[ He suppresses the urge to grimace at the thought of camping outside, even covered from the rain -- especially since he's still soaked through, and forced to rely on his waning body heat alone. Any other time he would complain, but the risk of dawn is too earnest even for him to be bitchy about it. Besides, it's not like it's the first time he'd have slept out in the damp and cold; spoiled princeling that he may be, he's not faced with any actual danger.
Unlike Liem.
So he only sighs and brings Liem's hand up to his mouth to press his lips to his husband's chilled knuckles. He can will himself to stop thinking of the long, cold day ahead, surely, and instead cast his thoughts toward finding somewhere to hide. ]
You know your woods better than I. Where to, husband?
[ He supposes some sort of cave would be their best bet, unappealing as the thought remains. Perhaps a cave with a hot spring attached to it, though he doesn't expect the latter to be a common feature. ]
[If the hour isn’t too much later than Liem supposes, and if they are swift in navigating the forest despite the rain and overcast, then they should still be able to reach a reasonable shelter comfortably before dawn begins to lighten the clouds above. There is just the matter of those variables lending uncertainty to the matter. Though having a plan to follow does reassure him some, Liem still sets a brisk pace as he turns from the steam and leads Cardan off through the woods. He won’t be at ease until they’re both safely under cover.]
There’s an overday shelter some distance from here, upslope and then north along the ridge. We’ll seek it first.
[At some point, this outing transitioned from fun date to a somewhat stressful hustle—and still, he has not yet let go of his husband’s hand. Even if they must trek through the forest’s sodden foliage in search of shelter, he would rather retain the comfort of Cardan’s hand clasped with his, regardless of any inconvenience it might pose.
He holds it fast as they climb the forest’s gentle slope and follow the line of its summit. After just long enough that he begins to suspect he might have led them in the wrong direction altogether, Liem finally spies the familiar white-barked trees standing like sentinels atop the ridge up ahead. Sighting them, he squeezes Cardan’s hand and hastens closer.]
Here—we’ve found it.
[With relief, Liem gestures with his free hand to a hump at the very top of the ridge that is clear of trees. What looks at first to be simply a grassy hill being drenched by the falling rain is actually a modest cabin—identified only by the stump-like chimney poking up from one side, and by the recessed entrance dug into one of the hill’s faces, once they come far enough around to see it. A steep overhang shelters only a single door and window, and a neat stack of firewood. All the rest of the shelter’s features are buried deeper in the hill.]
[ Cardan swipes soggy hair out of his eyes, squinting at the distance to spot the thing Liem has pointed out to him. Even so, it takes him a minute -- though as soon as he does see it, his countenance brightens considerably. By the time they've come close enough for him to see the firewood, he's perked up to downright cheerful. And why shouldn't he be? He has gone from worrying about sunlight burning his husband to a crisp to looking at the prospect of a day in a cozy hillside dwelling, with a fire to warm him and his favourite person in this world for company. ]
Dry already well exceeds my expectations.
[ His only remaining complaint is about getting there faster. Now that the building is in sight, he is acutely aware of just how wet he is, how uncomfortably his clothes cling to his body, the way endless cold droplets make their way down his spine and drip from his tail -- not to mention the fact that his toes have all but turned to ice.
By the time they cross the threshold, he will be in no mood for formalities. The very moment he is out of the rain, Cardan will pull his shirt over his head and off, letting it slap onto the ground in an unceremonious, soggy pile. His trousers follow suit in short order. ]
[Cardan has the right idea. As soon as they have stepped past the cabin’s threshold, Liem murmuring ‘Come in, come in,’ purely out of habit, Liem’s first act once the door is closed behind them is to pry the sodden leather shoes from his feet and set about peeling off the rest of his dripping layers. Even immune as he is to the chill, he is well tired of enduring the wet cling of his attire after spending so long in it.
Inside, the single window only partially alleviates the cave-like gloom of the cramped entryway, bare except for racks on one side for shoes and outerwear—for the moment, sadly ignored. A single, open doorway leads into a pastoral little sitting room, allowing shadowy glimpses of a stocked stone hearth and a closed door presumably leading to the bedroom.]
Let us see if we can continue to exceed them, [Liem says optimistically, abandoning the wet pile of his clothing for the moment in favour of delving into the sitting room to investigate the hearth. He crouches naked in front of it, dripping onto wood and stone flooring, looking about for the box of matches that must surely be somewhere at hand. Finding the matches is simple enough; hopefully lighting the fire will be similarly straightforward.]
I’ve never needed to stay here before. The only times I stayed out in the woods prior, I ended up denning with the wolves instead.
[ Cardan laughs, leaving a trail of wet footprints as he pads into the sitting room. ]
Naturally.
[ Despite Liem's usual fussiness and love of order, it only makes sense that his husband would choose the wolves over a tidy little house. The woods seem to transform his husband in this way -- make him more wild, more spontaneous, unshackled by his usual deference to propriety. ]
Should I be insulted not to be invited to the same?
[ He's teasing, of course. While he would have made do with the wolves, he's hardly sorry to stay in this nice little cottage instead. The earthy, slightly stale air reminds him of his father's palace -- or, rather, of his mother's rooms at his father's palace, which were close enough to the surface to glimpse the sun, and scent the forest air.
He leaves Liem to deal with the fireplace, opening the door to the cave-like darkness of the bedroom. This deep into the cottage, he has to strain a little to see much. Still, after a few moments of nosy rummaging, he will emerge victorious, having evidently found a linen closet -- as he's no longer dripping, with a towel wrapped around his waist. He's carrying further spoils, among them a blanket, which he drops onto a sofa before coming up behind Liem to attack him with the second towel.
The vigorous manner in which he rubs at Liem's hair is as much an effort at getting his own blood flowing as it is at drying his long-suffering spouse. ]
[Liem smiles as his husband moves past him, further into the cabin.]
Hardly. Wolves are not known to value privacy.
