Not like this, [ replies Cardan, distractedly. At the moment, he could not care less about Elfhame's storms: he is too caught up in staring at his husband, and his husband's laugh, and the luminous, devastating beauty of his joy. It squeezes Cardan's heart with painful urgency. He cannot -- and doesn't want to -- help reaching for Liem, so that he may drag greedy fingertips over the fabric of his shirt where it clings to his skin. How helpful of Liem, to have already placed himself just where Cardan wants him. This way, when he steps into his husband, when he takes his face in his hands and leans down to kiss the rain from his lips, he can trap him against the tree with the heat of his body just as well.
He doesn't mean to linger. He's reasonably sure that Liem meant to actually show him the storm, rather than merely making an excuse to fuck in the woods. But he has not felt like Liem was properly his for weeks, and it seems just as well that he take the opportunity to reclaim him, to pour just a little of his caged longing into his touch.
Of course, he is thorough about it. When he breaks away, he is a little breathless; the slow, lazy grin that curls his mouth is at odds with his racing pulse. ]
How I've missed your smiles, husband.
[ He doesn't particularly wish to pull away, but they risk getting stuck here if he does not, and so-- and so he may only lean in one more time, to brush a storm-wet kiss against the tip of Liem's nose, indulgently affectionate. ]
[Every time Cardan kisses him like this, snaring him with the press of his body and the tender touch of his hands so Liem cannot possibly devote his thoughts to anything else, Liem finds himself seduced all over again. He cannot help it. Even the storm drenching them, which had so bewitched his senses just moments ago, fades in the face of his husband’s warm kisses and the slow, irresistible grin that lights his face afterwards. Liem feels affection flutter against the cage of his ribs, besotted and stupid, and can’t make himself regret it at all.
Foolishly, Liem can’t help but wonder if he really might have made Cardan forget about the thing that had so disgusted him half a year and more ago. Amidst all the stolen kisses and magical excursions, when they set all else aside to indulge only in each other, perhaps his husband convinced himself that Liem is not like Dain after all. That he is not like his father.
He deliberately doesn’t think about what will happen when that bubble eventually bursts, leaving the truth naked in front of them.
He would much rather keep Cardan right where he is, held so close that not even the rain dripping steadily through the canopy above could sneak between them. But Liem has missed his smiles too, and he would like to see more of them before he and his spouse distract themselves further.]
Because you are a jealous man, [he says, splaying his fingers over the delightfully translucent fabric covering Cardan’s chest,] you should be pleased that I brought you to the privacy of the woods to glimpse them.
[But though the driving rain obscures the view to the house, they still don’t have the kind of privacy Liem would most prefer. And the woods are calling.]
Shall we see what my hill is like, bared to this storm?
Yes, [ he'll agree, nearly before Liem finishes. Yes to his jealousy, yes to seeing Liem's hill, yes to the fact that he is tremendously, terribly pleased with the both of them. Only-- it is difficult to pull away, difficult to slide his hands from his husband's handsome face, made more difficult by the touch on his chest and the perfect way Liem fits against him. These things make heat curl in his belly, eager, teasing.
He wrenches himself away regardless, though one hand only flits to Liem's shoulder. ]
But first: lend me your support, will you?
[ Not that he needs it, not really. It is only enjoyable to feel his husband's solid strength beneath his grip as he shifts his weight onto one leg... so that he can lift up his other and start pulling off the boot. It has become abundantly obvious that the soft leather will not stand up to the sheer amount of rain, and he would rather take his chances barefoot than with soggy boots squishing on his every step.
Because he likes this pair, he will set them down to nestle in the least wet spot between a tree's roots. Then, pulling away from Liem, Cardan rolls up his dripping trousers to just below the knee. The overall effect will be less prince and more village youth on a summer excursion, but that's just fine -- forests pay very little deference to princes, anyway.
Once he is finished preparing, he will glance back at Liem, satisfied with himself. ]
[Liem cannot help but be charmed by the carefree picture Cardan paints, in shirtsleeves and bare feet, drenched and looking like an unassuming village lad set on wandering the woods and creeks in his free hours. Except, of course, that Cardan looks far too enchanting to pass as a young man from any mortal village. Regardless, Liem remains steady for him while he pries off his dripping boots, pleased to accommodate his husband’s decision to bare even more of his lithe body to Liem’s appreciative gaze.
