[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.]
[ His breath hitches when Liem leans so close. It takes effort to stay just where he is instead of pressing forward to catch that serious, devoted mouth in his own. Even with all the kissing they had done in the theatre, he feels longing tug at him again -- especially now, when Liem is plying him with lewd promises. ]
Only then?
[ His grin remains unabashed, and unabashedly greedy. ]
But I always want your mouth on me, Liem.
[ Even so, he tips his head back, into the palm of Liem's hand, so that he can survey his husband. Cardan's expression is smug; after all, no matter what Liem does or doesn't do in this carriage, he is Cardan's, and what could be more satisfying? ]
[Cardan’s smug self-assurance always manages to spark such helpless eagerness in Liem. He loves the way his husband leans indulgently into his touch, and the hungry way he looks at him, like something delectable he’s about to enjoy. It makes his blood heat and thrill inside him, and drowns his thoughts beneath the want to wrap himself in Cardan’s embrace and invite all his most intemperate desires.
Tonight would seem an ideal occasion to indulge this want—but he has a duty to his husband that he must fulfill, and he cannot afford to forget it. After all, tonight belongs to Cardan just as much as it does to him.]
You always want everything, [Liem reminds him easily—and because Cardan has so obligingly bared it, he strokes cool fingertips up the exposed curve of his throat, indulging in the simple pleasure of touch after hours of keeping his hands to himself. Indulging Cardan’s seemingly ever-present desire to have Liem’s hands on him, too.]
Your wish is my command, husband. If you have demands, you know you need only speak them.
[ He shivers readily into the touch, his eyes sliding shut. Liem has a talent for making him feel simultaneously vulnerable and powerful -- just like he has a talent for making Cardan believe his promises, despite that he is bound by naught but his own honour.
Unfortunately for Liem, he has wed a trusting yet flagrant opportunist. Cardan's eyes snap open again; the smile he levies Liem's way is sharply predatory. ]
You are right. I want everything, all the time. But especially to make your life difficult tonight.
[ His hands move over Liem's body -- to his hips, over his thighs and back up to slip under his jacket, to drag his hungry touch up over Liem's clothed chest. There is a comfortable sort of arrogance in the way his fingers close over Liem's chin. ]
We have some time in the carriage, still. Tease yourself a little, husband, would you? I so love seeing you desperate.
[ He pauses, surveying Liem for just a moment, his eyes alight with affectionate malice. ]
[Regardless of the predatory look on Cardan’s face, Liem cannot help but relax into his wandering hands, his eyes sinking shut for a moment as warm fingers close about his chin. In his husband’s hands, he feels just like a piece of some lovingly maintained clockwork, moving and being moved in service to a single delightful purpose. When his gaze meets Cardan’s again, a familiar, placid calm has settled behind it.
Reluctantly, he pulls his hands away from Cardan so he can dance his fingers up the front of his own body, from the fastenings of his trousers to the buttons marching up his waistcoat. Their touch is light, indecisive.]
Desperate sounds rather ambitious.
[If Cardan was touching him? Simplicity itself. But being watched holds no particular allure to Liem. He doubts that Cardan will get the results he wants if Liem just spends a while playing with himself, no matter how earnest his efforts.
Still, he won’t deny him. After a moment’s hesitation, he thumbs open the buttons at his fly and slips his fingers inside.]
I hope, Cardan, that you won’t let me become bored.
[ He watches Liem’s indecision with some surprise. His husband’s tone does not strike him as particularly saucy; yet what other reason would Liem have for suggesting boredom? For a moment, Cardan will only observe him, attentive — will watch the noncommittal way his fingers slide inside his trousers.
….Well, if Liem did want to provoke him, he is on the right track; Cardan will do many things to avoid boredom, and more still to avoid subjecting Liem to the same. Perched on his lap is the last place his husband ought to ever be bored. How could he ever live such a fuckup down?
And so: he smiles, and drags two long fingers down, over Liem’s throat, the knot of his tie, the row of buttons below it. ]
Perhaps you’d like to use my hands instead, husband?
[At the heavy slide of Cardan’s fingers down the length of his body, Liem pauses, his eyes sharpened with sudden interest. Yes: Yes, he does want the use of his lover’s warm, elegant hands. He always wants Cardan’s hands on him, was already far more interested in their possessive touch than in whatever his own hands were tasked with doing.
He observes quietly,] You know I would.
[It is no secret how Liem feels about his husband’s touch.
