[Cardan’s promise is one that Liem always welcomes, just as he welcomes the comforting slide of his husband’s arm around his waist. He delights in the feeling of being held, and the confident knowledge that Cardan intends to keep him all to himself tonight. It makes him lean a little into his husband’s embrace as they survey the flock of attending humans and the curtained stage.]
I am always pleased to have your attention all to myself.
[What a luxury it is, even after a year of marriage. Liem indulges in their physical nearness for another moment, his hand skating up Cardan’s well-attired back, before he finally pulls away to claim one of the seats awaiting them.
The performance beckons, after all. Soon, the show will be starting, and he glances over at his husband to appreciate the sight of him there, against the human backdrop of the opera house.]
Just as I am pleased to abandon routine in order to enjoy an evening at the opera with you.
[ He means to protest against the distance Liem puts between them -- and then thinks better of it, having spotted the bottle of champagne chilling on a low table, just beside the chairs. When he steps forward to pick up the little card, it reads only: To passion. - S ]
Our generous host pursues us even so.
[ But he sounds pleased about it, if only because the champagne is of Faerie make, and thus potent enough to give him a buzz. He will seat himself beside Liem before working the bottle open, then pouring for them both.
His dark eyes are intent on Liem, even as the rest of the audience settles in, preparing for the curtain to lift. ]
What shall we toast to, husband?
[ Passion, beauty, magic -- all those seem tame in comparison to the feeling that settles behind his ribs when he looks at Liem. He had meant it, when he'd told Liem that his joy was radiant. It is all the more endearing, Cardan thinks, for the stubborn self-control his husband maintains -- so that he must find his happiness in his secretive smiles and the soft way he sometimes looks at Cardan. It makes it feel like a hidden thing, something only Cardan is permitted to revel in.
[Despite the fact that they have left the faerie king’s forest behind them for the evening, Liem finds himself unsurprised by Severin’s token. During their time in Fairfold so far, Liem has found the Alderking both charming and attentive; how very like him, to act the gracious host even when they are among mortals.
That the gift pleases Cardan only improves Liem’s mood. He meets his husband’s intent gaze with quiet pleasure.]
To our union, of course.
[He lifts the glass of golden drink, his expression serious and his eyes merry. They are here expressly to celebrate, to please themselves and each other and for one brief night, forget about anything and everything else. If he can give his husband that much, then he will.
And Liem cannot help but be astonished, still, that they have ended up here, celebrating their marriage after a full year in each other’s company. He cannot believe he has kept Cardan by his side this long, not only willingly, but happily. It feels like a faerie tale, strung together of half-truths and dreams, yet somehow the magic has lasted this long, and now he has all but forgotten how he ever lived before.]
However it was born, we have made it ours. I’ll gladly toast to that.
[ He feels the tremor of some strange anxiety take hold in his throat when he looks at Lie, at the pleasure in his gaze and the solemnity of his toast. It is difficult to imagine himself deserving of this kind of consideration -- him, who is flighty and difficult, selfish and unkind. Could he really ever hope to make Liem happy?
He swallows the feeling down, reminds himself that all things are fleeting. He will not waste tonight in service of some unhappy tomorrow -- and tonight, Liem is his to fete and please, to romance and seduce. It is only meet to take advantage of the chance.
He raises his glass, and if his smile is less sharp-edged and more openly pleased, then that is fine. He will not armour himself in service of tomorrow, either. ]
To our union, husband.
[ And, after he drinks, he will lean forward to kiss his husband, heedless of anyone watching. The lamps around them are dimming anyway; it seems that the show is about to start. ]
[It is indulgence when Liem sips the heady faerie wine to toast his marriage with the lover he never expected to remain at his side. It is indulgence when he kisses him, and when he lingers near afterward, still pressed lightly against him at the shoulder and thigh, revelling in his closeness. He has no excuse for it; he is simply happy. For the moment, Cardan is his, and tonight his fears and worries have retreated beneath the uncomplicated joy of belonging to someone.
Tonight he feels untouchable, like this moment really could last forever. It is a foolish way to feel—but perhaps that is fine. He can leave important decisions to other nights, when he has regained his sense of reality. For now, he will simply enjoy.
And he does. As the lights dim and the mortals in the audience grow hushed in anticipation of the opera’s imminent beginning, Liem enjoys his husband’s warm, solid presence at his side, his familiar scent and the taste of him beneath the brightness of the wine, and the look of open pleasure that he so rarely glimpses on his husband’s face. Though he has barely tasted any liquor, he already feels drunk enough on delight that he feels certain it must be painted on him for all the world to see.]
[ Cardan does not pull away until the very last moment: for all that he had been promised a grand spectacle, nothing could be more entrancing than his husband pressed against him, with nowhere to go and nothing on his docket but Cardan's whims.
Then the music starts-- and he blinks, turning to face the stage despite himself. He had spotted the mass of musicians in a pit just before the stage, all dressed in black like so many crows, their brass instruments shining in the dim light. Even so, he had been unprepared for the fullness of the sound. It feels a little bit like being trampled by very quick, startlingly well-coordinated horses.
