Essek's husband tastes of sparkling wine. He cradles his face between his hands and kisses him slowly, feeling chapped lips give way under his own, fastidiously moisturized and soft. The silken slide of his tongue is a luxury all its own. Essek tilts his head for a better angle, catches Percival's lower lip between his sharp teeth just to hear the sharp intake of breath. Their mouths fit together with simmering, lazy heat again and again as they lay entangled together in the center of the bed they've been sharing more often than not lately. Essek's luxurious black robes are in the process of sliding off the coverlet to the floor, and Percy's clothing has fared even worse.
Essek has removed everything but his jewelry, his long ears and slender throat and slim wrists sparkling with clear diamonds and lustrous pearls that catch and reflect light. They drip from delicate polished platinum chains, accentuated by the backdrop of his dark grey-purple skin. Occasionally his simple gold wedding band, the only ring he wears, flashes in the warm glow of the fire illuminating and heating the room.
They've done nothing but this since returning from the Eve of New Dawn party, just languid grinding and making out. It is late; the new year arrived hours ago. They should be resting in preparation for their planned appearance tomorrow morning, but Essek has spent all evening socializing and weeks sharing his husband with others, and he guards their time alone jealously. He also does all he can to make every moment count.
This is one of the Dynasty's holiest days of the year. If he were in Rosohna, he would be among the other important figures of the Bright Queen's court and representatives of the main dens, dressed in ceremony and remaining awake in vigil, awaiting the first rays of the New Dawn sun breaking across the horizon. For a century and more he has forgone rest on this night in favor of worship. He will do so again tonight. But Essek Thelyss is a heretic in exile. It is not the Luxon to which he intends to give his full devotion.
A bare thigh slides across Percival's and Essek pushes himself up to kneel over his lap, still kissing him deeply. Graceful dark hands brace against his broad shoulders, the shape of him so very ruggedly human. The sharp points of his long nails don't press into his skin. Not yet.
Their lips part with a wet slide and Essek sits up. Here, now, he thinks he may finally understand something of what his mother sees in the Luxon. A creature worth devoting one's life to. Worth enduring centuries, millenia, all for the pursuit of something greater.
Percival is a vision against the navy blue bedsheets, his carefully styled hair in disarray courtesy of Essek's fingers. There are miles of pale, scarred skin and long, lean limbs on display, flushed from full flutes of champagne and from desire. The beard he'd committed to just before Winter's Crest is short and neatly trimmed, both soft and bristly to the touch, and utterly fascinating. His blue-green eyes are locked on Essek's, his glasses set aside some time ago.
"You are radiant," Essek says, each word so carefully, softly enunciated in his odd accent. His skin prickles with the uniquely illicit thrill of claiming the language of worship for himself. He wonders if Percival recognizes what significance those words hold, the sacrilege he has just committed by uttering them in praise of an imperfect human. His hands run up the long line of his husband's flank, over his solid chest, up through his beard. His fingers crook beneath his chin. "And you are mine."
Percy wonders if he should avoid encouraging the way Essek has so fiercely guarded their time alone, but he appreciates his husband's determination to do so too much to suggest he needn't do it so ardently. Knowing that he can disappear into his friends, Percival has been just as firm about taking time away from them. He doesn't want Essek to feel eclipsed. Not when they are finding their stride together more intimately.
And after several glasses of champagne and falling into bed, Percival's entire world has narrowed to his husband. Most of his clothes are on the floor and he can feel Essek's slipping as the wizard's thigh brushes against him. Percy gets his arm around the other man's hips, trying to keep their bodies close as they kiss, as they try to devour each other, now that they are finally alone. Essek's elegant hands press into his shoulders to keep him down, for the most part.
He drops his head back against the bed when they part and he looks up at his husband with bare desire and adoration. A calloused hand slides over Essek's thigh, touching as much bare skin as he can reach. It's a small miracle his glasses have made it off - probably thanks to Essek, since Percy tends to forget them. His smile grows as his husband's fingers run over his beard and hook beneath his chin. The words are not lost on him, and maybe it's wrong, but Essek's particular form of blasphemy is very attractive. Percy still finds it an impressive coincidence that someone like him should end up in a city dedicated to Pelor. Pike or Keyleth might say it's something more than that, but Percival has no intention of thinking too much about either of them right now.
Instead, Essek's claim sends heat sinking through him and his hand tightens on his husband's thigh as he tries to pull their bodies closer together. Percy rocks his hips up to ensure a bit of friction.
"I quite like being yours," he says warmly. The only jewelry Percy wears with any consistency is his wedding band, and it is the only piece he almost never takes off.
A smile curls at the corners of Essek's lips at this response, pleased and far more touched than he expected. The sharp intensity of his gaze softens with affection. How lucky he is to have married this man. If he were more devout, he would say that the Light guided him here. But of course, it is his lack of devotion that has caused him to be exiled.
His body moves naturally with Percy's as his hips roll up beneath him, rocking down in counterpoint. Entirely bare while his husband is still half-clothed, his calloused hand is a warm and welcome presence on his thigh, and he feels the stiff heat of his growing erection against his ass. With a hum of approval, a hand leaves Percy's face to slip between his own legs. His fingers curl delicately around his slender cock, which fills out with his slow, languid strokes, a deeper, warmer shade of purple than even the rest of his flushed skin. Nails scratch lightly through Percival's beard before that hand retraces its previous path in reverse, all the way down to the waist of his pants.
"Good," he replies. "Because I intend to keep you."
His skilled fingers deftly slide the top button through the fabric holding it in place, then trail down to do the same with the next. He repeats the process without urgency, building anticipation, until the front of Percival's trousers is open. Light, he does look delicious like this. Essek wants to sink his teeth into him.
So he does the nearest thing. Leaning over the pale form beneath him, he seizes his mouth in another string of heated kisses, and makes sure his fangs catch as he nibbles playfully at his lips. Not enough to cut or tear that delicate skin, but enough that his husband will certainly feel how easily he could.
"It is remarkable," he murmurs between kisses, "how much I want you. You have no idea how rare a thing desire such as this has been in my life."