[In the past, when he holed up with the wolves for the day, it was because he preferred their hot, furry bodies to the prospect of an empty, unfamiliar bed. On this occasion, with his husband at hand for company, the bed has become far more appealing.
His investigations of the hearth reveal that most of the work of preparing a fire has already been done for him. When he finds the box of matches set neatly atop a container of old, torn-up news sheets, it is simple enough to set some of the kindling amidst the finely-split wood atop the hearth’s logs and then set the construction alight. By the time Cardan returns with towels, Liem is feeding long splints of wood into the tiny blaze in an effort to get it going properly.
The assault by towel catches him by surprise. Distracted from his purpose, he pauses to let his husband rub him down like a soggy pet, straightening a little from his crouch. No one has ever dried his hair this way before, but he is surprised to find that the vigorous attention is actually quite agreeable. Perhaps any attention from Cardan would be.]
Though if you are chilled, husband, a nap with the wolves could remedy that most efficaciously.
[ He grins, leaving Liem's hair as chaotic as his own when he drops the towel to his husband's shoulders -- and crouches down himself, so that he can slide his arms around Liem for a moment. Said arms may be chilled, but the chest that presses against Liem's back is yet warm, and so is Cardan's mouth when it brushes over the back of his neck.
...it's a little pathetic, probably, how quickly desire sinks its claws into him all over again. He's still cold -- and so is Liem -- still more damp and exposed to the elements than he'd prefer, but all those things pale next to Liem's familiar shape in his arms. Cardan likes feeling the muscle in his shoulders move as he works on the fire, likes feeling his lithe shape against his own, likes his familiar smell. It's comforting, to be here with him, when lately he's become so aware of the ways in which Liem does not -- cannot -- belong to him entirely. ]
I am the chilled one?
[ Asks the man with goosebumps on his arms, who is currently suppressing a shiver. He exhales, burying his cold nose against Liem's no-less-cold neck, and stretches one arm out to waggle long fingers at the fire, as if taunting it to grow faster.
It doesn't matter, anyway. Sooner or later, he'll be warmer, and he'd rather spend the interim close to Liem than otherwise. ]
[The way Cardan wraps around him upon finishing with his hair reminds Liem of their return home after that very first snowfall, all those months ago—though to his own favour, Liem cannot suffer his husband’s cold hands no matter how rain-chilled they might become. Even when those long arms embrace him, he only notices the perfect way they fit around him, the brush of lips against sensitive skin, and the stubborn warmth of Cardan’s breath against his neck. His free hand sneaks beneath the drape of his towel to find Cardan’s fingers, claiming his husband’s hand for his own while he has him close.
Despite his efforts at tending the fire, his hands have not yet warmed appreciably.]
In order to be chilled, [he says reasonably,] would I not first have needed to be warm?
[Placing one last splint on the flames, he settles back against his husband and simply gazes into the little nascent fire. In a few minutes, hopefully, the fire will be cracking merrily away—but it will take longer than that for it to chase away the room’s earthy chill. From the temperature of his husband’s nose, it’s evident Cardan still has some warming up to do.]
Surely you can ill afford to spare your warmth for me at present. And yet… [He reaches for the hand Cardan wiggled at the flames, draws it back around him.] I remain as hungry as ever.
[ He cannot help but think of the first few weeks -- months, really -- of their marriage, when so many of their fights had been about how careful Liem was being with him. He wonders if that version of his husband would have let him stay like this, or if he would insist that Cardan pull away, that he bundle himself up and wait at a safe distance.
Well, perhaps not. He's not entirely sure Liem understands what being cold is like, any more than he understands the need to breathe. If he did, perhaps he would not permit Cardan the strange masochism of pressing in closer despite the chill. It's uncomfortable; he wants to be warm. But how can he resist the pull of Liem's greed for him? He would do many far less enjoyable things to earn his closeness and his pleasure, anyway. ]
What use have I for lonely warmth?
[ An errant shiver does escape him; he ignores it in favour of pressing slow, lazy kisses against his husband's jaw, his ear-- ]
I would much rather have your hunger.
[ They have had so little time to themselves. The hand Liem reclaimed from before the flames splays on his chest, sweeps greedily over cool, smooth skin, trailing over lean muscle. He could touch Liem a thousand times over, and still this would never get old, still excitement would coil in his belly just as it does now. If Liem calls himself hungry, then Cardan must be starving. ]
[Liem does not miss the shiver that takes Cardan as he stays wrapped around him, forfeiting his body heat to the cause of touching his lover. With any other person, he would suspect he was being indulged—but even if he were not obliged to believe Cardan when he says he prefers Liem’s desire, by now he has already learned that lesson multiple times over. His husband seems to value nothing quite as much as Liem’s greed for both his time and his person. Presumably because he wishes to be the centre of Liem’s attention at all times.]
Soon, I would hope, you will not need to choose.
[Occupied with the indulgent heat of Cardan’s mouth at his ear, he’s let his eyes fall shut when he murmurs his reply. His own shiver has nothing to do with cold.
After a moment, though, his hunger compels him to twist in Cardan’s grasp, impatient as he always inevitably becomes to get his mouth on his lover also. Not even the delight of Cardan’s hands wandering his skin and his kisses warming the back of his neck can distract him for long.]
Perhaps we would become warmer, [he suggests,] if we were not crouching naked on the floor.
[ He should have expected Liem's impatience to get the best of him -- he has long noted his husband's preference for being face-to-face. It's just that Cardan is currently ill-equipped to field the chilled touch of his hands and lips just anywhere, despite the grand proclamation he's just made.
Still, his husband has a point. He ducks down to press one last kiss to Liem's bare shoulder and cast a longing glance at the nascent flames -- and then goes to rise, pulling Liem up with him as he goes. ]
My husband is such a sensible man.
[ Cardan will kiss him, then, against his own better judgment, because he's not a sensible man at all -- and because Liem is so charming in his (Cardan-induced) dishevelment, because Cardan cannot look at him lately without being gripped by longing.