He must admit it is impressive.
And, despite himself, he finds himself drawn in by the play, which portrays a delightfully vicious woman's corruption of a very dull, pious soldier. He can taste the impending tragedy on the wind, and if it brings something a little savage, a little hungry to his grin -- well, he is what he is. At any rate, Cardan is immediately enamoured with the temptress, and if the soldier's singing parts remain dull, they at least provide him with a convenient excuse to turn his attention to his husband.
Case in point: some virtuous and dutiful duet he only half listens to as he sneaks his fingers under Liem's jacket, splaying a warm palm over the small of his back. He leans close, breathing him in, feeling thrillingly hidden in the darkness of their little alcove. When his mouth brushes the shell of Liem's ear, it is indulgent. ]
[Usually, on the rare occasions Liem makes time in his schedule to visit the opera, he immerses himself quite easily in the performance, letting the music wash over him and the figures spotlighted below capture his attention. The stage weaves a spell of its own, and he is content to let it ensnare him, transporting him from the fussiness of his everyday life, if only for a short while.
But he cannot keep his attention from his husband. Even when the orchestra begins to play and the performers begin to move about on the newly-revealed stage, he remains keenly aware of Cardan’s warm presence at his side. And his eyes keep sliding over, again and again, to capture glimpses of his lover in the thrall of the music, swept up by the story.
He tries not to let Cardan catch him. When he senses a lull in his husband’s attention, he returns his own eyes to the stage, and so he is not looking at Cardan when he feels the wandering palm slide against his back, or when Cardan’s warm breath tickles his ear. He continues to watch—but his breath quickens and catches in his throat, and his head tips toward the lure of that soft mouth, and his fingers half lift from their resting place, tempted to sink into his lover’s glossy curls and keep him close.
He doesn’t. Yet. He values the tease of the coy touch too much to indulge it so wholly, so soon. Even so… he barely hears the music now.]
[ He is not surprised to find Liem engrossed in the spectacle. Part of Cardan might even feel a little guilty about distracting his husband from the performance they came here to watch -- but only a small, unlistened-to part. Because there it is: that hitch in Liem's breath, the way he moves towards Cardan, as if pulled by an invisible string. It makes Cardan's blood race in his veins, the heat rising along his skin to swiftly incinerate any regret he might have had.
This is his. Liem is his. The delight of having him -- no matter when, no matter where -- is his. His teeth find Liem's neck: not a nibble, but a bite, delicately deliberate. He wants to be measured, still.
They are only in Act I.
Even if he is already pulling his husband closer to him, his arm possessive around Liem's waist. His other hand curls over Liem's thigh, just above his knee, though not for long: already Cardan's brazen fingertips sneak higher, trailing along the line of a trouser seam. ]
[Somehow, despite Cardan’s touch and the shadowy seclusion of their viewing box, Liem still does not expect the deliberate bite of his husband’s teeth on his neck. The soft, eager sound it startles from him is quickly stifled, and still, to his ears, it is entirely too wanton. He presses his lips together, abashed despite the solitude of their box and the hero’s strong voice filling the opera hall.
Now his gaze does flutter back to his husband—to the fingers sliding up his leg and the well-attired shape of Cardan beside him, leaning in as he pulls Liem closer. Already he feels lust following the path of those fingers and pooling hotly between his thighs, and though he cannot help but relax against his husband as he is pulled into his embrace, he is very conscious of the fact that they have hours yet before the opera is concluded.
Reaching over, he grips Cardan’s knee in silent rebuke—an empty protest, given the pliant way he responds to Cardan’s touch. It is a given that he must object to interrupting their viewing with such brazenly public seduction, but that doesn’t mean he wants Cardan to stop.]
[ He laughs -- a warm gust of breath against Liem's damp neck, near-silent in the space between them. It's cute of Liem to fluster, even in the dark, even with the box's seclusion and the distraction of the stage obscuring them so effectively. More titillating, still, is the way he melts against Cardan just before catching himself, as if his body is spiting his sense of propriety.
The hand on Cardan's knee only makes him grin and tip his leg towards Liem in open invitation. ]
Don't tempt me, husband, [ he murmurs, his lips moving against Liem's ear, ] lest I have a thought to simply pull you into my lap.
[ And wouldn't that be a delight? Having said it, he must spend a moment rueing his current inability to enjoy Liem's lean, familiar shape pressed against him, the intriguing way he might shiver and squirm if Cardan had him fully in his clutches. He knows Liem hears the speeding tempo of his heartbeat.
His hand doesn't stop its slow, indulgent ascent up Liem's thigh. ]
[Liem isn’t sure what response he’d envisioned to his wordless objection, but the murmur Cardan breathes against his ear makes need shiver urgently through him, for a moment entirely eclipsing his awareness of the goings-on down on stage. Surely he doesn’t really wish to be in Cardan’s lap in the midst of the opera, but the easy threat of it does something terrible to him. What has become of him, that Cardan wields such power over him without even trying?]
