[Once, Cardan accused Liem of being averse to demanding costly things from him—and Liem still could not deny that this is true. But when his husband asks things like this of him, Liem thinks that Cardan’s own inclination towards indulging him has only grown stronger over the many months of their marriage.
But he will not voice such an accusation, lest he prick his dear husband’s pride over his penchant for villainy.]
A kiss for each we pass through? Or pass by?
[Liem’s warm expression turns just a little sly. The hands splayed against Cardan’s ribs slide up his chest until he is framing his husband’s jaw.]
Perhaps I shall extend you an advance now, so our journey will be less fraught. How many thresholds do you suppose we will encounter?
[ He raises an eyebrow; by now, he is not so foolish to assume he could easily outfox his husband. Still, he is endlessly surprised by Liem’s capacity for making his own life difficult in service of Cardan’s amusement and his own titillation.
Well, there is nothing for it but to keep his smile villainous, even as he lays his own hand over Liem’s. His other settles at the small of his husband’s back, his thumb stroking idly over the silk of Liem’s waistcoat. ]
Ah-ah. First rule: you may not bank kisses in advance.
[ He says nothing about after. Obviously, Liem would have thought of it — but Cardan doubts he’d be such a bad sport as to avoid kissing him until the end of their adventure. ]
…although you ought to kiss me anyway. [ Because Cardan cannot be close to Liem for long without wanting to kiss him — especially not when he’s faced with the sly affection in that bright gaze. Something about Liem’s playfulness always incites Cardan’s tenderness. He is ever helpless to resist it. ]
[Liem continues to hold his husband’s gaze, undaunted by this prospect. If anything, he finds the threat of more rules to abide by delightful.
But of course Liem is going to kiss him. They are already so close; Cardan’s skin is so warm beneath his hands, and his scent is so beguiling. The gentle pressure of the touch at his back keeps him there as surely as any shackles could. Boon or no, Liem will stretch up to close the distance between them, claiming the kiss that his husband obviously wants and that he is so powerless to refuse him.
It is difficult to stop. Still, in the interests of obliging Cardan’s wish for an outing, Liem must pull away sooner rather than later.]
We had best leave soon, or we will not clear the palace grounds before the sun’s imminent rise requires our return.
[He is, after all, anticipating that their progress through the halls will be slow, on account of all the sneaking and hiding away for stolen kisses.]
[ He gives an impatient huff when Liem pulls away, despite his husband’s entirely sensible reason for doing so. It’s just that he loves when Liem stretches to close the distance between them — loves the way it presses the length of his lean body against Cardan’s, taut and eager and his to enjoy. It’s just that he always regrets having to stop touching him.
But Liem is right, and so Cardan sighs and slides his hands off of him. He needs to tuck in his tail, if nothing else; however sneaky they may manage to be, he doesn’t wish for this particular secret to be discovered. ]
Two more, husband: you may kiss me wherever you find me bare… [ No kisses over clothing, in other words. ] …and your debt must be paid before the sun — villain as it is — rises in the sky.
[ Both rules are perfunctory; he doubts Liem would break either of them, anyway. But his husband so enjoys the constraints of structure, and Cardan is loath to deny him. ]
[Perhaps to Cardan’s disappointment, when he releases Liem in order to tuck his tail back into hiding, Liem will cross the room in order to retrieve a jacket for their outing. This, at least, takes no more than a minute or two. He shuffles through his wardrobe, pulling out a few likely contenders to examine, and eventually slides on a long, richly embroidered specimen in autumnal shades of dull gold and brown.
Perhaps a doublet and cloak would stand out less, but it’s a bit late now for him to have any such garments made for him, and certainly none of his husband’s would fit. Abruptly, a smile overtakes him, just as he is turning to regard Cardan once more.]
You have chosen a counting game for us, [he points out. After all, how will Cardan know that Liem is paying his due if he does not count the thresholds they pass? And how will Liem be sure Cardan isn’t fleecing him with his demands if he does not keep accurate count as well?]
A fine birth-night tradition to continue, I would say.
[ It's bold of Liem to assume that Cardan will bother counting at all -- why should he, when his husband will surely do it for him?
(Nevermind that he will, because he cannot help himself. After all, he must know how many thresholds they've passed if he's to know when he's fleecing Liem properly.)
Still, he raises an eyebrow, as much at his husband's insistence on adding yet another layer for Cardan to take off, as at his assertion. ]
...so I have.
[ Liem is so charming when he smiles; it makes something tender in Cardan's chest clench. He wants to smile back just because, and also to step close and kiss him again -- only, they will never get out the door if he does. But he will take a moment to reach out and fit his palm over Liem's cheek, so that he may trace the shape of his mouth with his thumb. ]
I will look forward to your proposition in half a year's time.
[Always, Cardan’s tender caress wakes in Liem a yearning hunger that he struggles to put aside. He wants to indulge in that touch like a tame animal, to trap that hand close and press soft kisses up palm and wrist, to fold himself into Cardan’s embrace and invite his husband to dishevel him once more. How could he not want these things, when Cardan looks at him like that while touching him in that way?