He does also take the opportunity to slip his hands into Liem's, to better safeguard against any mischief on his husband's part. ]
[Liem feels anything but sensible with the warmth from Cardan’s kisses shivering through him, and happiness making him eager and impatient for his husband’s lips against his own. He can’t make himself care about anything else when they are alone like this. More than anyone else ever has, Cardan excels at making Liem feel foolish and carefree, heedless of his life’s important concerns.
But he doesn’t contradict Cardan, even when his husband kisses him and takes his hands in his own, and every clever thought he’s ever had flees his head beneath the weight of his yearning. Because when Cardan looks at him like this, and speaks to him with that hint of fondness that has become so familiar, it makes him wish to oblige his every word.
Despite his suggestion, he does not hurry to finish kissing his husband. Cardan is no less irresistible while towelled and half nude than he was with rain soaking his clothes and eyelashes, and though Liem’s hands are occupied in Cardan’s, he quite eagerly reacquaints himself with the soft, sultry shape of his husband’s mouth.
When he pulls away, it is with restless breaths that no amount of running around in the rain ever demanded from him.]
You make me so impatient, [he observes.] I’ve dragged you out into the chilling rain, and now I find myself loath to wait through the consequences.
[ Cardan laughs again, and lifts Liem's hands to his face so that he may press his mouth to those chilly palms, one after the other. It is impossible to hide how delighted he is with Liem's proclamation, or with the cadence of his breathing, or the hunger in his kisses. And why would he want to? He wants to see Liem's happiness, and to be seen in turn. ]
What is it you'd told me? "You are ever the engineer of your own problems."
[ He steps back, once, twice, until the backs of his legs hit the couch. Only then does he reach down to let the damp towel crumple at his feet -- and then fold himself onto the seat, pulling the blanket around himself. Even the suggestion of warmth makes his body give another involuntary shiver.
Not that this stops him from pulling Liem into his lap, right on top of said blanket. Cardan wants to kiss him -- wants to run greedy hands down his body, splay them over his hips, wants to fan that impatience until it burns hot as the fire Liem started. So he will. But while he's doing it, between ardent kisses-- ]
I love the way impatience looks on you, [ he will tell Liem, acutely aware that he's treading awfully close to the line of bare honesty, that he cannot help but sound enamoured when he says it. ] It rouses all of my worst impulses.
[Given that he only rarely steals into the woods with his husband to suffer the mercy of the elements, and yet still often ends up kissing Cardan far less than he would like, Liem must admit that Cardan is correct to accuse him of causing his own problems. He is well used to yearning wistfully to be wrapped around Cardan while circumstances prevent him from doing so. It is just that usually he must restrain himself because of obligations he has shouldered, rather than because he dragged his husband out into the pouring rain.
On this occasion, at least, he still has Cardan’s keen attention, if not the freedom to touch him as he’d like. As always, when his husband kisses his hands, he is caught between his own want and tender bewilderment that this should be his, still, so many months after their wedding. Leaving his own towel to crumple to the floor, he follows his husband readily back towards the couch, where he lets himself be pulled into Cardan’s lap with a feeling between eagerness and relief.
The second shiver afflicting his husband does not prevent Liem from taking Cardan’s face in his hands when he leans in to kiss him again.]
How fortunate for me, then, that I love being at the mercy of all your impulses.
[He loves Cardan’s greed and his cruelty and his surprising, irresistible tenderness. He loves feeling Cardan’s hunger for him, for his body and his pleasure and his desperation. Most of all, he loves belonging to him, and letting Cardan take what he likes and treat him how he will. Even when Cardan is being cruel—perhaps especially then—no one else has ever made him feel so completely taken care of.]
[ The world is perfect, just then. Never mind that he is still cold -- as are Liem's hands, as are his kisses. Cardan cannot help his happy sigh nor the greedy transit of his hands down Liem's flanks, over his thighs, tracing the familiar landscape of his body. He arches into his husband's kiss with a hunger that surprises even himself. For all that he is wary of Liem's rare forays into mischief -- having never particularly recovered from having icy hands shoved up his shirt the one time -- there is something inevitably thrilling about giving himself to him, no matter how foolish it might be. ]
It's me who is at your mercy, husband, [ he breathes, between kisses. Desire dances down his spine. He nips at Liem's lower lip, impatient with himself, with the fire slowly growing in the hearth. His hands find his lover's hips, pull him in closer, so that Cardan can field an entirely different kind of shiver as he moves against him. When he speaks next, it is quiet -- like the words are meant more for himself than for Liem. ]
I need you so fervently.
[ That, too, is its own kind of offering, its own kind of bareness -- rarely has he been so forthright with Liem without also being overwhelmed with pleasure. But it has been so long since he's had him to himself; Cardan needs him to know. ]
Edited (i wanted to preview but dw decided i meant to post) 2025-01-05 11:31 (UTC)
[Liem feels desire scorch him when Cardan’s teeth find his lip, when he is pulled closer to feel Cardan move against him. Even through the coy, plush barrier of the blanket, the familiar feel of him as Liem straddles his lap makes possessiveness flare against the inside of his ribs.
He cannot be displeased about their current circumstances, no matter how spartan, when they mean he and Cardan have each other all to themselves.
Liem slides an arm around his shoulders, his hunger for Cardan’s nearness having already eclipsed his caution about inflicting his rain-chilled person on his husband. Surely it is enough that most of Cardan is wrapped in a cozy blanket. Liem is willing to resist the temptation to sneak his hands inside it, but he insists on wrapping himself around his husband, too.
Especially when Cardan murmurs such things between their kisses. The brush of those words against his mouth make need claw its way out of him like a wild thing.]
Cardan…
[He wants so, so badly to give himself to him, to touch him—to let his hands and mouth map his body, again, again. The transit of Cardan’s hands over his skin makes resisting this want only marginally easier; he still sighs a restless breath against his jaw, terribly, frustratingly distracted.]