Seeking his husband’s hand, Liem pulls him deeper beneath the shelter of the trees so they might lose themselves in the uncomplicated pleasures of the rain-soaked wood. The patter of fat raindrops lays a lulling backdrop to their excursion, and as they draw deeper into the forest, the black canopy above flickers fitfully, only slightly preceding the resonant crack of thunder.]
I have been hoping for this all year, [Liem says, sneaking a glance at Cardan as they make their way through the landscape of dark, dripping trees. This should come as no surprise; it was months ago when Liem told his husband of his fondness for summer storms.] But… this is the first time in a long while since I’ve enjoyed a storm with someone else.
[His lips twitch into a satisfied smile, hinting at a grin.]
How fortunate for me, that I married someone who is amenable to being dragged out into terrible weather.
[ He is quickly realizing that wandering the woods with Liem like this is... distracting. It's distracting to watch raindrops make their way down the elegant column of his husband's uncommonly bared throat, disappearing below his collar -- to see the water darken his eyelashes and make his clothes cling to his body. Cardan swallows, and tries not to stare as obviously as he'd like to.
This diverts him enough that the crack of thunder above them is a surprise, making him jump a little. He looks up at the glimpses of dark sky through the tree canopy, as if this would allow him to see where the lightning hit. ]
Like calls to like.
[ He intends for it to sound insouciant, but it comes out a little wistful instead. ]
When I was born, it was a full week before my star chart was read to my father. An unusual thing.
[ The sideways glance he throws at Liem is a little sly. ]
I'd like to think it was because I was born in a tempest like this one: so fierce the stars took time to find their way back home, after.
[ That's almost certainly not what actually happened, but the nice thing about not knowing is that he doesn't have to care about the truth. ]
[When the thunder makes Cardan jump, Liem glances over at him with a fond smile playing at his lips. Tonight is not a comfortable night to be out and exposed to the elements; he is glad to have someone to share the excursion with, to squish through the damp and get startled and dripped on. In Cardan’s good company, these things don’t seem objectionable at all.
And besides which, the forest seems an entirely different place during a rainstorm. Liem can’t resist the curious way his husband glances about them as they delve deeper—that is, when those intent black eyes are not fixed on Liem instead. It makes him wish to pull Cardan underneath another convenient tree to steal more of his indulgent kisses, and only his stubborn desire to show Cardan more of his rain-drenched forest keeps him focused on the endeavour at hand.]
How apt that would be, [he agrees, lifting their clasped hands so he can brush a kiss over Cardan’s damp knuckles.]
It seems unfitting that the night of our first meeting was not similarly fraught. Though I would not wish to imagine attempting to fly through such a storm.
[The wedding party was fortunate to enjoy such calm weather during the short nights of their stay. Even so, Liem thinks the arrival of his tempestuous spouse rather deserved more spectacle, considering how thoroughly Cardan has upended what was previously a fairly predictable life.]
[ It's no longer strange to him, the way yearning flits to the surface when Liem's mouth touches his skin; he breathes out, softly, fighting the urge to splay his fingers over the sharp line of his husband's jaw. But he can't, he can't -- or rather, he won't, because his husband seems intent on sharing the storm with him, and Cardan would not deny him.
His soft laugh comes a couple of seconds late. ]
I was not at my best that particular night. I cannot imagine dripping puddles upon your floors would have improved our introductions.
[ Maybe they would have said more than two words to each other that first night, maybe even fought, or fucked, and who knows how their marriage would have ended up, then. It's difficult to know how many lucky coincidences his current fortune rests upon.
Another laugh floats up on his breath when he looks up at the canopy of trembling leaves. Everything is vivid, chaotic, noisy with movement -- he can hear the rush of water all around them, can smell it as it soaks into the green moss beneath his bare toes. It fills him with a curious, giddy agitation. ]
I dearly wanted to be the storm. It's just that it conflicted with my desire to also be insensate.
