[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.]
Of course he knows. He's known since the day at the cabin, in those interminable hours soaked by petrichor and the torments of incessant pleasure, that this, too, was his to take. He had simply not expected that he would ever wish to demand it, from anyone, beloved or otherwise.
Nonetheless, the thought had stuck to him like a burr -- poking him at odd times of the night until it felt familiar, well-worn. Eventually, the sharp edges of his indignation (princes of Faerie were not meant to allow themselves to be fucked) smoothed down enough to give way to curiosity.
Which, he recognizes, is when he had lost the battle. It has ever been one of his weaknesses: needing to know.
But recognition is one thing. Saying it is what makes it real; he cannot go back on it now -- which was, in truth, part of his purpose in springing this on Liem mid-opera. He is nervous, cannot help being nervous, no matter how much he trusts his husband's gentle hands and fervent devotion. This is not a role he has played but once, and never to this extent. And yet, underneath the anxiety: his greed, ever-ravenous for every part of Liem he has not yet seen.
No, it is simpler to cut off his own escape now-- it makes him feel a little reckless and a little feral, makes every sensation more vibrant with anticipation. He cannot help the broad, toothy grin that finds its way onto his face, for no reason at all.
He doesn't harass Liem through the second half of the performance. But he will reach over to lace his fingers with his husband's, and he will hold on through the rest of the opera-- through the young soldier's downfall, through his descent into self-loathing and jealousy and senseless wrath.
The temptress dies, as all temptresses must.
When the performers take their bows, Cardan does not applaud, though they are well deserving. He does not want to let go of his husband, and he suddenly does not feel like battling the throng of departing guests. Instead, he will rise and turn to Liem, decisive. ]
Let us go, husband.
[ To the carriage. To their rooms. Where they can be alone. ]
[After the intermission, Liem struggles to absorb the performance played out on the opera stage. It is no fault of the drama unfolding below, or the singers embodying the colourful cast. He is simply too distracted by the warm grip of the hand in his, the eager heartbeat of the man beside him, and the stolen glimpses of the feral grin on his handsome face. He is too busy turning over Cardan’s words in his mind: I might want you to fuck me. Tonight.
The thought of it will not leave his mind, despite the stage and the music and the story vying for his attention. Nothing so mundane could compete with the breathless thought of Cardan giving himself to Liem in that way, and by the time his husband rises to leave, still in the midst of the performers’ final bows, Liem has recalled a dozen different fantasies that he might finally bring to life.
But none of them ever began with Cardan asking to be fucked—and because of that, Liem is still pensive as he follows his husband from the opera house and back to the waiting privacy of their carriage, his fingers still laced tightly with Cardan’s. He is not entirely sure what is about to happen next; only, whatever it is, there is no other way he’d prefer to spend the rest of tonight than in his husband’s arms.
As they settle in for the return trip, he lifts Cardan’s elegant fingers to his lips.]
You should know, [he says quietly,] that tonight, it is my quest to indulge your every pleasure.
[ Cardan's eyebrows twitch upwards. As always, it is impossible not to indulge in brushing his fingers over Liem's soft lips. Cardan is so possessive of him. As ever, he wants that mouth; he wants it on him. ]
Is it not always? [ he asks, with characteristically easy arrogance. A lazy smirk curls over his mouth, even as he sprawls in the carriage seat. As usual, he is too tall for the space.
He knows what Liem means, of course. He is promising to take care of Cardan, to reward his trust with earnest devotion. And still, Cardan's question stands; after all, when had Liem ever failed to indulge him? No one has ever cared for him so well, so faithfully, so thoroughly as his husband had.
The smirk softens as he curls his hand over Liem's cheek, cataloguing his husband's features as one would a cherished artwork. ]
I've told you, husband, how I feel about your hands.
