[ Even despite his struggles, Liem’s charming insistence on herding him towards bed draws a soft laugh from him. How rare, for his husband to be the insatiable one; it makes a tentative warmth bloom in his chest, distracting him from the anxiety therein. ]
You are ever indefatigable.
[ He will raise the hand in his to his lips, brushing his mouth against Liem’s knuckles. Part of him is desperate to have what Liem offers him now; he wants to lose himself in his husband, wants to forget about the past few hours entirely. Already, the velvet and silk of his clothing feels too constricting; he wishes to be free of this, too.
Soon, soon. Just as soon as he can calm his racing thoughts. ]
[Pleased with Cardan’s fond acquiescence, Liem smiles at him as warm lips brush his hand, and draws back further until they have reached the edge of the broad, soft bed. Without looking back, he seats himself upon it, gazing up at his lover with a considering keenness in his eyes.]
Is it ambitious to desire that which is mine?
[He sweeps his gaze over Cardan’s body, already imagining his hands undoing the layers of his clothing and sliding beneath. He would like very much to lure him into bed and finally have his husband all to himself, with no king and no courtiers and no schemes to demand their attention. He had left the revel wishing insinuate himself into his husband’s arms, to trade kisses and gossip and lose themselves in each other until sleep claimed them, content in their shared embrace.
But he does not envision sharing such pleasant idleness with his husband now. The events of the morning have put them both in a poor mood for it, so he will have to adjust.]
Before we rest, [he decides,] I wish to bathe with you.
[ He blinks, taken by surprise with the unexpected request. It’s strange how Liem can make even this — a perfectly mundane activity for a married couple — sound enticingly laden with promise. It’s his earnestness, or perhaps it’s the weight of that careful consideration. When it sweeps over him, Cardan feels his mouth go a little dry.
Liem is doing a valiant job of pulling back his attention. Cardan sets one bottle onto the side table, then rests his knee between Liem’s thighs, making the bed dip a little as he reaches up to undo the lacings at his own throat. His pulse is still racing; freeing it feels immediately less oppressive, though he isn’t done. His eyes meet that deliberate blue gaze, and he doesn’t have to try very hard to make his smile wolfish with hunger. ]
It’s not ambitious, [ he counters, answering Liem’s earlier question, ] so long as you claim it.
[ The thing that’s Liem’s.
He will uncork the other bottle with his teeth, before tipping his head back to drink deeply from it. His throat moves as he swallows, for a moment transfixed only by this; by the time he lowers the bottle and wipes at his mouth, he will have drunk close to half of it down. His exhalation is a little shaky.
It’s not quite enough. Still, the immediate relief is so powerful he might have wept with it, if he were capable. ]
[Liem cannot remember the last time, if there was ever such a time, that he saw Cardan like this: so restless that his agitation distracts him even from Liem, even when they are close enough to embrace. Had he been like this all those months ago, the day Liem had never come to bed, and had found Cardan passed out in the stables that evening? Had he felt the same on the night before their wedding, when they had spent all night at the same party and yet scarcely crossed paths at all? Perhaps.
But still Cardan’s gaze is hungry, and when he lowers the half-emptied bottle from his lips, Liem needs only pull him a little closer to press his mouth to the exposed skin at the front of his throat.]
This is mine, [he murmurs against the intemperate pulse there, and slides his hands down Cardan’s flanks, to his narrow hips. Though he must at least turn on the bath to achieve his wish, he keeps his covetous hold of his husband for another moment.
He says quietly, as if to himself,] And I am yours.
[ With the heat of the liquor spreading through his veins, he feels a little more like himself -- a little less like some wild, frenzied creature trying to claw out of his own skin. This, too, is a relief. He wants to be here, wants to feel Liem's mouth on his throat and his hands on his body. ]
Yes, [ he murmurs, to both. He is Liem's, and Liem is his, and no curse nor plot could possibly change that now. The fingers of his free hand wind into Liem's hair as Cardan fields a wistful shiver, and then lets himself sink into his touch a little more. ]
I would not know what to do with myself if it were not so.
[ He is so terribly, terribly glad that Liem is here. But this is not the time to talk about that -- it would surely only bring down the mood. After all, his husband seems eager to put his ordeal behind him. So Cardan will only take another drink, and then he will lean in and kiss Liem, with the deliberate, ardent dedication of a man sworn to a sacred duty. ]
[Liem feels the tightness in his chest release just a bit as his husband shivers and shifts against him, warm fingers threading through his hair. He cannot be sure this means he has brought Cardan any kind of peace, but even if he has just given him a focus for his restlessness, that will suffice. Just as long as Cardan doesn’t have to be alone with his feelings, whatever they might be.
So he kisses him: gentle—but so, so hungry. He wants Cardan to know what he does to him, how the simple agreement of Liem’s statement makes him feel desperate to somehow earn this closeness he never expected to have. He wants Cardan to be glad that it’s Liem he wedded, and not someone else.
And he wants Cardan to keep kissing him like that, no matter what troubles may befall them because of this partnership they have cultivated.]
I want my hands on you.
[Those hands wander Cardan’s clothes, seeking fastenings to undo. He recalls the feeling of being wrapped gently up in Cardan’s arms, warm against his chest with his steady voice in his ears, and feels impatience throb hard against his ribs.