Absolutely not, [he mutters under his breath, still conscious of the risk that someone else might hear. Somehow, that Cardan has incited him into opening his mouth during the performance troubles him more than his husband’s wandering attention—or wandering hands. Whatever propriety demands, Liem could never regret Cardan’s touch. He simply wishes that touch didn’t unravel his composure with such apparent ease.]
[ Cardan only laughs again, as delighted by his husband's prim denial as he is by the shiver he feels, pressed so close to Liem's lithe body. The fact this laugh is muffled against his husband's temple is probably good, as the hero's sentimental recollection of his mother does not call for particular merriment.
He will not get to complete his palm's dastardly journey, at any rate. Liem is saved by the stage's sudden change of scenery as another song bursts into place, pulling Cardan's attention its way. This time, the hand on Liem's thigh tightens in surprise -- and then Cardan is leaning forward, once more acutely engrossed in the story beats unfolding before him.
He does not let go of his husband, however. Nor does he miss opportunities to turn his attention to Liem whenever there is a lull -- because it is their anniversary, after all, and what better reason has Cardan to brush reverent kisses over his husband's chilly knuckles, or to run possessive hands up his chest, or whisper to him, here and there, some of the things he would like to be doing?
...it is good, then, that everyone is busy applauding when the curtain lowers and the lights flicker on for the intermission, as it gives Cardan a moment to pull his hands back and move smoothly back into his own space. Somehow, he manages to look none the worse for wear, though the hunger that lives in his sharp smile does not stay entirely hidden. ]
[If Cardan looks none the worse for wear by the time they reach the intermission, the same cannot be said for Liem. For the past hour or more, he has been doing his best to disguise his hunger and his excitement from a distant and disinterested audience, keeping chastely to his own seat, biting back the sighs and murmurs that occasional rebukes his husband coaxes from him with such habitual ease.
When the lights glow on again, he is bright-eyed with keen attention, spots of colour dusting his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, restless in his confining and slightly dishevelled suit. He attends himself as the opera hall brightens, tugging his waistcoat straight and fixing the hang of his jacket, though there is little he can do to disguise the conspicuous silhouette of the half-roused erection pressing against his trousers. While this isn’t the first time his husband has afflicted him so in a public place, usually there is a convenient desk or table obscuring his intemperance.
And yet, for all that he has spent more of the first couple acts focused on his husband than on the opera itself, and for all that Cardan has made a game of teasing him for that entire time… he cannot deny that, instead of feeling harassed, he is coltishly happy. He always relishes Cardan’s attention, and the inappropriate venue makes the tease feel like a private little game—a secret between the two of them. Maybe it’s the faerie wine making him foolish. Maybe he has always been foolish to begin with.]
How are you enjoying the show, husband? [He stands, buttoning his jacket absently as he regards Cardan’s hungry expression with quiet fondness.] Are you looking forward to the second half?
[ Before he replies, he will spend an unsubtle few seconds trailing his gaze up Liem's body. How obliging of his husband, to stand up so that Cardan can observe him in full. How lovely he looks, with the delicate flush over his elegant features, the tips of his ears. It makes Cardan's ravenous heart hammer in his throat.
His gaze flicks to the tied off privacy curtains just behind them, heavy enough to hide the balcony from view entirely, should they be released. ]
...very much so, [ he will purr. ] I so love a hero in the throes of temptation.
And you, Liem? Where lies your preference?
[ Never mind that his husband has spent most of the show trying to rebuke temptation, only as quietly as possible. Such are ever their roles, and Cardan is smugly satisfied with his own. ]
[Even after a full year of marriage, the feel of Cardan’s hungry gaze on him still sparks heat beneath Liem’s skin. From him, the attention feels like a stolen indulgence, and the prickle of awareness at being so keenly observed is a pleasurable one. Never mind that he would not want to be seen like this by anyone else; the weight of Cardan’s gaze has only ever made Liem feel desired.]
You know I appreciate a temptress.
[Liem’s regard of Cardan only warms further in response to his husband’s smugness. As ever, regardless of his own penchant for orderly things, he cannot help but be charmed by Cardan’s roguish behaviour.
As the sounds of movement filter to them from people leaving the surrounding boxes, Liem moves to the privacy curtains and releases their ties.]
[ He watches Liem as the heavy curtains fall, shrouding them both in comfortable shadow and dampening the noisy hubbub of the other attendees. It makes him feel a little electric, to be this close to alone — his mouth suddenly a little dry with expectation. He keeps his gaze on his husband, and draws the moment out for the length of one heartbeat, then another, even as he feels himself go pleasantly taut with the tension palpable in the air.
He loves this, as well: the moment of anticipation, the thrill of knowing his simmering hunger is mirrored by his husband. When he does reach out, it is to skim feather-light fingertips over Liem’s flank, down to his hip. ]
Are you? [ His voice has gone quiet, deliberate. ] Then I am glad.
