Percy relaxes by degrees as the conversation takes off. He watches Essek as he talks to Allura, digging deeper into his expertise with a mind that can not only keep up, but can rush ahead with him. He doesn't realize how fond he looks, but it's likely that anyone within view does.
Including Lady Kima.
He gives the halfling woman a dry look, but doesn't chide her. Rather, he finds himself warming under Essek's quiet praise and, while he cannot hide the sort of bashful look that crosses his face, he manages not to blush. Percival looks down for a moment, then his gaze flicks up to Essek's face, bright and warm and... perhaps it gives him away. But perhaps that's all right.
"Impressively so," he agrees. "It did not take us terribly long to realize we are in the same book, if not always on the same page." But even that they have managed in stride and Percy rather thinks they're there now. "Essek has been integral to some new projects."
He lifts his head when he catches sight of another familiar face. With measured grace, Percival disengages from Essek. His hand slides along his husband's arm to catch his hand, offering it a chaste kiss before they part entirely.
"I leave you in capable hands, I need to have a word with the Hearthmaker." Another council member he will happily introduce his husband to, but Percy wants to get a word in with the somewhat surly dwarf before exchanging pleasantries. He holds Essek's gaze for a moment longer before he gives a polite nod to Allura and Kima. He sweeps off, moving at an impressive clip to catch up to Theadorn.
Despite Percival's seeming propensity for kissing his hands, something that Essek would never complain about, his parting kiss as he leaves to speak with another member of the council is still unexpected. Essek stares after him for a moment, watching his husband's back as he weaves through the crowd. His jacket really does highlight the shape of his shoulders very well.
"You do like him," Lady Kima declares slyly, as though Essek had not just said something much to that effect. But it brings him back to himself and reminds him of the conversation he is supposed to be involved in.
"Yes," he agrees simply, because that seems to be the right thing. "I do."
If he had his way, he would spend the rest of the party talking to Allura. She's interesting, knowledgeable, and he knows for certain that she thinks he belongs here, which is more than he can say for anyone else. But alas, she has others to converse with, and cannot spend her evening discussing magic with him, though she does promise another meeting in a less formal setting. Essek hates parties. At least in Dynasty, he was so well known that he never had to look for anyone to speak with; other would come to him, clamoring for his attention and perhaps a little favor. Irritating, to be sure, but it meant that he had power, which in turn opened up further opportunities.
Before she leaves him entirely, Allura imparts an absolutely crucial bit of wisdom: she lays a hand on his shoulder and leans close enough to speak undetected. "So that you are aware: there are emissaries of the Empire here."
Essek certainly doesn't need to be told why that may prove a problem for him. They could confront him directly, they could spread their malicious misinformation to those he will have to see and work with here, ruining his reputation before he can get a handle on it, or even worse--
"Who?"
Allura leans back, brow furrowing. "Astrid Beck, the new Archmage of Civil Influence, and a few attachés from Dwendal's court. She asked to be put on the guest list last minute. I'll admit that I don't know much about her yet."
Immediately Essek feels his blood run cold. It's because of him. What other reason does the Archmage of Civil Influence, a former Volstrucker, have to suddenly attend a soiree in Tal'Dorei? It isn't exactly her scene. After a week spent at a cautious distance in the Blooming Grove, she would recognize him very well, and he has no doubt that she is aware of the full scope of his crimes, and what a danger he is as a loose end. Which isn't even touching on the awkward circumstance of her being the former lover of his almost--whatever he and Caleb almost were--
His fear and trepidation must somehow register on his face, because he feels Allura squeeze his elbow, her expression sympathetic. "I'll do what I can," she promises him. "She hasn't asked about you, if that is any consolation."
It isn't. Of course she wouldn't ask.
"Thank you," he manages to say, tightly. "The warning is very much appreciated." He and Allura separate after that, and Essek dedicates himself to locating two people: his husband, and Astrid Beck.
One could say that Percival de Rolo has no cause to hold a grudge against the entire Cerberus Assembly for the actions of one disgraced member. And yet, he has been nursing it for years, and despite vengeance, he still doesn't know if there has been any true justice.
