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liem talbott: champion

[open] post-imprisonment log

WHO: Liem & you!
WHAT: Liem is released from the naughty-Kenoma dungeons
WHERE: The Citadel, possibly Achamoth proper
WHEN: After his release on Firaseri 6th
WARNINGS: References to Liem’s imprisonment, including brainwashing, torture, & self-harm

I. The Wounded Option

[Liem is released from the Citadel’s dungeons without fanfare, staggering from his audience with the Regent back to his own rooms and sequestering himself there to recover from the most immediate after-effects of Dionys’s ministrations—or to at least attempt to. Rest is out of the question; the stings and aches throbbing through him would make sleep a struggle even if he could close his eyes without being transported immediately back into Dionys’s clutches. His mind feels like a sieve, his thoughts slipping away from him like water and leaving him only with the jagged edges of the past ten days. The best he can do is nurse his filthy and abused body while he tries to piece his mind back together.

He spends a lot of time alone over the ensuing days, but the observant or well-informed may have noted his return from the occasional servant delivering food or medicine to his room, or from hearing the sounds of activity within it. The sounds of running water are especially obvious, should one happen to walk past while he’s washing.

But of course, he has to tend to his injuries all over again once he’s stripped off the bandages and washed away the salve. Some of them are easier to reach than others, especially given the lingering pain involved in moving around too much. After bandaging his arms and tending the half-healed cuts and bruises on his chest, a short hiss punctuates his attempts to minister the lashes on his back.

Any knock on his door is meet with a brief silence, followed by the door cracking open and Liem’s dark, tired eyes peering out from it.]

Can I help you?

II. The Insomnia Option

[It doesn’t take all that long for restlessness to lure Liem out from the confines of his rooms. The walls start to creep in on him after just a couple days; the quiet starts to become oppressive. It’s too much like his cell in the depths of the Citadel, and it’s too much like his cell in the cathedral back home. Leaving the barren stone and cold, empty bed behind, he ventures out into the Citadel at large, seeking something to keep him occupied.

a. The middle of the night is a strange time to find anyone in the kitchens, but that’s where Liem is right now, smelling of oranges and cinnamon, his sleeves folded back to the elbows and his head bent over a small pie filled with some kind of soft white cheese. Flour dusts the bruises and half-healed bites on his wrists and forearms as he carefully lays a lattice of dough strips over the top, lifting his eyes from his work only briefly as he hears someone come in.

b. Regardless of how sleepless his nights (and his days) have been, or how residual aches from his injuries still plague his waking hours, Liem still turns to training as something that can occupy him even while he’s only operating at 50% at best. Target practice is something he could do even in his sleep, so the deep shadows beneath his eyes and the lethargy in his movements don’t stop him from finding a target to practise with in the pre-dawn hours when most of the Citadel is still dreaming. Stress and exhaustion have made him jumpy, though; the sound of approaching footsteps filters into his awareness slowly, and then in a rush all at once as he whirls to point his crossbow at whoever just walked in.

c. During the day, Liem mostly keeps out of the way in parts of the Citadel that don’t see much use. There’s a spare room near the top of a tower that stays empty for hours at a time, and it’s here that he can be found curled up on a window seat, gazing out of the narrow window while he scratches at a notebook with a stick of charcoal. Or at least, that’s what he’s been spending much of the afternoon doing, if the formless doodles and patterns scrawled across the pages are any indication. Liem himself isn’t available for comment, leaned as he is against the cool stone wall in the grip of a shallow and uneasy sleep.]

III. Wildcard

[Liem can be found around the Citadel or, later on, even out in Achamoth itself. His inbox is also open for post-imprisonment communion! Feel free to hit me up on plurk at Sporelett or DM me on discord if you want to hash out something else.]

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[ Matt's right hand pulls reluctantly away from Liem's. But his fingers don't travel far: only to the ribbon around his throat. Even tipsy, he's more than deft enough to undo the ribbon and catch it in his hand. It dangles from his fingers, leaving his neck bare--smooth and unblemished on one side, marred on the other by an irregular chunk of crystal. ]

I promise you.

[ Barely above a whisper. Matt notices that his heart has started to beat faster; he takes a steady breath, then another, in the hopes of slowing it. ]

[Liem's eyes flick wider when Matt reaches up to undo the ribbon circling his throat. He draws back to watch the movement of his fingers with careful attention, his abandoned left hand curling slightly, bereft. The climbing pace of his heartbeat seems suddenly very conspicuous, despite the slow breaths he takes to calm it.