[Liem turns his back to the closed curtains and the opera-goers hidden behind them, devoting the whole of his attention once more to his husband. Now that they have some measure of privacy, he returns to Cardan’s side, yearning simmering low in his breast as Cardan’s fingers skim his side, giving only the suggestion of touch through his tailored layers. It always undoes him when Cardan looks at him like this, his voice deliberate and his eyes intent, like the man before him is vitally important.
Liem takes the wandering hand in his, lifting it to his lips so he can brush a kiss against his husband’s knuckles.]
Are you enchanted, husband? [he murmurs against his skin, his head still bent over Cardan’s hand. He doubts Cardan could be more enchanted than Liem already is. If they were not still in such a public place, displayed on their shadowed little balcony, he might kneel at his husband’s feet and invite the touch of those soft hands—cupping his face, tracing his mouth, stroking his hair. Instead, he only returns Cardan’s hungry gaze, stroking his thumb gently over warm, jewelled fingers.]
[ It is unfair of Liem to brush his mouth over Cardan's fingers, to ask him such questions while looking at him like he's the one leading Cardan astray. For a moment, he only holds his husband's bright gaze, before his palm turns in Liem's grip, so he can curl his fingers over Liem's pale cheek.
Of course he's enchanted. How could he be anything but? He always wants that serious, dangerous mouth. He wants it on him, wants Liem's ardent kisses and the bite of his fangs. He wants to try his own teeth on his husband's pale throat. He wants, he wants-- ]
What are you willing to give me, husband?
[ It is, for once, an honest question -- despite that there is a hint of challenge in the curl of his mouth. Obviously, Cardan cares little about impropriety in the public sphere. Yet it hasn't escaped him that Liem seems at least a little concerned about onlookers.
But his husband cannot possibly protest the touch of Cardan's fingertips over his lips, tracing their shape with brazen, possessive indulgence. This small, private space is their own, and surely the murmurs of their conversation are lost in the din of voices outside. ]
[Liem wants to give him everything. This is always the way: His heart yearns to devote all he has to his husband, regardless of what cautions and concerns his head may keep. He wants to tell Cardan that he may have whatever he likes, the way he would if they were secreted away in their rooms, locked up tight and hidden from the world. He wants to invite Cardan’s indulgence and spend not an instant worrying about the consequences.
But only hanging fabric separates them from passers-by, and before too long the intermission will come to a close and the next act will begin. He cannot stop himself from fretting about these things, even with his husband smiling at him and a glass of fine faerie wine fizzing in his veins.
Still, he cannot resist the warm hand cupping his face, caressing his mouth. It makes his blood thrill and his chest ache with longing, to be at the mercy of that gentle touch.]
You have my desire already. And you may have… this.
[He will at last permit himself to settle onto his husband’s lap, just for the present, his hand sliding round to cup the nape of his neck—and as he does, he bends his head to catch Cardan’s mouth with his, a kiss that holds all the frustrated wanting of the past hour.]
[ He had long steeled himself for a night of endurance -- of endless teasing, of himself and of Liem alike. And still, the immediate surge of his own hunger takes him by surprise; his sharp intake of breath is cut short by Liem's mouth on his. Cardan shivers into the cool hand on his neck, soothing against the weight of his heated desire. The hands that find Liem's hip, his back, are nakedly possessive of him.
As ever, all else fades away.
When he finally pulls back, it's only to catch his breath. ]
You have... taught me such patience, husband. [ A thing he has never before considered worthwhile, and yet-- ] And yet you shatter it so easily, even now.
[ He is half tempted to simply cut their outing short and spirit them away, back to their rooms, back to solitude and their own company. But that feels like cheating, too; his husband so rarely enjoys leisure.
It's just that two more hours of this make him fear for his poor, greedy heart. ]
[Liem melts into Cardan’s embrace like he has been yearning for it for long, lonely months instead of just an hour or two. In only a brief time, the curtain will rise again and Liem will have to be in his own seat, ready to appreciate the rest of the performance. He has only a short while to indulge his hunger, and the hungers of his terminally impatient spouse, before their modicum of privacy evaporates.]
Should I have kept my restraint?
[He makes no move to extract himself from Cardan’s embrace, content to be where he is, tucked against his husband with the lush curves of his mouth only a breath away. Liem cards his fingers idly through his husband’s soft hair, aiming a quietly pleased look at him as he listens to Cardan’s heartbeat racing in his chest.
For the better part of the last hour, Cardan has been tormenting him with his voice, his touch, his scent. If indulging the wild desire throbbing through him means tormenting his husband too, he cannot say he feels especially guilty.]
Of course I do, [ he grouses, his brows drawn together in impatient frustration. ] You terrible menace.
[ But if Liem is going to be a menace, then Cardan surely cannot let himself be outdone. So he will kiss his husband again, and again after that -- mercilessly insistent on letting him taste all of Cardan's considerable hunger for him. After all, they only have the span of minutes until the lights start dimming again, and then only furtive, secret touches for the whole second half of the performance.