When he hears it announced that a member of the Assembly is here, something in him goes steely. The title isn't familiar, nor is the name, but that hardly matters to something etched into his bones. He keeps an eye on her after he's made aware of her presence, though he is careful not to be distracted from his conversations.
He's in a circle with a few of the attachés from the Empire, as well as a handful of nobles from other parts of Tal'Dorei, a glass of wine in hand. He's already in a mood, and so when one of the attachés so casually says something insidiously vile about the Kryn Dynasty in general, and makes an insinuation about Essek specifically, he has no interest in holding his tongue while his husband is slandered. He's in a mood to obliterate someone.
"Excuse me."
Percival does not raise his voice, but suddenly everyone in their circle has fallen silent and they are looking at him. He looks at his wine for a second longer, then cuts his gaze to the attaché. The man starts to open his mouth again and Percy makes a gesture to silence him.
"That's Lord Essek Thelyss de Rolo, Baron of the First House of Whitestone and Conservator of Arcane Interests on the Whitestone Council. And he is my husband."
His tone is genteel, with a few generations of nobility and sheer wealth to back up the snobbery he is about to unleash. His back is straight, and his eyes are utterly unforgiving despite the ease with which he speaks. He might almost sound friendly, if not for the way he has pinned the man in place. The attaché squirms beneath his unyielding attention.
"So despite what opinions you may hold of drow or the Kryn in particular, do watch your manners."
The condescension in Percy's voice is enough to make a few people look away in secondhand embarrassment. He holds the attaché's gaze, then smiles. There is nothing kind in it.
Quickly enough, Essek is successful in locating both of his queries: Percival is closer, in a circle that includes--to Essek's chagrin--at least two people wearing the owl crest of the Dwendalian Empire. Astrid, meanwhile, is almost clear across the room, now speaking with Allura herself. She is wearing what is probably the simplest dress in the room, Essek notes, though the lack of sleeves and the low neckline does nothing to conceal the multitude of visible scars on her body, nor the mazelike tattoos that snake up her arms. She's certainly not making any effort to seem like her background is anything but what it is. Interesting.
He makes for Percival first, meaning to at least advise him of his own wariness, when he overhears the tail end of the conversation in his husband's circle. Honestly, what the Dwendalian spouts is nothing Essek hasn't heard before, and he isn't especially ruffled by it, expecting as much from those of the Empire as a matter of course. But watching Percival snap to his defense without missing a beat, lethal and efficient and cuttingly haughty--now that is something special.
Essek hovers back for a few moments longer just to let the shame and embarrassment really sink in before he approaches, smoothing sliding his hand into the crook of Percy's elbow. "You look bored, k'allis," he says, inviting and coy. He can't keep the smirk from his lips as he very deliberately looks at no one else, as though they may as well not be there. "Have you missed me that much?"
Even if Essek's sudden appearance is a surprise, Percy doesn't flinch as his husband's hand slides over his arm. His expression changes instantly when he turns his attention to Essek, intended to hammer home the utter (and well-bred) disdain he holds for the attaché.
"Only debating matters of etiquette," he says warmly. "But your absence was sorely noted."
He hands off his wine glass to a passing server and offers a gracious smile to the others in their circle.
"Pardon me, I have neglected my husband long enough."
As Percy turns them from the group, he can hear a flurry of low voices pick up conversation: more than one suggest the attaché should probably find a way to apologize before leaving Tal'Dorei, as it would be terrible if trade with Whitestone suffered due to a slight. There is something to be said for sitting on top of a very valuable mineral, and while Percy has no intention of interrupting trade, he's content to let someone sweat over the possibility.
He steers them toward the dance floor, as it is one of the few places they might have any chance at privacy without stepping out.
As the two of them make their exit and the conversation plays out behind them, Essek wonders how it could be that entirely by chance he has somehow married the perfect man. He'd resigned himself to a life of lonely exile in a cold corner of a continent that is not his home, and somehow he'd been delivered straight to Percival, who has upended all of his expectations.
