sterngaze | psl | arranged marriage: continuation

[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.]

[ Cardan doesn't bother regulating his responses; the moment Liem's hand closes around the both of them, he shudders and bucks up against him, breathlessly eager-- and again, and again, biting his lip as his hips fall into an impatient rhythm. ]

Good, [ he will pant, a little agitated. He's stolen worse things -- not that Liem knows. ] You're overburdened with it.

[ And, after all, Liem ever rewards him so for his crimes. Cardan hoists himself up on an elbow, arching toward his husband until he can brush his mouth against one gently pointed ear. ]

Keep going, [ he demands. Soft malice curls around the edges of his words. ] But Liem... don't let either of us come.

[ Because he still wants Liem's mouth, and his obedience, and his surrender, and if he must torment himself further to see those wants realized, then he can at least be perverse about it. ]

[For a brief moment, as Cardan shudders and moves against him in eager welcome of his touch, Liem thinks that it might just be like this—that they might just drive each other mad, twined together and stoking the hungry flames of pleasure until it consumes them both. He wants to lose himself just like that, with Cardan demanding and eager beneath him, every bit as lust-drunk as Liem has become.

But Cardan, it seems, has not forgotten his other wants.

And Liem still cannot deny him. His sigh of assent slides reluctantly out of him, a little tortured, as he rolls his hips down into the stroke of his own hand. If he must stop short of climax for the both of them, then he will—but Cardan’s wanton greed beneath his touch now begins to seem more like torment than relief, as does the gentle whisper of lips caressing his ear.]

Ah… you sadist.

[He growls it as he rocks against Cardan again, pulling apart his own composure with a stubbornly diligent rhythm that tears shivery little gasps from his throat. This would be torture enough in any other circumstance; with Cardan’s desire flaring hot beneath his hands, impatience pummels him like an avalanche.]

Is this not what you wanted? [ His tone is arch, if a little breathy; Cardan, too, is besieged by feverish pleasure. He shivers with it, his hips arching up into the caress of Liem's hand. There is an odd sort of freedom to not having to worry -- having offloaded the task of holding himself back onto his clever, fastidious husband. Like this, he can focus full-heartedly on his primary goal, which is ruining Liem's life. ] For me to use you for my own pleasure? To make your life difficult?

[ The hand still on Liem's chest finds a nipple to roll between Cardan's cruel fingers, indulgent. His eyes are half-lidded as he sinks back against the bed, his smile radiant with arrogance. It only grows when he slithers a hand up to lay against Liem's jaw. His thumb slides over his husband's mouth; the small puncture wound there still aches dully when he presses down, denting the soft flesh of Liem's lower lip.

Because he's not just a sadist, this will make his breath hitch. ]

Or would you deny me the pleasure of seeing you so debauched, husband?

[Cardan so obviously knows what he does to Liem when he is like this. Liem can see it in that radiant smile, feel it in the indulgent wandering of Cardan’s hands and in the eager roll of Cardan’s hips against him. It makes Liem’s chest feel tight and wild with desire and his blood ache beneath his skin. With only a look and a gesture, Cardan teases the want inside him into a feral frenzy.

And it does make his life difficult. Contending with this and still doing as Cardan bids feels impossible. But his husband is right: This is what he wanted. And as Cardan well knows, when he is like this, he cannot deny him anything at all.]

No.

[He mumbles against Cardan’s thumb, brushing a kiss against it between uneven breaths. No, he would not deny him this, even if he could. Even if he could temper the restless gasps and reluctant little moans that Cardan’s touch seduces from him, even if he could pretend away the rapt way he follows Cardan’s every gesture and expression. He belongs to Cardan, wholly and devotedly; to his smile and his touch and the silken sound of his voice, no matter how cruel or capricious he might be.

And what keen, drugging pleasure that is. Enough so that Liem must stop short already, his body taut and trembling with stillness, his hand now forbidding in its abrupt denial of friction. And even though it will only make his own denial more keen, his eyes remain glued to Cardan, hungry for his wanton desire. No matter that it will rob him of his own senses.]