When it is time, Cardan releases Liem only reluctantly, though he does also reach out to dutifully fix his husband's tie. It's not going to do anything about Cardan's slightly askew collar and kiss-flushed mouth, but he's not the one with an outsize sense of propriety. ]
I had a thought, husband, [ he will murmur, even as his fingers slip away from Liem's throat and he turns to wrangling the curtains. They have not much time: although the stage is yet dark, the spectators have returned, and a hush is quickly settling over the audience. ]
[Liem so rarely has the opportunity to be a menace to his husband—and when he does, as now, it is most often a byproduct of Cardan’s own intemperance. For all that he rarely thinks to prey upon Cardan of his own initiative, when his husband winds him up and invites his frustration, he’s hard-pressed to resist the urge to bite back, just a little.
It is just that Cardan’s sullen temper when things don’t quite go his way is so charming, especially when his husband so stubbornly refuses to learn any kind of prudence in response. To Liem’s mind, Cardan carries himself unfailingly as though expecting the world to bend to his wishes, and it makes Liem want nothing more than to belong only to him.
It makes for a happy half-hour or so, tucked securely in his husband’s clutches and indulging in the pleasures of his heated kisses and wandering, possessive hands. His own need torments him, of course, but it is worth it, to have Cardan’s desire all to himself in these stolen moments between the curtain’s fall and its future rise. When they must finally pull apart to right themselves and pull back the privacy curtains again, prompted by the sounds of the returned audience settling beyond the confines of their box, Liem is in high spirits despite the wickedness his husband likely has in mind for him.]
And what thought is that?
[As he takes one last moment to neaten his clothes, he aims an expectant glance at his somewhat dishevelled-looking spouse, curious and pleased.]
[ Liem is right to assume that Cardan has mischief on his mind. That much should be obvious from the wicked little smile he directs Liem's way and his sudden dedication to neatening the curtain by Liem's chair just so. Less congruous: the way his heart rate has not calmed between their little diversion and his rising. If anything, it seems to be suddenly in a hurry. ]
...I had it some time ago, in truth.
It would not let me go, you see. You have that terribly persistent quality about you, even in my thoughts.
[ He says this with the mien of a man making a cursory effort at vexation -- because it is the proper thing to do -- even though he would much rather be smug. Having finally finished fiddling with the curtain sash, he will step behind Liem, sliding hands over his shoulders. ]
I thought, Liem...
[ Dramatic as ever, he will lean in for this, bending low until his mouth is brushing Liem's ear. He breathes his next words, so quietly only a vampire could hope to hear him at all. ]
...that I might want you to fuck me. Tonight.
[ His fingers bite into Liem's shoulders, suddenly tight-- and then the stage lights go on, and Cardan steps away, quick as a shadow. He will slip into his seat just as the stage curtain rises, looking like nothing out of the ordinary happened at all.
[No power on earth could make Liem immune to Cardan’s presence at his back, leaning close into his space to murmur in his ear—but when his husband pulls away on this occasion, slipping back into his seat just in time for the rising of the curtain, Liem is caught off guard by the wave of longing that swamps him in Cardan’s sudden absence. He remains there for a moment too long, abruptly preoccupied with the memory of lips at his ear and Cardan’s racing pulse thrumming in the air between them, and he has to slide hurriedly into his seat as the next act begins.
When he does, the look he slides at his husband is warmly sly. He whispers softly:] This, too, is yours.
[Is Liem not Cardan’s to enjoy however he pleases? If his body and his pleasure and his hunger are Cardan’s, if his gentle hands and his devoted mouth belong to him, surely this is his to claim as well. And Liem wishes so fervently to give it to him, after so many months where neither of them had raised the topic at all. He always wants to please him, of course, but he is especially hungry for this, just as he is hungry for every other rare part of Cardan that he is allowed to glimpse.]
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I am always pleased to have your attention all to myself.
[What a luxury it is, even after a year of marriage. Liem indulges in their physical nearness for another moment, his hand skating up Cardan’s well-attired back, before he finally pulls away to claim one of the seats awaiting them.
The performance beckons, after all. Soon, the show will be starting, and he glances over at his husband to appreciate the sight of him there, against the human backdrop of the opera house.]
Just as I am pleased to abandon routine in order to enjoy an evening at the opera with you.
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Our generous host pursues us even so.
[ But he sounds pleased about it, if only because the champagne is of Faerie make, and thus potent enough to give him a buzz. He will seat himself beside Liem before working the bottle open, then pouring for them both.
His dark eyes are intent on Liem, even as the rest of the audience settles in, preparing for the curtain to lift. ]
What shall we toast to, husband?
[ Passion, beauty, magic -- all those seem tame in comparison to the feeling that settles behind his ribs when he looks at Liem. He had meant it, when he'd told Liem that his joy was radiant. It is all the more endearing, Cardan thinks, for the stubborn self-control his husband maintains -- so that he must find his happiness in his secretive smiles and the soft way he sometimes looks at Cardan. It makes it feel like a hidden thing, something only Cardan is permitted to revel in.