Percy is very aware of what Essek's hand is doing without even looking. He does look, of course, because his husband's cock is beautiful. Even as the wizard works buttons open, Percival's attention doesn't waver until Essek leans down to give him sharp, heated kisses. His hand tightens on the other man's thigh and Percy gives another lazy rock of his hips.
Heart beating harder, Percival leans up to kiss Essek again and promptly rolls them over. It will, theoretically, be easier to get out of his trousers this way and gods how could he resist this urge? His fingers stroke through Essek's pale hair and his thumb strokes gently over his delicate brow.
"No? I'm honored then," he confesses quietly, and while he might have meant it to sound playful, it comes out far more sincere. Percival has known desire in his life, and it's something he's not indulged as much as he might have wanted. He didn't deserve it, or it was inconvenient, or some other reason kept him from allowing himself to feel like this. He'd not been celibate before Essek, but he certainly avoided real intimacy. Having both now - desire and intimacy - feels like more than he has ever deserved. And all from a man who is beautiful and brilliant and sharp.
Percival's hand leaves Essek's hair to press to the bed and the other reaches between them, more interested in feeling his lover than he is in finding relief for himself just yet.
"It feels like I have been held under for a very long time," he murmurs against the delicate shell of Essek's ear. "And I am finally able to breathe again."
As skilled a graviturgist as Essek could easily prevent the roll to swap their positions, but he does not. He enjoys Percival's impulsiveness and the desire it betrays, and he enjoys the display of strength and self-awareness it takes to move him this way. The view is as good from below as from above. Percival looks so handsome leaning over him, and he sounds as though he genuinely does feel honored. That brings a flush to Essek's face that has nothing to do with his husband's hand reaching between them and sliding down his body. Not directly, at least.
Still, he gasps sharply when his warm, broad palm slides over his cock. His slender hips lift from the bed in a wanton thrust, and a shiver goes through him as his husband's lips just barely brush his sensitive ear. His low, confessional words drip through him hot and sweet to pool in his stomach.
"Now you are stealing my breath," he murmurs in return, silky and sensuous, unable to even begin processing how genuinely romantic that sentiment was. His heart is beating very fast all of a sudden, where until now he has felt much more in control.
He hides this well, as his hands are remarkably steady trailing down Percy's torso to his open trousers, grasping the parted fabric and avoiding interference with the other man's hand around him.
"Take these off," he implores, meeting his lover's eyes with a sharp and direct gaze, dark violet and shining faintly in the low light. "Let me see you."
Percival smiles when he gets that sweet answer and he gives Essek another kiss as the wizard's elegant hands run down his chest. His own breath catches when Essek grabs at his trousers and makes his request, his demand. Percy makes sure their mouths meet again before he forces himself to pull back. He's reluctant to let go of his husband, but it's fore a good cause.
It's a simple matter to finish undressing and soon enough he's stepping out of his trousers and smalls, his body and his desire bare to Essek's gaze. He's a map of scars, some more horrific than others in the stories they are tied to. Percy doesn't often speak of them without prompting. But he gives Essek a few lingering seconds to take a good look before he slips back onto the bed.
Percy reaches to pull his husband close to him, longing for his warmth and the familiar shape of him. They haven't been sharing a bed long, all things considered, but gods has he found himself looking forward to this intimacy, even if they don't have sex.
Essek takes those moments to look. He drinks in the sight of his husband bare for him, scar-marked pale skin and corded muscle--a body he's become familiar with, one he has grown to desire with increasing intensity as he got to know Percival better. While he is well aware that he is married to an objectively good-looking man, his own attraction is a very personal one. This is the man he loves, even if he has still not expressed as much in those words exactly. To him, Percival is truly stunning.
He welcomes him back with open arms, sighing happily as he's pulled against him. Essek slips a thigh between Percy's and drapes his arms around his shoulders, intertwining their bodies and enjoying the shared warmth of bare skin as he kisses him again with mingled hunger and affection.
"My handsome, clever boy," he croons quietly, sensing the longing in his husband's embrace, the need for closeness and connection. These are things he craves too. "How are you tonight? Are you happy?"
Essek's mood has certainly improved since they left the party.
"Yes," he murmurs, a smile in his voice and his eyes as he looks down at Essek. "I am. I have some trepidation that you and Vex seem to be getting on well, but I am happy."
His smile brightens and he kisses Essek again. Percy's sure now that his husband had some concerns about meeting Vox Machina, but he's gratified to see them getting along. Perhaps a little concerned that Vex is the sort of person who would be very willing to plot with Essek should they be of the same mind about anything, but happy. Percival shifts, breath catching as Essek's thigh presses up between his. That doesn't quite break his focus.
"Are you?"
It's a concern he carries. One he doesn't question so much anymore, but one he hasn't been able to completely lay to rest, either.
When the question is flipped back to him, Essek does not hesitate to answer. Tonight, he is certain of how he feels. "Yes. I am happy to have you to myself for at least a few hours."
Though he has grown more at ease with Vox Machina, there is a possessive part of him that still doesn't like to share quite as much as he's been forced to recently. At least, as Percival has observed, he ad Vex'ahlia are now on friendlier terms. Without the veil of jealousy and mistrust over his eyes, she is someone whose shrewdness and charm Essek can appreciate. Perhaps they will even be friends. In which case that trepidation may be warranted.
"Is it not better that she and I see eye to eye?" he asks, curious and a little teasing. It was she who worried him most at first, but now he thinks he might like her best.
His fingers trace Percy's chest almost idly, but that is deceptive. His nails scrape lightly over pink nipples, one then the other, as his thigh presses a little higher between his husband's legs. The sharp, calculating glint in the drow's eyes when he meets Percy's proves that he knows precisely what he is doing.
Percival's expression softens at the immediate response. Their honeymoon period, as it were, had been fairly isolated and quiet. The only large gatherings they had attended were here in Whitestone or in Emon, and with the latter they were able to retreat to the keep when desired. They haven't been a physically intimate partnership all that long, and even Percy has to admit that he would like fewer demands on his time when he could be spending quiet moments with Essek trying to build the bond they didn't have before.
