sterngaze | psl | arranged marriage: continuation

[Liem should know better than to tease his husband. Cardan ever makes it clear that in their marriage, there is room for only one practitioner of mischief; Liem’s role is to indulge Cardan’s nonsense and endure whatever frustrations he dreams up to put Liem through. He is most certainly not supposed to victimize Cardan in turn.

But how can he help himself when he is so restless for touch, and Cardan is so hungry and impatient? How can he concentrate on acting as he should, on keeping his head and doing things right, when the desire between them feels so easy? He cannot recall any of the things he should be worrying about right now; all he cares to know in Cardan’s embrace is that he likes him so terribly, terribly much.

And still, he feels Cardan pull back from the edge they’d both been about to cross so heedlessly. He sees a remnant of deliberation hidden in the hungry intensity of Cardan’s gaze, and he frowns, a little petulant, as his lover captures his half-gloved hand and brings it to his lips.]

Do you, now?

[The heat of Cardan’s skin scorches him, abruptly stealing the breath from his lungs as Cardan bares more of his hand to his sultry attentions. He wants that mouth everywhere. He wants those hands on him, hard and urgent and demanding with desire. Not soon—now. He cannot possibly wait, and he had not thought his husband could, either.

It makes him feel unreasonable.]

And how is it that you unwrap gifts, husband?

[ Cardan laughs; he can't help it, can't help that it's less menacing and more delighted than he means to be. It's just: Liem sulks so rarely, and it is surprisingly enchanting when he does. He can't help that he abandons his exercise in fucking around to take that sharp-featured, serious face in his hands, grinning at Liem's dismayed frown.

I love you, he thinks, helplessly, and ignores the stab of worry that the sentiment might slip from his lips unbidden. Perhaps that will be alright, anyway; perhaps by the time it does, he will have proven himself worthy of it.

It won't be tonight. ]

With relish, my dear Liem, [ he purrs instead, and then kisses him again, as intemperate as he's smugly satisfied, ] and I would have the pleasure of it now.

[ The pleasure of baring Liem to his touch, yes, but also of watching his husband's taut, breathless impatience build. It's not that Cardan has found patience; it's that he's already getting the thing he wanted most, which is to have Liem all to himself. He lets his mouth wander, over Liem's cheek, to his ear. The rumble of his voice remains amused. ]

So tell me how to unwrap you, husband.

[ It's been so long since he's taken off his own armour, let alone anyone else's. ]

[Despite his impatience and his irritation, Liem still finds himself helpless against Cardan’s laugh. He still feels that familiar tenderness grip his chest at the sight of his husband’s grin, for all that Cardan’s amusement is undoubtedly at his expense. When Cardan frames his face in his hands and leans in to kiss him again, Liem still meets that kiss just as hungrily.

He couldn’t possibly do otherwise, no matter how desperately he wishes to finally be bare with him. He has no defence against the way Cardan makes him feel when he cups his face and looks at him like that. It makes him want to give him everything he wants, no matter how troublesome.

So he relents, though impatience still gnaws at him. With his bare hand, he grasps Cardan’s wrist and guides his touch to the buckles at his sword belt and the laces at his side.]

Here, and here, [he murmurs.] This is lifted off. [He touches the lightweight, largely decorative chest-and-shoulder piece of hardened leather that is laced on over his jacket. Beneath, the leather jacket and trousers are fairly self-explanatory.

Quickly, he wants to urge—but does not, lest Cardan take his time just to spite him.]

[ This once, Liem needn't have worried. For all of his posturing about gifts and the enjoyment thereof, Cardan still yearns to get his hands all over him. It's just that he wants to be close. It's just that he wants to smear hungry kisses over the sharp line of Liem's jaw, wants to breathe him in and feel the tension in his body even as he works to undo those buckles. This, at least, he doesn't need to see; Liem's sword is of no particular novelty to him.

The lacing is more troublesome -- or maybe it's that desire has made him distracted. In either case, he is unwilling to embarrass himself by fumbling around, which means he must pull away, must step around his husband so he can work on it from the side. Doing so feels like holding his breath; the urgency of it tightens his chest, runs down along his spine.