How desperately Cardan cherishes him. ]
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That the gift pleases Cardan only improves Liem’s mood. He meets his husband’s intent gaze with quiet pleasure.]
To our union, of course.
[He lifts the glass of golden drink, his expression serious and his eyes merry. They are here expressly to celebrate, to please themselves and each other and for one brief night, forget about anything and everything else. If he can give his husband that much, then he will.
And Liem cannot help but be astonished, still, that they have ended up here, celebrating their marriage after a full year in each other’s company. He cannot believe he has kept Cardan by his side this long, not only willingly, but happily. It feels like a faerie tale, strung together of half-truths and dreams, yet somehow the magic has lasted this long, and now he has all but forgotten how he ever lived before.]
However it was born, we have made it ours. I’ll gladly toast to that.
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He swallows the feeling down, reminds himself that all things are fleeting. He will not waste tonight in service of some unhappy tomorrow -- and tonight, Liem is his to fete and please, to romance and seduce. It is only meet to take advantage of the chance.
He raises his glass, and if his smile is less sharp-edged and more openly pleased, then that is fine. He will not armour himself in service of tomorrow, either. ]
To our union, husband.
[ And, after he drinks, he will lean forward to kiss his husband, heedless of anyone watching. The lamps around them are dimming anyway; it seems that the show is about to start. ]
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Tonight he feels untouchable, like this moment really could last forever. It is a foolish way to feel—but perhaps that is fine. He can leave important decisions to other nights, when he has regained his sense of reality. For now, he will simply enjoy.
And he does. As the lights dim and the mortals in the audience grow hushed in anticipation of the opera’s imminent beginning, Liem enjoys his husband’s warm, solid presence at his side, his familiar scent and the taste of him beneath the brightness of the wine, and the look of open pleasure that he so rarely glimpses on his husband’s face. Though he has barely tasted any liquor, he already feels drunk enough on delight that he feels certain it must be painted on him for all the world to see.]
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Then the music starts-- and he blinks, turning to face the stage despite himself. He had spotted the mass of musicians in a pit just before the stage, all dressed in black like so many crows, their brass instruments shining in the dim light. Even so, he had been unprepared for the fullness of the sound. It feels a little bit like being trampled by very quick, startlingly well-coordinated horses.
He must admit it is impressive.
And, despite himself, he finds himself drawn in by the play, which portrays a delightfully vicious woman's corruption of a very dull, pious soldier. He can taste the impending tragedy on the wind, and if it brings something a little savage, a little hungry to his grin -- well, he is what he is. At any rate, Cardan is immediately enamoured with the temptress, and if the soldier's singing parts remain dull, they at least provide him with a convenient excuse to turn his attention to his husband.
Case in point: some virtuous and dutiful duet he only half listens to as he sneaks his fingers under Liem's jacket, splaying a warm palm over the small of his back. He leans close, breathing him in, feeling thrillingly hidden in the darkness of their little alcove. When his mouth brushes the shell of Liem's ear, it is indulgent. ]
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But he cannot keep his attention from his husband. Even when the orchestra begins to play and the performers begin to move about on the newly-revealed stage, he remains keenly aware of Cardan’s warm presence at his side. And his eyes keep sliding over, again and again, to capture glimpses of his lover in the thrall of the music, swept up by the story.
He tries not to let Cardan catch him. When he senses a lull in his husband’s attention, he returns his own eyes to the stage, and so he is not looking at Cardan when he feels the wandering palm slide against his back, or when Cardan’s warm breath tickles his ear. He continues to watch—but his breath quickens and catches in his throat, and his head tips toward the lure of that soft mouth, and his fingers half lift from their resting place, tempted to sink into his lover’s glossy curls and keep him close.
He doesn’t. Yet. He values the tease of the coy touch too much to indulge it so wholly, so soon. Even so… he barely hears the music now.]
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This is his. Liem is his. The delight of having him -- no matter when, no matter where -- is his. His teeth find Liem's neck: not a nibble, but a bite, delicately deliberate. He wants to be measured, still.
They are only in Act I.
Even if he is already pulling his husband closer to him, his arm possessive around Liem's waist. His other hand curls over Liem's thigh, just above his knee, though not for long: already Cardan's brazen fingertips sneak higher, trailing along the line of a trouser seam. ]
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Now his gaze does flutter back to his husband—to the fingers sliding up his leg and the well-attired shape of Cardan beside him, leaning in as he pulls Liem closer. Already he feels lust following the path of those fingers and pooling hotly between his thighs, and though he cannot help but relax against his husband as he is pulled into his embrace, he is very conscious of the fact that they have hours yet before the opera is concluded.
Reaching over, he grips Cardan’s knee in silent rebuke—an empty protest, given the pliant way he responds to Cardan’s touch. It is a given that he must object to interrupting their viewing with such brazenly public seduction, but that doesn’t mean he wants Cardan to stop.]