But he is also grateful that his husband has found an ally in Vox Machina. Percival is drawn out of his thoughts as Essek's manicured nails drag down his chest, soon followed with a very deliberate press of his thigh. His breath catches in his throat and he focuses on Essek's beautiful face, unable to mistake the sharp look in his eyes. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Perhaps," he answers. "But I am weak in the face of either of you."
Percy leans down to kiss Essek again, this time with more heat behind it.
"But I'm yours and yours alone right now, my darling husband."
"You certainly are." Essek's lips curl in a long smirk to match his husband's, a cat that got the cream, especially with a flash of fang. He does enjoy Percival's epithets; darling husband is something he'd never expected to be called, but it sounds so sweetly playful and fitting from this bright, intriguing human.
But what to do with him? The desire to grant him every possible pleasure wars with the urge to tease him to incoherence.
Between them, Essek's lissome fingers encircle his cock, and he hums with approval at its heft and velvety heat as he drags his fist slowly up. His thumb swipes over the ruddy head, spreading the moisture there. Arching his back to lift his hips, it is easy to press his own cock against it, to feel their thrumming warmth together. The sight is compelling; Essek's cock is dark and slender and more gracefully tapered compared to the endearing bluntness of his husband's. But those differences are endlessly fascinating, rather like the neat beard covering the lower half of Percival's face, or his small, round ears.
The sex they've indulged in frequently since that night in Emon is more than good; it is the best Essek has ever had, bar none. He has never lost interest or grown bored, and his desire for his husband has only intensified rather than simmering out as so many of his milder attractions have in the past. There are a few things they still have yet to try together; Essek's mood tonight lends itself well to at least one of them, provided Percival is interested in an alteration to the formula that has worked so well for them thus far.
"My darling husband," he repeats, quietly amused and very fond. His eyes flicker up to meet Percy's--such a lovely aquamarine blue. The thought to have jewelry made with that stone flits briefly through his mind, and he files it away for later. "Though it is clear we are both quite satisfied by the kind of intimacy we regularly share, I am curious--would it interest you to try it the other way?" To clarify his delicate phrasing, he adds, "With me inside you." He wonders if that is something Percival has done before, or if it might be new to him. While he knows that most of his lover's previous experience has been with professionals--very smart of him, Essek thinks--they've never discussed specifics.
His eyes nearly close as Essek's hand strokes over his cock, drawing his attention sharply back to his state of arousal and the fact that his husband is in a similar state. He sighs quietly and gives a slow rock of his hips as Essek shifts his position, ensuring their bodies fit together just so. Somehow it seems very fitting that even Essek's hard cock is pretty.
The way Essek echoes his sentiment catches Percy's attention and he lifts his gaze to meet the wizard's. The way he starts - like a treatise - only makes Percy smile by the time he gets to the question - and the clarification. Percival shifts over his lover, relaxing more against him as he considers the suggestion. He doesn't really need to think about it very hard, or for very long. In fact, the moment Essek asks is the moment that Percy has an answer. But let it never be said that he doesn't appreciate a bit of drama.
He leans down to press a kiss to Essek's soft lips, firm with desire, just like the rest of him. Then he lifts his head just enough to speak:
"You are my husband," he rumbles warmly, "and you may fuck me any way that you like."
Light, that grin is so charming. Handsome and boyish, it captivates Essek every time. Especially when he still feels the lingering impression of those lips against his own. That Percival had not taken long at all to arrive at such a confident answer adds fuel to his own desire. Perhaps he had thought of it already, but waited for Essek to bring it up. He finds he likes that thought. His hand glides along his husband's cock in a firm stroke, reward for an especially appealing response.
"That is a long list of permissions you have just granted me," he purrs, playful and more than a little smug. "But it is only natural, isn't it, when you are mine."
He seizes that smile in another kiss, a press of plush lips that is no less domineering for its teasing softness. His tongue coaxes and his teeth gently scrape, and he is deeply pleased to find Percival's mouth a debauched-looking red when he is through.
"I would like you to lie down on your front," he instructs. Like the kiss, his voice is soft as silk, but certain. His hand releases both of their straining erections, and he brings it to his lips to lick the taste of his husband from the pad of his thumb. "The rest you may leave to me."
Essek has less experience on this side of the equation, in part due to personal preference, but also because there simply have not been many people he was interested in actively fucking. But he is sure of himself nonetheless, and he knows very well how he wants this next part to go.
Percival isn't fully expecting the delicious shiver that runs through him when Essek purrs the words you are mine. He loves that Essek is willing to stake that claim, state it, and it makes something in him burn. He groans into the kiss which is somehow soft and sharp all at once. He can still feel it in his lips when they part.
He sighs when he loses the perfect caress of his husband's hand and he moves when he's told to. Percy shifts off Essek, giving the smaller man room to move as he'd like. He's briefly distracted by the way Essek's tongue flicks over his own thumb. Gods, this man will be the end of him. Percy thinks that wouldn't be such a bad way to go.
He sinks down onto the bed, glancing once to ensure that he's exactly the way Essek wants him. Percy can't help but be curious. The act itself isn't new to him, but doing it with Essek is.
So long as Percy is laying prone on his stomach, he is exactly how Essek wants him. Sitting up, he guides him to pull a pillow beneath his head, to tilt his face to the side. Then he shifts on the bed to sit between his thighs. Essek strokes long, firm lines along the tense muscles of his husband's back until some of the tension goes out of them.
"How lovely you look, Percival," he says, kneading at a particular tense knot near his lover's spine. "You are so dear to me."
Essek works his way downward until his fingers press into the give of Percy's thighs, nudging them open wider as he does. He only has to slide his hands up again to grasp at both sides of his ass, squeezing. "And so obedient," he says, and lets his nails dig in just enough to leave faint pink lines in their wake. "I could not have asked for a more perfect husband." He doesn't hesitate to spread those cheeks apart. The furled center between them is the same dark rosy blush as Percival's balls, his nipples, his lips, both contrasting and complementing his own dusky purple skin. He rubs that same saliva-slick pad of his thumb over his hole, gently testing the give, as he is overcome by an urge he honestly can't say he's ever felt before.