Still, he forces himself to pull away from the contact after only a moment’s indulgence. Instead he will reach to clasp the outstretched hand, intent now on their adventure.]
Let us embark.
[The challenge Cardan has set them is a tricky one. Liem realizes almost as soon as they leave their rooms that their journey will involve a great deal more passing by and through different thresholds than it ordinarily would, simply because of how often they must divert course to avoid wandering people. Furthermore, although nothing Cardan said requires Liem to kiss him at the thresholds themselves, it seems unsporting to deliver all of his kisses only after they have escaped the palace grounds. That would rob much of the thrill from the game, he is sure.
He will compromise by using their time as effectively as possible. As long as nobody is around, it is simple enough to lift his husband’s hand to his mouth to brush his lips against his knuckles or wrist. When their route demands they hide in an empty parlour or gallery while they wait for hallway traffic to pass, he will pull Cardan closer to taste his mouth and jaw.
And if he occasionally worries about his husband noticing the flat, firm object tucked into his coat pocket, well… let him wonder, if it comes to that. Perhaps it will distract him from recalling every single doorway they have traversed on their way.]
He'd well suspected, of course, that sneaking around with Liem would be a pleasing activity -- that is why he had made the suggestion. Nonetheless, he is caught off guard by the unadulterated joy of peering around corners and dashing behind drapery. His delighted grin soon becomes difficult to contain; he can only barely wipe it off his face when courtiers and servants pass them by. There is something of a forbidden pleasure in watching his husband embroil himself in mischief. It makes him giddy with glee, like a child.
And, of course, there are the kisses. The fact that so many of them are fleeting, that he cannot enjoy Liem's mouth for long only adds to the allure. It stokes his excitement and his desire; they thrum through him to the tune of his heartbeat, burning ever hotter. It makes him want to shove Liem against a wall and kiss him properly, until they're both breathless, or something like it.
He cannot, of course, because Liem is right: if they dally too long, they will not make it out before sunrise. Still, whenever they must duck into a room to wait out a particularly lengthy procession, he winds himself around his husband like a possessive serpent, eager and flushed with the pleasure of having him all to himself. ]
[No matter how challenging their sneaking game is or how utterly different it is from anything Liem imagined they might choose to do to celebrate the night, Liem is helplessly charmed by the obvious joy Cardan takes in the activity. It makes Liem feel like a child again, scampering around and treating the world like the stage for grand adventure—only now, the activity is made all the more delightful with the inclusion of an irresistible accomplice. They have done nothing but duck around corners and hide behind palace ornamentation for most of the journey, and somehow this makes Liem’s chest tight with unnameable excitement and stokes a hunger in him to pepper his spouse with affectionate kisses at every opportunity.
Happily, he is not short of excuses.
By the time of their escape from the palace grounds, Liem is sure he has more than paid his debt to his husband—but it matters little. He will still seek the deep shadow of a tree to hide beneath, so he can face Cardan properly while he lifts his long-fingered hand to his mouth and graces the knuckles with a courteous kiss. Like the gracious escort he is, he asks,] Where to, husband?
[ Cardan is still grinning, wild-eyed and unassailable in the wake of their triumph. When they first step out of the brugh, he lifts his face to the silver moonlight. It is not yet so late, he is relieved to find; they have some time to enjoy each other's company without needing to be quite so sneaky about it.
The cadence of his quick breaths stutters a little when Liem brushes his mouth over his knuckles, as it has near every time prior. And, though his husband has asked him a question, and he wishes to answer, the lure is too strong. He cannot help but step forward, into the blanket of shadow; he cannot help caging Liem against the trunk of the tree with his own body, one hand braced against rough bark as he leans down to kiss him once more.
It will never be enough. He's accepted this long ago: he could spend the whole night kissing Liem, and a hundred nights after that, and still fail to be sated. His heart still thumps in his chest, too eager for his husband's taste and the lithe shape of his body pressed against Cardan's. ]
Never did I think, [ he murmurs, when he can bring himself to pull away, ] I'd have my very own gallant knight.
[ Or gallant rogue, as it were -- because as charming and gentle and honest as his husband is, Cardan cannot forget the sight of him in dark leather, dancing around Sir Hazel like a quiet shadow.
[When Cardan moves close to cage Liem against the tree’s shadowed trunk and kiss him once more, the unanswered question vanishes from his mind without a struggle. Far more important than such questions are the warm lips sliding against his, the feel of Cardan’s lithe body beneath the silken barrier of his shirt, and the delightfully hurried sound of the heart beating in his ears. Liem delights in splaying his fingers against his lover’s chest, pleased by how little the fine fabric disguises from his hungry touch.
Though their current spot is still quite boldly near the palace, the temptation to fit himself against his husband and chase after his retreating mouth comes close to mastering him. He contents himself with sliding his fingers beneath Cardan’s open collar to warm them against his skin.]
And never did I think I would have my very own dashing prince.
[Not even when he had discovered he was to be married to the son of a king. Even then, he had not dared to think he might really call Cardan his. He did not think he would call himself Cardan’s, either, for all his promises of fidelity.
How much his perspective has changed in only a single year.]