[ It is good that, between the two of them, it is Liem who is the responsible one -- because he forever distracts Cardan from all else, no matter how important. Already, Cardan barely remembers anything that isn't wanting; already, he's so impatient. If he were the one they relied on to keep track of ledgers and calendars, surely their business would have gone under as soon as they had established it.
When that mouth finds his jaw, part of him wants to tip his face up, to let Liem has his way with his throat -- another, marginally smarter part, knows he would still be too distracted by the temperature.
Soon, he thinks, as if expecting his husband to read his mind. Soon Liem will have those tender, vulnerable parts of him; soon he'll be able to feel the pulse beating hot and impertinent in his throat. Soon, soon, if not soon enough.
He sighs, too, bringing his hands up to cup Liem's face, his thumb tracing over the line of his lip, where Cardan's teeth had just been. ]
It's never soon enough.
[ His little smile is wan, a little harried by need. ]
Can you hear it, Liem? My heart.
[ How it speeds, surely, hammering against his ribcage. He feels the pulse of it all the way down to his cock; feels the heat of the blood rushing frantically through his veins.
It is yours, he almost says. It has been yours for months. Except: something catches in his throat, holds him back. He only kisses Liem instead, to hide the ache of longing that must be so plain on his face. ]
[Cardan is right: It is never soon enough, no matter how many times they steal intimate moments together in the course of their busy nights. There are always gatherings to attend, contacts to review, witnesses to evade, clothes to dispense with. He can’t remember the last time he wanted to touch Cardan and could simply pull him close then and there. The curse of his insistence on getting things done is that taking time for just himself and his husband is never as easy as he would like.
He returns Cardan’s faint smile, wry with the knowledge of his own ravenous impatience. Still, the hands cupping his face trap him in place, snaring him more surely than any Faerie spell could. The dark, intent gaze keeps him willingly captive.
Only when Cardan leans in once more and kisses him does Liem capitulate to the demands of his hunger, want sliding out of him on a soft, wordless murmur as his teeth graze his lover’s mouth. He is so enamoured with him—his taste, his smell; the shape of him pressed close, traced beneath soft lips and careful hands.]
I can.
[He can hear Cardan’s heart. He wants to find that hurried pulse with his mouth, wants to stamp tender kisses over his chest and along his throat. He wants to feel it flutter against his tongue, speeding with his lover’s urgent need. Foolish though he may be, he cannot help but feel sentimental when it does, as though that heart beats only for him.]
[ Fortunately for Cardan, he is not constrained by any need to behave. He can sweep his mouth over Liem's jaw, can paint the tender skin just beneath it with hungry, heated kisses -- can follow the path of an errant rain drop down to the hollow of Liem's throat. As he does, his breath grows heavy with his own desire. However greedy Liem might think himself to be, he is certain he is worse, has always been worse.
It's working, at any rate; he feels distinctly less aware of the cold and more aware of his husband. His hands sweep up Liem's sides, over his ribs, long fingers eager to tease at his chest. Some part of him is always delighted by this -- by the permission to do anything at all, all while his husband is compelled to wait. It makes him smile, right against Liem's collarbone -- and then more openly, as he glances up at Liem's face. ]
You are accomplished at inflaming its passions.
[ The blanket between them suddenly feels stifling, despite that Cardan still needs it. How is he supposed to endure having his husband bare and wanting in his lap, and not crave the feel of him against his bare skin? He breathes in, feeling impatience simmer in his veins, insistent. ]
It's been too long.
[ It's his own fault, this time -- having seen the stark consequences of his taking up all of Liem's time, he'd attempted to be less demanding and more helpful. But perhaps that had been a mistake. Perhaps his longing cannot be diminished by avoidance, only staved off for a short time, like a dam destined to break. ]
[There is a familiar kind of pleasure in restraining himself like this, perched atop Cardan’s lap while his husband eagerly explores his body as though they were reuniting after a weeks-long separation. Liem curls his fingers in the blanket’s soft fabric, clutching restlessly at it as he tips his head to accommodate the hungry transit of Cardan’s mouth down his throat. The heat that flares in the wake of those kisses slides straight to his untouched cock, and as always, the cruel delight of it makes him want to squirm.
Impatient though he is to touch his lover, he still succumbs so easily to the indulgent thrill of suffering frustration at his whim. That he is technically free to touch Cardan any time he wishes makes the pleasure of submission no less keen.]
An oversight, surely, [he breathes, glancing at his radiant-looking spouse from beneath lowered lashes. His chest rises and falls readily beneath Cardan’s eager hands.] We’d best make up the difference.
[Only, Liem has no idea for how much longer that will involve Cardan entertaining himself at his expense.]
[ At times like this, when he senses Liem's fingers flex restlessly in the fabric, feels the tension in the beautiful body beneath his touch, he always feels a little giddy. It makes him remember all the times Liem has let him toy with his body and his desire, has let Cardan boss him around and treat him like an obedient pet, and -- evidently -- gotten off on it all the same. It's intoxicating, that sort of power. He knows not how Liem's other lovers were ever anything but deranged about it.
Cardan has certainly never managed the same.
Soon, he tells himself. Whether due to the fire or the insistently sped-up beat of his heart, he is thawing out. The hands lazily playing with his husband's nipples are warmer; he's no longer shivering at all. Heat curls in his abdomen, insistent. ]
We have all day, [ he murmurs, not bothering to conceal his breathless infatuation. His gaze lingers on his husband's mouth. Cardan holds his longing like a breath, letting it expand until it becomes a little urgent, until he can no longer stand it. He is addicted to this, too: the relief he feels when he kisses Liem again, when he claims him for his own. ]
Though it won't be enough time.