He leans in to nip at the skin just below Liem's ear just as he loosens the laces, working as quickly as his fingers allow. ]

I want you.

[ Liem knows -- of course he does. Cardan breathes it anyway, painting the words over his husband's cool skin. ]

I want you to be so full of me you forget what it's like to hunger.

[ In every way, in every sense. He wants to give Liem everything he's ever denied himself, wants to overwhelm him with indulgence. It's just that first he must move again, step to Liem's other side to finish his task. It will be quicker, the second time around, and then all that will be left is lifting the plate off of him, and making short work of his jacket's fastenings. ]

[Even when Cardan devotes himself earnestly to the task of releasing Liem from his layers, enduring the wait patiently is impossible. He is too greedy for the hungry heat of the kisses decorating his jaw, the scent and feel of Cardan’s nearness, the teasing awareness of those busy fingers working just a small distance from his skin. Liem draws in a small, caught breath, his fingers ghosting up Cardan’s chest and shoulders as though he might catch hold of him, indulge his greed and keep him close for his own enjoyment.

But he cannot, and he does not. One of his hands is still sheathed in leather, anyway, somewhat limiting the enjoyment of getting his hands on his husband. Instead, when Cardan moves to his side to loosen the laces there, Liem takes advantage of his preoccupation to strip off his other glove as well, tossing it down next to the jumble of his discarded sword belt.]

Ha— You are ambitious.

[The nip at his neck makes Liem shiver, already wound-up and eager for Cardan’s touch. Right now, his hunger for Cardan rules every touch, every breath, every thought. It seems impossible he could be so sated that he wouldn’t still desire more. Certainly he cannot remember ever feeling that way before.]

I am always hungry for you.

I like the challenge.

[ Of course, he still wants Liem to want him. And yet: there is something alluring about the thought of sating him entirely, of being enough to quiet his husband's longing, if only for a short time.

In theory, he also likes this specific kind of challenge: one where he attempts to get his hands all over Liem as quickly as possible. In practice, he's terribly impatient about it. Once the chest plate is off, he barely waits to unfasten the jacket before sliding his hands inside it, giddy to feel bare skin against his palms. He feels overheated, as he always does in moments like these, like his touch might scorch Liem if he's not careful -- except, he doesn't want to be careful. He wants to sweep his hands over Liem's chest, gleeful, giddy with the pleasure of his closeness, wants to feel him breathe and move and shiver with desire. He wants, he wants, he wants-- ]

Off, [ he will demand, pushing the garment off Liem's shoulders. His own layers of clothing -- shirt, doublet, princely cape -- are still annoyingly intact and fastened onto his person. With the heat rising from his skin, his high collar feels way too tight around his neck, the layers stifling. Although he hadn't put particular thought to undressing himself, he realizes that this, too, is going to require immediate attention.

The noise that escapes him is viscerally frustrated. He has to press defiantly close to Liem, pushing him against the door so he can steal one urgent kiss after another, as if this would inoculate him against further longing.

Naturally, it does not. ]

Whose, [ he will growl, nipping at the soft curve of Liem's lower lip. His hands slide reluctantly to his own throat and its many fastenings. ] ...idea was it, to get this dressed this evening?

[Liem is always glad of the opportunity to let Cardan get his hands all over him. Regardless of his impatience and his frustration, regardless of how interminably long it seems to take for the fastenings to come undone and each piece of clothing to come off, he loves his husband’s greedy hands and hungry, impatient kisses.

It is just that Cardan’s touch always drives him insane, and on this particular occasion he was already quite insane to begin with.

He shrugs his jacket off hastily, cursing the laces still keeping his leather trousers stiflingly fastened. The ache of confinement is quickly becoming unbearable—and his husband has now become distracted by the fussy fastenings of his own princely layers. A growl escapes him at the nip of teeth at his lip, even as he pursues Cardan’s urgent kisses with mindless need.]

