem — he’s so pitifully hard and terribly impatient, and his husband is right there, pliant and tender and dripping with eroticism. He drags in a torturously slow breath instead, trying to steady the wild racing of his own heart. It doesn’t work — of course it doesn’t work. Instead, he leans into Liem, over him, to press soft lips to his temple, his hair, the gentle point of his ear. ]
You did so well, [ he breathes, and despite meaning to praise Liem, his tone comes dangerously close to reverence. ] Look at how irresistible you are—
[ Well, Liem should feel it, certainly, in Cardan’s hungry hands skimming up to his hips, his waist, in the erection straining against the fabric of Cardan’s trousers, in the thundering of Cardan’s blood. ]
Turn around, [ Cardan demands, even as his hands direct Liem into the movement. The mirror was delightful, will remain delightful for trysts to come — but he wants to kiss his husband, now, and then he wants to take him to bed. ]
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He is looking at how irresistible he is—and at how easily Cardan’s tender encouragement deepens the faint, cool flush colouring his pale skin. It seems pitifully obvious to him how helpless he is against his lover’s indulgent doting, and he’s not sure whether Cardan’s apparent, urgent hunger might distract him from it, or draw him in like a shark scenting blood. He doesn’t know how much more of this he could weather.
Thankfully, Cardan’s demand frees him from the further humiliation of spectating his own desperate desire. He turns eagerly into the refuge of his embrace, sliding restless hands beneath Cardan’s lewdly dishevelled shirt, stretching up to kiss him with insatiable impatience. If his climax had at all threatened to satisfy him, Cardan has denied him that tranquility quite stubbornly.]
I need you, [he mutters.] You always make me need you.
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Not nearly as terribly as I need you, husband.
[ He runs greedy hands up and then down the length of his husband's body -- his flanks, his back, his hips, his ass. Cardan's groping of him is entirely unabashed; he only wants Liem close, only wants those hands on his skin and that eager mouth on his own. He wants so many things, all at once: to kiss the delicate lilac of Liem's flush as it covers his cheeks; to lift him into his arms and feel his familiar, lithe weight cradled against his own body; to feel him, skin to bare skin--
Well, the last one will have to wait, given how painfully clothed he still is. But he will lift Liem, fielding a happy shiver at his closeness, and he will kiss his face, and then he'll turn from the mirror to convey them to the giant bed.]
Insatiable, [ Cardan says, and isn't sure which one of them he's accusing.
No, that's a lie; the smile that twitches onto his face is a little too sharp and a little too honest. ]
...I wish to have you. I wish to claim you until being mine is the only thing you know.
[ A hideous little thing to want. And yet. ]
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At least that day must certainly be far in the future. For now Liem is pierced by his lover’s intent, longing stare, caught in his covetous hands—just where he most wishes to belong. He slides a hand round to cup the back of Cardan’s neck, tender and affectionate and so perfectly filled with his stolen, unearned happiness.]
My fondest wish, [Liem tells him. If only the scant, precious moments when he forgets everything else but Cardan’s closeness could be spun out for eternity. If only reality did not deny him so stubbornly with its demands.
But while they are here, in the private refuge of the chambers they share, there is nothing to deny them their wishes. Cardan can have someone who is only his, someone whose head could never be turned by anyone else, and Liem can belong to somebody who treats him like someone worth cherishing. They can both indulge their own soap bubble fantasies, and never mind when or how they might eventually end.]
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He ever desires the impossible.
When he lays Liem out on the bed, it is with the care one puts into arranging a rare flower -- heedless of his own greed, which still burns restlessly just under his skin. He throbs with it every time he inhales Liem's scent; each touch from those cool hands leaves him breathless all over. But the months he's spent with his husband had, as it turns out, made him perverse: even though he aches with unfulfilled lust, he does not rip Liem's trousers off him, does not cover him with his body and press him into the sheets with the sheer weight of his desire. Instead, his mouth on Liem's jaw is careful, deliberate. It remains so as it travels down the length of his throat, paints kisses over his collar bones, down his chest. Cardan wants to take his time; he wants to savour him.
And he wants, quite badly, to suck Liem's off. His husband had denied him this the night of his return.