[ He sighs happily into the touch of those cool fingers on his bare skin; these little touches always seem particularly perverse when they're out of doors, even half-concealed as they are.
Only a snatch of conversation from somewhere in their vicinity will startle him out of his drugging contentment. He raises his head, spotting some silhouettes at a distance. This, too, is thrilling; not for the first time this night, the distant threat of discovery shivers down his spine, all the way to the hidden tip of his tail. ]
...what a marvellous gift you've given me, husband, [ he says -- and means everything, all of it: Fairfold's stars, the soft breeze ruffling his hair, the stud nestled against Liem's tongue, and his husband himself, who let Cardan trick him into running around a foreign palace like a child playing at subterfuge, and is indulging him now still.
He suspects Liem is not quite done with surprises this night, either -- but this once, he can be patient. There is so much for him to enjoy as it is.
But he does want to go somewhere, though he has no particular destination in mind. There is much to discover: unlike Elfhame's forests, Fairfold's woods are foreign to him, and unlike the Talbott lands, they are saturated with magic. When he finally takes a step back from Liem, it is only so that he can pull his husband along, starting an a path deeper into the forest. ]
[It warms Liem to receive such praise from Cardan, to be able to so clearly see his husband’s delight and know with confidence that he has well pleased him. As they slip deeper into the wood, putting the hill and its hidden palace behind them, Liem’s hand tightens briefly on his husband’s: an unbidden gesture to reaffirm that he is there, he is real; he is Liem’s alone, and Liem intends to reward that loyalty with his unerring devotion.
It pleases him to do so, more than any pleasure he had ever known in the time before his marriage.]
It is no more than I felt was your due.
[Even if the night is full of mystery and promise, even if he has ambushed Cardan with unforeseen delights, this is still the least of what Liem might wish to give him. Were he able to pluck the moon from the sky and lay it at Cardan’s feet, it would still not be enough. And yet, it is his royal husband, the prince who claims to expect to be spoiled with every luxury, who is so content with his paltry offerings.
Liem has long since learned that the truths his husband speaks are rarely honest, and still, the reality of his husband’s joy undoes him.]
It pleases me to give you things no-one else has, Cardan.
[ Liem surprises the soft laugh out of him -- not that it is particularly difficult, when he's already so delighted with everything around him. The kind of greedy want Liem speaks of strikes him as uniquely tender, and yet so very like his husband, who is so committed to excelling in all he does.
He doesn't deserve it, but he's known that all along. He knows, too, that he's too selfishly hungry for Liem's affection to ever refuse it. ]
I've wed such a possessive man.
[ And how strange, that such a thing is precious to him now. For so long, he'd chafed at the idea of being claimed by anyone at all -- not that his wishes ultimately mattered. Still, he doesn't know how Liem so effectively snuck past his defenses. It would be a terrifying thing, if Cardan had cause to mistrust him.
It's a little terrifying even so. He feels his heart speed with it, and the strange ache that pangs through him makes him squeeze Liem's hand in his. ]
I dreaded it, you know -- a marriage to someone who may have wished to own me. Though, of course, I was still offended when you made it clear that you didn't.
[ Hence his inconvenient quip at the end of their wedding night, the one that had cost them their wedding fuck and a whole lot of trouble besides.
But that doesn't matter, now. His glance over at Liem is a little sly. ]
I had not considered how much I'd come to relish your avarice.
[Liem cannot refute Cardan’s assertion. He is possessive; he has come to depend far too much on Cardan’s companionship to not be possessive of it. It is one of the few things he has that is truly irreplaceable, and that realization has made him regard many things about his life quite differently.
Sometimes it seems to him that he must be the only person in Cardan’s life who has realized this about him. But that makes him doubt the intelligence of everyone who has ever known his husband, and he will not give credence to a worldview that requires everyone else to be stupid. Besides, he knows the truth is just that he, in addition to being possessive, has always wished to belong to someone who cared for him. Having Cardan’s affection has only made Liem wildly insensible about him.]
I never understood that, [he admits. Cardan seems well pleased now, content in the knowledge of Liem’s desire for him—but surely even then, his desire was never in question. To the best of his knowledge, he never even implied to Cardan that he didn’t want him.]
There is a world of difference between having something and owning it. Particularly when it comes to one’s own spouse.
[ But Liem is right, of course. He has Cardan, more wholly and definitively than -- Cardan suspects -- Liem himself realizes. No one who'd had him on a leash had ever enjoyed such a privilege. By asking nothing from him except his willingness to stay, by treating him like someone worth keeping, worth protecting, Liem had ensnared him more effectively than Cardan had thought possible.
He pauses in their trek so he can turn to face Liem fully, under the dappled moonlight. From somewhere in the distance, music filters through the trees -- some merry gathering under the stars. But in the immediate, they are alone but for the rustle of nighttime creatures. ]
I am yours, husband. In case you harboured any doubts.
[ He'd said so plenty, but usually during sex -- and though he cannot truly lie then, either, he suspects his husband may not take him as seriously in the throes of passion. ]
[Even after a full year of marriage, a year in which his husband has rarely left his side, Liem is still unprepared for the effortless way Cardan makes his still heart thrill in his chest. He cannot weather such words, spoken so deliberately into the musical quiet of the woods, or the windblown beauty of his husband looking so intently at him amidst the forest’s moon-dappled shadows. He craves these things too much; he cannot help but take meaning from them that isn’t truly there.