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The hand on Cardan's knee only makes him grin and tip his leg towards Liem in open invitation. ]
Don't tempt me, husband, [ he murmurs, his lips moving against Liem's ear, ] lest I have a thought to simply pull you into my lap.
[ And wouldn't that be a delight? Having said it, he must spend a moment rueing his current inability to enjoy Liem's lean, familiar shape pressed against him, the intriguing way he might shiver and squirm if Cardan had him fully in his clutches. He knows Liem hears the speeding tempo of his heartbeat.
His hand doesn't stop its slow, indulgent ascent up Liem's thigh. ]
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Absolutely not, [he mutters under his breath, still conscious of the risk that someone else might hear. Somehow, that Cardan has incited him into opening his mouth during the performance troubles him more than his husband’s wandering attention—or wandering hands. Whatever propriety demands, Liem could never regret Cardan’s touch. He simply wishes that touch didn’t unravel his composure with such apparent ease.]
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He will not get to complete his palm's dastardly journey, at any rate. Liem is saved by the stage's sudden change of scenery as another song bursts into place, pulling Cardan's attention its way. This time, the hand on Liem's thigh tightens in surprise -- and then Cardan is leaning forward, once more acutely engrossed in the story beats unfolding before him.
He does not let go of his husband, however. Nor does he miss opportunities to turn his attention to Liem whenever there is a lull -- because it is their anniversary, after all, and what better reason has Cardan to brush reverent kisses over his husband's chilly knuckles, or to run possessive hands up his chest, or whisper to him, here and there, some of the things he would like to be doing?
...it is good, then, that everyone is busy applauding when the curtain lowers and the lights flicker on for the intermission, as it gives Cardan a moment to pull his hands back and move smoothly back into his own space. Somehow, he manages to look none the worse for wear, though the hunger that lives in his sharp smile does not stay entirely hidden. ]
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When the lights glow on again, he is bright-eyed with keen attention, spots of colour dusting his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, restless in his confining and slightly dishevelled suit. He attends himself as the opera hall brightens, tugging his waistcoat straight and fixing the hang of his jacket, though there is little he can do to disguise the conspicuous silhouette of the half-roused erection pressing against his trousers. While this isn’t the first time his husband has afflicted him so in a public place, usually there is a convenient desk or table obscuring his intemperance.
And yet, for all that he has spent more of the first couple acts focused on his husband than on the opera itself, and for all that Cardan has made a game of teasing him for that entire time… he cannot deny that, instead of feeling harassed, he is coltishly happy. He always relishes Cardan’s attention, and the inappropriate venue makes the tease feel like a private little game—a secret between the two of them. Maybe it’s the faerie wine making him foolish. Maybe he has always been foolish to begin with.]
How are you enjoying the show, husband? [He stands, buttoning his jacket absently as he regards Cardan’s hungry expression with quiet fondness.] Are you looking forward to the second half?
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His gaze flicks to the tied off privacy curtains just behind them, heavy enough to hide the balcony from view entirely, should they be released. ]
...very much so, [ he will purr. ] I so love a hero in the throes of temptation.
And you, Liem? Where lies your preference?
[ Never mind that his husband has spent most of the show trying to rebuke temptation, only as quietly as possible. Such are ever their roles, and Cardan is smugly satisfied with his own. ]
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You know I appreciate a temptress.
[Liem’s regard of Cardan only warms further in response to his husband’s smugness. As ever, regardless of his own penchant for orderly things, he cannot help but be charmed by Cardan’s roguish behaviour.
As the sounds of movement filter to them from people leaving the surrounding boxes, Liem moves to the privacy curtains and releases their ties.]
I am enjoying myself tremendously.
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He loves this, as well: the moment of anticipation, the thrill of knowing his simmering hunger is mirrored by his husband. When he does reach out, it is to skim feather-light fingertips over Liem’s flank, down to his hip. ]
Are you? [ His voice has gone quiet, deliberate. ] Then I am glad.
Pleasure looks so enchanting on you.
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Liem takes the wandering hand in his, lifting it to his lips so he can brush a kiss against his husband’s knuckles.]
Are you enchanted, husband? [he murmurs against his skin, his head still bent over Cardan’s hand. He doubts Cardan could be more enchanted than Liem already is. If they were not still in such a public place, displayed on their shadowed little balcony, he might kneel at his husband’s feet and invite the touch of those soft hands—cupping his face, tracing his mouth, stroking his hair. Instead, he only returns Cardan’s hungry gaze, stroking his thumb gently over warm, jewelled fingers.]
What will you do?
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Of course he's enchanted. How could he be anything but? He always wants that serious, dangerous mouth. He wants it on him, wants Liem's ardent kisses and the bite of his fangs. He wants to try his own teeth on his husband's pale throat. He wants, he wants-- ]
What are you willing to give me, husband?
[ It is, for once, an honest question -- despite that there is a hint of challenge in the curl of his mouth. Obviously, Cardan cares little about impropriety in the public sphere. Yet it hasn't escaped him that Liem seems at least a little concerned about onlookers.