"Darling, may I put my mouth on you?" He feels his heart jump in his chest as he asks. Though he very much enjoys receiving this act, he's had no interest in performing it until now. Giving oral sex in general isn't something that appeals to him much, except that he's been thinking more often of late about wanting to try it with Percival. This certainly qualifies.
Even if there had been uncertain tension before - this is new, even if it is only new with Essek - it fades beneath his husband's careful, knowing hands. Percival sighs quietly. His life may not be quite so stressful as it once was, but he still carries tension in a lot of the same places. That knot in his back - which earns a quiet groan when Essek finds it - is from standing at his work bench or desk in odd ways.
He moves beneath his husband's touch, breath catching as manicured nails dig into the sensitive skin of his thighs. He spreads them more and folds his arms beneath the pillow to avoid making a nuisance of himself. Even if he enjoys giving up control to the right people, he isn't always good at it.
The gentle stroke of Essek's damp thumb gets his attention, makes this more real than it was even a moment ago. But the question that follows makes his cock jump. Percival peers over his shoulder as best he can. Apparently Essek is trying all sorts of new things tonight.
"Yes," he answers, his voice tight just to keep it steady.
Essek feels the heat in his own skin, though he knows the flush is far more difficult to detect on his complexion than his pale human. His teeth scrape over his lower lip as Percival again answers affirmatively, though this time his voice is shorter, strained. Essek has heard that before; it is nearly always because he's done something particularly effective.
Well then. He must make this good.
Resolved and intrigued, Essek lays down on his belly as well, arranging himself so his husband's thighs are held open by his shoulders, his hands braced on his ass. From there, it is simple to lean down and apply his mouth. The first touch of his tongue is gentle, testing. Percival tastes like clean, warm skin, a hint of salty sweat, and the dark musk of arousal, a heady taste that Essek can't help wanting to chase. He laves with more confidence over his tight rim, encouraging it to relax, to loosen, to let him in. He knows what feels good to him, and he gives Percy that same treatment, allowing saliva to drip from his mouth, wet and messy and unrefined.
With a broader lick, he eases back enough to murmur, "Do you like it?" His voice is breathy, with a waver of uncertainty that betrays that he is asking because he is new at this, not because he is being coy.
Percival rests his head again as Essek sinks down behind him. He shifts to try to make the position more accommodating and then goes completely still at the first swipe of Essek's tongue. It's been--it's been several years since he's enjoyed this particular act, either because he hasn't thought to ask or it wasn't explicitly offered.
But now it's Essek offering, it's Essek doing it, and Percy has to make more effort than he anticipated to keep his hips still when all he wants to do is grind against the bed for relief.
He almost misses the question, but he doesn't. And he doesn't mistake the soft, uncertain quality to his husband's voice that he has come to recognize. A small smile appears, even if Essek can't see it.
"Yes," he answers, allowing his own quiet breathlessness to be heard. He knows his face is hot. "Very much, darling. Don't stop. Please."
Between feeling Percival's hips wanting to rock in time with the swipe of his tongue and the tight, heated quality of his voice, Essek's cock is throbbing against the bed. He can feel the wet smear of precome against his stomach and the sheets under him. Oh, he is...very turned on. Curious.
"Good," he replies with palpable relief. He swallows, regaining some of his authority now that he is assured that he's doing well. "You can move if you wish, dear one. I do not want restraint from you tonight."
He resumes. This is more enjoyable than he'd ever anticipated; he uses his lips and tongue both, soft kisses and deep, full licks around and over his rim, soothing and probing, and every shiver, involuntary movement, subtle tensing of thighs, or soft muffled noise is a reward. The best reward of them all, however, is that gradually, infinitesimally, the hard clutch of him relaxes, allowing Essek deeper and deeper. When the tip of his tongue presses past that tight muscle, licking into him properly at last, Essek makes a soft, delighted noise in his throat, hoping that Percival can feel his smile.
It may be an exercise in patience, but Percival feels like he's losing his mind. He knows the effort it takes to coax a body to relax, especially one that has not had this in some time. But Essek's tongue is perfect and eventually he gives in to the desire to move. Even so, he keeps it subtle, seeking friction against the bed before he rocks back toward the confident sweep of Essek's tongue.
When his husband manages proper penetration, Percy gasps. He swears he can feel Essek smile against tender skin and he indulges a soft, breathy moan.
"Darling--" His breath catches, and if there is anything else he meant to say, it doesn't quite make it past his lips as the anticipation and desire for more flood his mind. "Please," he whispers, leaving it to Essek to decide what, precisely, to give him.
That moan tugs at Essek's gut. His husband's quiet plea, so real it aches, wrenches his own anticipation to a new height. Light, he wants this man like no other. The eagerness with which he licks past his entrance, into the tight warmth of his body, is proof of that. He does not stop right away; he waits until he can feel some real give against his tongue. When he pulls back, he can tell that his face is a mess with his own spit. There is an odd little thrill at that, the evidence of his effort, but his fastidiousness wins out; he casts prestidigitation, and the evidence is erased.
"You want more," he decides, and lifts his hand to cast again. A crook of his fingers lifts a bottle from the top of the dresser and brings it to his waiting hand. The oil inside is luxurious in both texture and scent, earthy with dark floral notes. Percival's hole is softer now, more relaxed for want of being filled. Essek melts the wax sealing the bottle with a sibilant word in Undercommon and drizzles the oil over him, feeling utterly transfixed.
He whispers, "Tell me if it is too much," and presses his index finger to the center of his rim, where his tongue has done the work to make the muscle more pliant. Slowly, mindful of his manicured nails, he eases it past just a little at a time, careful and steady. Percival is so tight within, giving way only little by little. The first knuckle, then the second, until Essek's finger is seated to the last, his fingertip rubbing small, soothing circles inside.
"Oh," he breathes. "You are doing so well, my dearest. You must want me inside you badly."
His fingers curl tight, gripping the edge of the pillow as Essek keeps after him with a renewed determination. It's enough that his exhale sounds disappointed when Essek decides to stop.
Though Percy is not a wizard, he recognizes the soft sound of his husband casting prestidigitation. He grins, because he knows exactly the sort of mess one can become while going down on someone else: he has plenty of experience doing it to Essek. He lifts his head when the bottle of oil moves and he recognizes the scent as soon as it's unsealed. He bows his head again, eyes closed as the oil spills over him; he tenses to avoid a subtle jerk of his hips.