[ Given his lack of memories from that strange first party, he'd obviously achieved the latter. ]
[Liem still well recalls the night Cardan arrived with the rest of his retinue: his elder sister and a collection of folk she had presumably invited, given Cardan’s evident lack of association with any of them. He recalls the polite introductions and the cheerful abandon that had gripped the partygoers for the rest of the night. Cardan had certainly not been alone in achieving oblivion by the time dawn arrived to cast its lurid glare over the revels still taking over the estate grounds.
Though he cannot help but think, given what he has learned about his husband in the intervening months, that Cardan’s wish to drink himself senseless on that particular night had little in common with the gaiety of anyone else there.]
This year, when that night arrives, you will be too occupied to wish for such things. [He says this matter of factly, but his eyes still glitter with good humour.] I shall ensure it.
[Half a year ago, he would not have dared to make such pronouncements. Regardless of his wishes, he would have hesitated to imagine that the two of them would still be wed a full year after their marriage. But now, with summer beginning its reign and the date in question drawing steadily closer, the prospect makes his chest clutch tight with a peculiar excitement. For once, he dares to plan for a future in which, for a while at least, he is permitted to be happy.
Distracted by these thoughts, he finds himself startled when, coming upon what is normally a dry track weaving through the trees, he is confronted by the vigorous trickling of a temporary creek birthed by the evening’s ongoing downpour. Liem staggers to a halt as though running up against a wall, surveying the modest little stream with wary consideration. That it is easily narrow enough to step across matters little; he feels its flow in his bones, denying him passage as surely as a canyon cleaving the earth.]
I haven’t tried to come this way in such hard rain before, [he admits. They can surely wander another part of the wood if they must, but…] Perhaps we can find a way around.
[ He pauses with surprise -- and then grins, delighted by his husband's bold promise. It seems unimaginably strange, that he should blink and find himself wed for nearly a year. If he could tell the terrified, angry prince from three seasons ago about his life now, he would have surely branded himself a liar.
He is no less terrified now; it's just that he also cannot remember being happier, not even with all the difficulty ahead of them still. ]
I will hold you to that, husband.
[ Though it is unlikely Liem would have to work very hard to achieve his goal, given how much he preoccupies Cardan just by existing near him. He cannot think of the last time they were in one room together that Liem hadn't drawn his attention, as surely as a compass needle ever points north.
Though it makes him a little nervous, to think of what sort of impeccable night Liem might have planned; more and more, he feels like he is risking being outdone by his husband, who is both thoughtful and meticulous to a fault. But that is a problem for another night -- when they aren't exploring the woods, when he's not busy covertly ogling his husband while Liem pretends not to notice.
He does not immediately realize why they stop; instinctively, his hands come up to clasp over Liem's shoulders -- not that he needs much steadying, in the end. Realization dawns on Cardan once he looks down, though it is nonetheless mired in confusion. ]
Go around? [ He can't help it; his eyebrows fly up, disbelieving. ] Liem, it is tiny.
[ ...well, he supposes he might also be cautious if the tiny brook was also deadly... maybe. Possibly. But probably not.
This is one of the many reasons why Liem is likely to far outlive him. ]
[The disbelieving look on his husband’s face reminds Liem, belatedly, that Cardan does not share his aversion to running water. Indeed, he assumes his husband would have strode across this little brook without pause were he in the lead, leaving Liem trapped on the other side. As it is, he feels embarrassment colour his skin as Cardan points out the obvious: that they have been halted by a stream so paltry as to be almost beneath noticing.
But for the fact that Liem could not fail to heed the barrier it poses, even if he tried.]
Nonetheless, [he insists steadily, ignoring the colour in his cheeks,] I cannot cross it. I may not. Even were I to sprout wings and brave the storm above, it would still deny my passage.
[Even approaching the brook’s edge so closely makes him uneasy, despite its small size. He can sense it like the approach of dawn, or the forbiddance of a dwelling’s threshold: anathema to his very being. The water rejects and denies him, and he is forced to comply with its unthinking judgment.]
[ Part of Cardan wishes -- uncharacteristically -- that he could spare his husband more questioning. No one particularly loves talking about their weaknesses, magical or otherwise, and surely especially not his husband, who so prides himself on his ability to overcome.