[ It’s seductive — Liem’s hunger and his quiet certainty. Somehow, it succeeds at making Cardan feel feral, even despite the warm glow of Faerie wine dulling his senses, trying to pull him into its comforting embrace. Perhaps it’s just because this is what he longs for: his husband, who always knows the correct action to take, who can ever be trusted to do things properly. This strange, fastidious man whom he has come so close to endangering this morning — this precious thing that he’d nearly lost altogether.
Cardan wants his hands on himself too. And his mouth. And everything, anything else Liem would offer him. His desolate longing still howls through him like a winter squall; for a moment, he can do naught but pull Liem close, jealous even of the suggestion that he might leave.
But Liem has asked for a bath, and Cardan can only allow himself so much selfishness, given the circumstances. He will take a breath, and then— release Liem from his clutches, flopping exaggeratedly onto the bed, instead. ]
How spoiled one becomes in the presence of sentient architecture.
[ It’s good. It’s fine. Liem’s drawing a bath will give him time to finish the bottle, and perhaps become less of a wet blanket in the process. ]
[For a moment, Liem thinks his husband means to keep him jealously close despite his request, forcing him to remain on the bed and in Cardan’s arms. Despite his stated desire, he can admit this would not be so terrible a thing. He can never really be unhappy about being caught in his husband’s grasp, whatever else he might want.
But Cardan does release him, and Liem looks fondly down at his husband as he flops down on the bed beside him in what looks to be a long-suffering manner.]
Are you referring to yourself, or to me?
[Surely Cardan was spoiled long before he ever set foot in Liem’s home? But regardless, Liem leans close to brush a kiss against his lover’s brow before standing and hastening over to the bathing area, with its generous but sadly non-sapient tub. Here he can multitask, tending the water’s flow with one hand as his other goes to work on his own tie and buttons.]
To me, of course. You've been spoiled by the house since you were born.
[ He doesn't stay down for long, sitting up so he can watch Liem as he polishes off the rest of the liquor in the bottle. It helps -- as always, it helps. But not as much as he'd thought it would; even now, he finds he is antsy. His gaze follows Liem as he tends to the tub, as if Liem might disappear any moment.
It feels like he could. It feels like he might. It's a completely unreasonable thing to feel, but that has never stopped Cardan before.
He drops the empty bottle carelessly onto the floor, then shrugs off his long coat so that he can pull the waistcoat and shirt off over his head wholesale, not bothering to make sense of any buttons. He kicks off his boots with similar lack of ceremony, his tail swishing restlessly over the covers all the while. Having achieved near-nudity in record time, Cardan will rise and take hold of the yet full bottle.
He can also multitask, surely, by starting on it as he strides across the room and toward his lover. His footsteps are silenced by the lush rugs, though he doesn't expect Liem to be surprised when Cardan presses against his back, sliding an arm around him. The anxious heart hammering in his chest will surely betray him.
His free hand finds Liem's, Cardan's fingers sliding between his -- intent on taking over the undoing of his tie, evidently. ]
I do not wish, [ he murmurs, his lips moving against Liem's soft hair... and then trails off, catching himself in the midst of something unwise. ]
[The fact that Cardan is able to come up behind him on unshod feet, wrapping a bare arm around him to seek his own hand before he has even finished removing his tie, suggests to Liem that he has not been as economical in his tasks as he could have. As often seems to be the case, his husband demonstrates how much more quickly one can do things if one doesn’t care about doing them the proper way.
It is to Liem’s benefit, on this occasion. Now satisfied with the temperature of the water filling the large tub, he straightens up against his husband, leaning companionably against his chest as he cedes the undoing of his tie to him. Instead, he reaches up to bury his fingers in Cardan’s hair, stroking idly and keeping him close.]
This is the real luxury, in any case.
[Why would he grumble about having to fill his own bath when he has Cardan’s touch to content him in the meantime? It is true that the very home he grew up in catered to his desires almost from birth, but he never felt spoiled until he had a husband who made of himself such a devoted companion. He has never before felt so unflaggingly coveted, nor so unexpectedly content.
Nor so vital, in the unhappy moments when he realizes how rare it has been for anyone but him to care for Cardan’s well-being. More reason for him to appreciate Cardan while he has him, for all else aside, Cardan deserves to receive Liem’s affection undisguised.]
Yes, [ breathes Cardan, glad for the distraction of Liem’s lean body pressed against his own, for the gentle fingers in his hair and the familiar cadence of Liem’s measured voice. He wants to bury himself in those sensations until they subsume him whole, until they leave no space for his morose thoughts and uncertain fears.
He makes quick work of the tie, thanks largely to Liem’s previous efforts with the knot. The buttons only pose a challenge insofar as he’s impatient; the moment he has enough of them undone, he will slide a greedy hand under Liem’s shirt, splaying long fingers possessively over his chest. He has no real plan for any of this. As always, Cardan only wants — and wants, and wants.
He runs the blunt edge of his nail over Liem’s nipple, self-indulgent, and feels heat curl in his belly. Liem is right: nothing ever feels quite as luxurious as the way he lets Cardan paw at him, the way he allows himself to be claimed and manhandled and possessed, if only for a while.
His wicked smile curves against the shell of Liem’s ear. ]
Do you really not have filthy dreams about me?
[ Liem didn’t outright say he didn’t, but certainly none of his copies in the dream seemed particularly interested in sex. ]
[As always, Cardan’s fingers sneaking beneath the layers of Liem’s clothing feel feverish against his cool skin. Liem’s eyes close for a moment as he lets himself indulge in the sensation of Cardan’s body fitted against him, the quiet heartbeat filling the air, the hand wandering his chest, the green scent wrapping him up and the hot breath tickling his ear. His lover makes himself quite impossible to ignore, and Liem hopes that Cardan feels the same about him. He could surely use the distraction just now.