[ They make me feel safe, he'd said, some months ago. And though the sentiment had been born of the kind of loose-lipped giddiness one feels upon cheating death, it is no less true now. ]
[Liem is easily beguiled by the warm caress against his lips, and the feline smirk his husband dons so casually. He hopes to see many more of Cardan’s smiles tonight, pleased and hungry and sly alike. But although he closes his eyes and tips his face willingly into his husband’s gentle touch, he does not entirely agree with the implication of his question.
Very often, Liem feels as though Cardan is the one indulging his desire—even when it means curbing his own. And, because Liem cannot resist his husband at all, he finds himself happy to let him. But he is still hungry for the moment when Cardan comes undone, and he doubts he could be sated even if he devoted himself to nothing but his husband’s pleasure for the remainder of their stay in the Alderking’s land.
Never mind the painful way his heart squeezes in his chest when Cardan speaks of his trust in Liem’s care. Even if he can never truly deserve trust like that, tonight Iago and his web of plots are far away, and nothing can prevent Liem from devoting himself only to Cardan.]
You often make it your mission to distract me. [His eyes open again to find Cardan’s, and he rises so he can insinuate himself once more into Cardan’s lap, brushing an errant curl back from his cheek as he does. He asks, fondly,] Are you going to make my life difficult tonight, husband?
[ He breathes in, suppressing a happy little shiver when Liem's lithe weight settles in his lap. Immediately, Cardan must wind his arms around him again, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he does. At this particular moment -- together in the quiet of the carriage, with no one else to please or consider -- he cannot imagine being happier. Even his nervous tension fades into the background of his thoughts for just a moment.
Liem's question prompts another toothy grin. ]
It would be cruel to deprive you of problems to solve.
[ Especially since Liem has expressed that Cardan was not sufficiently difficult the last time he handed over control. He doesn't particularly plan on rolling over for Liem tonight, but even so -- his honour is waiting to be avenged.
He tips his head, brushes his mouth over the elegant line of Liem's cheekbone, soft as a breath. ]
Have you made plans to be distracted from already, Liem?
[As Cardan surely expected, his answer does nothing to shake the contentment that Liem is currently wearing. After all, when has Liem ever seen his husband’s willfulness and mischief as a problem? He delights in being subjected to Cardan’s whims, all the more so when they end up being inconvenient. He would hate to think that Cardan had used up all his wickedness for the night already.]
Plans?
[His fingers find Cardan’s nape, sliding up into his hair as he shivers pleasurably through the gentle kiss brushing his cheek. He has a mission to fulfill tonight, but the privacy of their rooms is yet some travel away, and Cardan’s soft, unhurried attention is delightful.]
Nothing so concrete. Intentions, only.
[He dares not plan anything down to the details, not when so much of his quest tonight is to indulge all his husband’s wants. He is sure Cardan can manage more than one.
Liem leans close, so his words brush against the curves of Cardan’s lips.]
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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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[ But his pulse quiets not at all.
Of course he knows. He's known since the day at the cabin, in those interminable hours soaked by petrichor and the torments of incessant pleasure, that this, too, was his to take. He had simply not expected that he would ever wish to demand it, from anyone, beloved or otherwise.
Nonetheless, the thought had stuck to him like a burr -- poking him at odd times of the night until it felt familiar, well-worn. Eventually, the sharp edges of his indignation (princes of Faerie were not meant to allow themselves to be fucked) smoothed down enough to give way to curiosity.
Which, he recognizes, is when he had lost the battle. It has ever been one of his weaknesses: needing to know.
But recognition is one thing. Saying it is what makes it real; he cannot go back on it now -- which was, in truth, part of his purpose in springing this on Liem mid-opera. He is nervous, cannot help being nervous, no matter how much he trusts his husband's gentle hands and fervent devotion. This is not a role he has played but once, and never to this extent. And yet, underneath the anxiety: his greed, ever-ravenous for every part of Liem he has not yet seen.
No, it is simpler to cut off his own escape now-- it makes him feel a little reckless and a little feral, makes every sensation more vibrant with anticipation. He cannot help the broad, toothy grin that finds its way onto his face, for no reason at all.