I think whoever designs high-end garb, [he grumbles, impatient hands finding Cardan’s doublet buttons and flicking them open one by one,] must hate revelry very much.

[There is no excuse for clothes made by and for faerie folk to be this annoying to remove in a hurry. They must have been designed by sadists.]

[ The cloak crumples onto the ground, immediately forgotten. Not for the first time, Cardan is inclined to agree; there really must be alternatives to a million buttons, especially in a land possessed by magic. Still, it is a relief to have Liem devote himself to the chore of unbuttoning, because it means Cardan can focus on sweeping greedy hands over his husband's newly bared skin, revelling in the feel of lithe muscle under his palms. It means he can focus on sucking a fresh mark onto the tender skin just below Liem's jaw, on painting a trail of ardent kisses down his throat and over the line of his shoulder. It is not enough; the fleeting, breathless touches only ever whet his appetite, torment him further. ]

It never bothered me, [ he will admit, his mouth moving against Liem's skin, ] until I wed.

[ But then, Liem seems to prefer him out of his clothing, and lately, he's infected Cardan with the same. If he were less horny and more inclined towards self-examination, he'd wonder what it was that compelled him so.

As it is: the moment the fastenings are undone, he shrugs off the doublet, and then simply pulls his billowy shirt over his head with another impatient noise. When his hands next slide over Liem's body, it's to curl over the backs of his thighs so Cardan can lift him against his own body, eager to convey them both toward their bed. ]

[The torture of Cardan’s hands and mouth exploring his skin while he undoes his husband’s doublet makes actually completing his task difficult—and for once, Cardan hasn’t even asked him to undertake it. He is strongly tempted to simply sneak his hands beneath those fine layers and leave the bothersome clothes themselves to his husband.

But he wants that torture; he would rather suffer the heated tease of Cardan’s touch than wait for his lover to disrobe on his own. He can’t help but arch into those hands, can’t help but sigh at the hungry kisses trailing down his neck, eager to be devoured.

And when he does finally unfasten the last of those buttons, when Cardan hurriedly sheds his layers to abandon them with Liem’s equipment on the floor, Liem wastes no time in getting his hands all over Cardan’s bared, feverish skin, wrapping around him as Cardan lifts him against himself.]

Perhaps, [he mutters, brushing his lips against one elegant, pointed ear,] you have grown too accustomed to having me available at your whim.

Are you? [ he breathes, shivering into Liem’s touch with an impatient sigh. It’s a balm and a tease all the same, those cool, elegant hands. His blood sings with it, thrumming hotly under his skin. It’s so strange to want someone so desperately, even while he’s already caught in Cardan’s arms.

His smile curls against Liem’s neck, wolfish. ]

Careful, husband. Lest I cease holding back altogether.

[ He likes it — the thought that Liem is always at his disposal, however untrue it may be. There is a hungry, selfish thrill in being the only one with the privilege to manhandle his husband as he likes, to distract and seduce him even when it’s least convenient. He likes the way Liem leans into his touch, pressing up against Cardan with easy, ardent desire, likes the way he relaxes against him—

Except that he’s not relaxed now, and neither is Cardan. They are both still wearing boots and trousers; when he sets Liem down on their bed, he cannot simply follow suit, cannot cage him in with the weight and heat of his body.. Instead, he sinks down onto the floor, his gaze on Liem devouring.

Liem’s boots must come off first. Cardan doesn’t even look at them as he unfurls the laces with quick, efficient fingers. The moment they are pulled off, he will forget about them entirely.

…although he will raise an eyebrow at the incongruene of Liem’s socks. What purpose these have on his husband, whose feet do not get cold nor blister, he will never know. ]

[Liem so loves when Cardan scoops him up and carries him around. For those moments, he is not his father’s dutiful heir; he is only Cardan’s: husband, lover, possession, to be kept close and enjoyed at his whim. Nothing else could make him happier.

He has to fight down the impulse to drag his husband after him when Cardan deposits him on the bed. He wants to be in his arms still, trapped against the covers by his heated body and hungry kisses. But they are still too clothed; when Cardan slides down to attend his boots, Liem must relinquish his hold on him, jealous though it is.]