Cardan’s question surprises a short laugh from him.]
When did I say that?
[His free hand, still damp with bathwater, lifts to fit possessively over Cardan’s.]
Of course I’ve enjoyed filthy dreams about you. You surely don’t imagine what you saw is representative of my normal rest.
[He hopes Cardan doesn’t think that. In fact, he hopes Cardan doesn’t think about the contents of that particular dream at all, lest he suspect some truths that Liem would rather he not consider.]
[ Cardan didn’t think that — not at first, anyway. But now that he considers what he knows about his husband, he’s has to admit that Liem’s cursed dream isn’t out of line with his typical nature. More and more, as he’s clawed and wheedled his way into Liem’s confidence, he’s realized just how ever-present his husband’s anxieties are. He remembers too well the weeks he’d spent holding them tucked away under his ribs; remembers, too, just how exhausting it had been to act as if nothing was worrying him at all.
That, and his husband seems to ever labour under the misapprehension that he’s far less likeable than he is — a misapprehension that has been reinforced by at least some of the people around him.
He forces himself to smooth out his burgeoning frown; instead, he will kiss the elegant shell of Liem’s ear and give a thoughtful hum, as if considering. ]
I don’t dream very often, and when I do, they are usually obscene. [ Such as the dreams he’d had in the Undersea — though those had been shot through with a healthy dose of longing, as well. ] It surprised me that my dream selves didn’t want to fuck.
[ But maybe that’s not Liem’s fault. Maybe it’s simply a byproduct of the curse — which would make it even more of a shame. ]
[Liem is more than willing to let Cardan steer the conversation away from his usual dreams, towards Cardan’s. It is a much more pleasing topic, to be sure, and the sensation of Cardan’s lips brushing his ear pleases him even more. Automatically he finds himself trying to turn to face his husband, to see him and touch him, despite Cardan’s position behind him. Always he wants to have Cardan in his arms, even when he should be content to have his husband wrapped around him.
He arrests the movement belatedly, recalling that he was meant to be keeping an eye on the filling tub.]
Do you have a favourite dream, Cardan?
[He does wonder about the details of these dreams, which Cardan readily describes as obscene. What kind of debauchery features most prominently in his husband’s imaginings, and what role does Liem tend to play in them? He tries to recall his own erotic dreams, and comes away with only soft, half-remembered hungers and Cardan’s warm, wandering caress.]
[ It's not exactly subtle, the eagerness with which Liem picks up the thread of Cardan's filthy dreams and not his own -- but that's all right. Cardan sees little benefit in discussing his husband's ordeal, at any rate.
He does laugh at Liem's question, having belatedly noted his husband's attempt at turning around. It's endearing, how unerring Liem is in wishing to be face-to-face; he can almost hear his husband's complaints about being unable to kiss. ]
I'm afraid Grimsen has absconded with my favourite. [ The wizened gnome smith was not best pleased with Cardan's negotiating him down from a memory of Liem to a mere dream; of course he would have taken the best of the bunch.
Still, he thinks back to that long, lonely month under the sea, when he'd so often woken up overwarm and aching with longing. ]
...my third favourite is this one: we're usually working. Sometimes by ourselves, and sometimes in a meeting. Except you're always-- [ his fingers flick open a few more buttons on Liem's shirt ] --a little sluttily undone. I never know whether you realize it or not. Regardless, we spend the entire meeting eyefucking. There is much unsubtle innuendo, as well.
[ It is slow going, trying to undress Liem with just one hand. He frowns at the bottle in his other, and then tips his head back once more in an effort to take care of the problem. ]
[Liem doesn’t miss the jump from Cardan’s missing favourite dream to the one he actually shares: his third-favourite. The picture he paints is enjoyable, to be sure; Liem holds great fondness for the hungry way his husband looks at him sometimes, when they are busy and Cardan has no opportunity to prey on him just yet. The thought makes him smile, just as much as the purposeful wandering of Cardan’s fingers does.]
I wasn’t aware my staying fully buttoned up was so vital to my modesty, [he murmurs idly, almost to himself.
Though regarding Cardan’s tenuous ability to focus on anything else, he cannot be surprised. He has long since realized that Cardan considers almost everything of far less interest and import than Liem’s exposed skin.
But he is still curious. And besides, Cardan enjoys when he is bold.]
[ He's not surprised that Liem asks. Still, Cardan pauses -- if only to catch his breath as he lowers the bottle. His head swims a little when he closes his eyes, aiming to recall. ]
I am in a dark wood. So dark, it veils even my sight. No bird nor night insect disturbs my solitude.
I do not have the good sense to be afraid.
[ His hand stills on Liem's chest, splaying over his ribs as Cardan's attention shifts to the memory. ]
Eventually, you find me.
I do not see you in the dark and I don't hear you in the rustle of the wind above me. I know neither your name nor your shape -- perhaps you are a man and perhaps you are something else entirely. It matters not. I know you.
[ The hand abruptly slides up -- over Liem's sternum, his collarbones -- to cage his throat beneath Cardan's long fingers. The grip is feather-light. ]
And I know your hunger. I know it is as fathomless as my own.