He steals the offered hand with unhurried deliberateness, almost coy as he guides it down to palm his dick, watching Cardan all the while. This time, the familiar heat of his touch lights sparks beneath his skin, and the languid friction grips his lungs with waiting eagerness, making his intent gaze become distracted with pleasure. As ever, Cardan demands his attention with almost no effort at all, even when his touch is Liem’s to direct.
Because it is still Cardan’s hands on him, and Cardan’s lap in which he’s nestled, and Cardan’s predatory regard watching his every move—and he cannot weather the tease of that heated touch, pliant and cooperative for only this brief moment, without imagining where Cardan’s hunger will lead him next.
And because he remains greedy for Cardan’s warmth as well as his hunger, Liem captures his other hand too, tucking his face against the palm and letting the soft, shallow breaths of his want break against it.]
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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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Only then?
[ His grin remains unabashed, and unabashedly greedy. ]
But I always want your mouth on me, Liem.
[ Even so, he tips his head back, into the palm of Liem's hand, so that he can survey his husband. Cardan's expression is smug; after all, no matter what Liem does or doesn't do in this carriage, he is Cardan's, and what could be more satisfying? ]
And I was promised indulgence...
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Tonight would seem an ideal occasion to indulge this want—but he has a duty to his husband that he must fulfill, and he cannot afford to forget it. After all, tonight belongs to Cardan just as much as it does to him.]
You always want everything, [Liem reminds him easily—and because Cardan has so obligingly bared it, he strokes cool fingertips up the exposed curve of his throat, indulging in the simple pleasure of touch after hours of keeping his hands to himself. Indulging Cardan’s seemingly ever-present desire to have Liem’s hands on him, too.]
Your wish is my command, husband. If you have demands, you know you need only speak them.
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Unfortunately for Liem, he has wed a trusting yet flagrant opportunist. Cardan's eyes snap open again; the smile he levies Liem's way is sharply predatory. ]
You are right. I want everything, all the time. But especially to make your life difficult tonight.
[ His hands move over Liem's body -- to his hips, over his thighs and back up to slip under his jacket, to drag his hungry touch up over Liem's clothed chest. There is a comfortable sort of arrogance in the way his fingers close over Liem's chin. ]
We have some time in the carriage, still. Tease yourself a little, husband, would you? I so love seeing you desperate.
[ He pauses, surveying Liem for just a moment, his eyes alight with affectionate malice. ]
...or is it more specific instruction you crave?
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Reluctantly, he pulls his hands away from Cardan so he can dance his fingers up the front of his own body, from the fastenings of his trousers to the buttons marching up his waistcoat. Their touch is light, indecisive.]
Desperate sounds rather ambitious.
[If Cardan was touching him? Simplicity itself. But being watched holds no particular allure to Liem. He doubts that Cardan will get the results he wants if Liem just spends a while playing with himself, no matter how earnest his efforts.
Still, he won’t deny him. After a moment’s hesitation, he thumbs open the buttons at his fly and slips his fingers inside.]
I hope, Cardan, that you won’t let me become bored.
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[ He watches Liem’s indecision with some surprise. His husband’s tone does not strike him as particularly saucy; yet what other reason would Liem have for suggesting boredom? For a moment, Cardan will only observe him, attentive — will watch the noncommittal way his fingers slide inside his trousers.
….Well, if Liem did want to provoke him, he is on the right track; Cardan will do many things to avoid boredom, and more still to avoid subjecting Liem to the same. Perched on his lap is the last place his husband ought to ever be bored. How could he ever live such a fuckup down?
And so: he smiles, and drags two long fingers down, over Liem’s throat, the knot of his tie, the row of buttons below it. ]
Perhaps you’d like to use my hands instead, husband?
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He observes quietly,] You know I would.
[It is no secret how Liem feels about his husband’s touch.
He steals the offered hand with unhurried deliberateness, almost coy as he guides it down to palm his dick, watching Cardan all the while. This time, the familiar heat of his touch lights sparks beneath his skin, and the languid friction grips his lungs with waiting eagerness, making his intent gaze become distracted with pleasure. As ever, Cardan demands his attention with almost no effort at all, even when his touch is Liem’s to direct.
Because it is still Cardan’s hands on him, and Cardan’s lap in which he’s nestled, and Cardan’s predatory regard watching his every move—and he cannot weather the tease of that heated touch, pliant and cooperative for only this brief moment, without imagining where Cardan’s hunger will lead him next.
And because he remains greedy for Cardan’s warmth as well as his hunger, Liem captures his other hand too, tucking his face against the palm and letting the soft, shallow breaths of his want break against it.]