[ There will never be enough time. He could have several eternities -- he does, at least in theory -- and he would never have touched Liem enough, had him enough. Such a state does not exist. ]
[Though they will be no less busy tomorrow than on any other night, and though it would be wiser for them to catch at least a few hours of sleep during daylight hours, it does not occur to Liem to consider the strangeness of Cardan’s assertion. The privacy they have stolen in this quiet little shelter makes the manor and all its responsibilities seem miles away; Cardan’s clever hands and warm kisses are obviously of much more immediate importance.
And even if Liem had disagreed, he could not refuse his husband when he looks at him like that, like he would wither away altogether if he couldn’t touch him.]
It never is.
[He murmurs just a breath away from Cardan’s mouth before returning for another kiss, urgent and tender and insatiable. He can never have enough of the intent, unflagging attention his lover pays him, be it affection, mischief or cruelty. And Cardan is so skilled at inflaming Liem’s desire, distracting him with feral need for his touch. Want aches beneath his skin everywhere his lover has touched: his hungry mouth, his throat, his flushed chest and the teased-taut nipples beneath Cardan’s fingers.
His husband spoils him so religiously with his attention—and Liem cannot say the same. This too feels like an oversight, one he sometimes feels he cannot possibly ignore. He does not think Cardan feels this lack as he does, and still, and still…]
No, [ he agrees. He is so unaccountably, terribly greedy for his husband. Need for him simmers under his skin, increasingly difficult to ignore. His hand slides into Liem's hair, cradling the back of his head so Cardan can keep him close, can kiss him with all the hungry urgency thrumming through his blood.
There is not enough of Liem, either. The barrier of fabric between them is starting to become truly loathsome; given the way arousal has seemed to set his body alight, he could probably pull it off, could probably give them the satisfaction they both want. Except: it seems that spending time around Liem's particular appetites has made Cardan perverse in ways he hasn't quite anticipated -- because he doesn't. For all of his frustrated desire, the fingers that skitter down Liem's sternum are not headed for the fabric at all. Cardan's palm sweeps down to Liem's stomach, and then lower, finding its way between their bodies to wrap warm fingers around the familiar shape of Liem's cock. ]
I want this first, [ he will tell Liem, his impatience making way to indulgence. His mouth curls; his smile is hungry, too. ] The way you look when you come undone.
[ It's so breathtaking; recalling his husband caught by pleasure in times past makes lust pang through him, heavy and insistent. He has to lean in, has to steal another breathless kiss. Cardan is so hypocritically full of longing for him already. ]
[Despite the tenor of his thoughts, Liem can’t resist the smile that steals over him when Cardan indulges the pleasure of tormenting him a little more. The fingers wrapping around his erection coax a shiver from him; the hungry smile catches his gaze and holds it tight. He cannot resist that greed, not now or any other day.
It is obvious enough in the way he meets that breathless kiss.]
As many times as you like.
[A reckless promise; he always wants his husband’s embrace before long, always wants to have his warmth tucked against him and his scent filling his senses. He does not want to remain restrained like this forever, regardless of how addictive he finds being at his husband’s mercy.
Still, how could Liem refuse him? He always, always wants Cardan’s greed. He knows no reason why he should ever cease to want it. He murmurs against the trap of Cardan’s soft, beguiling mouth.]
[ Cardan breathes him in, enamoured and giddy with affection, with Liem's resolute readiness to give him everything he asks for. Much as he does indeed want to watch, he finds it difficult to pull away from his husband's soft mouth and his gentle kisses. He tips his head -- a tiny movement -- to brush his lips against Liem's, to torment them both with the closeness of barely-there touch. ]
You are ever, [ he tells Liem, tenderly amused, ] my favourite glutton for punishment.
[ His teeth press against Liem's lip, but even this bite is soft, more caress than nip. He has truly become such a depraved creature under Liem's patient tutelage. The stroke of his fingers is equally languid, unhurried -- even as his own pulse spikes, fluttering with ardent desire. ]
You ought to be careful, husband. You make teasing you so rewarding, and you have wed such an intemperate man.
[ Because Cardan ever wants to push the boundaries of good sense, to see how far their desperation can go until it devours them entirely.
His exhalation is a little shaky. ]
Do you even know how distracting you were in that forest? All wet and terribly fuckable.
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no subject
Unlike Liem.
So he only sighs and brings Liem's hand up to his mouth to press his lips to his husband's chilled knuckles. He can will himself to stop thinking of the long, cold day ahead, surely, and instead cast his thoughts toward finding somewhere to hide. ]
You know your woods better than I. Where to, husband?
[ He supposes some sort of cave would be their best bet, unappealing as the thought remains. Perhaps a cave with a hot spring attached to it, though he doesn't expect the latter to be a common feature. ]
no subject
There’s an overday shelter some distance from here, upslope and then north along the ridge. We’ll seek it first.
[At some point, this outing transitioned from fun date to a somewhat stressful hustle—and still, he has not yet let go of his husband’s hand. Even if they must trek through the forest’s sodden foliage in search of shelter, he would rather retain the comfort of Cardan’s hand clasped with his, regardless of any inconvenience it might pose.
He holds it fast as they climb the forest’s gentle slope and follow the line of its summit. After just long enough that he begins to suspect he might have led them in the wrong direction altogether, Liem finally spies the familiar white-barked trees standing like sentinels atop the ridge up ahead. Sighting them, he squeezes Cardan’s hand and hastens closer.]
Here—we’ve found it.
[With relief, Liem gestures with his free hand to a hump at the very top of the ridge that is clear of trees. What looks at first to be simply a grassy hill being drenched by the falling rain is actually a modest cabin—identified only by the stump-like chimney poking up from one side, and by the recessed entrance dug into one of the hill’s faces, once they come far enough around to see it. A steep overhang shelters only a single door and window, and a neat stack of firewood. All the rest of the shelter’s features are buried deeper in the hill.]
It’s rustic, but at least we’ll be dry.
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Dry already well exceeds my expectations.
[ His only remaining complaint is about getting there faster. Now that the building is in sight, he is acutely aware of just how wet he is, how uncomfortably his clothes cling to his body, the way endless cold droplets make their way down his spine and drip from his tail -- not to mention the fact that his toes have all but turned to ice.