[ He'd only had this dream once. But even now, it makes him shiver with something he cannot quite name. ]
[Liem does not expect the response Cardan gives him.
He had half expected no answer at all, supposing his husband might first demand something from him before deigning to address his question. Even then, if he had any expectations about the nature of that dream, they would have been more explicitly carnal. Instead, he is caught off guard yet again by his husband’s abrupt pivot from lust to… kinship. Liem feels himself become very still beneath the gentle cage of Cardan’s fingers.
He is right, of course. Even this simple touch fills Liem up with an immediate, powerful yearning: a want for Cardan’s desire and affection and nearness, a need to belong with him and to him. It is a hunger that can never be truly sated, and Cardan is right to say so. He cannot imagine being without it, and yet, Cardan has always matched that hunger step for step.
If he trusts anything about his husband—and he does, against all his expectations he does—this is the most unshakable. It is the hunger to not just be seen, not just be valued, but to be vital; irreplaceable. It can never be entirely quieted because it can only be fed moment to moment, and that hunger has done more to cement their marriage than any scheme or vow ever has.
Liem tips his head back, resting it against Cardan’s shoulder as warm fingers cup his throat.]
[ His relief sighs out of him. Here, like this, with Liem leaning against him, the terror of this morning finally retreats, grows pale and insubstantial. He relishes the weight of Liem's head against his shoulder, the solidity of him. And he marvels, too, at the easy trust of it -- of the way his husband permits himself to be handled. ]
You smell like home, [ he tells Liem, because he's drunk, and because Liem's hair is tickling his chin, and because his chest is tight with savage affection for this man he has come so close to losing. The bottle slips from his fingers with a dull thud, spilling its chartreuse contents on the floor -- not that there is much left. Not that Cardan cares. He is busy wrapping his freed arm around Liem, pulling him insistently closer. He won't tell Liem of his fears -- he can't, it would only be pathetic -- but surely he is permitted to revel in his closeness a while longer. ]
Why a bath? [ he asks. He wants to keep talking, and he doesn't take his husband for a man who would have picked this activity without specific intent. His fingers stroke up the slender column of Liem's throat, up to the line of his jaw -- light, idle caresses. He seems to have forgotten about his intent to rid Liem of his clothing. ]
[By now Liem should be used to being a fixture of home to Cardan. The Talbott estate has evidently been a refuge from the unhappiness that drove Cardan to accept their marriage in the first place; it affords him both freedom and luxury, despite his habit of haunting Liem’s working hours and involving himself in tedious business. It should be no surprise that it is more a home to Cardan than the strange, crooked house in Elfhame’s woods.
Still, Liem cannot deny the happy little glow that warms his chest as Cardan relaxes around him, pulling him close. He wanted to erase the restless tension gripping Cardan; wanted to make him forget about the events of the morning and once more find the ease that Liem was so used to him wearing. He is so glad to be wrapped in Cardan’s comfortable embrace again, even if the ease that has found his husband was born at the bottom of two separate bottles of liquor.
It matters little. He will accept the help readily.]
I want to attend you again.
[He doesn’t know that he can explain himself better than this. He wants an excuse to put his hands and his mouth on his husband for a while, without Cardan feeling the need to take matters into his own hands. And he thought that the time it took to fill would give Cardan an opportunity to finish his quest for intoxication.
Instead, Liem tips his head enough to press a kiss to his husband’s jaw.]
You seemed to enjoy it well enough last time—unless you were just too worn out to complain.
[ He has to laugh -- and that, too, feels easier, less forced now. ]
You could never, husband, [ he will admonish, grinning, ] wear me out enough to stop my complaining. Valiant though your effort was.
[ Well, Cardan's effort, really -- but Liem had certainly precipitated it by being difficult to exhaust. ]
I enjoyed it.
[ He'd gotten used to having no attendants in his bath -- first, because he'd hated being scrubbed down like an unruly puppy and because it made it easier to hide the aftermath of Balekin's beatings. After his marriage, it had been a way to avoid being vulnerable and alone with attendants he did not know. Lately, though, he has relished the opportunity to bathe with his husband, or, occasionally, to help him wash his hair and shave, as he tends to do most evenings in Faerie. But never, besides that first, hazy time mired in exhaustion — and the second likewise instance, in the little cabin in the Talbott estate woods — has Liem bathed him. ]
But I don’t remember it well. So you ought to refresh my memory just as well.
[ And it seems like the bath is about filled up. Cardan will lean around Liem to stick his hand below the surface, wiggling his fingers to test the temperature. When he straightens out again to look at Liem, the expression on his face is mildly despairing. ]
You are still far too dressed.
[ Nevermind that this was Cardan’s job, and that he had been distracted from it almost immediately. ]
[Cardan’s reprimand only makes Liem smile, tickled as he always is by his husband’s impatience. It is the swiftness with which Cardan goes from having his demands indulged to changing his desires and being frustrated that Liem has failed to read his mind. Liem cannot be anything but charmed.]
You’re right. I must remedy this at once.
[He cannot leave his husband waiting, after all. Finding the buttons where Cardan left off, Liem sets about undoing the rest of his shirt, already tugging it free of his trousers so he can shrug free of his layers at the first opportunity. Still, his eyes linger with hungry affection on his lover.]
I would never wish to rob you of the readiness to voice your frustrations, husband. It is only one of your many charming qualities.