I don’t want you to hold back, [he mutters. He wants to be ruined, wants to know every last drop of Cardan’s desire. If that want causes him trouble on some future night, right now he cannot bring himself to care about that at all.

Though he must still smile at the look Cardan aims his way when he uncovers Liem’s socks.]

… Very well. I am not entirely bare underneath.

[ He leaves the socks; of course he leaves the socks. He doesn't know what it is about them that's so charming; perhaps the suggestion that Liem is bare everywhere else. Or will be, once Cardan is done with him.

Speaking of which: he will slide his hands back up the inside of his husband's thighs, over supple leather. His splayed palms urge Liem to spread his legs, so that Cardan may fit between them. This way, when his fingers attack the lacing of Liem's pants, Cardan may lean in and ghost restless kisses over the line of his hip, his abdomen, following the bared skin just above the waistband. His tail lashes with impatience. He cannot possibly work fast enough.

He means to liberate Liem of his last item of clothing. He means to trap him against the bed, just like he's fantasized about the entire journey to their quarters -- to kiss him, again, until they're both breathless and taut with need.

It's just that he's also struck with the eager, urgent need to put his mouth on Liem. When he finally slips the trousers down his husband's hips, how could he not smear heated kisses over the silken length of his cock? This is impatient, too. He wants everything at once -- and since Liem does not want him to hold back, he supposes it is only fair he take it. ]

I planned on having you do this to me, [ he will admit, breathlessly. The quirk of his mouth is a little wry. ] But-- perhaps later. When I let you drink.

[No matter his haste, Cardan cannot possibly tug the trousers from Liem’s hips fast enough for Liem’s liking. The restless kisses skirting Liem’s waistband only fan his own impatience, making his cock throb against the confining leather and his fingers curl posessively in Cardan’s hair. He wants the trousers off, and his husband’s mouth on him. He does not want to wait any longer.

The feel of Cardan’s mouth on his cock pulls a stifled groan from him, half-growled with the desire sitting heavy in his veins. He doesn’t know if he has the patience just now to weather his husband’s torment there—but isn’t that just the point? Hadn’t he wanted Cardan to push him beyond the limits of his patience at his whim?]

You have plans for me already, [he observes, breathlessly charmed. How very like his quick-witted husband to dream up, in the span of brief, distracted minutes, an array of greedy wants to inflict on him. Either that, or he was already contemplating those wants while Liem was still busy with his sparring match. This actually seems equally likely.

How spoiled he is, to have a husband so enamoured with making thorough use of his body. How fortunate that Cardan delights in threatening him with things he desperately wants.]

[ Liem's touch in his hair only baits his excitement. Even though his husband is painstakingly gentle, Cardan always hopes to catch him off guard, to feel that deceptive strength of his. He is not shy about using his own; his hands interrupt their task of undressing Liem to pin his hips to the bed instead. It’s an indulgence. He doesn’t need to. Liem is surely far too considerate to try and fuck Cardan’s mouth without permission — and even if he did, Cardan would let him, for the rare pleasure of making him lose control entirely.

Cardan pins him anyway. He wants Liem to be aware of his hands, even as he drags his tongue up the entire gorgeous length of him, looking obscenely pleased with himself. ]

I always have plans for you, [ he murmurs, more than a little smugly. And why wouldn't he be? The growl in Liem's voice shivers through him -- a fine reward for his efforts, and one that makes answering need pulse hot in his veins. ]

Liem. [ The glance he directs Liem's way is full to the brim with mischief. Cardan nuzzles his cock, affectionate. ] Play with yourself, won't you?