A meaner, hornier part of him is terrifically taken with the delicate lilac flush spreading over Liem's cheeks, rare and lovely as it always is on him.
Not that it matters: he cannot help his very real bewilderment. ]
I do not understand. You crossed an entire sea with me.
[ Is it the fact the water moves quickly? Is it that it's closer? Surely that cannot be it. ]
[Liem never exactly meant to hide this from Cardan. Just as he hadn’t deliberately hid his inability to swim in the sea, or his resilience to being stabbed, he simply hadn’t felt the need to bring up such unpleasant topics prior to now.
But he must admit, at least to himself, that he does not relish discussing this reality even now that it proves pertinent.]
No. The steeds you summoned crossed the sea; I just clung on for dear life.
[He cannot help but be wry here; it was a miserable journey. Still, in retrospect he is impressed that he made it at all. His kind were obviously never meant to cross any sea, magical or not.]
I can be borne, but I may not cross. That being the case, unless you wish to carry me, we will have to go around.
[ Cardan's frown recedes; naturally, this type of technicality makes complete sense. Of course being borne across is different from simply moving your own self. And, despite Liem's obvious discomfort, he doesn't bother hiding the delighted little grin that spreads across his face. ]
Oh, you should have led with that.
[ He steps back from the stream, spreading his arms in invitation -- as if expecting Liem to leap into them. ]
Come then. Let me be your faithful mount, husband.
[ The grin curls, veering dangerously close to a leer. ]
It's not like either of us lack practice.
[ Besides, he is forever delighted with the easy way Liem fits against him, with the lithe weight of him in his arms and the way carrying him makes it feel like he's wholly, unambiguously Cardan's. ]
[When Cardan steps back, opens his arms to him, Liem feels his lips curve as his embarrassment fades. Would that his thoughts had been quicker, and had led him more easily to seek his husband’s embrace as a means of conveyance over this unexpected obstacle. After all, he cannot recall a time he has been less than delighted to be scooped up in Cardan’s grasp.
Almost without him noticing at all, the difficulty that little stream poses him dwindles away to insignificance—simply because of Cardan’s presence. Strange, how many things in his life seem to go that way now.]
Husband.
[He aims a mock-stern look at Cardan as he steps close to slide an arm around his shoulders. His steady gaze is assessing.]
I’ve come to suspect that though you followed me out here, you have little interest in the forest or the storm.
Ah, what unkind sentiments, [ Cardan protests, though his tone is markedly unconcerned. After all, right now Liem is correct: he is far more interested in the lean muscle of his back beneath his hand, in the way Liem feels when Cardan bends down to slide an arm under his knees and lift him against his own body. His tail curls in pleased little loops behind him. ]
Am I not permitted to take joy in being your gallant protector, for once? I so rarely get the chance.
[ Funny, how he had never really cared to gallantly protect anyone before Liem came along. He’d always thought it was because Nicasia didn’t need it — but neither does Liem, not really. Maybe that’s why it makes Cardan feel oddly powerful, even though the feat he’s performing is hardly heroic.
It takes but one step to come up to the forest stream, and another to cross over — though he doesn’t put Liem down, not immediately. ]
Besides, it is you who distracted me. [ By virtue of being wet and happy and thus particularly fuckable. Among other things. ] How am I to blame?
[Though the drenching downpour has made Cardan uncommonly cool to the touch, Liem nevertheless nestles happily against him when he is scooped up against his husband’s body. When he was younger, he never expected he might have a lover who could bear him over these tiny yet impassable barriers, rendering these previously unassailable obstacles suddenly toothless. For all that he is free enough to roam these woods in dry weather, or on horseback, he still feels a little less fettered with Cardan by his side—freer to go where he will and do as he likes.
Because he can, Liem buries his smile against Cardan’s throat.]
When did I level blame at you?
[With the stream behind them, Liem glances out into the dripping depths of the wood, wondering when he will be permitted again to stand. Considering previous occasions, and his proximity to his husband’s sensitive neck, he cannot imagine Cardan will have the patience to carry him for long.]
I was only making an observation. Your eyes have scarcely left me since we left the house.
[Though, Liem recognizes, this is hardly a departure from the norm.]