[Who could fail to be beguiled by the bad grace with which Cardan weathers minor dissatisfaction? Certainly not Liem—not now, and not at any time, he suspects. He would blame this on his being hopelessly besotted, except he cannot recall a time when Cardan’s temper failed to charm him, even when they barely knew each other at all.]
[ He shifts to brace himself against the edge of the tub, watching the labour of Liem’s hands with keen, hungry interest. He is ever enamoured with those capable, efficient hands — and never more than when they do his capricious bidding. ]
You encourage me to such mischief.
[ It has always puzzled him: just how eagerly Liem enables his terrible impulses. He has often assumed that it was only Liem’s small way of rebelling against his so-structured life; still, sometimes he wonders if it isn’t more that Liem simply indulges Cardan, the way one would a spirited pet.
Even a few months ago, he might have found the latter offensive.
But Liem is undressing, and Cardan can’t find it in himself to care about much that isn’t wanting those hands on him, unerringly gentle as they were from the very start. How strange, that a thing which so distressed him should now be something he yearns for. He exhales, a little yearning and a little forlorn in the quiet between them. ]
I would let you do so many things to me, [ he mutters, obliquely, ] so long as you did them with those hands.
[ After a beat, he will add, for completeness’ sake, ] And your mouth. [ That dangerous, serious mouth… ]
[It is surely a sign of Liem’s masochistic tendencies that he consistently receives Cardan’s nonsense with such delight. Cardan habitually disturbs his peace and complicates his plans, but Liem rarely feels such pleasure as when Cardan puts his elegant hands all over his orderly routines. Even now, though his husband has done naught but distract him from undressing and then admonish him for his tardiness, Liem cannot help but feel warmly pleased that Cardan is again acting more like himself.
Even if Liem suspects some melancholy still weighs on him.]
Yours is the only mischief I have cause to enjoy during my nights.
[Liem shrugs off his undone shirt and jacket and lets the fine clothes fall to the floor, forgotten. Resting briefly against the lip of the tub, he is likewise single-minded in quickly unlacing and prying off his boots, tossing them off to one side, away from the bath. Only then does he lean over and press a kiss to his husband’s bare shoulder.
His heart squeezes tight with something soft and fragile.]
It is my cherished privilege to be the only one permitted to help you bathe. Even if I need no excuse to get my hands on you.
[ He is, perhaps, too eager to get his own hands on Liem — but he doesn’t care and sees no reason to pretend otherwise. Let Liem think that the palm sweeping up his flank is merely greedy, that the fingers slipping into his hair are but a product of Cardan’s hunger. There is no hiding the way his heart speeds when Liem’s mouth presses to his shoulder, but that’s fine, it’s fine. Surely his husband thinks nothing of such a reaction. ]
Then why, [ he will ask, not bothering to hide his impatience, ] are they not on me yet?
[ How many times had he surrendered himself to the touch of those gentle, careful hands? Before his marriage, such a thing was foreign to him; even when he was being attended to, it was merely a service being rendered, or perhaps an exchange of favours from eager courtier to the son of the High King. But Liem needs no favours and owes him no debt; when he takes care of Cardan, it seems to be simply because he wants to.
He doesn’t know how to feel about that. Except for right now, when he seems to be fielding a longing so powerful it makes his heart pang against his ribs. ]
Undo my trousers, would you? [ he asks, because the bath seems about ready, and because he’s not willing to take his hands off of Liem just yet. The trousers are loose enough; once the fastenings are dealt with, Cardan can simply step out of them and be bare. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You are ever indefatigable.
[ He will raise the hand in his to his lips, brushing his mouth against Liem’s knuckles. Part of him is desperate to have what Liem offers him now; he wants to lose himself in his husband, wants to forget about the past few hours entirely. Already, the velvet and silk of his clothing feels too constricting; he wishes to be free of this, too.
Soon, soon. Just as soon as he can calm his racing thoughts. ]
…and ever ambitious.
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Is it ambitious to desire that which is mine?
[He sweeps his gaze over Cardan’s body, already imagining his hands undoing the layers of his clothing and sliding beneath. He would like very much to lure him into bed and finally have his husband all to himself, with no king and no courtiers and no schemes to demand their attention. He had left the revel wishing insinuate himself into his husband’s arms, to trade kisses and gossip and lose themselves in each other until sleep claimed them, content in their shared embrace.
But he does not envision sharing such pleasant idleness with his husband now. The events of the morning have put them both in a poor mood for it, so he will have to adjust.]
Before we rest, [he decides,] I wish to bathe with you.
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Liem is doing a valiant job of pulling back his attention. Cardan sets one bottle onto the side table, then rests his knee between Liem’s thighs, making the bed dip a little as he reaches up to undo the lacings at his own throat. His pulse is still racing; freeing it feels immediately less oppressive, though he isn’t done. His eyes meet that deliberate blue gaze, and he doesn’t have to try very hard to make his smile wolfish with hunger. ]
It’s not ambitious, [ he counters, answering Liem’s earlier question, ] so long as you claim it.
[ The thing that’s Liem’s.
He will uncork the other bottle with his teeth, before tipping his head back to drink deeply from it. His throat moves as he swallows, for a moment transfixed only by this; by the time he lowers the bottle and wipes at his mouth, he will have drunk close to half of it down. His exhalation is a little shaky.
It’s not quite enough. Still, the immediate relief is so powerful he might have wept with it, if he were capable. ]
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But still Cardan’s gaze is hungry, and when he lowers the half-emptied bottle from his lips, Liem needs only pull him a little closer to press his mouth to the exposed skin at the front of his throat.]