Cardan will not be denied it now. ]
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Either way, each time he confesses like this without consequence, he feels himself grow a little bolder, feels himself lose some of his caution. Someday, he knows, he will forget himself because of this, and say something he will truly regret. It is simply too easy to share parts of himself with Cardan—even those he should know better than to share with anyone at all.
Cardan makes it easy, when he lays Liem gently down on the bed and maps his bare skin with his kisses. Liem sighs as Cardan’s mouth wanders down his throat and over his collar bones, sparking flutters of warmth in his belly and beneath his skin. Liem’s fingers slide into his soft curls without a single thought, tenderly possessive, as the heat of Cardan’s kisses travels ever lower—down his chest, sending eagerness sparking pleasurably, impatiently down his spine.
His blood is to blame for some of that, of course: the blood still smeared over Liem’s lips and lighting up his senses with rich, indulgent complexity. But it is Cardan whose touch and scent and closeness so swiftly inflame Liem’s lust with impatient, aching greed, making his cock start to rouse and stiffen with what seems like barely any encouragement at all. He needs him again, already, unceasingly; he’d fear Cardan must have done something to him if the real cause were not so nakedly obvious.
He just wants him so terribly, embarrassingly much.]
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Never, never has he liked anyone this uncomplicatedly much.
But he doesn't torment Liem for long -- not with this, anyway. Cardan's hands drag the trousers the rest of the way down from Liem's slim hips. His mouth presses to the top of a hip bone, drags over the sharp slant of it with barely-repressed greed. ]
This reminds me, [ he murmurs, a little breathless, ] of the first time I fucked you.
[ On this bed, in this room, months and eternities ago -- except they'd both been wearing fewer clothes and far more armour. ]
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Ah—
[His muscles jump and tense beneath Cardan’s caress, too sensitive, staying ticklishly taut despite the infatuated contentment still making him melt against the bed. He trembles with each deliberate brush of his lover’s mouth, his lips a firm line, shallow half-breaths huffing out with each tease of contact and each unbidden twitch.
And still, no matter how much it torments him, he can only be desperate for more of that warm, tender touch. He can never have enough.]
I told you to be greedy, [he recalls softly, in the wake of the heated kisses Cardan stamps against his hip. He had said just for one night, but even at the time, he had known that wasn’t really what he meant; wasn’t what he wanted. There could never be a limit to how greedy he wished his husband, his lover and partner to be with him. It would never be too much. At the time, he had thought it would never even be enough.
Though maybe it could be, if it was always like this. If it was Cardan’s greed, Cardan’s wandering kisses and breathless murmurs and covetous hands, he could be satisfied with that. And as long as he could keep making him smile, too. For as long as it lasted, at least—that would be enough.]
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And, most of all, he is greedy for Liem's pleasure. He's far greedier for Liem's than he is for his own; it's why he takes the time to suck a mark onto the delicate skin just above the crease of hip and thigh, why his touch remains leisurely despite the heat just under his skin. His hands splay over his husband's legs, drawing tenderly down the inside of his thighs. This is his, and Liem's restless sighs are his-- his tithe for driving his husband just a little more insane, as he plans to do. ]
You have made of me a creature of such terrible need. [ But the way he says it, it's a promise, not a complaint. Need sighs his way out of him when he turns his face to brush his mouth over Liem's cock, covetous for the feel of him, for his familiar shape. It makes lust pulse heavily through his own caged erection; his eyes close with it, momentarily unmoored.
They're half-lidded when he looks up a moment later, having settled into kneeling on the lush rug. His hands, which have been busy dragging Liem's trousers down further, now urge his thighs to spread further apart -- only because he can. Because he wants to see him.
Cardan's mouth quirks. ]
How I've missed tormenting you.
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Liem wants to give him everything: all he demands and more, even the things he knows Cardan will never ask for. When they are like this, he cannot stop himself from wanting.]
I love… being your favourite…
[A small, eager sound slips from him as Cardan’s mouth teases his erection, making him squirm with impatience. The expression he tilts down at Cardan is soft with helpless desire beneath the embarrassed flush still tinting his skin. He is too wanting with him, too vulnerable, but he cannot be anything else. Now and always, he can only surrender eagerly to Cardan’s hunger.]