[ Liem is correct to assume that the proximity of his mouth will become a torment rather sooner than later. Already Cardan’s heart skips a beat when Liem tucks that smile against his neck.
When they’d first met, it was largely the danger that drove the allure — first the sharp fangs, and then, after Liem had bitten him the first time, the memory of what drinking blood had looked like on his husband. Cardan still wants this, wishes he could have it every night — but he also wants the thorough, deliberate caress of Liem’s kisses, the way he seems to delight in leaving marks on Cardan’s skin, the near-reverence with which he gravitates to his throat, regardless of whether he’s going to bite.
In the end, what he's come to want is simply Liem's desire.
But despite the way his husband's mouth makes heat dance down his spine and lust coil in his belly, Cardan will carry him a little longer. Somehow, the wood feels all the more magical like this -- with the ferocious sky and the trembling leaves above them, the wet roots and soil beneath his feet, and the most important thing in the world clutched in his arms. It makes him feel more alive, like he's part of the storm itself, windblown and full of ferocious possibility.
His arms tighten around Liem as he moves, sure-footed and silent except for his quick breaths. ]
Your joy is dazzling, husband. That is all.
[ And he sees so little of it, and is the cause of so much of the opposite. How could he be anything but greedy about watching it now?
Admittedly, the way Liem's wet shirt clings to his chest remains a factor also, but makes for a much poorer defense to his husband's charge. ]
[Liem is helplessly aware of the little squeeze he feels in his chest when Cardan tells him how happiness looks on him. His husband is so skilled at slipping past his reservations and rousing his sleeping heart, making it tremble and ache with foolish longing; even last fall, scarcely months after their wedding, Liem had already begun to succumb. He has only grown more infatuated with time, and Cardan’s penchant for expressing unexpectedly tender sentiments has not helped in the least.
One day, he will get his heart broken because of this. It’s simply that just now, while Cardan’s arms and scent are wrapped so contentingly around him, he cannot bring himself to care.]
You are the first and only person to tell me so.
[Because it seems right that Cardan know this, and know that Liem values the sentiment, he cradles his husband’s opposite jaw with his free hand, and leans up to brush a kiss against his rain-damp cheek. When he draws back, his gentle touch on Cardan’s jaw still lingers, but his voice is dry with amusement.]
You are also the only one I would trust to carry me off into the woods in the midst of a rainstorm.
[ Everyone else, he thinks, is perpetually foolish when it comes to his husband. He wonders how many people have had the privilege of seeing Liem's happiness at all. Surely no one who had experienced it could pretend it to be anything but breathtaking.
Anyone with taste, anyway, he appends snidely in Carissa Altieri's direction.
He doesn't expect the second pronouncement; it's all he can do to keep his expression steady, though his pleased flush will surely give him away regardless. It's strange -- he would have thought that proximity would have made it easier to control himself, but more and more of late, he finds that he is unable to hide his emotions from his husband as much as he'd like.
The grin he flashes at Liem is a little savage. ] Careful, husband. You'll inflame my fey appetite for kidnapping Ironsiders.
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He doesn't mean to linger. He's reasonably sure that Liem meant to actually show him the storm, rather than merely making an excuse to fuck in the woods. But he has not felt like Liem was properly his for weeks, and it seems just as well that he take the opportunity to reclaim him, to pour just a little of his caged longing into his touch.
Of course, he is thorough about it. When he breaks away, he is a little breathless; the slow, lazy grin that curls his mouth is at odds with his racing pulse. ]
How I've missed your smiles, husband.
[ He doesn't particularly wish to pull away, but they risk getting stuck here if he does not, and so-- and so he may only lean in one more time, to brush a storm-wet kiss against the tip of Liem's nose, indulgently affectionate. ]
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Foolishly, Liem can’t help but wonder if he really might have made Cardan forget about the thing that had so disgusted him half a year and more ago. Amidst all the stolen kisses and magical excursions, when they set all else aside to indulge only in each other, perhaps his husband convinced himself that Liem is not like Dain after all. That he is not like his father.
He deliberately doesn’t think about what will happen when that bubble eventually bursts, leaving the truth naked in front of them.