This is mine, [he murmurs against the intemperate pulse there, and slides his hands down Cardan’s flanks, to his narrow hips. Though he must at least turn on the bath to achieve his wish, he keeps his covetous hold of his husband for another moment.
He says quietly, as if to himself,] And I am yours.
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Yes, [ he murmurs, to both. He is Liem's, and Liem is his, and no curse nor plot could possibly change that now. The fingers of his free hand wind into Liem's hair as Cardan fields a wistful shiver, and then lets himself sink into his touch a little more. ]
I would not know what to do with myself if it were not so.
[ He is so terribly, terribly glad that Liem is here. But this is not the time to talk about that -- it would surely only bring down the mood. After all, his husband seems eager to put his ordeal behind him. So Cardan will only take another drink, and then he will lean in and kiss Liem, with the deliberate, ardent dedication of a man sworn to a sacred duty. ]
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So he kisses him: gentle—but so, so hungry. He wants Cardan to know what he does to him, how the simple agreement of Liem’s statement makes him feel desperate to somehow earn this closeness he never expected to have. He wants Cardan to be glad that it’s Liem he wedded, and not someone else.
And he wants Cardan to keep kissing him like that, no matter what troubles may befall them because of this partnership they have cultivated.]
I want my hands on you.
[Those hands wander Cardan’s clothes, seeking fastenings to undo. He recalls the feeling of being wrapped gently up in Cardan’s arms, warm against his chest with his steady voice in his ears, and feels impatience throb hard against his ribs.
With an effort, he forces himself to be calm.]
But first, you must let me start the bath.
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Cardan wants his hands on himself too. And his mouth. And everything, anything else Liem would offer him. His desolate longing still howls through him like a winter squall; for a moment, he can do naught but pull Liem close, jealous even of the suggestion that he might leave.
But Liem has asked for a bath, and Cardan can only allow himself so much selfishness, given the circumstances. He will take a breath, and then— release Liem from his clutches, flopping exaggeratedly onto the bed, instead. ]
How spoiled one becomes in the presence of sentient architecture.
[ It’s good. It’s fine. Liem’s drawing a bath will give him time to finish the bottle, and perhaps become less of a wet blanket in the process. ]
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But Cardan does release him, and Liem looks fondly down at his husband as he flops down on the bed beside him in what looks to be a long-suffering manner.]
Are you referring to yourself, or to me?
[Surely Cardan was spoiled long before he ever set foot in Liem’s home? But regardless, Liem leans close to brush a kiss against his lover’s brow before standing and hastening over to the bathing area, with its generous but sadly non-sapient tub. Here he can multitask, tending the water’s flow with one hand as his other goes to work on his own tie and buttons.]
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[ He doesn't stay down for long, sitting up so he can watch Liem as he polishes off the rest of the liquor in the bottle. It helps -- as always, it helps. But not as much as he'd thought it would; even now, he finds he is antsy. His gaze follows Liem as he tends to the tub, as if Liem might disappear any moment.
It feels like he could. It feels like he might. It's a completely unreasonable thing to feel, but that has never stopped Cardan before.
He drops the empty bottle carelessly onto the floor, then shrugs off his long coat so that he can pull the waistcoat and shirt off over his head wholesale, not bothering to make sense of any buttons. He kicks off his boots with similar lack of ceremony, his tail swishing restlessly over the covers all the while. Having achieved near-nudity in record time, Cardan will rise and take hold of the yet full bottle.
He can also multitask, surely, by starting on it as he strides across the room and toward his lover. His footsteps are silenced by the lush rugs, though he doesn't expect Liem to be surprised when Cardan presses against his back, sliding an arm around him. The anxious heart hammering in his chest will surely betray him.
His free hand finds Liem's, Cardan's fingers sliding between his -- intent on taking over the undoing of his tie, evidently. ]
I do not wish, [ he murmurs, his lips moving against Liem's soft hair... and then trails off, catching himself in the midst of something unwise. ]
Let me.
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It is to Liem’s benefit, on this occasion. Now satisfied with the temperature of the water filling the large tub, he straightens up against his husband, leaning companionably against his chest as he cedes the undoing of his tie to him. Instead, he reaches up to bury his fingers in Cardan’s hair, stroking idly and keeping him close.]
This is the real luxury, in any case.
[Why would he grumble about having to fill his own bath when he has Cardan’s touch to content him in the meantime? It is true that the very home he grew up in catered to his desires almost from birth, but he never felt spoiled until he had a husband who made of himself such a devoted companion. He has never before felt so unflaggingly coveted, nor so unexpectedly content.
Nor so vital, in the unhappy moments when he realizes how rare it has been for anyone but him to care for Cardan’s well-being. More reason for him to appreciate Cardan while he has him, for all else aside, Cardan deserves to receive Liem’s affection undisguised.]
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He makes quick work of the tie, thanks largely to Liem’s previous efforts with the knot. The buttons only pose a challenge insofar as he’s impatient; the moment he has enough of them undone, he will slide a greedy hand under Liem’s shirt, splaying long fingers possessively over his chest. He has no real plan for any of this. As always, Cardan only wants — and wants, and wants.
He runs the blunt edge of his nail over Liem’s nipple, self-indulgent, and feels heat curl in his belly. Liem is right: nothing ever feels quite as luxurious as the way he lets Cardan paw at him, the way he allows himself to be claimed and manhandled and possessed, if only for a while.