[ It's an instruction he's cribbed from Liem, from that endless night at the cabin. It feels appropriate, now, that he repay his surprisingly ruthless husband with more of the same -- more pleasurable torment, more anticipation, more more more--

And when he swallows Liem up, taking him into the heat of his mouth, he can only hope that his husband's impatience will ruin him just as badly as Cardan's had done. ]

[The pressure of Cardan’s hands at his hips feels foreboding somehow: not because Liem distrusts what his husband might do with them, but because of the message inherent in the partial restraint. In this scenario, where he is bared to Cardan’s mouth and Cardan’s hands, Cardan may do anything he likes—and teasing Liem’s frustration to new heights seems to have become one of his favourite games.

Liem is complicit in this trend, of course. But the gesture sends a shiver through him regardless, just as much as does the tongue sliding up his cock. Anticipation licks at him like brushfire, hot and eager, blinding him to caution.

And when Cardan aims such warmly playful direction his way, he cannot fathom denying him at all. He would give him whatever he wished, with the same wry smile he wears now, were it suggested with such affection.

Even if he is impatient already when Cardan swallows him up. Even if his breath hitches, suddenly alive, at the merciless tease of his own fingers as he toys rudely with his chest. He times a savage pinch with the rhythm of Cardan’s mouth, and fuck if that doesn’t make him a little insane, taut with the thwarted urge to buck up, into his pleasure. But he doesn’t, and he won’t. He will not relinquish that tightly grasped control just yet, no matter how much either of them might like it.]

[ Cardan's eyes are heavy-lidded, lashes nearly brushing his cheek. For all that he'd like to keep looking at Liem, this is easier -- particularly when Cardan takes him deeper still. There is a heady satisfaction to it: the weight and solidity of him; the way Cardan has to take care with his breathing; the intentional, slow way he must relax into the act. Lust pools in his belly, between his thighs; he feels his own heavy pulse throb in his throat, his chest, his cock. And when his husband goes taut under the grip of his hands, he does glance up... and moan, soft and wanting and deliberate, around Liem's erection. Yes, this is what he wants: Liem pushing himself even further to the brink, earnest and eager to give himself over to Cardan's terrible whims. He relishes the lean, tense shape of him under his hands, the tortured catch of his breath. All these things make him feel such possessive affection. It is good, perhaps, that his mouth is occupied, so that his tongue can spill none of his treacherously tender thoughts.

Make hard use of me echoes in his head like an incantation. He will; he will. He has gotten so good at neglecting his own pleasure in service of denying Liem his. Cardan's rhythm is demanding; he does not want to wait for Liem's desperation. He wants it to match his own, wants Liem to be as helpless against his greed as Cardan has ever been. He plans on denying him, of course -- but his clever, patient husband surely knows that already. ]

[Liem knows perfectly well that Cardan surely isn’t going to let him come. On another night, another occasion, perhaps he would—but Liem is well familiar with his husband’s hungers, and this one will not be sated with Liem’s release. At least, not yet.

But he wants it. When Cardan takes him deeper, when he glances up at him and moans with his mouth still full of him, that want makes his body ache and his mouth go dry. He is so helpless against Cardan’s hands and his mouth and his obvious, unrelenting greed for him. Even when he knows better, he cannot help but pant and tremble and squirm beneath those restraining hands, cannot still his own teasing fingers or wanting breaths—foolishly eager, hopelessly hungry for Cardan’s touch.

It isn’t that he wants to suffer, truly—but he loves letting Cardan use him. He loves indulging his greed, he loves being the focus of his terrible whims. He has long since given up pretending to feel any other way. So when Cardan is like this…

He can’t resist him, not at all. His own desperate desire sweeps him up, makes him gasp as sensation thunders through him. He wants and wants and wants, and ruthlessly, Cardan gives him everything his body demands. And in the grip of his pleasure, Liem cannot care that it is only so Cardan can take it away at the last moment.]

[ How strange, that such a thing could be so intimate; how strange, that he should feel such affection while committing such cruelty. There is a visceral satisfaction to it: to Liem's desperation, to his helpless squirming under restraint, to pinpointing the moment when he is closest to his peak--

And denying him even so. Cardan is better for all of his practice; by now, he is well familiar with the way pleasure looks on his husband, the way it seizes him just before release. He slides his mouth up Liem's cock almost casually, throwing a restraining forearm over his hips while his other hand closes its unforgiving grip around him. And still, he'll keep teasing at the head of Liem's dick with lazy swipes of his tongue, eager to torment him even through this.