Slowly, deliberately, he dips his head back down toward Matt's neck—not his right side, but his left. He brushes his lips over the glossy surface of his shard, feather-light, as his fingers gently reclaim Matt's again, tangling carefully with the hanging ribbon. And he lifts his head back up, pitching his voice instead toward his ear.]

Don't you think, [he says,] you're being a bit hasty? Given our present circumstances.

[ Matt sighs as Liem's mouth begins to draw near his neck. It's not in the spot he would have expected, but the gesture is intimately familiar to him; he's filled with a sense of déjà vu, heady and thick. Instead of fangs, though, he feels lips: a light, light touch against one crystalline facet of his shard. He can't make sense of the fact that he's able to feel Liem's mouth touch down, but the feeling is enough. His whole body goes still.

Then he laughs, startled and embarrassed in equal measure. Of course he's being hasty. Of course Liem didn't mean now. ]

Nobody would care, [ he protests, smiling. ] But, uhhh ...

In that case, do you wanna get out of here?

[The way Matt goes still at the touch of his mouth is fascinating. He has a knack for responding to certain kinds of intimacy in ways Liem can’t predict, and if they were anywhere other than right in the middle of a crowd of dancing people, he would be irresistibly tempted by the mystery he presents. As it is, he’s about one drink away from suggesting, yeah: a quiet corner would be fine. Which is only one reason why they really should get out of here.]

People here might object to some of the things I’d like to do with you.

[He leans in slightly, and his lips just brush Matt’s ear.]

When I said I prefer not to have sex in semi-public places, I didn’t mean public was better.

[ Matt chuckles ticklishly, his head tilting at the touch of lips on his ear. Liem's words--things I'd like to do with you--warm him to his toes. Matt is undeniably the aggressor here, but he doesn't feel like it. He feels swept off his feet, borne away on the tide of Liem's nearness, his touches and soft kisses and tender words. ]

We could go home. [ Low, almost throaty. His hand tightens in Liem's. ] Grab our stuff and go.

And maybe on the way back, you could tell me about some of what you wanna do.

Mmhmm.

[That little chuckle makes a smile twitch across Liem's lips. He trails his mouth down to the corner of his jaw to press a brief kiss there before finally pulling back again, meeting Matt's gaze with naked interest.]

I would love to go home with you.

[His hand slides up Matt's back as he considers, already very much sold on the idea of going back to the Citadel for sex, but reluctant to stop touching him in order to do so. Truly life is full of hard choices. His expression is coy when he adds,]

How much detail do you want?

[ It's quite difficult to think of not touching Liem right now, even in service of touching him more thoroughly later. But Matt is experienced enough with delayed gratification that he manages to wrench himself away--though his fingers remain tangled with Liem's. He uses his grip to coax them back towards their couch, where Matt starts levitating Liem's belongings into easier reach. The effort costs him a little in breath and energy, but Matt is flush with desire right now; he has plenty to spare. ]

Oh, [ he laughs, as they stumble for the door, ] I'm a big believer in clear communication. I'd like a really thorough understanding of what you're proposing.

[ Luckily, this venue wasn't too far from the Citadel to begin with. Matt's into delayed gratification and all, but he's not sure how long a walk he could manage right now. ]

[Attuned as Liem is to Matt as they weave their way free of the dance floor, he’s only more intrigued now by the way his casting interacts with his breath and body, even familiar as it’s become over the course of the evening. His attention is divided between his levitating belongings and the mage next to him, whom he keeps sliding his eyes back to as irresistibly as a cat looks at a fluttering bird. Liem snags his mask and slides it with painstaking, one-handed care into the pocket of his coat, then, so that he doesn’t have to relinquish his grip on Matt’s hand, he simply slings the garment over one shoulder. For the moment, he’s opting for efficiency over maintaining appearances.]

How foresighted of you. Very visionary.

[He follows Matt out the door and into the warm Achamoth night, sticking to his side like glue as they weave their way through colourfully-lit side streets on their way back to the Citadel.]

You know, I’d really like a better look at that tattoo of yours. The one on your chest.

[As distinguished from the one on his hip, which he’s already been happily acquainted with.]

And in the interest of being thorough, I should really map my options before I bite you. Don’t you think?