His wicked smile curves against the shell of Liem’s ear. ]
Do you really not have filthy dreams about me?
[ Liem didn’t outright say he didn’t, but certainly none of his copies in the dream seemed particularly interested in sex. ]
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Cardan’s question surprises a short laugh from him.]
When did I say that?
[His free hand, still damp with bathwater, lifts to fit possessively over Cardan’s.]
Of course I’ve enjoyed filthy dreams about you. You surely don’t imagine what you saw is representative of my normal rest.
[He hopes Cardan doesn’t think that. In fact, he hopes Cardan doesn’t think about the contents of that particular dream at all, lest he suspect some truths that Liem would rather he not consider.]
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That, and his husband seems to ever labour under the misapprehension that he’s far less likeable than he is — a misapprehension that has been reinforced by at least some of the people around him.
He forces himself to smooth out his burgeoning frown; instead, he will kiss the elegant shell of Liem’s ear and give a thoughtful hum, as if considering. ]
I don’t dream very often, and when I do, they are usually obscene. [ Such as the dreams he’d had in the Undersea — though those had been shot through with a healthy dose of longing, as well. ] It surprised me that my dream selves didn’t want to fuck.
[ But maybe that’s not Liem’s fault. Maybe it’s simply a byproduct of the curse — which would make it even more of a shame. ]
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He arrests the movement belatedly, recalling that he was meant to be keeping an eye on the filling tub.]
Do you have a favourite dream, Cardan?
[He does wonder about the details of these dreams, which Cardan readily describes as obscene. What kind of debauchery features most prominently in his husband’s imaginings, and what role does Liem tend to play in them? He tries to recall his own erotic dreams, and comes away with only soft, half-remembered hungers and Cardan’s warm, wandering caress.]
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He does laugh at Liem's question, having belatedly noted his husband's attempt at turning around. It's endearing, how unerring Liem is in wishing to be face-to-face; he can almost hear his husband's complaints about being unable to kiss. ]
I'm afraid Grimsen has absconded with my favourite. [ The wizened gnome smith was not best pleased with Cardan's negotiating him down from a memory of Liem to a mere dream; of course he would have taken the best of the bunch.
Still, he thinks back to that long, lonely month under the sea, when he'd so often woken up overwarm and aching with longing. ]
...my third favourite is this one: we're usually working. Sometimes by ourselves, and sometimes in a meeting. Except you're always-- [ his fingers flick open a few more buttons on Liem's shirt ] --a little sluttily undone. I never know whether you realize it or not. Regardless, we spend the entire meeting eyefucking. There is much unsubtle innuendo, as well.
[ It is slow going, trying to undress Liem with just one hand. He frowns at the bottle in his other, and then tips his head back once more in an effort to take care of the problem. ]
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I wasn’t aware my staying fully buttoned up was so vital to my modesty, [he murmurs idly, almost to himself.
Though regarding Cardan’s tenuous ability to focus on anything else, he cannot be surprised. He has long since realized that Cardan considers almost everything of far less interest and import than Liem’s exposed skin.
But he is still curious. And besides, Cardan enjoys when he is bold.]
What is your second-favourite dream?
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[ He's not surprised that Liem asks. Still, Cardan pauses -- if only to catch his breath as he lowers the bottle. His head swims a little when he closes his eyes, aiming to recall. ]
I am in a dark wood. So dark, it veils even my sight. No bird nor night insect disturbs my solitude.
I do not have the good sense to be afraid.
[ His hand stills on Liem's chest, splaying over his ribs as Cardan's attention shifts to the memory. ]
Eventually, you find me.
I do not see you in the dark and I don't hear you in the rustle of the wind above me. I know neither your name nor your shape -- perhaps you are a man and perhaps you are something else entirely. It matters not. I know you.
[ The hand abruptly slides up -- over Liem's sternum, his collarbones -- to cage his throat beneath Cardan's long fingers. The grip is feather-light. ]
And I know your hunger. I know it is as fathomless as my own.
[ He'd only had this dream once. But even now, it makes him shiver with something he cannot quite name. ]
It is a comfort like no other, Liem.
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He had half expected no answer at all, supposing his husband might first demand something from him before deigning to address his question. Even then, if he had any expectations about the nature of that dream, they would have been more explicitly carnal. Instead, he is caught off guard yet again by his husband’s abrupt pivot from lust to… kinship. Liem feels himself become very still beneath the gentle cage of Cardan’s fingers.
He is right, of course. Even this simple touch fills Liem up with an immediate, powerful yearning: a want for Cardan’s desire and affection and nearness, a need to belong with him and to him. It is a hunger that can never be truly sated, and Cardan is right to say so. He cannot imagine being without it, and yet, Cardan has always matched that hunger step for step.
If he trusts anything about his husband—and he does, against all his expectations he does—this is the most unshakable. It is the hunger to not just be seen, not just be valued, but to be vital; irreplaceable. It can never be entirely quieted because it can only be fed moment to moment, and that hunger has done more to cement their marriage than any scheme or vow ever has.
Liem tips his head back, resting it against Cardan’s shoulder as warm fingers cup his throat.]
That hunger is no dream.