He would much rather keep Cardan right where he is, held so close that not even the rain dripping steadily through the canopy above could sneak between them. But Liem has missed his smiles too, and he would like to see more of them before he and his spouse distract themselves further.]
Because you are a jealous man, [he says, splaying his fingers over the delightfully translucent fabric covering Cardan’s chest,] you should be pleased that I brought you to the privacy of the woods to glimpse them.
[But though the driving rain obscures the view to the house, they still don’t have the kind of privacy Liem would most prefer. And the woods are calling.]
Shall we see what my hill is like, bared to this storm?
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He wrenches himself away regardless, though one hand only flits to Liem's shoulder. ]
But first: lend me your support, will you?
[ Not that he needs it, not really. It is only enjoyable to feel his husband's solid strength beneath his grip as he shifts his weight onto one leg... so that he can lift up his other and start pulling off the boot. It has become abundantly obvious that the soft leather will not stand up to the sheer amount of rain, and he would rather take his chances barefoot than with soggy boots squishing on his every step.
Because he likes this pair, he will set them down to nestle in the least wet spot between a tree's roots. Then, pulling away from Liem, Cardan rolls up his dripping trousers to just below the knee. The overall effect will be less prince and more village youth on a summer excursion, but that's just fine -- forests pay very little deference to princes, anyway.
Once he is finished preparing, he will glance back at Liem, satisfied with himself. ]
Now we can go.
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Seeking his husband’s hand, Liem pulls him deeper beneath the shelter of the trees so they might lose themselves in the uncomplicated pleasures of the rain-soaked wood. The patter of fat raindrops lays a lulling backdrop to their excursion, and as they draw deeper into the forest, the black canopy above flickers fitfully, only slightly preceding the resonant crack of thunder.]
I have been hoping for this all year, [Liem says, sneaking a glance at Cardan as they make their way through the landscape of dark, dripping trees. This should come as no surprise; it was months ago when Liem told his husband of his fondness for summer storms.] But… this is the first time in a long while since I’ve enjoyed a storm with someone else.
[His lips twitch into a satisfied smile, hinting at a grin.]
How fortunate for me, that I married someone who is amenable to being dragged out into terrible weather.
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This diverts him enough that the crack of thunder above them is a surprise, making him jump a little. He looks up at the glimpses of dark sky through the tree canopy, as if this would allow him to see where the lightning hit. ]
Like calls to like.
[ He intends for it to sound insouciant, but it comes out a little wistful instead. ]
When I was born, it was a full week before my star chart was read to my father. An unusual thing.
[ The sideways glance he throws at Liem is a little sly. ]
I'd like to think it was because I was born in a tempest like this one: so fierce the stars took time to find their way back home, after.
[ That's almost certainly not what actually happened, but the nice thing about not knowing is that he doesn't have to care about the truth. ]
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And besides which, the forest seems an entirely different place during a rainstorm. Liem can’t resist the curious way his husband glances about them as they delve deeper—that is, when those intent black eyes are not fixed on Liem instead. It makes him wish to pull Cardan underneath another convenient tree to steal more of his indulgent kisses, and only his stubborn desire to show Cardan more of his rain-drenched forest keeps him focused on the endeavour at hand.]
How apt that would be, [he agrees, lifting their clasped hands so he can brush a kiss over Cardan’s damp knuckles.]
It seems unfitting that the night of our first meeting was not similarly fraught. Though I would not wish to imagine attempting to fly through such a storm.
[The wedding party was fortunate to enjoy such calm weather during the short nights of their stay. Even so, Liem thinks the arrival of his tempestuous spouse rather deserved more spectacle, considering how thoroughly Cardan has upended what was previously a fairly predictable life.]
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His soft laugh comes a couple of seconds late. ]
I was not at my best that particular night. I cannot imagine dripping puddles upon your floors would have improved our introductions.
[ Maybe they would have said more than two words to each other that first night, maybe even fought, or fucked, and who knows how their marriage would have ended up, then. It's difficult to know how many lucky coincidences his current fortune rests upon.
Another laugh floats up on his breath when he looks up at the canopy of trembling leaves. Everything is vivid, chaotic, noisy with movement -- he can hear the rush of water all around them, can smell it as it soaks into the green moss beneath his bare toes. It fills him with a curious, giddy agitation. ]
I dearly wanted to be the storm. It's just that it conflicted with my desire to also be insensate.