But his husband cannot possibly protest the touch of Cardan's fingertips over his lips, tracing their shape with brazen, possessive indulgence. This small, private space is their own, and surely the murmurs of their conversation are lost in the din of voices outside. ]
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But only hanging fabric separates them from passers-by, and before too long the intermission will come to a close and the next act will begin. He cannot stop himself from fretting about these things, even with his husband smiling at him and a glass of fine faerie wine fizzing in his veins.
Still, he cannot resist the warm hand cupping his face, caressing his mouth. It makes his blood thrill and his chest ache with longing, to be at the mercy of that gentle touch.]
You have my desire already. And you may have… this.
[He will at last permit himself to settle onto his husband’s lap, just for the present, his hand sliding round to cup the nape of his neck—and as he does, he bends his head to catch Cardan’s mouth with his, a kiss that holds all the frustrated wanting of the past hour.]
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As ever, all else fades away.
When he finally pulls back, it's only to catch his breath. ]
You have... taught me such patience, husband. [ A thing he has never before considered worthwhile, and yet-- ] And yet you shatter it so easily, even now.
[ He is half tempted to simply cut their outing short and spirit them away, back to their rooms, back to solitude and their own company. But that feels like cheating, too; his husband so rarely enjoys leisure.
It's just that two more hours of this make him fear for his poor, greedy heart. ]
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Should I have kept my restraint?
[He makes no move to extract himself from Cardan’s embrace, content to be where he is, tucked against his husband with the lush curves of his mouth only a breath away. Liem cards his fingers idly through his husband’s soft hair, aiming a quietly pleased look at him as he listens to Cardan’s heartbeat racing in his chest.
For the better part of the last hour, Cardan has been tormenting him with his voice, his touch, his scent. If indulging the wild desire throbbing through him means tormenting his husband too, he cannot say he feels especially guilty.]
I thought you wanted to have me in your clutches.
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[ But if Liem is going to be a menace, then Cardan surely cannot let himself be outdone. So he will kiss his husband again, and again after that -- mercilessly insistent on letting him taste all of Cardan's considerable hunger for him. After all, they only have the span of minutes until the lights start dimming again, and then only furtive, secret touches for the whole second half of the performance.
When it is time, Cardan releases Liem only reluctantly, though he does also reach out to dutifully fix his husband's tie. It's not going to do anything about Cardan's slightly askew collar and kiss-flushed mouth, but he's not the one with an outsize sense of propriety. ]
I had a thought, husband, [ he will murmur, even as his fingers slip away from Liem's throat and he turns to wrangling the curtains. They have not much time: although the stage is yet dark, the spectators have returned, and a hush is quickly settling over the audience. ]
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It is just that Cardan’s sullen temper when things don’t quite go his way is so charming, especially when his husband so stubbornly refuses to learn any kind of prudence in response. To Liem’s mind, Cardan carries himself unfailingly as though expecting the world to bend to his wishes, and it makes Liem want nothing more than to belong only to him.
It makes for a happy half-hour or so, tucked securely in his husband’s clutches and indulging in the pleasures of his heated kisses and wandering, possessive hands. His own need torments him, of course, but it is worth it, to have Cardan’s desire all to himself in these stolen moments between the curtain’s fall and its future rise. When they must finally pull apart to right themselves and pull back the privacy curtains again, prompted by the sounds of the returned audience settling beyond the confines of their box, Liem is in high spirits despite the wickedness his husband likely has in mind for him.]
And what thought is that?
[As he takes one last moment to neaten his clothes, he aims an expectant glance at his somewhat dishevelled-looking spouse, curious and pleased.]
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...I had it some time ago, in truth.
It would not let me go, you see. You have that terribly persistent quality about you, even in my thoughts.
[ He says this with the mien of a man making a cursory effort at vexation -- because it is the proper thing to do -- even though he would much rather be smug. Having finally finished fiddling with the curtain sash, he will step behind Liem, sliding hands over his shoulders. ]
I thought, Liem...
[ Dramatic as ever, he will lean in for this, bending low until his mouth is brushing Liem's ear. He breathes his next words, so quietly only a vampire could hope to hear him at all. ]
...that I might want you to fuck me. Tonight.
[ His fingers bite into Liem's shoulders, suddenly tight-- and then the stage lights go on, and Cardan steps away, quick as a shadow. He will slip into his seat just as the stage curtain rises, looking like nothing out of the ordinary happened at all.
Only his hammering pulse betrays him, as usual. ]
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When he does, the look he slides at his husband is warmly sly. He whispers softly:] This, too, is yours.
[Is Liem not Cardan’s to enjoy however he pleases? If his body and his pleasure and his hunger are Cardan’s, if his gentle hands and his devoted mouth belong to him, surely this is his to claim as well. And Liem wishes so fervently to give it to him, after so many months where neither of them had raised the topic at all. He always wants to please him, of course, but he is especially hungry for this, just as he is hungry for every other rare part of Cardan that he is allowed to glimpse.]
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