He doesn’t think Cardan knows just how this undoes him. At least, he hopes Cardan doesn’t know.
But a smile still spreads slowly over his face despite himself, warm and helplessly pleased. Never did he imagine that the contract marriage his father arranged for him would become something he truly cherished.]
As I am yours, [he agrees. This is what he should have said a year ago, during that very first dawn following their wedding. He had acted clumsily then, frustrated and overwhelmed as he had been. Now, he stretches up to steal another kiss, simply because his husband is there and impossibly lovely against the backdrop of the forest.]
[ Often, when Liem tells him such things, he cannot banish a traitorous mote of doubt -- after all, his husband is so obliging, it is not difficult to imagine that he might claim to return Cardan's feelings, if only to spare his ego. This is, perhaps, unfair, as he has never actually known Liem to lie to him. But he is a suspicious creature by nature and upbringing alike; it is difficult to shake the habit now.
Tonight, even he cannot question the open pleasure in his husband's smile. He had told Liem, some time ago, that joy made him radiant — and so it does now. When Liem reaches toward him, he can only bend, helpless against his allure. His hand slides into Liem’s hair; his other winds around Liem’s waist, intent on cradling him close, on breathing him in.
He cannot help if the way that he kisses Liem is a little desperate, like he’s not certain that he’ll get to kiss him again. But then, he’s never quite sure if tomorrow is guaranteed, and he’s never had quite so much to lose as he does now.
All the more reason to make this night perfect, he tells himself. The music still filters through the trees, buoyed by the breeze. It is a fiddle, played by a merry if slightly inexperienced hand. Perhaps it is only the magic of the night that makes the song more charming for its imperfections, accompanied as it is by laughter and cheering. ]
…a human revel, [ he breathes, the sudden realization distracting him even from the pleasure of his husband’s mouth. He turns his head to listen more closely. He had heard — from Ben Evans — that the young people in Fairfold sometimes came to the woods to be merry, though it had seemed like an impossibly stupid idea to him then. ]
Shall we take a look at it, husband?
[ He’s curious. And here, at least, glamour should protect them. ]
[The desperate eagerness in Cardan’s kiss takes Liem by surprise. He had expected more languid smugness, the product of an evening during which Liem had explicitly made it his mission to cater to his husband’s whims. Instead, he is swept up in the heat of Cardan’s mouth and the possessive slide of the hands trapping him close against Cardan’s body. For a long moment, he is content to forget everything else and simply map the contours of his lover’s mouth while tucked into his embrace.
Even when Cardan brings his attention back to the distant revel, he is slow to pull himself away. Only his ever-present desire to oblige his husband persuades him to agree instead of trying to lure him deeper into the privacy of the wood.]
Mm… Very well. Let us indulge our curiosity.
[Admittedly, he cannot recall ever having seen humans making merry in the woods before. He is curious what would draw them out to frolic in the night air, and lured a little by the sounds of music filtering through the trees.]
[ Liem's clear reluctance to separate from him is relatable. Cardan, too, is ever torn between the desire to experience adventure with his husband by his side -- and the blind, greedy need to simply steal him away and have him, the rest of the world be damned.
But he does so love their adventures together, and besides -- he is immediately rewarded for his impulse. His smile blooms on his face, slow and pleased. ]
So it is.
[ The little flutter in his stomach is inexplicable. They've danced before, of course, but always with an audience, always to the same formal rhythm which governs all of their public appearances. Somehow, the thought of dancing with his husband alone, under the stars, makes him pleasantly nervous.
Which is absurd. He is a tremendously clever dancer; what has he got to be worried about? ]
[Liem is cautious as they approach the source of the cheerful music, drawing nearer to the babble of the human revel. Though he is not exactly worried about a mess of partying humans, he has no wish to be spotted and potentially become the focus of attention. They have been busy enough with parties and events over the preceding days to make him loath to share his husband’s company with anyone else.
Even so, he will not try to persuade Cardan to cut their time here short. He accompanies his husband readily towards the circle of warm, flickering firelight marking the edge of the revel, tipping an ear towards the source of the music as they draw near. The hand clasped in Cardan’s squeezes gently as he leans close to murmur in his ear.]
I am pleasantly reminded of the last time we went among carousing humans.
[There had been no dancing then, but he must admit, the atmosphere of human revelry is charming. It lacks the air of menace he is used to associating with parties.]
[ Liem oughtn't have worried: with a lazy wave of Cardan's hand, glamour will settle over them, making them no more noticeable than an errant breeze among the trees. Cardan, too, is not particularly keen on being interrupted -- nor interrupting the revel itself.
The soft caress of Liem's breath against his ear makes him shiver. He's a little sensitized: the endless kisses had done much to bait his impatience. Still, he only brings Liem's hand up to his lips, brushing his mouth over his husband's pale fingers. ]
I do not plan on being as demonstrative with you, this time.