Well--perhaps not all of them, he notes wryly as they approach the dance floor. Though they've practiced, Essek would prefer they avoid dancing entirely. Still, Percy has the right idea about where to go to avoid being overhead, and Essek resigns himself with a sigh. "I suppose I should do this properly." With care and consideration for his beautiful new gift, he lifts the edge of his mantle until it is drape over his arm, well clear of the floor, before he allows his feet to touch the ground. "Lead, please," he requests primly, and arranges his hands accordingly to follow.
They slide into place smoothly among the other dancers, which Essek credits to Percy's grace in this area. When he feels sufficiently obscured, he begins to share the most pressing (and least incriminating) pieces of what is on his mind.
"I am very concerned about Astrid--the Archmage of Civil Influence, who is in attendance tonight," he confesses, keeping his voice low. "She and I are...acquainted, from my stint with the Mighty Nein." Among other things. "I am not entirely certain how she feels about me, given my former position, or my presence here. She is an extremely dangerous person, even without her new title."
Percy has the grace to hide his surprise when his husband lowers himself to touch the ground, but he cannot hide his pleasure. When Essek is ready, he steps closer to gather his husband in his arms. He waits, allowing Essek to settle into the position and to make sure he can start on the right beat. But then, they're off.
"I cannot say I am thrilled to hear of any member of the Cerberus Academy in Tal'Dorei." He knows there are certainly agents across the continent, but a ranking member is another matter entirely. Percy knows his distaste for the Assembly may seem random, but he does not offer any further insight to his position. He's more concerned about Essek's discomfort.
As they spin around the dancefloor, Percy manages to catch sight of Astrid in passing. The fact that they are in motion obscures that he is looking at all, and quickly enough his attention is centered on Essek again.
"Do you think she's hear for some specific purpose? Something regarding you?"
Lips pursed in a thin line, Essek shakes his head. "I cannot say. Perhaps."
What he wants to say is yes, I think she is here because of me but I don't know what she wants. But that would be presuming much, even if it is likely, and he also can't give Percy an honest reason for why she would want to target him specifically without exposing things he is far from ready to discuss with his still relatively new spouse.
While he knows that Percy must be looking for her when he glances away, Essek keeps his gaze steadily on Percy. "You are probably aware that the Assembly and the Empire's leadership have a...symbiotic relationship, you could say. Though the crown has its own network of spies, the Augen Trust, the Archmage of Civil Influence is specifically in charge of the Volstrucker, an elite force of assassins and spies specially trained in the arcane arts. Astrid was one herself until very recently."
As he talks, excuses come to him. It doesn't feel good to tell his husband half truths, but they sound plausible, which is what he needs now. "I have been a target for such assassins practically since I became Shadowhand. But this is the first time I have ever been...vulnerable, I suppose. Far from the Dynasty. I still know many secrets that would be of great use to the Empire. I worry that I am now seen as...easy pickings, perhaps. My own arcane abilities can only protect me so much, especially against an opponent who is a trained killer and also an experienced magic user."
"Would she risk the upheaval it would cause?" he asks, keeping a frown off his face but not hiding his concern. To strike Essek now would put a treaty in jeopardy, though... it is between Tal'Dorei and the Kryn, and the Empire may see no reason not to try to dismantle it. On the other hand, it means provoking both parties against the Empire, and if they were to be a united front...
Percival looks at his husband and his hand tightens briefly where it holds Essek's. He's quiet for a moment as he leads them around the floor, relying on muscle memory as his mind works.
"We could always try to find out why she's here," he says after a moment. He'll try to get something out of Seeker Assum, or at the very least alert him. Though he cannot imagine that the Council's spymaster would have no knowledge of this woman or the risks she could pose. Still, he wants to protect Essek however he can.
"You may yet be a target, but you are not alone. Nor are you completely unprotected."
Percy spins them to the edge of the floor and stops them there. Unthinking, he reaches up to cup Essek's cheek. This man who has become dear to him... He looks up again, making a quick scan of the room. Then he leans down, lips against Essek's ear.
"She's leaving with someone, out into the hall. I suddenly find myself in need of a bit of air... will you join me?"