"I will," he promises, thinking it best to give Essek a verbal affirmation while he feels able. His shoulders tense briefly, but the rest of him remains relaxed as his husband carefully follows the work started by his tongue with an oiled finger. A smile plays over his mouth when he thinks of that gentle request, because Percival knows exactly how slender and elegant the wizard's fingers are.
It still takes some patience and care, but soon enough his body yields more.
"Now that you've offered, it's all I can think of," he says, voice warm but light with a quiet amusement. He's been very happy with the exploration of each other so far, and has no complaints over Essek's preferences. He likes making his husband feel good, whatever that may look like.
"Hm," Essek hums, lips curling in a coy little smile as his slim finger crooks inside his husband. "Good." He is feeling quite pleased already. He likes very much that he can occupy Percival's mind in that way, encompassing all of his thoughts. Among men like the two of them, there could be no greater compliment.
Easing a second finger in beside the first is slow, but not difficult when Percival has opened up so nicely for him, relaxed and pampered by his thorough exploration with his tongue. He is still a little surprised at himself for that, and strangely proud. He hadn't thought himself interested at all in the giving side of that act, but presented with the opportunity to treat his husband to something he so enjoys himself, he'd found his enthusiasm.
His oiled fingers move with a careful but curious touch, rocking slickly in and out, in and out, slowly, gently, rubbing along warm, velvety walls as much as he is working to stretch him open. He presses deep when he can, feeling the tight clutch of his husband's ass around his slender fingers, imagining now what it might feel like around his cock--Light--he is hard as iron, and he is not used to denying himself. He leans down to lick delicately around the base of his fingers, tasting the slight honey-floral sweetness of the oil, and pulls them free to coat them and another with more.
As he presses two back inside, freshly slick, his other hand strokes lightly along Percy's back as far as he can reach, enjoying the warm flush in his pale skin and the slight tremors from his ministrations. He hopes to draw out more than that.
Percival swallows thickly as Essek works him open. He keeps his head down and he tries to keep himself steady as he rocks to meet the gentle thrust of Essek's fingers. Even though he can feel his husband move behind him, the next sweep of Essek's tongue makes him jump.
He has a moment to catch his breath when he's left empty. Percy is still wrapping his head around this. Even as he's gotten to know Essek better, he's wondered but he'd never thought his husband would want to try this. That didn't bother him, but now... gods, he won't be disappointed if Essek decides he has a taste for it, even if it's just a treat now and then.
Percy groans quietly as two fingers push back inside him.
"Have you been thinking about this?" he asks, voice tight even when he finds it again. He has to wonder.
Heat flares in Essek's gut at the question. "I have considered the possibility," he says, giving a judicious but honest answer with at least the veneer of restraint. "It is something I enjoy from time to time." With the right partner. But he doesn't have to say that; Percival knows how narrow his tastes run.
He tries very hard not to smirk, and drizzles more body-warm oil over the base of his fingers where his husband is stretched taut around them. The oil is dripping onto the sheets now, not that it truly matters; it can all be whisked away with a simple cantrip. He presses in rhythmically with his fingers in a simulated fuck, curling and rubbing ever-so-gently on the tender place he can feel inside, incorporating it in the repetitive movement of stretching, opening.
Light, the feeling of power he has in this moment, even with just his fingers inside. He can feel the pulse of Percival's body here in his hand; he could press again and again and feel him shake with the overstimulation, trapped between Essek's fingers like a captured moth.
"You make me want things I have never wanted," Essek praises in Undercommon, too embarrassed about his words to allow his lover to understand them. "Take your pleasure. I want you to feel so good you cannot help yourself."
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the eve of new dawn
Essek has removed everything but his jewelry, his long ears and slender throat and slim wrists sparkling with clear diamonds and lustrous pearls that catch and reflect light. They drip from delicate polished platinum chains, accentuated by the backdrop of his dark grey-purple skin. Occasionally his simple gold wedding band, the only ring he wears, flashes in the warm glow of the fire illuminating and heating the room.
They've done nothing but this since returning from the Eve of New Dawn party, just languid grinding and making out. It is late; the new year arrived hours ago. They should be resting in preparation for their planned appearance tomorrow morning, but Essek has spent all evening socializing and weeks sharing his husband with others, and he guards their time alone jealously. He also does all he can to make every moment count.
This is one of the Dynasty's holiest days of the year. If he were in Rosohna, he would be among the other important figures of the Bright Queen's court and representatives of the main dens, dressed in ceremony and remaining awake in vigil, awaiting the first rays of the New Dawn sun breaking across the horizon. For a century and more he has forgone rest on this night in favor of worship. He will do so again tonight. But Essek Thelyss is a heretic in exile. It is not the Luxon to which he intends to give his full devotion.
A bare thigh slides across Percival's and Essek pushes himself up to kneel over his lap, still kissing him deeply. Graceful dark hands brace against his broad shoulders, the shape of him so very ruggedly human. The sharp points of his long nails don't press into his skin. Not yet.
Their lips part with a wet slide and Essek sits up. Here, now, he thinks he may finally understand something of what his mother sees in the Luxon. A creature worth devoting one's life to. Worth enduring centuries, millenia, all for the pursuit of something greater.
Percival is a vision against the navy blue bedsheets, his carefully styled hair in disarray courtesy of Essek's fingers. There are miles of pale, scarred skin and long, lean limbs on display, flushed from full flutes of champagne and from desire. The beard he'd committed to just before Winter's Crest is short and neatly trimmed, both soft and bristly to the touch, and utterly fascinating. His blue-green eyes are locked on Essek's, his glasses set aside some time ago.
"You are radiant," Essek says, each word so carefully, softly enunciated in his odd accent. His skin prickles with the uniquely illicit thrill of claiming the language of worship for himself. He wonders if Percival recognizes what significance those words hold, the sacrilege he has just committed by uttering them in praise of an imperfect human. His hands run up the long line of his husband's flank, over his solid chest, up through his beard. His fingers crook beneath his chin. "And you are mine."