[ Given his lack of memories from that strange first party, he'd obviously achieved the latter. ]
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Though he cannot help but think, given what he has learned about his husband in the intervening months, that Cardan’s wish to drink himself senseless on that particular night had little in common with the gaiety of anyone else there.]
This year, when that night arrives, you will be too occupied to wish for such things. [He says this matter of factly, but his eyes still glitter with good humour.] I shall ensure it.
[Half a year ago, he would not have dared to make such pronouncements. Regardless of his wishes, he would have hesitated to imagine that the two of them would still be wed a full year after their marriage. But now, with summer beginning its reign and the date in question drawing steadily closer, the prospect makes his chest clutch tight with a peculiar excitement. For once, he dares to plan for a future in which, for a while at least, he is permitted to be happy.
Distracted by these thoughts, he finds himself startled when, coming upon what is normally a dry track weaving through the trees, he is confronted by the vigorous trickling of a temporary creek birthed by the evening’s ongoing downpour. Liem staggers to a halt as though running up against a wall, surveying the modest little stream with wary consideration. That it is easily narrow enough to step across matters little; he feels its flow in his bones, denying him passage as surely as a canyon cleaving the earth.]
I haven’t tried to come this way in such hard rain before, [he admits. They can surely wander another part of the wood if they must, but…] Perhaps we can find a way around.
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He is no less terrified now; it's just that he also cannot remember being happier, not even with all the difficulty ahead of them still. ]
I will hold you to that, husband.
[ Though it is unlikely Liem would have to work very hard to achieve his goal, given how much he preoccupies Cardan just by existing near him. He cannot think of the last time they were in one room together that Liem hadn't drawn his attention, as surely as a compass needle ever points north.
Though it makes him a little nervous, to think of what sort of impeccable night Liem might have planned; more and more, he feels like he is risking being outdone by his husband, who is both thoughtful and meticulous to a fault. But that is a problem for another night -- when they aren't exploring the woods, when he's not busy covertly ogling his husband while Liem pretends not to notice.
He does not immediately realize why they stop; instinctively, his hands come up to clasp over Liem's shoulders -- not that he needs much steadying, in the end. Realization dawns on Cardan once he looks down, though it is nonetheless mired in confusion. ]
Go around? [ He can't help it; his eyebrows fly up, disbelieving. ] Liem, it is tiny.
[ ...well, he supposes he might also be cautious if the tiny brook was also deadly... maybe. Possibly. But probably not.
This is one of the many reasons why Liem is likely to far outlive him. ]
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But for the fact that Liem could not fail to heed the barrier it poses, even if he tried.]
Nonetheless, [he insists steadily, ignoring the colour in his cheeks,] I cannot cross it. I may not. Even were I to sprout wings and brave the storm above, it would still deny my passage.
[Even approaching the brook’s edge so closely makes him uneasy, despite its small size. He can sense it like the approach of dawn, or the forbiddance of a dwelling’s threshold: anathema to his very being. The water rejects and denies him, and he is forced to comply with its unthinking judgment.]
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A meaner, hornier part of him is terrifically taken with the delicate lilac flush spreading over Liem's cheeks, rare and lovely as it always is on him.
Not that it matters: he cannot help his very real bewilderment. ]
I do not understand. You crossed an entire sea with me.
[ Is it the fact the water moves quickly? Is it that it's closer? Surely that cannot be it. ]
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But he must admit, at least to himself, that he does not relish discussing this reality even now that it proves pertinent.]
No. The steeds you summoned crossed the sea; I just clung on for dear life.
[He cannot help but be wry here; it was a miserable journey. Still, in retrospect he is impressed that he made it at all. His kind were obviously never meant to cross any sea, magical or not.]
I can be borne, but I may not cross. That being the case, unless you wish to carry me, we will have to go around.
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Oh, you should have led with that.
[ He steps back from the stream, spreading his arms in invitation -- as if expecting Liem to leap into them. ]
Come then. Let me be your faithful mount, husband.