When you’re greedy with me… I get so…
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The glance he levels at Liem is serious. He keeps it on his face, watching, even as he presses deliberate, open-mouthed kisses down the silken length of his cock. If Liem wants him to be greedy, then Cardan wants everything -- every look, every sound, every twitch of his sensitized body. He wants to drink Liem down to the dregs; he wants to have him until they both ache with excess. He wants to feel the weight of him on his tongue--
Fuck, does he want it. It strikes him like lightning, suddenly unbearable. His senses are full of Liem's scent, of his soft breaths and the minute shifts of his body -- he can't resist him. He can't. His breath out is a little tortured; it's all the warning Liem will get before Cardan leans in, fervent and covetous, to take him all at once into the heat of his mouth. ]
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Cardan is so dangerous like this. The force of his desire pins Liem like a weight, sparks him alight, filling him with his own helpless need to indulge his every demand. He simply cannot resist it; not for the first time, it occurs to him that if Cardan continued to demand his pleasure even after nightfall, Liem would be powerless to object at all. How could he? There is nothing in the world he wants more than Cardan’s hungry obsession, no matter how inconvenient or ill-timed.
Even when Cardan teases him like this, making him ache with cruelly mounting frustration. Even when he drinks in Liem’s hurried, unsteady breaths with an obvious greed that only demands ever more. More desire, more desperation, more indulgence, more and more without end, so Cardan’s greed is only ever stoked by the storm of Liem’s arousal.
Until he swallows Liem up, and drags a sudden moan from him as he arches against the sheets.]
Ah—
[Suddenly the slide of Cardan’s mouth is not teasing at all, and pleasure rolls into Liem hard enough to rob him of every remaining thought. He trembles beneath his lover’s touch, and his sudden grip in Cardan’s hair might seem punitive if not for the hunger in his expression.]
Fuck—
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Besides, Liem should hardly need to move: Cardan is ruthless in working him, his hand and mouth exacting in their demand for his pleasure. He never feels so heated as when he's with Liem, like he's made of fire and need alone, like he can breathe heat into his husband just by touching him. When he finally needs to come up to breathe, he will do so by drawing his tongue up the underside of Liem's cock, luxuriating in the familiar shape of him. It feels indulgent, this, to have him so unreservedly after such a long time away. ]
I want to never let you go, [ he murmurs, and when he looks up at Liem, his breath stutters in his chest, just a little bit. It's only that he is so heartbreakingly beautiful when hunger takes him; it's only that Cardan feels a little pierced by the look in his bright eyes.
He swallows, breathes, and then dips back down, to cover the hammering of his heart with the eager caress of his mouth, so that Liem's desire may help obfuscate his own. ]
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It’s so easy to let him. The hands demanding his submission are so familiar. The dark eyes staring back at him invite him to fall into them. He lives for this; he loves being Cardan’s, loves giving him everything, again and again. Being his feels safe; it feels right. And it makes him dare to not just want more, but expect it. He cannot recall ever before feeling this indulged.
When Cardan swallows him up again, Liem lets the sensation swallow him up too.
He still feels greedy for him. As his pleasure swells with each tight, heated stroke, as Liem drowns in him, still he wants impossibly more—more tenderness, more hunger, more of that aching want that makes hopeful anxiety flutter unbidden in his stomach. Like the sweet, seductive blood in his veins, Cardan makes Liem crave him more with each indulgence, until he is desperate with it, overwhelmed and taut with the urgency of his pleasure. Until his want for him consumes everything, leaving just one thought in his head, right at the heart of that storm of sensation.]
Cardan—
[And it seems he still has some words after all.]
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And he wants the opposite just as well: to watch his husband teeter on the edge, to count his tortured breaths when relief is snatched away from him just in time. He wants to be generous and cruel and tender and punishing, all at once. Always, always, he wants everything Liem has to give him.