By the time they cross the threshold, he will be in no mood for formalities. The very moment he is out of the rain, Cardan will pull his shirt over his head and off, letting it slap onto the ground in an unceremonious, soggy pile. His trousers follow suit in short order. ]
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Inside, the single window only partially alleviates the cave-like gloom of the cramped entryway, bare except for racks on one side for shoes and outerwear—for the moment, sadly ignored. A single, open doorway leads into a pastoral little sitting room, allowing shadowy glimpses of a stocked stone hearth and a closed door presumably leading to the bedroom.]
Let us see if we can continue to exceed them, [Liem says optimistically, abandoning the wet pile of his clothing for the moment in favour of delving into the sitting room to investigate the hearth. He crouches naked in front of it, dripping onto wood and stone flooring, looking about for the box of matches that must surely be somewhere at hand. Finding the matches is simple enough; hopefully lighting the fire will be similarly straightforward.]
I’ve never needed to stay here before. The only times I stayed out in the woods prior, I ended up denning with the wolves instead.
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Naturally.
[ Despite Liem's usual fussiness and love of order, it only makes sense that his husband would choose the wolves over a tidy little house. The woods seem to transform his husband in this way -- make him more wild, more spontaneous, unshackled by his usual deference to propriety. ]
Should I be insulted not to be invited to the same?
[ He's teasing, of course. While he would have made do with the wolves, he's hardly sorry to stay in this nice little cottage instead. The earthy, slightly stale air reminds him of his father's palace -- or, rather, of his mother's rooms at his father's palace, which were close enough to the surface to glimpse the sun, and scent the forest air.
He leaves Liem to deal with the fireplace, opening the door to the cave-like darkness of the bedroom. This deep into the cottage, he has to strain a little to see much. Still, after a few moments of nosy rummaging, he will emerge victorious, having evidently found a linen closet -- as he's no longer dripping, with a towel wrapped around his waist. He's carrying further spoils, among them a blanket, which he drops onto a sofa before coming up behind Liem to attack him with the second towel.
The vigorous manner in which he rubs at Liem's hair is as much an effort at getting his own blood flowing as it is at drying his long-suffering spouse. ]
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Hardly. Wolves are not known to value privacy.
[In the past, when he holed up with the wolves for the day, it was because he preferred their hot, furry bodies to the prospect of an empty, unfamiliar bed. On this occasion, with his husband at hand for company, the bed has become far more appealing.
His investigations of the hearth reveal that most of the work of preparing a fire has already been done for him. When he finds the box of matches set neatly atop a container of old, torn-up news sheets, it is simple enough to set some of the kindling amidst the finely-split wood atop the hearth’s logs and then set the construction alight. By the time Cardan returns with towels, Liem is feeding long splints of wood into the tiny blaze in an effort to get it going properly.
The assault by towel catches him by surprise. Distracted from his purpose, he pauses to let his husband rub him down like a soggy pet, straightening a little from his crouch. No one has ever dried his hair this way before, but he is surprised to find that the vigorous attention is actually quite agreeable. Perhaps any attention from Cardan would be.]
Though if you are chilled, husband, a nap with the wolves could remedy that most efficaciously.
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...it's a little pathetic, probably, how quickly desire sinks its claws into him all over again. He's still cold -- and so is Liem -- still more damp and exposed to the elements than he'd prefer, but all those things pale next to Liem's familiar shape in his arms. Cardan likes feeling the muscle in his shoulders move as he works on the fire, likes feeling his lithe shape against his own, likes his familiar smell. It's comforting, to be here with him, when lately he's become so aware of the ways in which Liem does not -- cannot -- belong to him entirely. ]
I am the chilled one?
[ Asks the man with goosebumps on his arms, who is currently suppressing a shiver. He exhales, burying his cold nose against Liem's no-less-cold neck, and stretches one arm out to waggle long fingers at the fire, as if taunting it to grow faster.
It doesn't matter, anyway. Sooner or later, he'll be warmer, and he'd rather spend the interim close to Liem than otherwise. ]
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Despite his efforts at tending the fire, his hands have not yet warmed appreciably.]
In order to be chilled, [he says reasonably,] would I not first have needed to be warm?
[Placing one last splint on the flames, he settles back against his husband and simply gazes into the little nascent fire. In a few minutes, hopefully, the fire will be cracking merrily away—but it will take longer than that for it to chase away the room’s earthy chill. From the temperature of his husband’s nose, it’s evident Cardan still has some warming up to do.]
Surely you can ill afford to spare your warmth for me at present. And yet… [He reaches for the hand Cardan wiggled at the flames, draws it back around him.] I remain as hungry as ever.
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Well, perhaps not. He's not entirely sure Liem understands what being cold is like, any more than he understands the need to breathe. If he did, perhaps he would not permit Cardan the strange masochism of pressing in closer despite the chill. It's uncomfortable; he wants to be warm. But how can he resist the pull of Liem's greed for him? He would do many far less enjoyable things to earn his closeness and his pleasure, anyway. ]
What use have I for lonely warmth?
[ An errant shiver does escape him; he ignores it in favour of pressing slow, lazy kisses against his husband's jaw, his ear-- ]
I would much rather have your hunger.
[ They have had so little time to themselves. The hand Liem reclaimed from before the flames splays on his chest, sweeps greedily over cool, smooth skin, trailing over lean muscle. He could touch Liem a thousand times over, and still this would never get old, still excitement would coil in his belly just as it does now. If Liem calls himself hungry, then Cardan must be starving. ]
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Soon, I would hope, you will not need to choose.
[Occupied with the indulgent heat of Cardan’s mouth at his ear, he’s let his eyes fall shut when he murmurs his reply. His own shiver has nothing to do with cold.