[ Not that anyone had truly seen them, of course. Still, he is in no mood to share his husband, even in the most peripheral way. Tonight, Liem has promised himself to Cardan, and Cardan alone. ]
...but I do think my husband ought to ask me to dance.
[ His tone is coquettish; the shameless grin he flashes at Liem is not. The fiddler's previous lively tune has just wound to a close amidst cheers and whisles. Through the trees, Cardan glimpses her throwing her head back to indulge in a drink, her instrument clutched close. ]
[As they draw closer to the revel and begin to see the participants mingling beneath the surrounding trees, Liem’s alert observation of the humans marks those around them—and then, as the partygoers conspicuously fail to notice them back, he returns his attention fully to his husband. The memory of their night in the human tavern brings a small, nostalgic smile to his lips.
He had wished to please his husband on that night, too. But the tavern had not been suitable for dancing. Tonight, with Cardan’s breath warming his fingers and his smile brilliant in the moonlight, Liem is eager to correct this lack.]
You raise an excellent point.
[As the fiddler downs her drink, Liem shifts toward Cardan so he is facing him completely, reaching for his husband’s free hand to catch it in his own. Unexpectedly, the prospect of asking him to dance now, for no reason other than for their own private enjoyment, makes a fragile-feeling delight thrill beneath his skin.]
Will you grant me the pleasure of this dance, Cardan?
Always, [ Cardan agrees, just as the musician hands her empty mug off to a young man and lifts the fiddle to her shoulder once more. As if sensing her unseen audience's intent, the tune she starts in on is slower and sweeter than the merry jig from before. Though, as Cardan slides his palm over his husband's slim back, he notes that the song carries a tone of yearning just as well -- something wistful, something questioning.
He inhales, softly, caught by a strange surprise. Then, he moves.
It should not be this magical, he thinks, this human girl playing such an imperfect tune. But the night is warm, and the air is fragrant, and moonlight paints Liem's features with heartbreaking, regal elegance. It makes his throat a little tight; he cannot tear his eyes away and doesn't want to. The silk of Liem's waistcoat warms under his palm. His breath speeds. He does not feel the ground under his feet -- only the keen pleasure of movement, buoyed by the violin and the beauty of the night around them.
None of their other dances have been like this. He wonders if this is what mortals feel like, dancing with Faerie princes. ]
[There is always something about being tucked against his husband, moving in concert with him, that seems so impossibly natural, like a puzzle coming seamlessly together to slide into its final shape. In their bedroom, in grand dance halls, or here; everything else falls away in the face of Cardan’s arm holding him close, Cardan’s dark eyes gazing into his, and the way their bodies tell each other all they need to know.
The music is questing and imperfect and alive, like a heartbeat, like the sighing of roused breaths, and they bind themselves to its rhythm. Liem’s hand is warm in Cardan’s grasp; the steadiness of Cardan’s shoulders beneath his touch and the coy nearness of their bodies as they move together are every bit as intimate as a kiss. And although the music is inexpert and the forest floor is uneven beneath their feet, the dance itself is magic enough to lay its spell over everything else.
Even without faerie magic compelling him, he cannot break away—not while music still shivers through the air and his lover still has him captive in his embrace. He can only dance, and revel in the moment for as long as the fiddler continues to play.]
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But he will not voice such an accusation, lest he prick his dear husband’s pride over his penchant for villainy.]
A kiss for each we pass through? Or pass by?
[Liem’s warm expression turns just a little sly. The hands splayed against Cardan’s ribs slide up his chest until he is framing his husband’s jaw.]
Perhaps I shall extend you an advance now, so our journey will be less fraught. How many thresholds do you suppose we will encounter?
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Well, there is nothing for it but to keep his smile villainous, even as he lays his own hand over Liem’s. His other settles at the small of his husband’s back, his thumb stroking idly over the silk of Liem’s waistcoat. ]
Ah-ah. First rule: you may not bank kisses in advance.
[ He says nothing about after. Obviously, Liem would have thought of it — but Cardan doubts he’d be such a bad sport as to avoid kissing him until the end of their adventure. ]
…although you ought to kiss me anyway. [ Because Cardan cannot be close to Liem for long without wanting to kiss him — especially not when he’s faced with the sly affection in that bright gaze. Something about Liem’s playfulness always incites Cardan’s tenderness. He is ever helpless to resist it. ]
no subject
[Liem continues to hold his husband’s gaze, undaunted by this prospect. If anything, he finds the threat of more rules to abide by delightful.
But of course Liem is going to kiss him. They are already so close; Cardan’s skin is so warm beneath his hands, and his scent is so beguiling. The gentle pressure of the touch at his back keeps him there as surely as any shackles could. Boon or no, Liem will stretch up to close the distance between them, claiming the kiss that his husband obviously wants and that he is so powerless to refuse him.
It is difficult to stop. Still, in the interests of obliging Cardan’s wish for an outing, Liem must pull away sooner rather than later.]
We had best leave soon, or we will not clear the palace grounds before the sun’s imminent rise requires our return.
[He is, after all, anticipating that their progress through the halls will be slow, on account of all the sneaking and hiding away for stolen kisses.]