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And after several glasses of champagne and falling into bed, Percival's entire world has narrowed to his husband. Most of his clothes are on the floor and he can feel Essek's slipping as the wizard's thigh brushes against him. Percy gets his arm around the other man's hips, trying to keep their bodies close as they kiss, as they try to devour each other, now that they are finally alone. Essek's elegant hands press into his shoulders to keep him down, for the most part.
He drops his head back against the bed when they part and he looks up at his husband with bare desire and adoration. A calloused hand slides over Essek's thigh, touching as much bare skin as he can reach. It's a small miracle his glasses have made it off - probably thanks to Essek, since Percy tends to forget them. His smile grows as his husband's fingers run over his beard and hook beneath his chin. The words are not lost on him, and maybe it's wrong, but Essek's particular form of blasphemy is very attractive. Percy still finds it an impressive coincidence that someone like him should end up in a city dedicated to Pelor. Pike or Keyleth might say it's something more than that, but Percival has no intention of thinking too much about either of them right now.
Instead, Essek's claim sends heat sinking through him and his hand tightens on his husband's thigh as he tries to pull their bodies closer together. Percy rocks his hips up to ensure a bit of friction.
"I quite like being yours," he says warmly. The only jewelry Percy wears with any consistency is his wedding band, and it is the only piece he almost never takes off.
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His body moves naturally with Percy's as his hips roll up beneath him, rocking down in counterpoint. Entirely bare while his husband is still half-clothed, his calloused hand is a warm and welcome presence on his thigh, and he feels the stiff heat of his growing erection against his ass. With a hum of approval, a hand leaves Percy's face to slip between his own legs. His fingers curl delicately around his slender cock, which fills out with his slow, languid strokes, a deeper, warmer shade of purple than even the rest of his flushed skin. Nails scratch lightly through Percival's beard before that hand retraces its previous path in reverse, all the way down to the waist of his pants.
"Good," he replies. "Because I intend to keep you."
His skilled fingers deftly slide the top button through the fabric holding it in place, then trail down to do the same with the next. He repeats the process without urgency, building anticipation, until the front of Percival's trousers is open. Light, he does look delicious like this. Essek wants to sink his teeth into him.
So he does the nearest thing. Leaning over the pale form beneath him, he seizes his mouth in another string of heated kisses, and makes sure his fangs catch as he nibbles playfully at his lips. Not enough to cut or tear that delicate skin, but enough that his husband will certainly feel how easily he could.
"It is remarkable," he murmurs between kisses, "how much I want you. You have no idea how rare a thing desire such as this has been in my life."
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Heart beating harder, Percival leans up to kiss Essek again and promptly rolls them over. It will, theoretically, be easier to get out of his trousers this way and gods how could he resist this urge? His fingers stroke through Essek's pale hair and his thumb strokes gently over his delicate brow.
"No? I'm honored then," he confesses quietly, and while he might have meant it to sound playful, it comes out far more sincere. Percival has known desire in his life, and it's something he's not indulged as much as he might have wanted. He didn't deserve it, or it was inconvenient, or some other reason kept him from allowing himself to feel like this. He'd not been celibate before Essek, but he certainly avoided real intimacy. Having both now - desire and intimacy - feels like more than he has ever deserved. And all from a man who is beautiful and brilliant and sharp.
Percival's hand leaves Essek's hair to press to the bed and the other reaches between them, more interested in feeling his lover than he is in finding relief for himself just yet.
"It feels like I have been held under for a very long time," he murmurs against the delicate shell of Essek's ear. "And I am finally able to breathe again."
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Still, he gasps sharply when his warm, broad palm slides over his cock. His slender hips lift from the bed in a wanton thrust, and a shiver goes through him as his husband's lips just barely brush his sensitive ear. His low, confessional words drip through him hot and sweet to pool in his stomach.
"Now you are stealing my breath," he murmurs in return, silky and sensuous, unable to even begin processing how genuinely romantic that sentiment was. His heart is beating very fast all of a sudden, where until now he has felt much more in control.
He hides this well, as his hands are remarkably steady trailing down Percy's torso to his open trousers, grasping the parted fabric and avoiding interference with the other man's hand around him.
"Take these off," he implores, meeting his lover's eyes with a sharp and direct gaze, dark violet and shining faintly in the low light. "Let me see you."
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It's a simple matter to finish undressing and soon enough he's stepping out of his trousers and smalls, his body and his desire bare to Essek's gaze. He's a map of scars, some more horrific than others in the stories they are tied to. Percy doesn't often speak of them without prompting. But he gives Essek a few lingering seconds to take a good look before he slips back onto the bed.
Percy reaches to pull his husband close to him, longing for his warmth and the familiar shape of him. They haven't been sharing a bed long, all things considered, but gods has he found himself looking forward to this intimacy, even if they don't have sex.
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He welcomes him back with open arms, sighing happily as he's pulled against him. Essek slips a thigh between Percy's and drapes his arms around his shoulders, intertwining their bodies and enjoying the shared warmth of bare skin as he kisses him again with mingled hunger and affection.
"My handsome, clever boy," he croons quietly, sensing the longing in his husband's embrace, the need for closeness and connection. These are things he craves too. "How are you tonight? Are you happy?"
Essek's mood has certainly improved since they left the party.
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His smile brightens and he kisses Essek again. Percy's sure now that his husband had some concerns about meeting Vox Machina, but he's gratified to see them getting along. Perhaps a little concerned that Vex is the sort of person who would be very willing to plot with Essek should they be of the same mind about anything, but happy. Percival shifts, breath catching as Essek's thigh presses up between his. That doesn't quite break his focus.
"Are you?"
It's a concern he carries. One he doesn't question so much anymore, but one he hasn't been able to completely lay to rest, either.
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Though he has grown more at ease with Vox Machina, there is a possessive part of him that still doesn't like to share quite as much as he's been forced to recently. At least, as Percival has observed, he ad Vex'ahlia are now on friendlier terms. Without the veil of jealousy and mistrust over his eyes, she is someone whose shrewdness and charm Essek can appreciate. Perhaps they will even be friends. In which case that trepidation may be warranted.