[ Matt giggles at the double meaning, but hushes himself quickly as Liem keeps talking. His gaze flickers down to his chest and back up to Liem's face; his cheeks feel warm.

He sighs a laugh. ]

I think that sounds really smart of you, [ he agrees. Matt can't exactly squirm while upright and in motion, but his thighs press together briefly as he walks. ] I hope the terrain agrees with you. But champions always give it their all no matter what, don't they?

[There’s a quiet, transgressive thrill that shudders close to Liem’s bones at the prospect of going home with Matt explicitly to open his veins and drink from him, to indulge inexcusably in this dangerous, seductive vice he can’t escape from. Something like this shouldn’t be so exciting to him—and yet, it is, and that weightless, buzzing excitement is enough for him to pretend not to notice the guilt. He takes refuge in the warmth of Matt’s hand instead, and in the soft sound of his laugh.]

I would be remiss to give you any less than every bit of my attention, [says the consummate champion.] It’s the least I could do, since you’ve been such an accommodating companion.

[Then he slides Matt a small smile, playfully coy.]

But between you and me, it would mostly just be my pleasure to do so.

[ Matt laughs again, this time a low chuckle. And he nudges up against Liem for a moment, answering his smile with one of his own.

The rest of the journey passes, for Matt, in a warm blur of laughter and small touches, each one sending a thrill through him. Making his heart beat louder and blood race. They wend their way through the Citadel's familiar halls, and it's only the echo of Liem's remarks about "public" and "semi-public" that keeps Matt from pinning him to the nearest wall and kissing the breath out of him. As things are, he steals a quick peck here and there, until--

The door to his chambers swings open, revealing a sprawling room that smells faintly of dried lavender and sage. There's a desk covered in papers and diagrams, but the main piece of furniture is an enormous, heavily curtained bed that is for some reason surrounded by a small moat. ]

Aris? [ Matt calls. ] If you're still here, you've got thirty seconds to get out! Or join.

[ Giggling, he shoots Liem a mischievous grin. HE'S KIDDING (mostly). Either way, there's no answer. ]

[As he and Matt make their way through the Citadel’s broad stone halls, part of Liem marvels that they were able to make it this far without detouring to a shady corner to steal more than just the occasional brief kiss. It seems impossible to stop finding excuses to touch him, and equally impossible to keep his desire from flaring at the slightest contact.

The other part is too preoccupied to marvel at anything; it’s all warm, prowling anticipation. His pleasure when they finally reach Matt’s quarters is palpable.

By habit, Liem notes the features of the bedroom Matt lets them into: open, herbal-scented space, a work-covered desk, a palatial bed with (sigh) a surrounding moat. He’s still glancing at the moat when Matt’s call recalls a sidelong look his way, one eyebrow abruptly arched.

Liem waits for a brief moment in silence, listening for signs of a lurking retainer, before pushing the heavy door shut behind them. He slides an arm around Matt’s waist to pull him closer.]

You are… [he accuses in an aggrieved murmur, leaning in for a brief, teasing kiss. His teeth scrape gently over Matt’s lower lip.] … an absolute tart. I want to eat you.

Edited 2022-09-02 14:32 (UTC)

[ Matt shifts easily into Liem's embrace, giggling into his mouth. His breath catches at the graze of fangs--more a product of yearning and expectation than because of the sensation itself. But ultimately, Matt finds the distinctions between mind and body arbitrary at best. It's all part of the same breathing, craving cat's cradle. ]

And I want you to, [ he murmurs, his nose brushing Liem's. Matt's told Liem he's an awful dancer, but as he steps back now, he moves smoothly, unerringly, without pulling chest or hips away from Liem. ] Come on, come to bed with me.

[ On the one hand, Matt's accomplished at moving in concert with another person, even while decidedly tipsy. On the other, he is gunning right for that moat. ]

[Liem’s jacket is discarded in a crumpled heap on the floor as he coaxes Matt nearer, lips twitching with the suggestion of a smile despite the mock sternness of his brow. He hums in agreement at the murmured invitation, and despite the implications of his own teasing, the slide of his fingers over Matt’s back is gentle. Careful—deliberately so, given the reckless ease that has now steeped him down to his bones.

He follows him back toward the bed, giving a cursory look past his ear to ensure they’re actually headed for the bridge. After all, he’s the only one who can actually see where they’re going—so he adjusts their trajectory slightly until they’re pointed at it, as seamlessly as he would in a Taldan ballroom.