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But Liem is right, and so Cardan sighs and slides his hands off of him. He needs to tuck in his tail, if nothing else; however sneaky they may manage to be, he doesn’t wish for this particular secret to be discovered. ]
Two more, husband: you may kiss me wherever you find me bare… [ No kisses over clothing, in other words. ] …and your debt must be paid before the sun — villain as it is — rises in the sky.
[ Both rules are perfunctory; he doubts Liem would break either of them, anyway. But his husband so enjoys the constraints of structure, and Cardan is loath to deny him. ]
no subject
Perhaps a doublet and cloak would stand out less, but it’s a bit late now for him to have any such garments made for him, and certainly none of his husband’s would fit. Abruptly, a smile overtakes him, just as he is turning to regard Cardan once more.]
You have chosen a counting game for us, [he points out. After all, how will Cardan know that Liem is paying his due if he does not count the thresholds they pass? And how will Liem be sure Cardan isn’t fleecing him with his demands if he does not keep accurate count as well?]
A fine birth-night tradition to continue, I would say.
no subject
(Nevermind that he will, because he cannot help himself. After all, he must know how many thresholds they've passed if he's to know when he's fleecing Liem properly.)
Still, he raises an eyebrow, as much at his husband's insistence on adding yet another layer for Cardan to take off, as at his assertion. ]
...so I have.
[ Liem is so charming when he smiles; it makes something tender in Cardan's chest clench. He wants to smile back just because, and also to step close and kiss him again -- only, they will never get out the door if he does. But he will take a moment to reach out and fit his palm over Liem's cheek, so that he may trace the shape of his mouth with his thumb. ]
I will look forward to your proposition in half a year's time.
Shall we?
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Still, he forces himself to pull away from the contact after only a moment’s indulgence. Instead he will reach to clasp the outstretched hand, intent now on their adventure.]
Let us embark.
[The challenge Cardan has set them is a tricky one. Liem realizes almost as soon as they leave their rooms that their journey will involve a great deal more passing by and through different thresholds than it ordinarily would, simply because of how often they must divert course to avoid wandering people. Furthermore, although nothing Cardan said requires Liem to kiss him at the thresholds themselves, it seems unsporting to deliver all of his kisses only after they have escaped the palace grounds. That would rob much of the thrill from the game, he is sure.
He will compromise by using their time as effectively as possible. As long as nobody is around, it is simple enough to lift his husband’s hand to his mouth to brush his lips against his knuckles or wrist. When their route demands they hide in an empty parlour or gallery while they wait for hallway traffic to pass, he will pull Cardan closer to taste his mouth and jaw.
And if he occasionally worries about his husband noticing the flat, firm object tucked into his coat pocket, well… let him wonder, if it comes to that. Perhaps it will distract him from recalling every single doorway they have traversed on their way.]
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He'd well suspected, of course, that sneaking around with Liem would be a pleasing activity -- that is why he had made the suggestion. Nonetheless, he is caught off guard by the unadulterated joy of peering around corners and dashing behind drapery. His delighted grin soon becomes difficult to contain; he can only barely wipe it off his face when courtiers and servants pass them by. There is something of a forbidden pleasure in watching his husband embroil himself in mischief. It makes him giddy with glee, like a child.
And, of course, there are the kisses. The fact that so many of them are fleeting, that he cannot enjoy Liem's mouth for long only adds to the allure. It stokes his excitement and his desire; they thrum through him to the tune of his heartbeat, burning ever hotter. It makes him want to shove Liem against a wall and kiss him properly, until they're both breathless, or something like it.
He cannot, of course, because Liem is right: if they dally too long, they will not make it out before sunrise. Still, whenever they must duck into a room to wait out a particularly lengthy procession, he winds himself around his husband like a possessive serpent, eager and flushed with the pleasure of having him all to himself. ]
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Happily, he is not short of excuses.
By the time of their escape from the palace grounds, Liem is sure he has more than paid his debt to his husband—but it matters little. He will still seek the deep shadow of a tree to hide beneath, so he can face Cardan properly while he lifts his long-fingered hand to his mouth and graces the knuckles with a courteous kiss. Like the gracious escort he is, he asks,] Where to, husband?
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The cadence of his quick breaths stutters a little when Liem brushes his mouth over his knuckles, as it has near every time prior. And, though his husband has asked him a question, and he wishes to answer, the lure is too strong. He cannot help but step forward, into the blanket of shadow; he cannot help caging Liem against the trunk of the tree with his own body, one hand braced against rough bark as he leans down to kiss him once more.
It will never be enough. He's accepted this long ago: he could spend the whole night kissing Liem, and a hundred nights after that, and still fail to be sated. His heart still thumps in his chest, too eager for his husband's taste and the lithe shape of his body pressed against Cardan's. ]
Never did I think, [ he murmurs, when he can bring himself to pull away, ] I'd have my very own gallant knight.
[ Or gallant rogue, as it were -- because as charming and gentle and honest as his husband is, Cardan cannot forget the sight of him in dark leather, dancing around Sir Hazel like a quiet shadow.
This, too, pleases him greatly. ]
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Though their current spot is still quite boldly near the palace, the temptation to fit himself against his husband and chase after his retreating mouth comes close to mastering him. He contents himself with sliding his fingers beneath Cardan’s open collar to warm them against his skin.]