It's just that Liem is so beautiful when he's at his most frantic. It's just that no one has ever given Cardan so much of themselves, and so readily. It is a privilege he cannot quite fathom having, from a man who is so fastidiously reserved at every other moment. One of these nights, it will make him insane in a way that Liem might not appreciate -- but they have not reached that point yet, and Cardan is too enamoured to stop before then, regardless. ]

[He cannot help it. Pleasure overwhelms him, makes him wanton and stupid as he drowns in the deliberate slide of Cardan’s mouth and the cruel attentions of his own hands on his chest. His world narrows to just these things as he lets sensation swallow him up—only to whimper and writhe beneath Cardan’s hold as that heated mouth becomes his torment, teasing him even through his denial. Liem’s fingernails dig crescent moons into his chest as he tries and fails to fling himself over the precipice of his climax, his breaths coming hard and ragged with thwarted need.

Until he sags back on one arm, bracing himself against the bed as the swell passes, leaving him frustrated and aching in its wake.]

Ah— Fuck…

[His heavy-eyed gaze focuses once again on Cardan, and though he says nothing more, that look contains all his thwarted, hungry impatience. It seems insane that his husband should still be down there, kneeling on the floor, instead of with him on the bed, pinning him against the covers. He wants him here, tangled up in his embrace. He wants it desperately.]

[ It's everything he'd hoped for: Liem's torment and his need and his obedience, still, to the terrible rules Cardan has set for him. As always, he remembers too late that it will torture him too; lust thunders through him with every whimper and twitch, aching and inescapable. It's all he can do to rein himself in, to wrestle down his own terrible need.

When he finally pulls away, Cardan's smile is sharp with his own impatience. His tail, far more expressive, flicks in restless agitation. This is what he had wanted -- this is what he had done to Liem, to himself. ]

Not yet, husband, [ he quips, too distracted to be convincing. Still -- he is ravenous for something else, now.

He moves quickly. His hands find the waistband of Liem's trousers again, finally working to fully liberate him from their confines. Regretfully, this requires him to cease bullying Liem, which only adds to his urgency. His eyes stay on his husband's, caught by his intent, half-lidded gaze. It is all he can do to look composed, even as he wrestles with the tight leather. Though, regardless of what he looks like, Liem can surely hear the racing of his heart and his quick, impatient breathing crashing into each other.

And then Liem's stupid pants are finally on the floor, and Cardan is moving up his body with single-minded purpose. ]

[Liem barely waits for Cardan to strip him of his remaining layers. He does help him a little, lifting his hips from the bed as his husband wrestles off his pants—but once they are gone, and Cardan is rising again, Liem is already reaching for him.

So much for simply wanting Cardan to make use of him. He will pay heed to that particular desire only after this one has been met to his satisfaction. He wants the sultry indulgence of Cardan’s kiss first.

His fingers slide round the nape of Cardan’s neck, burying themselves reverently in dark curls as Liem pulls him in. He wraps around his husband as soon as he is within reach, seeking him with his kisses, hungry and eager and desperately tender. Even though he wanted Cardan to treat him roughly, even though he still wants his hard, demanding hands and the sting of his teeth, what he so badly wants is to feel like he belongs to him. He cannot help but give himself up like an offering.]

[ Sinking against Liem feels like relief, even though it grants him no real succour -- only more sensation, only more desire. He groans with need, giving himself over to Liem's tender hands, to his insistent kisses, to the beautiful way they fit together. His hands sweep down Liem's flanks, to his hips, pulling him tighter against Cardan despite the hungry noise it drives from him. He aches with both lust and confinement -- but how could he possibly stop? How can he do anything but trap his husband against the bed with the insistent heat of his greedy kisses? ]

I would, [ he breathes, between kisses, ] forsake all plans for this.