His first mistake is taking his eyes off the moat once he’s determined they’re going the right way. That alone probably wouldn’t be enough to send them back off-course, even tipsy as they both are.

His second mistake is looking back at Matt, and then—impulsively, indulgently—chasing after his mouth for another kiss.]

[ This time, as their lips meet, all the want that's been coiling in Matt--through Achamoth's streets, up to the Citadel, through its halls, and finally, finally here--spikes urgently in his belly. He indulged it briefly in the tavern, but to have felt Liem's hand on his waist, his lips on his neck, only to lose both sensations for such an unconscionably long time, only makes his desire flare more sharply. Matt's hand snakes around the back of Liem's neck to tug him closer; as they kiss, a moan slips out.

He's happy to let Liem guide them as he steps back. Their bodies feel perfectly in sync, as if no move he makes could possibly be wrong as long as it's done through this embrace. Matt's grip tightens on Liem's neck, fingernails digging into his nape. He takes one more step backward, expecting to land on the solid (and, you know, decently wide) bridge to the bed.

Instead, his booted foot sails through empty air, crashing into the water of the moat. ]

[It’s embarrassingly sentimental for Liem to be charmed by something as simple as being told come to bed with me, but despite the shameless character of their entire evening, as he follows Matt across his bedroom floor, he finds that he is. He is hopelessly charmed: by his invitation, by the desperate and desirous clutch of his hand, by the way he fits against Liem so perfectly even while moving backwards toward the bed. A small, rapt sound escapes him as he adjusts his grip around Matt’s waist, contriving to erase what little space still exists between them, and explores the planes and curves of his back with his other hand.

He’s wrapped around him like a second set of clothes when they come to the moat’s edge, and when Matt’s foot plunges down into it, his entire sense of balance is thrown off. Liem’s eyes fly open as he staggers, squeezing tighter on startled instinct, but stepping forward to regain his balance is exactly the wrong call in this scenario; they both tip away from the bridge and splash right into the moat. Liem finds himself sitting almost hip deep in water, one hand braced against the bottom and the other still clutching at the man whose lap he’s just about ended up in.

He says automatically,] Oh god, I’m so sorry.

[ As Matt tumbles back, splashing into the moat and landing flat on his ass, he lets out a noise that can only be classified as a squawk. The impact of his landing hammers through his whole body, making his stump sing with pain. For a moment, he sits there sputtering, sucking in shuddering breaths.

And he starts to laugh. ]

Oh my God. My shoes. [ He uses his right arm to haul himself up to the edge of the moat, where he sits dripping. He flashes Liem a breathless smile. ] Uh--can you help me out of these?

[When Matt hauls himself out of the moat, Liem doesn't follow immediately. For the moment he just sits in the water, his shock giving way to soft, breathless laughter at the state they've ended up in. He looks up at Matt, shifting on his throbbing knees to kneel in the water in front of him.]

You have only to ask.

[He lifts one of Matt's booted feet, placing it dripping in his lap, and smiles demurely up at him as his fingers play over the ties of his shoe. No part of him seems to have escaped the splash from their landing; droplets cling even to his lowered lashes and the end of his nose as he regards the other man.]

Still pleased with your choice of companion, even though he dunked you in a moat?

[ Matt's missing fingers still sting, but he does his best to breathe through it. It's easier with Liem to focus on: his sweet smile, the drops of water glittering on his eyelashes. Matt's toes curl in his boot, pressing the tip of his shoe into Liem's thigh. ]

I'm over the moon, [ he says, a pleasant murmur. ] That is ... as long as my companion gives me what he promised me.

[ Matt won't sit idle while Liem works on his buckles and laces. His right hand lifts to his shirt, flicking open its buttons with dreamy idleness. He pulls the shirt from his right shoulder, then rolls his left to dislodge it entirely. His chest is bare now, the emerald lotus over his heart fully visible. ]

A thorough accounting.

[Liem doesn't bother to hide the slight widening of his smile when Matt presses the tip of his shoe into his thigh. His fingertips slide beneath the cuff of one pant leg to brush briefly against the damp skin of Matt's calf.]

Oh, I'm excellent at accounting.

[It's a sacred duty of any priest of Abadar, after all—and he's always taken his sacred duties very seriously. It wouldn't do to rush.