And never did I think I would have my very own dashing prince.
[Not even when he had discovered he was to be married to the son of a king. Even then, he had not dared to think he might really call Cardan his. He did not think he would call himself Cardan’s, either, for all his promises of fidelity.
How much his perspective has changed in only a single year.]
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Only a snatch of conversation from somewhere in their vicinity will startle him out of his drugging contentment. He raises his head, spotting some silhouettes at a distance. This, too, is thrilling; not for the first time this night, the distant threat of discovery shivers down his spine, all the way to the hidden tip of his tail. ]
...what a marvellous gift you've given me, husband, [ he says -- and means everything, all of it: Fairfold's stars, the soft breeze ruffling his hair, the stud nestled against Liem's tongue, and his husband himself, who let Cardan trick him into running around a foreign palace like a child playing at subterfuge, and is indulging him now still.
He suspects Liem is not quite done with surprises this night, either -- but this once, he can be patient. There is so much for him to enjoy as it is.
But he does want to go somewhere, though he has no particular destination in mind. There is much to discover: unlike Elfhame's forests, Fairfold's woods are foreign to him, and unlike the Talbott lands, they are saturated with magic. When he finally takes a step back from Liem, it is only so that he can pull his husband along, starting an a path deeper into the forest. ]
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It pleases him to do so, more than any pleasure he had ever known in the time before his marriage.]
It is no more than I felt was your due.
[Even if the night is full of mystery and promise, even if he has ambushed Cardan with unforeseen delights, this is still the least of what Liem might wish to give him. Were he able to pluck the moon from the sky and lay it at Cardan’s feet, it would still not be enough. And yet, it is his royal husband, the prince who claims to expect to be spoiled with every luxury, who is so content with his paltry offerings.
Liem has long since learned that the truths his husband speaks are rarely honest, and still, the reality of his husband’s joy undoes him.]
It pleases me to give you things no-one else has, Cardan.
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He doesn't deserve it, but he's known that all along. He knows, too, that he's too selfishly hungry for Liem's affection to ever refuse it. ]
I've wed such a possessive man.
[ And how strange, that such a thing is precious to him now. For so long, he'd chafed at the idea of being claimed by anyone at all -- not that his wishes ultimately mattered. Still, he doesn't know how Liem so effectively snuck past his defenses. It would be a terrifying thing, if Cardan had cause to mistrust him.
It's a little terrifying even so. He feels his heart speed with it, and the strange ache that pangs through him makes him squeeze Liem's hand in his. ]
I dreaded it, you know -- a marriage to someone who may have wished to own me. Though, of course, I was still offended when you made it clear that you didn't.
[ Hence his inconvenient quip at the end of their wedding night, the one that had cost them their wedding fuck and a whole lot of trouble besides.
But that doesn't matter, now. His glance over at Liem is a little sly. ]
I had not considered how much I'd come to relish your avarice.
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Sometimes it seems to him that he must be the only person in Cardan’s life who has realized this about him. But that makes him doubt the intelligence of everyone who has ever known his husband, and he will not give credence to a worldview that requires everyone else to be stupid. Besides, he knows the truth is just that he, in addition to being possessive, has always wished to belong to someone who cared for him. Having Cardan’s affection has only made Liem wildly insensible about him.]
I never understood that, [he admits. Cardan seems well pleased now, content in the knowledge of Liem’s desire for him—but surely even then, his desire was never in question. To the best of his knowledge, he never even implied to Cardan that he didn’t want him.]
There is a world of difference between having something and owning it. Particularly when it comes to one’s own spouse.
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[ But Liem is right, of course. He has Cardan, more wholly and definitively than -- Cardan suspects -- Liem himself realizes. No one who'd had him on a leash had ever enjoyed such a privilege. By asking nothing from him except his willingness to stay, by treating him like someone worth keeping, worth protecting, Liem had ensnared him more effectively than Cardan had thought possible.
He pauses in their trek so he can turn to face Liem fully, under the dappled moonlight. From somewhere in the distance, music filters through the trees -- some merry gathering under the stars. But in the immediate, they are alone but for the rustle of nighttime creatures. ]
I am yours, husband. In case you harboured any doubts.
[ He'd said so plenty, but usually during sex -- and though he cannot truly lie then, either, he suspects his husband may not take him as seriously in the throes of passion. ]
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He doesn’t think Cardan knows just how this undoes him. At least, he hopes Cardan doesn’t know.
But a smile still spreads slowly over his face despite himself, warm and helplessly pleased. Never did he imagine that the contract marriage his father arranged for him would become something he truly cherished.]
As I am yours, [he agrees. This is what he should have said a year ago, during that very first dawn following their wedding. He had acted clumsily then, frustrated and overwhelmed as he had been. Now, he stretches up to steal another kiss, simply because his husband is there and impossibly lovely against the backdrop of the forest.]
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Tonight, even he cannot question the open pleasure in his husband's smile. He had told Liem, some time ago, that joy made him radiant — and so it does now. When Liem reaches toward him, he can only bend, helpless against his allure. His hand slides into Liem’s hair; his other winds around Liem’s waist, intent on cradling him close, on breathing him in.