[ Immediately, it feels like the wrong thing to say -- too much, spoken far too bluntly. Surely, Liem would prefer Cardan keep his desires more opaque than this. Besides, no man wishes to be told that kissing him is preferable to fucking him.

It's just that kissing Liem is the best thing Cardan has ever accomplished. It feels like a key sliding into a lock: a fated, natural thing, correct beyond any law and all reason. It makes him stupid. It makes him do and say things that make his face heat with uncomfortable self-recognition. To distract from it, the least he can do is clutch Liem closer and then roll them over-- like being hemmed in by Liem's body atop his own doesn't make him shiver and arch against his husband.

But at least he can get to his own boots this way, if he tears himself away long enough to pay attention. ]

[Much as Liem wishes to have his husband unclothed, he is far too occupied with kissing him at present to think to make Cardan’s task any easier. He is too starved for the sound Cardan makes when he pulls him closer. He is too enraptured by the feel of him in his arms, warm and wanting and his.

And when Cardan says things like that, how could Liem pay attention to anything else at all?

He can’t. He can only chase that soft, indulgent mouth for kiss after wanting kiss, and trace the shape of him with tender hands. And when Cardan rolls them over so Liem finds himself atop him, the look of him lying against the covers makes Liem’s heart feel tight and sore in his chest.]

Cardan.

[Ah— He looks so beautiful like this, flushed and tousled and bare with want. These moments between them feel so impossibly honest, and that is more precious than anything else Liem could imagine. Liem presses close and kisses him again, even as his fingers slide down Cardan’s body in search of the fastenings of the trousers still stubbornly keeping Cardan from him.]

[ He wants so many things -- Liem's hands and his mouth and his tender, covetous regard. Well, perhaps not the last thing; when Liem looks at him like that, when he says his name like that, it makes Cardan feel a little exposed. Only sheer stubborn showmanship leads him to return the look directly, before Liem does him the mercy of kissing him again. Even then, Liem's weight atop him remains torturous, and more so for the fact that Cardan's cock is still confined to his trousers. He gives up the task of unfastening them with relief -- if Liem takes care of this, it means Cardan can cradle his slim face and focus only on kissing him for a while.

He didn't exaggerate in his admission. His plans are already dangerously close to being out the window. As usual, he tries his best to kiss Liem to his satisfaction; as usual, he fails. It is only his continuing desire to torment his husband that drives him to slide his mouth away from his and over his elegant jaw, down to his cool throat. ]

Hurry up, husband, [ he urges, capriciously, between efforts to suck posessive bruises onto Liem's skin. His hands sweep up over Liem's stomach, his chest, fingertips tracing the rapidly fading impressions of his nails; Cardan's breath stutters just a little. ] I want your touch.

[What brazen audacity Cardan has, to demand Liem’s haste while dedicating himself so thoroughly to distracting him. Liem’s attention is easily seduced by Cardan’s insatiable kisses and the warm hands cradling his face. Even as Cardan’s mouth drifts to explore his jaw and throat, and his hands slide down to wander Liem’s body, it is a struggle for Liem to recall his own coordination, to actually accomplish something more than just fumbling distractedly with Cardan’s trousers while his husband kisses him.

He, too, would forsake much for more of Cardan’s kisses. Even if they often seem meant specifically to torment him.

But Cardan wants his touch, and Liem would endure much to please his husband, especially when that involves getting his hands on him. Shivering with the pleasure of Cardan’s greedy attention to his throat, Liem renews his assault on Cardan’s trousers, impatient fingers sliding inside to free Cardan’s erection. Liem has no patience to wrestle the garment entirely off just now; he only wants to feel Cardan against him, and wraps his fingers around them both with an impatient groan.]

You steal all my reason, [he complains under his breath, before the slide of feverish, silken skin against him steals his capacity for coherence altogether. He is too drowned in the scent and feel of Cardan’s body entwined with his, too enchanted by the low rumble of his voice and the lively rhythms of his heart. He could try to be patient and put together still, but when he is in Cardan’s arms, suddenly these things no longer matter. Only the hunger is left—and his desire to let Cardan devour him, too.]

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