"If she were to do anything, I have no doubt that she would be able to cover her tracks well enough to avoid casting suspicion on herself or the Empire. We should attempt further investigation, but I think it is likely that her presence tonight is merely an assessment, or perhaps an intimidation tactic. Volstrucker are not clumsy. It is why so few people are even aware of their existence." Essek grimaces, glad when Percival leads them off the dance floor. His head isn't really in it and he feels clumsy, even if he hadn't missed any steps.
Lost in his own thoughts, Essek is startled by the hand cupping his face, and briefly thrown off by the sweetness of the gesture. His eyes dart up to meet Percy's and he finds a gravity there that serves to calm his anxiety enough for focus to return. He isn't alone. He has his husband, someone who cares for him. Someone who had mere minutes ago defended him without even knowing that Essek would overhear it. After a lifetime of relying only on himself, it's easy to forget that he now has someone else willing and able to protect him. Being reminded of that brings a surge of emotion that Essek can't compartmentalize quickly enough to keep it from showing. His lips part gently and his brow furrows up. But the time for these feelings is not now. They have a chance to find out what is really happening here, and they must act quickly.
It's honestly remarkable how quickly Essek can school his features back into a confident smirk, and how it immediately makes him feel more secure. Honesty is difficult.
"By all means, let us step out for a moment."
He reengages his anti-gravity spell automatically as they make their way as quickly as they can toward the hallway exit without seeming suspiciously in a rush. Floating means that Essek easily avoids stepping on any toes, and when they finally leave the ballroom chamber and step into the comparatively low-lit hall, he makes no sound beyond the soft rustle of his cloak.
They're just in time to see Astrid enter a door several rooms down and close it behind her. She was speaking, but as Essek processes what little he heard, he realizes he didn't understand a word of it and immediately recognizes the language as Zemnian. This close to the party, Essek would guess that the room she's using must be an ancillary sitting room or something of the sort for hosting more private meetings. If anyone is still talking, their voices don't carry this far through the closed door. They'll have to get closer.
While Percival doesn't have the benefit of floating, he has plenty of experience making his way quickly through crowded spaces. They move with confidence, but not raw urgency. To do so would draw attention they most certainly do not want.
The corridor is far more quiet and cooler, and Percy breathes a quiet sigh. He doesn't mind social functions, but the press and the swirl of people occasionally overwhelms him. He'd learned long ago to mask that. He catches sight of the woman in question disappearing through a door and he mutters a soft curse. He recognizes the room, though, and his fingers brush Essek's on his way closer. He recalls the door being relatively light: built for privacy but not security. Which means they may have a solid chance of hearing through it if they're just close enough.
Percival brings them to a little alcove near the door itself, purely decorative and not immediately visible from the door itself unless someone makes an effort. He lets Essek stand closer to the room, assuming he's in better position to provide cover. He doesn't speak Zemnian - perhaps an oversight that should be corrected - nor does he have any spells that might allow him to understand.
The slightly more secluded spot Percival leads them to puts them well within range to hear the murmur conversation through the door, thankfully. Muffled, but audible. Essek hears what is distinctly Astrid's voice followed by a male baritone, low and resonant, and recognizes that voice right away also. Of course she brought her guard dog along. Had he been at the party the whole time, or somewhere else? It's the latter thought that's more concerning.
With a whisper and a gesture, Essek casts a high-level Comprehend Languages, enabling both of them to understand what's being spoken. Essek's ears prick, the tips flickering minutely.
"--found nothing about increased shipments." Eadwulf. A chuckle follows, and his tone turns teasing. "You sure this wasn't just an excuse to check up on Bren's drow boyfriend?"
"That isn't important here, as you are well aware." Astrid, unruffled. "What matters is that he is now the lord of Whitestone's drow husband. The Kyrn aren't going to let the disgraced Shadowhand retire to Tal'Dorei to marry just any noble. There is a good reason for his placement, and I can't think of a better one than residuum. Even in small quantities, more than half the raw ore on the market comes from Whitestone. If the Dynasty is getting a direct supply, I need to know about it."