After a moment, though, his hunger compels him to twist in Cardan’s grasp, impatient as he always inevitably becomes to get his mouth on his lover also. Not even the delight of Cardan’s hands wandering his skin and his kisses warming the back of his neck can distract him for long.]
Perhaps we would become warmer, [he suggests,] if we were not crouching naked on the floor.
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Still, his husband has a point. He ducks down to press one last kiss to Liem's bare shoulder and cast a longing glance at the nascent flames -- and then goes to rise, pulling Liem up with him as he goes. ]
My husband is such a sensible man.
[ Cardan will kiss him, then, against his own better judgment, because he's not a sensible man at all -- and because Liem is so charming in his (Cardan-induced) dishevelment, because Cardan cannot look at him lately without being gripped by longing.
He does also take the opportunity to slip his hands into Liem's, to better safeguard against any mischief on his husband's part. ]
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But he doesn’t contradict Cardan, even when his husband kisses him and takes his hands in his own, and every clever thought he’s ever had flees his head beneath the weight of his yearning. Because when Cardan looks at him like this, and speaks to him with that hint of fondness that has become so familiar, it makes him wish to oblige his every word.
Despite his suggestion, he does not hurry to finish kissing his husband. Cardan is no less irresistible while towelled and half nude than he was with rain soaking his clothes and eyelashes, and though Liem’s hands are occupied in Cardan’s, he quite eagerly reacquaints himself with the soft, sultry shape of his husband’s mouth.
When he pulls away, it is with restless breaths that no amount of running around in the rain ever demanded from him.]
You make me so impatient, [he observes.] I’ve dragged you out into the chilling rain, and now I find myself loath to wait through the consequences.
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What is it you'd told me? "You are ever the engineer of your own problems."
[ He steps back, once, twice, until the backs of his legs hit the couch. Only then does he reach down to let the damp towel crumple at his feet -- and then fold himself onto the seat, pulling the blanket around himself. Even the suggestion of warmth makes his body give another involuntary shiver.
Not that this stops him from pulling Liem into his lap, right on top of said blanket. Cardan wants to kiss him -- wants to run greedy hands down his body, splay them over his hips, wants to fan that impatience until it burns hot as the fire Liem started. So he will. But while he's doing it, between ardent kisses-- ]
I love the way impatience looks on you, [ he will tell Liem, acutely aware that he's treading awfully close to the line of bare honesty, that he cannot help but sound enamoured when he says it. ] It rouses all of my worst impulses.
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On this occasion, at least, he still has Cardan’s keen attention, if not the freedom to touch him as he’d like. As always, when his husband kisses his hands, he is caught between his own want and tender bewilderment that this should be his, still, so many months after their wedding. Leaving his own towel to crumple to the floor, he follows his husband readily back towards the couch, where he lets himself be pulled into Cardan’s lap with a feeling between eagerness and relief.
The second shiver afflicting his husband does not prevent Liem from taking Cardan’s face in his hands when he leans in to kiss him again.]
How fortunate for me, then, that I love being at the mercy of all your impulses.
[He loves Cardan’s greed and his cruelty and his surprising, irresistible tenderness. He loves feeling Cardan’s hunger for him, for his body and his pleasure and his desperation. Most of all, he loves belonging to him, and letting Cardan take what he likes and treat him how he will. Even when Cardan is being cruel—perhaps especially then—no one else has ever made him feel so completely taken care of.]
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It's me who is at your mercy, husband, [ he breathes, between kisses. Desire dances down his spine. He nips at Liem's lower lip, impatient with himself, with the fire slowly growing in the hearth. His hands find his lover's hips, pull him in closer, so that Cardan can field an entirely different kind of shiver as he moves against him. When he speaks next, it is quiet -- like the words are meant more for himself than for Liem. ]
I need you so fervently.
[ That, too, is its own kind of offering, its own kind of bareness -- rarely has he been so forthright with Liem without also being overwhelmed with pleasure. But it has been so long since he's had him to himself; Cardan needs him to know. ]
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[Liem feels desire scorch him when Cardan’s teeth find his lip, when he is pulled closer to feel Cardan move against him. Even through the coy, plush barrier of the blanket, the familiar feel of him as Liem straddles his lap makes possessiveness flare against the inside of his ribs.
He cannot be displeased about their current circumstances, no matter how spartan, when they mean he and Cardan have each other all to themselves.
Liem slides an arm around his shoulders, his hunger for Cardan’s nearness having already eclipsed his caution about inflicting his rain-chilled person on his husband. Surely it is enough that most of Cardan is wrapped in a cozy blanket. Liem is willing to resist the temptation to sneak his hands inside it, but he insists on wrapping himself around his husband, too.
Especially when Cardan murmurs such things between their kisses. The brush of those words against his mouth make need claw its way out of him like a wild thing.]
Cardan…
[He wants so, so badly to give himself to him, to touch him—to let his hands and mouth map his body, again, again. The transit of Cardan’s hands over his skin makes resisting this want only marginally easier; he still sighs a restless breath against his jaw, terribly, frustratingly distracted.]
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When that mouth finds his jaw, part of him wants to tip his face up, to let Liem has his way with his throat -- another, marginally smarter part, knows he would still be too distracted by the temperature.
Soon, he thinks, as if expecting his husband to read his mind. Soon Liem will have those tender, vulnerable parts of him; soon he'll be able to feel the pulse beating hot and impertinent in his throat. Soon, soon, if not soon enough.
He sighs, too, bringing his hands up to cup Liem's face, his thumb tracing over the line of his lip, where Cardan's teeth had just been. ]
It's never soon enough.
[ His little smile is wan, a little harried by need. ]
Can you hear it, Liem? My heart.
[ How it speeds, surely, hammering against his ribcage. He feels the pulse of it all the way down to his cock; feels the heat of the blood rushing frantically through his veins.