He doesn't harass Liem through the second half of the performance. But he will reach over to lace his fingers with his husband's, and he will hold on through the rest of the opera-- through the young soldier's downfall, through his descent into self-loathing and jealousy and senseless wrath.
The temptress dies, as all temptresses must.
When the performers take their bows, Cardan does not applaud, though they are well deserving. He does not want to let go of his husband, and he suddenly does not feel like battling the throng of departing guests. Instead, he will rise and turn to Liem, decisive. ]
Let us go, husband.
[ To the carriage. To their rooms. Where they can be alone. ]
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The thought of it will not leave his mind, despite the stage and the music and the story vying for his attention. Nothing so mundane could compete with the breathless thought of Cardan giving himself to Liem in that way, and by the time his husband rises to leave, still in the midst of the performers’ final bows, Liem has recalled a dozen different fantasies that he might finally bring to life.
But none of them ever began with Cardan asking to be fucked—and because of that, Liem is still pensive as he follows his husband from the opera house and back to the waiting privacy of their carriage, his fingers still laced tightly with Cardan’s. He is not entirely sure what is about to happen next; only, whatever it is, there is no other way he’d prefer to spend the rest of tonight than in his husband’s arms.
As they settle in for the return trip, he lifts Cardan’s elegant fingers to his lips.]
You should know, [he says quietly,] that tonight, it is my quest to indulge your every pleasure.
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Is it not always? [ he asks, with characteristically easy arrogance. A lazy smirk curls over his mouth, even as he sprawls in the carriage seat. As usual, he is too tall for the space.
He knows what Liem means, of course. He is promising to take care of Cardan, to reward his trust with earnest devotion. And still, Cardan's question stands; after all, when had Liem ever failed to indulge him? No one has ever cared for him so well, so faithfully, so thoroughly as his husband had.
The smirk softens as he curls his hand over Liem's cheek, cataloguing his husband's features as one would a cherished artwork. ]
I've told you, husband, how I feel about your hands.
[ They make me feel safe, he'd said, some months ago. And though the sentiment had been born of the kind of loose-lipped giddiness one feels upon cheating death, it is no less true now. ]
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Very often, Liem feels as though Cardan is the one indulging his desire—even when it means curbing his own. And, because Liem cannot resist his husband at all, he finds himself happy to let him. But he is still hungry for the moment when Cardan comes undone, and he doubts he could be sated even if he devoted himself to nothing but his husband’s pleasure for the remainder of their stay in the Alderking’s land.
Never mind the painful way his heart squeezes in his chest when Cardan speaks of his trust in Liem’s care. Even if he can never truly deserve trust like that, tonight Iago and his web of plots are far away, and nothing can prevent Liem from devoting himself only to Cardan.]
You often make it your mission to distract me. [His eyes open again to find Cardan’s, and he rises so he can insinuate himself once more into Cardan’s lap, brushing an errant curl back from his cheek as he does. He asks, fondly,] Are you going to make my life difficult tonight, husband?
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Liem's question prompts another toothy grin. ]
It would be cruel to deprive you of problems to solve.
[ Especially since Liem has expressed that Cardan was not sufficiently difficult the last time he handed over control. He doesn't particularly plan on rolling over for Liem tonight, but even so -- his honour is waiting to be avenged.
He tips his head, brushes his mouth over the elegant line of Liem's cheekbone, soft as a breath. ]
Have you made plans to be distracted from already, Liem?
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Plans?
[His fingers find Cardan’s nape, sliding up into his hair as he shivers pleasurably through the gentle kiss brushing his cheek. He has a mission to fulfill tonight, but the privacy of their rooms is yet some travel away, and Cardan’s soft, unhurried attention is delightful.]
Nothing so concrete. Intentions, only.
[He dares not plan anything down to the details, not when so much of his quest tonight is to indulge all his husband’s wants. He is sure Cardan can manage more than one.
Liem leans close, so his words brush against the curves of Cardan’s lips.]
I intend to use my mouth on you, once we return.
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