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You smell like home, [ he tells Liem, because he's drunk, and because Liem's hair is tickling his chin, and because his chest is tight with savage affection for this man he has come so close to losing. The bottle slips from his fingers with a dull thud, spilling its chartreuse contents on the floor -- not that there is much left. Not that Cardan cares. He is busy wrapping his freed arm around Liem, pulling him insistently closer. He won't tell Liem of his fears -- he can't, it would only be pathetic -- but surely he is permitted to revel in his closeness a while longer. ]
Why a bath? [ he asks. He wants to keep talking, and he doesn't take his husband for a man who would have picked this activity without specific intent. His fingers stroke up the slender column of Liem's throat, up to the line of his jaw -- light, idle caresses. He seems to have forgotten about his intent to rid Liem of his clothing. ]
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Still, Liem cannot deny the happy little glow that warms his chest as Cardan relaxes around him, pulling him close. He wanted to erase the restless tension gripping Cardan; wanted to make him forget about the events of the morning and once more find the ease that Liem was so used to him wearing. He is so glad to be wrapped in Cardan’s comfortable embrace again, even if the ease that has found his husband was born at the bottom of two separate bottles of liquor.
It matters little. He will accept the help readily.]
I want to attend you again.
[He doesn’t know that he can explain himself better than this. He wants an excuse to put his hands and his mouth on his husband for a while, without Cardan feeling the need to take matters into his own hands. And he thought that the time it took to fill would give Cardan an opportunity to finish his quest for intoxication.
Instead, Liem tips his head enough to press a kiss to his husband’s jaw.]
You seemed to enjoy it well enough last time—unless you were just too worn out to complain.
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You could never, husband, [ he will admonish, grinning, ] wear me out enough to stop my complaining. Valiant though your effort was.
[ Well, Cardan's effort, really -- but Liem had certainly precipitated it by being difficult to exhaust. ]
I enjoyed it.
[ He'd gotten used to having no attendants in his bath -- first, because he'd hated being scrubbed down like an unruly puppy and because it made it easier to hide the aftermath of Balekin's beatings. After his marriage, it had been a way to avoid being vulnerable and alone with attendants he did not know. Lately, though, he has relished the opportunity to bathe with his husband, or, occasionally, to help him wash his hair and shave, as he tends to do most evenings in Faerie. But never, besides that first, hazy time mired in exhaustion — and the second likewise instance, in the little cabin in the Talbott estate woods — has Liem bathed him. ]
But I don’t remember it well. So you ought to refresh my memory just as well.
[ And it seems like the bath is about filled up. Cardan will lean around Liem to stick his hand below the surface, wiggling his fingers to test the temperature. When he straightens out again to look at Liem, the expression on his face is mildly despairing. ]
You are still far too dressed.
[ Nevermind that this was Cardan’s job, and that he had been distracted from it almost immediately. ]
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You’re right. I must remedy this at once.
[He cannot leave his husband waiting, after all. Finding the buttons where Cardan left off, Liem sets about undoing the rest of his shirt, already tugging it free of his trousers so he can shrug free of his layers at the first opportunity. Still, his eyes linger with hungry affection on his lover.]
I would never wish to rob you of the readiness to voice your frustrations, husband. It is only one of your many charming qualities.
[Who could fail to be beguiled by the bad grace with which Cardan weathers minor dissatisfaction? Certainly not Liem—not now, and not at any time, he suspects. He would blame this on his being hopelessly besotted, except he cannot recall a time when Cardan’s temper failed to charm him, even when they barely knew each other at all.]
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You encourage me to such mischief.
[ It has always puzzled him: just how eagerly Liem enables his terrible impulses. He has often assumed that it was only Liem’s small way of rebelling against his so-structured life; still, sometimes he wonders if it isn’t more that Liem simply indulges Cardan, the way one would a spirited pet.
Even a few months ago, he might have found the latter offensive.
But Liem is undressing, and Cardan can’t find it in himself to care about much that isn’t wanting those hands on him, unerringly gentle as they were from the very start. How strange, that a thing which so distressed him should now be something he yearns for. He exhales, a little yearning and a little forlorn in the quiet between them. ]
I would let you do so many things to me, [ he mutters, obliquely, ] so long as you did them with those hands.
[ After a beat, he will add, for completeness’ sake, ] And your mouth. [ That dangerous, serious mouth… ]
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Even if Liem suspects some melancholy still weighs on him.]
Yours is the only mischief I have cause to enjoy during my nights.
[Liem shrugs off his undone shirt and jacket and lets the fine clothes fall to the floor, forgotten. Resting briefly against the lip of the tub, he is likewise single-minded in quickly unlacing and prying off his boots, tossing them off to one side, away from the bath. Only then does he lean over and press a kiss to his husband’s bare shoulder.
His heart squeezes tight with something soft and fragile.]
It is my cherished privilege to be the only one permitted to help you bathe. Even if I need no excuse to get my hands on you.
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Then why, [ he will ask, not bothering to hide his impatience, ] are they not on me yet?
[ How many times had he surrendered himself to the touch of those gentle, careful hands? Before his marriage, such a thing was foreign to him; even when he was being attended to, it was merely a service being rendered, or perhaps an exchange of favours from eager courtier to the son of the High King. But Liem needs no favours and owes him no debt; when he takes care of Cardan, it seems to be simply because he wants to.
He doesn’t know how to feel about that. Except for right now, when he seems to be fielding a longing so powerful it makes his heart pang against his ribs. ]
Undo my trousers, would you? [ he asks, because the bath seems about ready, and because he’s not willing to take his hands off of Liem just yet. The trousers are loose enough; once the fastenings are dealt with, Cardan can simply step out of them and be bare. ]
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