[ The grin curls, veering dangerously close to a leer. ]
It's not like either of us lack practice.
[ Besides, he is forever delighted with the easy way Liem fits against him, with the lithe weight of him in his arms and the way carrying him makes it feel like he's wholly, unambiguously Cardan's. ]
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Almost without him noticing at all, the difficulty that little stream poses him dwindles away to insignificance—simply because of Cardan’s presence. Strange, how many things in his life seem to go that way now.]
Husband.
[He aims a mock-stern look at Cardan as he steps close to slide an arm around his shoulders. His steady gaze is assessing.]
I’ve come to suspect that though you followed me out here, you have little interest in the forest or the storm.
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Am I not permitted to take joy in being your gallant protector, for once? I so rarely get the chance.
[ Funny, how he had never really cared to gallantly protect anyone before Liem came along. He’d always thought it was because Nicasia didn’t need it — but neither does Liem, not really. Maybe that’s why it makes Cardan feel oddly powerful, even though the feat he’s performing is hardly heroic.
It takes but one step to come up to the forest stream, and another to cross over — though he doesn’t put Liem down, not immediately. ]
Besides, it is you who distracted me. [ By virtue of being wet and happy and thus particularly fuckable. Among other things. ] How am I to blame?
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Because he can, Liem buries his smile against Cardan’s throat.]
When did I level blame at you?
[With the stream behind them, Liem glances out into the dripping depths of the wood, wondering when he will be permitted again to stand. Considering previous occasions, and his proximity to his husband’s sensitive neck, he cannot imagine Cardan will have the patience to carry him for long.]
I was only making an observation. Your eyes have scarcely left me since we left the house.
[Though, Liem recognizes, this is hardly a departure from the norm.]
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[ Liem is correct to assume that the proximity of his mouth will become a torment rather sooner than later. Already Cardan’s heart skips a beat when Liem tucks that smile against his neck.
When they’d first met, it was largely the danger that drove the allure — first the sharp fangs, and then, after Liem had bitten him the first time, the memory of what drinking blood had looked like on his husband. Cardan still wants this, wishes he could have it every night — but he also wants the thorough, deliberate caress of Liem’s kisses, the way he seems to delight in leaving marks on Cardan’s skin, the near-reverence with which he gravitates to his throat, regardless of whether he’s going to bite.
In the end, what he's come to want is simply Liem's desire.
But despite the way his husband's mouth makes heat dance down his spine and lust coil in his belly, Cardan will carry him a little longer. Somehow, the wood feels all the more magical like this -- with the ferocious sky and the trembling leaves above them, the wet roots and soil beneath his feet, and the most important thing in the world clutched in his arms. It makes him feel more alive, like he's part of the storm itself, windblown and full of ferocious possibility.
His arms tighten around Liem as he moves, sure-footed and silent except for his quick breaths. ]
Your joy is dazzling, husband. That is all.
[ And he sees so little of it, and is the cause of so much of the opposite. How could he be anything but greedy about watching it now?
Admittedly, the way Liem's wet shirt clings to his chest remains a factor also, but makes for a much poorer defense to his husband's charge. ]
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One day, he will get his heart broken because of this. It’s simply that just now, while Cardan’s arms and scent are wrapped so contentingly around him, he cannot bring himself to care.]
You are the first and only person to tell me so.
[Because it seems right that Cardan know this, and know that Liem values the sentiment, he cradles his husband’s opposite jaw with his free hand, and leans up to brush a kiss against his rain-damp cheek. When he draws back, his gentle touch on Cardan’s jaw still lingers, but his voice is dry with amusement.]
You are also the only one I would trust to carry me off into the woods in the midst of a rainstorm.
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Anyone with taste, anyway, he appends snidely in Carissa Altieri's direction.
He doesn't expect the second pronouncement; it's all he can do to keep his expression steady, though his pleased flush will surely give him away regardless. It's strange -- he would have thought that proximity would have made it easier to control himself, but more and more of late, he finds that he is unable to hide his emotions from his husband as much as he'd like.
The grin he flashes at Liem is a little savage. ] Careful, husband. You'll inflame my fey appetite for kidnapping Ironsiders.
[ But he doesn't put Liem down, still. ]