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."
Pleasure rolls through him and Percy exhales heavily as Essek's fingers work him open with more oil. For a moment he's lost all ability to talk, lips parted as he pants for breath. That Essek thought about this at all - even in passing - is unexpectedly arousing. He knows how particular Essek is, how exacting in all things, including his desires. And knowing that he has been the center of those - perhaps in more ways than he had imagined - makes him feel lightheaded.
His eyes close and Percival sinks into the rhythm as his husband fucks him, working him open with the same care he takes in everything else. Every stroke is calculated and his cock aches as Essek continues speaking, shifting into Undercommon. Percy started learning it not long after he and his husband decided they actually liked each other. His lessons have been interrupted here and there, but he is diligent and he has learned a good deal. Not enough to be comfortably conversational - he wanted to surprise Essek with it - but now he's trying to grasp words he knows and parse the rest.
How thrilling it is to watch his husband succumb to his touch. Essek has learned to read the signs of his pleasure in his body, because he does not always voice them. But when he does--oh, Light, Essek is eager for this, for him. How could he not be, hearing his name on Percival's lips this way?
"Just one more," he encourages in hissed Common. "One more, and then I will give you my cock."
Bracing a hand on Percy's hip, Essek gets his knees under him. His cock throbs at the loss of stimulation. The spot where he lay is noticeably damp; his cock is wet from leaking over himself as he rutted into the sheets. Another matter for later.
Three fingers is not much more than two, when he presses them in together. The stretch gets wider towards the knuckles, Essek knows, where the fingers lie side by side rather than twisted together. But he has used so much oil and done such a thorough job already that Percival seems to have no trouble taking them. He fucks him smoothly, and now that he has a better vantage point, with a sharp demand. "Look at me."
Gods, even just hearing that promise makes Percival blush deeper. He feels Essek move behind him, bracing on his hip as he rises again. The angle changes as three fingers do their work - it isn't difficult to take them now and all he can think of his his husband's beautiful cock taking their place.
Percy forces himself to open his eyes and he looks over his shoulder at Essek's demand. His blue eyes are dark with desire and desperation, pale face flushed hot. His husband is perfect in his power and Percival hadn't anticipated that image alone would hit him so hard. His eyes nearly close again as his hips jerk, rocking back to meet a firm, smooth thrust of Essek's elegant fingers.
It takes some effort to stay focused, but he won't deny Essek anything tonight. Certainly not a view.
Essek's sharp gaze softens as Percival does what he asks, looking over his shoulder and turning those lovely, desperate blue eyes on him. They're darker with arousal, and an appealing compliment to the red flush darkening his pale skin. Essek draws his fingers back and plunges them in again, and Percival's hips lift to meet them.
"Beautiful." There is something near amazement in his eyes, near reverence in his voice. His fingers press in again, again, ensuring a comfortable stretch the way his husband does for him. The ease with which he opens for even sharper, faster thrusts tells Essek that there is no need to bear this anticipation any longer. He hides it well, but he is becoming a little desperate himself.
"Are you ready, darling?" He purrs, curling his fingers deeply once more before slipping them free. "I think you are."
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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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His eyes close and Percival sinks into the rhythm as his husband fucks him, working him open with the same care he takes in everything else. Every stroke is calculated and his cock aches as Essek continues speaking, shifting into Undercommon. Percy started learning it not long after he and his husband decided they actually liked each other. His lessons have been interrupted here and there, but he is diligent and he has learned a good deal. Not enough to be comfortably conversational - he wanted to surprise Essek with it - but now he's trying to grasp words he knows and parse the rest.
Difficult, with his lover's fingers inside him.
"Essek--" Percy gasps sharply.
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"Just one more," he encourages in hissed Common. "One more, and then I will give you my cock."
Bracing a hand on Percy's hip, Essek gets his knees under him. His cock throbs at the loss of stimulation. The spot where he lay is noticeably damp; his cock is wet from leaking over himself as he rutted into the sheets. Another matter for later.
Three fingers is not much more than two, when he presses them in together. The stretch gets wider towards the knuckles, Essek knows, where the fingers lie side by side rather than twisted together. But he has used so much oil and done such a thorough job already that Percival seems to have no trouble taking them. He fucks him smoothly, and now that he has a better vantage point, with a sharp demand. "Look at me."
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Percy forces himself to open his eyes and he looks over his shoulder at Essek's demand. His blue eyes are dark with desire and desperation, pale face flushed hot. His husband is perfect in his power and Percival hadn't anticipated that image alone would hit him so hard. His eyes nearly close again as his hips jerk, rocking back to meet a firm, smooth thrust of Essek's elegant fingers.
It takes some effort to stay focused, but he won't deny Essek anything tonight. Certainly not a view.
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"Beautiful." There is something near amazement in his eyes, near reverence in his voice. His fingers press in again, again, ensuring a comfortable stretch the way his husband does for him. The ease with which he opens for even sharper, faster thrusts tells Essek that there is no need to bear this anticipation any longer. He hides it well, but he is becoming a little desperate himself.
"Are you ready, darling?" He purrs, curling his fingers deeply once more before slipping them free. "I think you are."