He cannot help if the way that he kisses Liem is a little desperate, like he’s not certain that he’ll get to kiss him again. But then, he’s never quite sure if tomorrow is guaranteed, and he’s never had quite so much to lose as he does now.
All the more reason to make this night perfect, he tells himself. The music still filters through the trees, buoyed by the breeze. It is a fiddle, played by a merry if slightly inexperienced hand. Perhaps it is only the magic of the night that makes the song more charming for its imperfections, accompanied as it is by laughter and cheering. ]
…a human revel, [ he breathes, the sudden realization distracting him even from the pleasure of his husband’s mouth. He turns his head to listen more closely. He had heard — from Ben Evans — that the young people in Fairfold sometimes came to the woods to be merry, though it had seemed like an impossibly stupid idea to him then. ]
Shall we take a look at it, husband?
[ He’s curious. And here, at least, glamour should protect them. ]
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Even when Cardan brings his attention back to the distant revel, he is slow to pull himself away. Only his ever-present desire to oblige his husband persuades him to agree instead of trying to lure him deeper into the privacy of the wood.]
Mm… Very well. Let us indulge our curiosity.
[Admittedly, he cannot recall ever having seen humans making merry in the woods before. He is curious what would draw them out to frolic in the night air, and lured a little by the sounds of music filtering through the trees.]
That is a fine tune for dancing.
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[ Liem's clear reluctance to separate from him is relatable. Cardan, too, is ever torn between the desire to experience adventure with his husband by his side -- and the blind, greedy need to simply steal him away and have him, the rest of the world be damned.
But he does so love their adventures together, and besides -- he is immediately rewarded for his impulse. His smile blooms on his face, slow and pleased. ]
So it is.
[ The little flutter in his stomach is inexplicable. They've danced before, of course, but always with an audience, always to the same formal rhythm which governs all of their public appearances. Somehow, the thought of dancing with his husband alone, under the stars, makes him pleasantly nervous.
Which is absurd. He is a tremendously clever dancer; what has he got to be worried about? ]
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Even so, he will not try to persuade Cardan to cut their time here short. He accompanies his husband readily towards the circle of warm, flickering firelight marking the edge of the revel, tipping an ear towards the source of the music as they draw near. The hand clasped in Cardan’s squeezes gently as he leans close to murmur in his ear.]
I am pleasantly reminded of the last time we went among carousing humans.
[There had been no dancing then, but he must admit, the atmosphere of human revelry is charming. It lacks the air of menace he is used to associating with parties.]
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The soft caress of Liem's breath against his ear makes him shiver. He's a little sensitized: the endless kisses had done much to bait his impatience. Still, he only brings Liem's hand up to his lips, brushing his mouth over his husband's pale fingers. ]
I do not plan on being as demonstrative with you, this time.
[ Not that anyone had truly seen them, of course. Still, he is in no mood to share his husband, even in the most peripheral way. Tonight, Liem has promised himself to Cardan, and Cardan alone. ]
...but I do think my husband ought to ask me to dance.
[ His tone is coquettish; the shameless grin he flashes at Liem is not. The fiddler's previous lively tune has just wound to a close amidst cheers and whisles. Through the trees, Cardan glimpses her throwing her head back to indulge in a drink, her instrument clutched close. ]
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He had wished to please his husband on that night, too. But the tavern had not been suitable for dancing. Tonight, with Cardan’s breath warming his fingers and his smile brilliant in the moonlight, Liem is eager to correct this lack.]
You raise an excellent point.
[As the fiddler downs her drink, Liem shifts toward Cardan so he is facing him completely, reaching for his husband’s free hand to catch it in his own. Unexpectedly, the prospect of asking him to dance now, for no reason other than for their own private enjoyment, makes a fragile-feeling delight thrill beneath his skin.]
Will you grant me the pleasure of this dance, Cardan?
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He inhales, softly, caught by a strange surprise. Then, he moves.
It should not be this magical, he thinks, this human girl playing such an imperfect tune. But the night is warm, and the air is fragrant, and moonlight paints Liem's features with heartbreaking, regal elegance. It makes his throat a little tight; he cannot tear his eyes away and doesn't want to. The silk of Liem's waistcoat warms under his palm. His breath speeds. He does not feel the ground under his feet -- only the keen pleasure of movement, buoyed by the violin and the beauty of the night around them.
None of their other dances have been like this. He wonders if this is what mortals feel like, dancing with Faerie princes. ]
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The music is questing and imperfect and alive, like a heartbeat, like the sighing of roused breaths, and they bind themselves to its rhythm. Liem’s hand is warm in Cardan’s grasp; the steadiness of Cardan’s shoulders beneath his touch and the coy nearness of their bodies as they move together are every bit as intimate as a kiss. And although the music is inexpert and the forest floor is uneven beneath their feet, the dance itself is magic enough to lay its spell over everything else.
Even without faerie magic compelling him, he cannot break away—not while music still shivers through the air and his lover still has him captive in his embrace. He can only dance, and revel in the moment for as long as the fiddler continues to play.]
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