Essek feels a churning in his stomach, though he can't immediately tell if it's nerves or relief. They apparently aren't here to assassinate him. That's good. That's very good. But the Empire digging into Tal'Dorei's arrangement with the Dynasty could be catastrophic, especially with Astrid's knowledge of his crimes. She could leverage that any number of ways if she decides to. And the casual mention of Caleb--it's a lot, on top of everything else. Without really meaning to, Essek shrinks back a little further into the alcove, putting his back to the wall. In hindsight, would really prefer that Percival not hear any of this.
It's strange as the spell takes effect, like coming back into a conversation he hasn't been paying attention to. He listens closely, intent and quietly grave as they discuss the economic situation between Whitestone and the Dynasty. Though the marriage treaty had been arranged with Tal'Dorei, Whitestone is self-governed and so it is with Percy's ultimate consent that any of this happened. Allura had been convincing in her arguments, but he'd been active in the negotiations regarding trade agreements. He isn't an arcanist but he understands the value of residuum and, in a general way, what it can be used for.
It takes him a moment to realize that Essek has backed away, pressed to the wall in the alcove as if he can't stand to hear more. But Percival cannot bring himself to stop listening. They might only be here for the sake of gathering information, but it is information that ultimately involves Whitestone. And his husband's place there.
Percival looks away from the door, turning his attention to Essek. He doesn't want to risk speaking just yet, but he reaches to touch the wizard's hand, fingers lightly catching.
Percy's touch is reassuring, despite the circumstances. When Essek looks up at him he realizes he's been gradually lowering himself to the floor. The tips of his toes are nearly touching it. He almost wants to open his mouth and apologize. As much as he wants to change, he can't possibly live a life free from deception. He wants to tell his husband the truth after this, lay everything out for him, but how can he be sure he'll still have a husband and a home afterward? He has done heinous, unforgivable things, and it is nothing short of a miracle that the Mighty Nein have weighed his actions against one another and found him worthy of love still. There is no promise that Percival would come to the same conclusion. And if he could no longer keep up his part of their marriage agreement, his exile and therefore the stay on his execution would expire. He needs to be certain that Percival will still keep him. His life literally hangs in the balance.
While he has been thinking, the conversation in the next room has continued.
"So what do you want to pursue?"
"We'll meet with your contact. You'll get details, and I'll have to return to the party."
There's a little shuffling, possibly the scrape of furniture against the stone floor. A few other words whispered too softly to hear. And then, "Okay, come on."
There is no sound, but Essek feels the thrum of high-level magic in the air. The silence continues for several long seconds as he considers what may have occurred. Have they gone somewhere else? Was the spell Teleport? If one has the spells to spare, that would certainly be faster and easier than sneaking around a crowded castle. Essek frowns as he looks to Percy again. He doesn't want to depart just yet on the chance that he is wrong, but he risks a murmur, drawing closer to do so.
"I think they have left." He hesitates a moment before adding, "I am sorry. All of that was..." What are the words for it? Incriminating? Proof that he is not to be trusted?
Percival frowns at the mention of a contact. His mind races as he considers his options. He could speak to Seeker Assum, even if it's possible the spymaster already knows all about this. He could get a message back to Cassandra. He could--
He turns his head back to Essek when he speaks. The hesitation in the wizard is noticeable. Percy knows that Essek is caught up in something. Why else would the Bright Queen marry off such a ranking member of her court? He's suspected there is more to this arrangement on the Dynasty's end, but he has refrained from asking Essek - he seems to have embraced his new life. The Empire's interest in him doesn't really surprise Percival, all told, but...
His thumb brushes lightly over Essek's wedding band. Vows are only as good as the people making them.
"Was politics that I'm not entirely ignorant to," he says quietly as he meets Essek's gaze. "Essek--"
He cuts himself off as light pours into the corridor from one of the ballroom doors opening. Percival freezes, suddenly wondering if this alcove is enough to conceal them from people that might walk by.