"Is it not better that she and I see eye to eye?" he asks, curious and a little teasing. It was she who worried him most at first, but now he thinks he might like her best.
His fingers trace Percy's chest almost idly, but that is deceptive. His nails scrape lightly over pink nipples, one then the other, as his thigh presses a little higher between his husband's legs. The sharp, calculating glint in the drow's eyes when he meets Percy's proves that he knows precisely what he is doing.
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But he is also grateful that his husband has found an ally in Vox Machina. Percival is drawn out of his thoughts as Essek's manicured nails drag down his chest, soon followed with a very deliberate press of his thigh. His breath catches in his throat and he focuses on Essek's beautiful face, unable to mistake the sharp look in his eyes. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Perhaps," he answers. "But I am weak in the face of either of you."
Percy leans down to kiss Essek again, this time with more heat behind it.
"But I'm yours and yours alone right now, my darling husband."
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But what to do with him? The desire to grant him every possible pleasure wars with the urge to tease him to incoherence.
Between them, Essek's lissome fingers encircle his cock, and he hums with approval at its heft and velvety heat as he drags his fist slowly up. His thumb swipes over the ruddy head, spreading the moisture there. Arching his back to lift his hips, it is easy to press his own cock against it, to feel their thrumming warmth together. The sight is compelling; Essek's cock is dark and slender and more gracefully tapered compared to the endearing bluntness of his husband's. But those differences are endlessly fascinating, rather like the neat beard covering the lower half of Percival's face, or his small, round ears.
The sex they've indulged in frequently since that night in Emon is more than good; it is the best Essek has ever had, bar none. He has never lost interest or grown bored, and his desire for his husband has only intensified rather than simmering out as so many of his milder attractions have in the past. There are a few things they still have yet to try together; Essek's mood tonight lends itself well to at least one of them, provided Percival is interested in an alteration to the formula that has worked so well for them thus far.
"My darling husband," he repeats, quietly amused and very fond. His eyes flicker up to meet Percy's--such a lovely aquamarine blue. The thought to have jewelry made with that stone flits briefly through his mind, and he files it away for later. "Though it is clear we are both quite satisfied by the kind of intimacy we regularly share, I am curious--would it interest you to try it the other way?" To clarify his delicate phrasing, he adds, "With me inside you." He wonders if that is something Percival has done before, or if it might be new to him. While he knows that most of his lover's previous experience has been with professionals--very smart of him, Essek thinks--they've never discussed specifics.
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The way Essek echoes his sentiment catches Percy's attention and he lifts his gaze to meet the wizard's. The way he starts - like a treatise - only makes Percy smile by the time he gets to the question - and the clarification. Percival shifts over his lover, relaxing more against him as he considers the suggestion. He doesn't really need to think about it very hard, or for very long. In fact, the moment Essek asks is the moment that Percy has an answer. But let it never be said that he doesn't appreciate a bit of drama.
He leans down to press a kiss to Essek's soft lips, firm with desire, just like the rest of him. Then he lifts his head just enough to speak:
"You are my husband," he rumbles warmly, "and you may fuck me any way that you like."
A rakish grin lights his face.
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"That is a long list of permissions you have just granted me," he purrs, playful and more than a little smug. "But it is only natural, isn't it, when you are mine."
He seizes that smile in another kiss, a press of plush lips that is no less domineering for its teasing softness. His tongue coaxes and his teeth gently scrape, and he is deeply pleased to find Percival's mouth a debauched-looking red when he is through.
"I would like you to lie down on your front," he instructs. Like the kiss, his voice is soft as silk, but certain. His hand releases both of their straining erections, and he brings it to his lips to lick the taste of his husband from the pad of his thumb. "The rest you may leave to me."
Essek has less experience on this side of the equation, in part due to personal preference, but also because there simply have not been many people he was interested in actively fucking. But he is sure of himself nonetheless, and he knows very well how he wants this next part to go.
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He sighs when he loses the perfect caress of his husband's hand and he moves when he's told to. Percy shifts off Essek, giving the smaller man room to move as he'd like. He's briefly distracted by the way Essek's tongue flicks over his own thumb. Gods, this man will be the end of him. Percy thinks that wouldn't be such a bad way to go.
He sinks down onto the bed, glancing once to ensure that he's exactly the way Essek wants him. Percy can't help but be curious. The act itself isn't new to him, but doing it with Essek is.
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"How lovely you look, Percival," he says, kneading at a particular tense knot near his lover's spine. "You are so dear to me."
Essek works his way downward until his fingers press into the give of Percy's thighs, nudging them open wider as he does. He only has to slide his hands up again to grasp at both sides of his ass, squeezing. "And so obedient," he says, and lets his nails dig in just enough to leave faint pink lines in their wake. "I could not have asked for a more perfect husband." He doesn't hesitate to spread those cheeks apart. The furled center between them is the same dark rosy blush as Percival's balls, his nipples, his lips, both contrasting and complementing his own dusky purple skin. He rubs that same saliva-slick pad of his thumb over his hole, gently testing the give, as he is overcome by an urge he honestly can't say he's ever felt before.
"Darling, may I put my mouth on you?" He feels his heart jump in his chest as he asks. Though he very much enjoys receiving this act, he's had no interest in performing it until now. Giving oral sex in general isn't something that appeals to him much, except that he's been thinking more often of late about wanting to try it with Percival. This certainly qualifies.
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He moves beneath his husband's touch, breath catching as manicured nails dig into the sensitive skin of his thighs. He spreads them more and folds his arms beneath the pillow to avoid making a nuisance of himself. Even if he enjoys giving up control to the right people, he isn't always good at it.
The gentle stroke of Essek's damp thumb gets his attention, makes this more real than it was even a moment ago. But the question that follows makes his cock jump. Percival peers over his shoulder as best he can. Apparently Essek is trying all sorts of new things tonight.
"Yes," he answers, his voice tight just to keep it steady.
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Well then. He must make this good.