Ah--

[ Yes, this -- this is what he wants, so terribly much that he has to sink his teeth into his lip to keep himself grounded. Liem's perfect stillness; the determined way those crystalline eyes seize upon him; his devastating tenderness. He feels himself go just as taut, just as tremulous, as he clutches at Liem with an inconsiderate amount of strength. His desire crests, nigh-unbearable, and it's all he can do not to squirm against Liem's cock. ]

Fuck. You're so--

[ His silken self-assurance has fled; for a moment, he's only overwhelmed with Liem's closeness and his own desperate need. His whole body arches toward Liem's touch, eager for a release that will not come. His soft groan is tormented with frustration.

And then: the tenderness again, inescapable. When his own trembling finally recedes, when his breath no longer rushes so urgently from his chest, he slides his hands into Liem's soft hair and pulls him close. This way, Cardan can press soft, deliberate kisses to his face -- and though the threat of his climax has passed, for now, the shivery affection has not and cannot leave him. Liem's proximity should be a balm, but it only makes it worse, only makes his chest ache more. ]

How lovely an undoing you are, [ he breathes, quiet enough that one might think it wasn't meant for Liem at all. Except that Liem can hear the beat of his heart, and the fluttering of it surely cannot lie any more than Cardan can. ]

[Somehow this, this act of denying Cardan as well as himself, of requiring Liem to endure his lover’s desperation as well as his own, is so much more devastating than any cruelty Cardan has ever subjected him to. Keen as his own need is, the desperate arch of Cardan’s body against his own only makes it keener. Fierce as his yearning may be, Cardan’s breathless desire only inflames it.

And when the thunder of his lover’s heart subsides, when Cardan’s hard grip on him turns tender in accompaniment with his soft, measured kisses, Liem has to shut his eyes against the wildness that rouses in him and tries to beat its way out of his chest.]

Cardan, Cardan…

[Even as the threat of climax recedes, Liem’s desperation refuses to leave him. He presses closer, heedless of the eager ache that throbs between them as he does, and chases Cardan’s mouth so he can catch it with kisses of his own. If perfection wore a face, it would look like this. It would feel like this. Why, then, when he should be smug with contentment to have Cardan’s tenderness, does Liem feel so frantic with need?]

Please…

[ Cardan's plans ever have one fatal flaw: when Liem is this desperate, this vulnerable, this honest, Cardan cannot possibly continue to pursue any of them. He is so weak to his husband's urgent kisses, to the way his name sounds on Liem's lips. Even the hard shiver that takes him when Liem moves against him is soon forgotten. He can only breathe through it, close his eyes and steel himself just a little, just enough that he can speak without falling apart with the strain of his own desire. ]

Anything, [ he says, foolishly, not caring about the risk. He had not cared about the risk for months, now. ] Anything you wish for, husband.

[ Of course, he still wants Liem's bite -- the memory of fangs on the tender inside of his thigh -- but they have time. If Liem is right about all of his plans, and right now Cardan desperately wants to believe that he is, they might well have years. It can wait. It will wait, as all things must in the face of his husband's urgency.

His hands cradle Liem's face. Cardan's black stare is serious, despite his flushed face and the way his breaths still tumble out of him too rapidly. ]

Tell me.

[Liem doesn’t know how to contend with what Cardan does to him. The warm hands cradling his face, the dark eyes keeping him captive, the low voice breathing foolish promises. These things burrow inside him and grip tight, promising everything he can never have. They drag the starved, piteous need deep within him up to the surface, to cry and struggle against his own fearful self-restraint. He wants this so much. He is so terribly, desperately afraid of getting it.

I love you, he wants to tell him, and don’t do this to me, and please never let me go. He stares at Cardan with his heart in his throat, wanting to fall into that black stare, to forget everything else but him and just place his heart in Cardan’s warm, soft hands. He would take care of it; some part of Liem believes this utterly, without reservation.

But not every part. Even stupid with yearning and blind, senseless lust, he cannot disentangle the wanting from the stubborn, insistent dread. He does not know whether to confess his need for Cardan’s tenderness, or beg him to stop before Liem is undone completely.

So he skirts away from the choice, letting his eyes close and his brow fall to rest gently against his husband’s, splayed fingers curling helplessly against Cardan’s ribs.]

If you do not finish getting undressed, [he mutters,] I am going to go entirely insane.

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