The moment Percival says his name, Essek feels his heart beat harder in his chest. He should tell him the truth. Have the Nein taught him nothing? Whatever the risk to himself, he needs to be honest with his husband, for Percival's sake, for the sake of his new home--
Everything is interrupted by the beam of light slashing into the corridor's relative darkness as several figures emerge. Essek can hear them talking and laughing, but what they're saying doesn't matter. What matters is that there is no way they won't be seen as the group passes by. Essek immediately curses himself for not preparing Invisibility today. He can't cloak them, but being spotted here will look deeply suspicious.
Apart from snooping and conspiring, what else could they be doing? The answer is obvious.
"Trust me," he whisper urgently, which is probably the most absurd thing in the world. With Percival's hand still holding his, it's easy for Essek to return the grip and tug on his arm, urging him closer as he puts his back to the wall. Raising his other hand to his husband's face, he traces the sharp, handsome line of his jaw with the tips of his fingers before boldly covering the back of his neck, using it to draw him down as Essek leans up. There is no time to prepare himself. One moment he is looking into Percival's eyes and the next he is kissing him, full and wanting. This needs to be convincing, and a tentative, hesitant kiss won't cut it.
It's unexpected and sudden and possibly far too soon, but Essek feels his heart trip anyway with nervous excitement, feeling Percival's mouth against his and his body crowding close.
His suspicion begins with the trust me and is confirmed as Essek's hand slides over the back of his neck. Percival falls into his role as their mouths meet. One hand cradles Essek's face as the other arm wraps around him. It's the most convincing reason for them to be tucked away like this. He leans Essek into the wall and it's difficult to ignore the way his pulse jumps. It's difficult to pretend he's never thought of this.
The voices approach, still laughing and talking amongst themselves. Percy isn't really listening, even if he probably should be. Instead, he's caught up in the way Essek's lips feel against his, the delirious newness of having his husband pressed up against him. This is really the closest they've been outside of riding together. His fingers stroke along Essek's cheek and into his hair.
Perhaps he shouldn't press this, but he's of a similar mind: this has to look convincing and he will apologize profusely later, if he needs to. His tongue brushes Essek's lips, entreating entry. Light grows as the party nears, either a torch or someone's cast dancing lights or something. Percy doesn't open his eyes to look, caught up in what he's doing.
Within moments Essek relaxes against his husband, nails scratching through the close-cropped hair at the back of his head and hooking into the fabric of his coat where his arm is wrapped around his waist. His lips part without hesitation at the first press of Percival's tongue, and the soft moan muffled against his mouth is completely genuine. Embarrassingly, he nearly forgets about the group of party-goers for whom this is meant as ruse. What matters most is that he is finally kissing his husband the way he has wanted to for several months now in his more fanciful moments.
The embrace he initiated earlier tonight was as much as he dared without further impetus, but now, driven to it by forces beyond his control, he wonders why he had waited to do this. Percival responds so quickly and so eagerly, holds him close and cards his fingers into his hair and deepens their kiss--surely it can't all be for show.
Footsteps and voices draw nearer, but all of that is in Essek's periphery. His eyes have fallen closed, so he loses any visual clue to how close they are to being noticed. The way his hips roll to grind against Percival's finding barely any space between their bodies, must appear very convincing indeed. And by the light, he's greedy, because he still wants more.
When Essek moans, Percy's arm tightens around him. All the little moments that this thought crossed his mind are deliriously fulfilled with the resounding reality of his husband's mouth against his. Percival sighs softly, voice just barely registering.
His mind goes utterly blank the moment Essek arches against him. It's far too easy to shift his position, to press a leg between his husband's. There is an urgency that strikes him as he is compelled to respond, a desire long held back. He's caught up in the way it feels, the rawness of it that surely cannot be for the sake of their passing audience. The light fades, as do the voices, but it takes Percy a moment longer to break the kiss, just enough to allow them both to breathe. In that moment, he thinks he should pull back and absolutely apologize for getting carried away. But he doesn't, staring at Essek's face in the dim light.
His hand slides from Essek's hair to brush across his cheek again. Say something. Instead, his gaze lowers to the wizard's lips and, before he can stop himself, his thumb brushes over the bottom one.
"Forgive me," he murmurs, though he still cannot quite bring himself to retreat.