But he is, as ever, a terrible man. He will wait-- will stroke that tension higher, will take Liem deeper into the heat of his mouth, devout in his efforts. Only when his husband says his name like that, soft and caught and desperate--
Only then will he breathe in, and then he will stop, pulling his mouth off with a languid, casual movement. The smile he aims up at Liem is tremendously predatory, all teeth and tender malice. ]
Liem. My dearest, delectable Liem--
[ He's a little hoarse with it. The hand on Liem's cock does not stop moving -- feather-light, restless caresses, as if Cardan cannot quite help but touch him, despite his villainous intent. ]
Don't come. Not yet. I want to feel you.
[ He wants to be fucking him, is what he means, and the thought makes his heart speed with avarice. ]
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[Somehow, he doesn’t come. Somehow, when Cardan pulls away to smile up at him, menacing in his languid affection, Liem stops himself short. Even though he can still feel his lover’s breath warm on his skin. Even though Cardan’s touch still slides teasingly over his aching, eager cock. Liem whimpers in frustrated objection, teeth digging into his lip, but somehow he keeps the impatience Cardan has fostered from nudging him over the edge.
But he is still impatient, especially when Cardan calls him delectable. It is a torment, this tender, teasing denial, and although Cardan is the one calling him irresistible, Liem doubts his husband could possibly feel any more feverish for his body than he already is for his touch. He is already so desperate, even his husband’s idle little caresses keep Liem trembling with cruelly indulged need.
And he loves it. He loves being like this for Cardan and no one else. He loves how only Cardan can make him feel this way, more alive and eager and coveted than any fantasy ever could.]
Hah… [His breaths are still restless as he gazes down at Cardan, focusing on him again with an effort.] But you just can’t resist… getting your mouth on me…
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It's just that it is impossible to see Liem so, trembling and tormented, and not feel a little awed to have him. Awed, and desperately horny; Liem is not the only one aching with need. Cardan feels feverish with it, oversensitive and impatient. The arm pinning Liem's hips retreats; instead, his hand draws up his husband's thigh, greedy to feel him, to touch him. ]
I love putting my mouth on you.
[ He's too aware of it when he says things like this, now. I love the way you look in this tie. I love the hideous wallpaper you put in the sitting room. I love the touch of those hands, and the taste of that mouth, and the way your breath slides out of you when I take you in my arms. Dozens of little loves sprinkled through their nights -- pieces of a bigger, more frightening thing, one that he cannot voice at all.
And Liem is right: he cannot resist. It's why he leans in, hot breath ghosting over Liem's cock -- and then pauses. The look he flicks up at Liem's face is evaluating. ]
Are you going to come? Be honest.
[ His smile suggests there's a right answer and a wrong answer, but also that he's inclined to be generous even if Liem says yes. Probably. ]
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He is so hopelessly at Cardan’s mercy. At this point, the question is not whether his husband has noticed, because that ship has surely long sailed, but how ruthlessly he intends to take advantage now that he has.]
Ah…
[Is he going to come? Liem cannot help but view the question as a challenge, one he might pit himself against in order to earn more of his lover’s pleasure. Given his insatiable desire for Cardan’s approval, he doesn’t even consciously intend the steadying breath he takes as he considers the question, or the stubbornness that settles into his expression as he stares back at him.]
No, [he insists, in spite of the lust still pulsing through him. It’s not a lie, though calling it truth might be a little optimistic; it is a promise, more than anything.
But even a mundane promise must carry its own kind of magic, he thinks; what else would you call the power of words that can bring about a new reality when spoken? Not because of any outside force, but through simple dedication to seeing it through, turning solid and real where nothing existed before. That must be worth something.]
I won’t.
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He goes slow. He knows what Liem looks like when he's caught up in pleasure; despite his promise, Cardan knows that he's still close. If he redoubled his efforts, he is certain he could prove Liem a liar -- but for once, that's not what he wants. He intends for it to be just a little difficult, wants to see Liem squirm and whine and bury his hands in Cardan's hair. And he wants to taste him, still. He always, always does. When he drags his tongue up the shaft, when he paints heated, slow kisses over the head -- it's because he's missed this. It's because he spent a month not having him, and even though he wants to fuck Liem desperately, it's difficult to pull himself away. Liem's pleasure is addictive; the feeling that he's at Cardan's mercy is addictive. He wants both, so terribly much--
And they can both take this, surely, for just a little while longer. ]
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