[ 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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]