Resolved and intrigued, Essek lays down on his belly as well, arranging himself so his husband's thighs are held open by his shoulders, his hands braced on his ass. From there, it is simple to lean down and apply his mouth. The first touch of his tongue is gentle, testing. Percival tastes like clean, warm skin, a hint of salty sweat, and the dark musk of arousal, a heady taste that Essek can't help wanting to chase. He laves with more confidence over his tight rim, encouraging it to relax, to loosen, to let him in. He knows what feels good to him, and he gives Percy that same treatment, allowing saliva to drip from his mouth, wet and messy and unrefined.
With a broader lick, he eases back enough to murmur, "Do you like it?" His voice is breathy, with a waver of uncertainty that betrays that he is asking because he is new at this, not because he is being coy.
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But now it's Essek offering, it's Essek doing it, and Percy has to make more effort than he anticipated to keep his hips still when all he wants to do is grind against the bed for relief.
He almost misses the question, but he doesn't. And he doesn't mistake the soft, uncertain quality to his husband's voice that he has come to recognize. A small smile appears, even if Essek can't see it.
"Yes," he answers, allowing his own quiet breathlessness to be heard. He knows his face is hot. "Very much, darling. Don't stop. Please."
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"Good," he replies with palpable relief. He swallows, regaining some of his authority now that he is assured that he's doing well. "You can move if you wish, dear one. I do not want restraint from you tonight."
He resumes. This is more enjoyable than he'd ever anticipated; he uses his lips and tongue both, soft kisses and deep, full licks around and over his rim, soothing and probing, and every shiver, involuntary movement, subtle tensing of thighs, or soft muffled noise is a reward. The best reward of them all, however, is that gradually, infinitesimally, the hard clutch of him relaxes, allowing Essek deeper and deeper. When the tip of his tongue presses past that tight muscle, licking into him properly at last, Essek makes a soft, delighted noise in his throat, hoping that Percival can feel his smile.
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When his husband manages proper penetration, Percy gasps. He swears he can feel Essek smile against tender skin and he indulges a soft, breathy moan.
"Darling--" His breath catches, and if there is anything else he meant to say, it doesn't quite make it past his lips as the anticipation and desire for more flood his mind. "Please," he whispers, leaving it to Essek to decide what, precisely, to give him.
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"You want more," he decides, and lifts his hand to cast again. A crook of his fingers lifts a bottle from the top of the dresser and brings it to his waiting hand. The oil inside is luxurious in both texture and scent, earthy with dark floral notes. Percival's hole is softer now, more relaxed for want of being filled. Essek melts the wax sealing the bottle with a sibilant word in Undercommon and drizzles the oil over him, feeling utterly transfixed.
He whispers, "Tell me if it is too much," and presses his index finger to the center of his rim, where his tongue has done the work to make the muscle more pliant. Slowly, mindful of his manicured nails, he eases it past just a little at a time, careful and steady. Percival is so tight within, giving way only little by little. The first knuckle, then the second, until Essek's finger is seated to the last, his fingertip rubbing small, soothing circles inside.
"Oh," he breathes. "You are doing so well, my dearest. You must want me inside you badly."
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Though Percy is not a wizard, he recognizes the soft sound of his husband casting prestidigitation. He grins, because he knows exactly the sort of mess one can become while going down on someone else: he has plenty of experience doing it to Essek. He lifts his head when the bottle of oil moves and he recognizes the scent as soon as it's unsealed. He bows his head again, eyes closed as the oil spills over him; he tenses to avoid a subtle jerk of his hips.
"I will," he promises, thinking it best to give Essek a verbal affirmation while he feels able. His shoulders tense briefly, but the rest of him remains relaxed as his husband carefully follows the work started by his tongue with an oiled finger. A smile plays over his mouth when he thinks of that gentle request, because Percival knows exactly how slender and elegant the wizard's fingers are.
It still takes some patience and care, but soon enough his body yields more.
"Now that you've offered, it's all I can think of," he says, voice warm but light with a quiet amusement. He's been very happy with the exploration of each other so far, and has no complaints over Essek's preferences. He likes making his husband feel good, whatever that may look like.
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Easing a second finger in beside the first is slow, but not difficult when Percival has opened up so nicely for him, relaxed and pampered by his thorough exploration with his tongue. He is still a little surprised at himself for that, and strangely proud. He hadn't thought himself interested at all in the giving side of that act, but presented with the opportunity to treat his husband to something he so enjoys himself, he'd found his enthusiasm.
His oiled fingers move with a careful but curious touch, rocking slickly in and out, in and out, slowly, gently, rubbing along warm, velvety walls as much as he is working to stretch him open. He presses deep when he can, feeling the tight clutch of his husband's ass around his slender fingers, imagining now what it might feel like around his cock--Light--he is hard as iron, and he is not used to denying himself. He leans down to lick delicately around the base of his fingers, tasting the slight honey-floral sweetness of the oil, and pulls them free to coat them and another with more.
As he presses two back inside, freshly slick, his other hand strokes lightly along Percy's back as far as he can reach, enjoying the warm flush in his pale skin and the slight tremors from his ministrations. He hopes to draw out more than that.
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He has a moment to catch his breath when he's left empty. Percy is still wrapping his head around this. Even as he's gotten to know Essek better, he's wondered but he'd never thought his husband would want to try this. That didn't bother him, but now... gods, he won't be disappointed if Essek decides he has a taste for it, even if it's just a treat now and then.
Percy groans quietly as two fingers push back inside him.
"Have you been thinking about this?" he asks, voice tight even when he finds it again. He has to wonder.
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He tries very hard not to smirk, and drizzles more body-warm oil over the base of his fingers where his husband is stretched taut around them. The oil is dripping onto the sheets now, not that it truly matters; it can all be whisked away with a simple cantrip. He presses in rhythmically with his fingers in a simulated fuck, curling and rubbing ever-so-gently on the tender place he can feel inside, incorporating it in the repetitive movement of stretching, opening.
Light, the feeling of power he has in this moment, even with just his fingers inside. He can feel the pulse of Percival's body here in his hand; he could press again and again and feel him shake with the overstimulation, trapped between Essek's fingers like a captured moth.
"You make me want things I have never wanted," Essek praises in Undercommon, too embarrassed about his words to allow his lover to understand them. "Take your pleasure. I want you to feel so good you cannot help yourself."
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