It is yours, he almost says. It has been yours for months. Except: something catches in his throat, holds him back. He only kisses Liem instead, to hide the ache of longing that must be so plain on his face. ]
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He returns Cardan’s faint smile, wry with the knowledge of his own ravenous impatience. Still, the hands cupping his face trap him in place, snaring him more surely than any Faerie spell could. The dark, intent gaze keeps him willingly captive.
Only when Cardan leans in once more and kisses him does Liem capitulate to the demands of his hunger, want sliding out of him on a soft, wordless murmur as his teeth graze his lover’s mouth. He is so enamoured with him—his taste, his smell; the shape of him pressed close, traced beneath soft lips and careful hands.]
I can.
[He can hear Cardan’s heart. He wants to find that hurried pulse with his mouth, wants to stamp tender kisses over his chest and along his throat. He wants to feel it flutter against his tongue, speeding with his lover’s urgent need. Foolish though he may be, he cannot help but feel sentimental when it does, as though that heart beats only for him.]
I am so greedy for that sound.
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It's working, at any rate; he feels distinctly less aware of the cold and more aware of his husband. His hands sweep up Liem's sides, over his ribs, long fingers eager to tease at his chest. Some part of him is always delighted by this -- by the permission to do anything at all, all while his husband is compelled to wait. It makes him smile, right against Liem's collarbone -- and then more openly, as he glances up at Liem's face. ]
You are accomplished at inflaming its passions.
[ The blanket between them suddenly feels stifling, despite that Cardan still needs it. How is he supposed to endure having his husband bare and wanting in his lap, and not crave the feel of him against his bare skin? He breathes in, feeling impatience simmer in his veins, insistent. ]
It's been too long.
[ It's his own fault, this time -- having seen the stark consequences of his taking up all of Liem's time, he'd attempted to be less demanding and more helpful. But perhaps that had been a mistake. Perhaps his longing cannot be diminished by avoidance, only staved off for a short time, like a dam destined to break. ]
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Impatient though he is to touch his lover, he still succumbs so easily to the indulgent thrill of suffering frustration at his whim. That he is technically free to touch Cardan any time he wishes makes the pleasure of submission no less keen.]
An oversight, surely, [he breathes, glancing at his radiant-looking spouse from beneath lowered lashes. His chest rises and falls readily beneath Cardan’s eager hands.] We’d best make up the difference.
[Only, Liem has no idea for how much longer that will involve Cardan entertaining himself at his expense.]
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Cardan has certainly never managed the same.
Soon, he tells himself. Whether due to the fire or the insistently sped-up beat of his heart, he is thawing out. The hands lazily playing with his husband's nipples are warmer; he's no longer shivering at all. Heat curls in his abdomen, insistent. ]
We have all day, [ he murmurs, not bothering to conceal his breathless infatuation. His gaze lingers on his husband's mouth. Cardan holds his longing like a breath, letting it expand until it becomes a little urgent, until he can no longer stand it. He is addicted to this, too: the relief he feels when he kisses Liem again, when he claims him for his own. ]
Though it won't be enough time.
[ There will never be enough time. He could have several eternities -- he does, at least in theory -- and he would never have touched Liem enough, had him enough. Such a state does not exist. ]
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And even if Liem had disagreed, he could not refuse his husband when he looks at him like that, like he would wither away altogether if he couldn’t touch him.]
It never is.
[He murmurs just a breath away from Cardan’s mouth before returning for another kiss, urgent and tender and insatiable. He can never have enough of the intent, unflagging attention his lover pays him, be it affection, mischief or cruelty. And Cardan is so skilled at inflaming Liem’s desire, distracting him with feral need for his touch. Want aches beneath his skin everywhere his lover has touched: his hungry mouth, his throat, his flushed chest and the teased-taut nipples beneath Cardan’s fingers.
His husband spoils him so religiously with his attention—and Liem cannot say the same. This too feels like an oversight, one he sometimes feels he cannot possibly ignore. He does not think Cardan feels this lack as he does, and still, and still…]
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There is not enough of Liem, either. The barrier of fabric between them is starting to become truly loathsome; given the way arousal has seemed to set his body alight, he could probably pull it off, could probably give them the satisfaction they both want. Except: it seems that spending time around Liem's particular appetites has made Cardan perverse in ways he hasn't quite anticipated -- because he doesn't. For all of his frustrated desire, the fingers that skitter down Liem's sternum are not headed for the fabric at all. Cardan's palm sweeps down to Liem's stomach, and then lower, finding its way between their bodies to wrap warm fingers around the familiar shape of Liem's cock. ]
I want this first, [ he will tell Liem, his impatience making way to indulgence. His mouth curls; his smile is hungry, too. ] The way you look when you come undone.
[ It's so breathtaking; recalling his husband caught by pleasure in times past makes lust pang through him, heavy and insistent. He has to lean in, has to steal another breathless kiss. Cardan is so hypocritically full of longing for him already. ]
Will you give it to me?
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It is obvious enough in the way he meets that breathless kiss.]
As many times as you like.
[A reckless promise; he always wants his husband’s embrace before long, always wants to have his warmth tucked against him and his scent filling his senses. He does not want to remain restrained like this forever, regardless of how addictive he finds being at his husband’s mercy.
Still, how could Liem refuse him? He always, always wants Cardan’s greed. He knows no reason why he should ever cease to want it. He murmurs against the trap of Cardan’s soft, beguiling mouth.]
I can never help but wish to indulge you.
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You are ever, [ he tells Liem, tenderly amused, ] my favourite glutton for punishment.
[ His teeth press against Liem's lip, but even this bite is soft, more caress than nip. He has truly become such a depraved creature under Liem's patient tutelage. The stroke of his fingers is equally languid, unhurried -- even as his own pulse spikes, fluttering with ardent desire. ]
You ought to be careful, husband. You make teasing you so rewarding, and you have wed such an intemperate man.
[ Because Cardan ever wants to push the boundaries of good sense, to see how far their desperation can go until it devours them entirely.
His exhalation is a little shaky. ]
Do you even know how distracting you were in that forest? All wet and terribly fuckable.
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