He works his way diligently through the fastenings of each drenched shoe, easing them free to perch on the moat's water-dappled edge, and peels the waterlogged socks off to lay next to them. Then sliding his hands up Matt's thighs to gently part them, he rises on his knees to lean closer, water pattering back into the most around him as he holds Matt's regard. One hand travels deliberately up to pause at the fastening at his fly.]

Would you like help with this, as well?

[ It is ... objectively stupid to find it hot to watch Liem undo his shoes. But Matt loves to see any task done well, and Liem is so methodical as he strips him of boots and socks--as if the process were one of great significance. Matt is fascinated, almost enchanted, to watch his fingers move.

Liem slides his hands up Matt's thighs, and Matt spreads them on a sigh. Liem leans forward, and Matt can't help swaying closer to meet him. As Liem's fingers slide up his thigh, his hips shift, arching slightly under his hand. ]

Please, [ he murmurs. His hand comes to Liem's face again to cup his cheek, to follow the pointed curve of his ear, to slide down the side of his neck. ] I'd rather be touching you.

[ There are quite a few buttons to undo, given the high waist of his trousers, but Liem has shown impressive diligence already. ]

[Liem's coy expression grows a little sharper, a little more hungry when Matt shifts his hips beneath his touch. His eyes flicker with the same almost feverish heat they briefly had on the roof in Venera, after he'd left a mark on Matt's neck—and this time, it's very clearly eagerness.]

What a happy coincidence, [he murmurs, leaning slightly into the contact of fingers and palm warming his skin.] I've been wanting you to touch me again.

[His hand moves singly along the buttons marching down from Matt's waistband, flicking each one open with the same precise care with which he'd undone his shoes: the care of a man who should have stopped drinking two cocktails ago and is now concentrating very hard on not fucking up. His other hand slides up Matt's thigh much like its twin, but scrubs up his hip to hook into the side of his waistband as the buttons surrender to his assiduous attention.]

[ Matt recognizes that expression.

He can't immediately place it--maybe he's seen it on Liem before, or maybe it's something he dreamed up between the roof in Venera and now. But he recognizes it as a look he likes, one he's been craving from him.

With Liem's blessing, Matt's fingers retrace the path they've just taken. They slide back up Liem's neck, his thumb brushing the hinge of his jaw, then the lobe of his ear. His fingertips trace up the shell; they linger at the pointed tip. Then Matt's fingers card back through his hair, his nails grazing Liem's scalp. They drag gently down the nape of his neck. And he sighs: ]

You're so pretty ...

[ It's pure, artless admiration, something Matt barely registers saying. He's much more absorbed by where Liem's hands are. His hips shift again as Liem's fingers hook in his waistband, a slight change of weight to permit--or encourage--Liem to tug his trousers down more easily. ]

[As he works, the sphere of Liem's attention shrinks to a collection of bright, irresistible pinpricks: the fingers brushing his skin and carding through his hair, the coy invitation of Matt's undone trousers, the low sigh of his breath as he shifts his hips to accommodate Liem's efforts. He has no thought left for the tepid moat he's kneeling in, his flushed and slightly waterlogged condition, or anything else other than the man in front of him. Gently turning his head aside, he nuzzles against Matt's wrist, pressing a chaste kiss against the delicate skin there.]

If I started praising your most alluring qualities, [he breathes, hooking his other hand into the waist of his trousers,] I might not ever stop.

[And he eases the rest of Matt's clothes off, pulling them down past his hips and encouraging the soggy fabric down his legs so he can finally plop it into the floor with the rest of his discarded garments. All of them are going to wrinkle like hell if they lie here like this all night, and at the moment Liem barely notices, let alone cares.]

[ Liem's nuzzling, his soft kiss, prompt a sudden sigh: oh. Matt lifts his hips to help Liem divest him of the rest of his clothing, and pulls back to sit on the edge of the moat. Apart from his cheek and the stump of his left wrist, his skin is smooth and unmarred, marked only by tattoos: the lotus on his chest, the half-monkey, half-man figure curling over his right hip. A dark band encircling his right wrist. Between his legs, under a thatch of dark hair, his cock has just started to stiffen.

Matt looks down at Liem in the water and realizes with a laugh that somehow, they've managed to get him fully naked while Liem is almost entirely clothed. ]

Never's a pretty long time, [ he notes, amused. He shifts himself back from the lip of the moat, sliding his legs out of the water, and extends his hand to Liem. ] C'mere, you must be--

[ Well, he's always a little cold, isn't he. ]

--wet.

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[open] post-imprisonment log

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