Their unintentional voyeurs pass on, perhaps with an extra topic for their chatter. Essek barely notices. Suddenly, everything that is not Percival is inconsequential. The thigh he is shallowly grinding against and the mouth covering his own are his priority, and he clutches at his husband with all his strength, feeling his own desire spike in a way that he cannot ignore.
Putting even the space required for breathing and words between them feels like a chasm opening up, and Essek's eyes flicker open to see conflict on Percival's face even as his thumb traces his lower lip, still tingling with his kiss. And he has the nerve to apologize, like this isn't the most incredible thing that has happened to Essek in years. It's absurd.
"No," Essek hisses, upper lip curling back enough to bare a single fang. His fingers curl tighter into Percy's jacket, nails prickling at the fabric. His eyes are brighter in the dark. "No, I will not forgive you. Not until you forget about being sorry and kiss me again."
A smile creeps across Percy's mouth at his husband's rather vehement response. This is a considerable improvement from the pensive, worried expression that had been on Essek's face a moment ago. There is a rush of relief and, soaring over that, desire at Essek's answer. How can he deny such a demand?
Percival pulls Essek into another kiss for no reason other than that he wants to. Needs to. He leans his husband into the wall, pinning him there as his hips move against Essek's, finally allowing himself to seek the friction he urgently needs. It's been--it's been longer than he cares to think about since he felt at all like this.
He should be embarrassed by how quickly arousal overtakes his sense of propriety and sense of where they are. Nothing outside this little alcove matters, not when he can feel the gentle vibration of his husband's voice, not when he can taste the wine on Essek's tongue.
"Shall I earn your forgiveness?" he murmurs, voice suddenly warm and heavy between them.
It takes several second too long for Percival to kiss him again, but seeing that smile was almost worth it. Essek sighs against his mouth, not with relief, but restless need. Pressed back against the wall, Percy grinds against him as they wrap themselves up in each other again. He can feel the evidence of his husband's desire pressing against the inside of his hip, and it thrills him to know he's wanted so much. He's conscious that he is likewise growing stiff in his meticulously tailored trousers, pressed to Percy's thigh, but that seems almost secondary by comparison when what he wants is to stake a claim.
"You will have to," Essek declares breathlessly, a little more content to go a moment without Percival's lips on his now, confident that he will have them back again soon enough. It's easy to slide his hand away from Percival's neck and slip it between them. What he seeks is readily apparent, and with fingers more used to bending the reality of time and the force of gravity to his will, he rubs unsubtly over the shape of his husband's cock in his breeches. There's a soft hum of approval followed by a deliberate stroke. He keeps his voice low, but he talks directly, pointedly, the words rolling and fluid in his unusual accent.
"I am going to let you fuck me tonight. I am going to let you press me down into our marriage bed and fuck me the way you should have on our wedding night." His lips curl in a satisfied smirk as he arches a brow. "That is the custom for humans, is it not?"
Percy keeps his gaze on Essek's face as an elegant hand disappears between them. A breath later, he feels his husband's palm slide over his cock, quickly hardening beneath Essek's touch. The stroke makes his breath catch in his throat, and before he can think to reciprocate, Essek's voice fills the space between them.
He closes his eyes for a moment, brow bumping against Essek's as those words sink in, instantly filling his mind with possibilities. And there is something especially thrilling in the very simple assertion that Essek is going to let Percival fuck him.
"Is that not the custom among the Kryn?" There's a grin in his voice and it sounds far more controlled than Percy feels, low and flirtatious as the steady pressure of Essek's hand threatens to drive him to distraction. His hand presses against his husband's back and Percy tips his head to trail his lips along the line of Essek's ear. "I find myself thoroughly intrigued by the possibility of cultural exchange..."
He nips, careful not to catch any of Essek's jewelry. He finds himself wondering how crass it would be to have this man in a carriage bumping through Emon. Perhaps not for the first time, tempting as it may be.
"But if you keep this up, we are very certainly going to make a scene with our departure... as I do not have the advantage of such a concealing mantle."
Quite the contrary: his breeches are well-tailored and the cut of his coat will not provide nearly the cover he'll need to maintain some dignity.
"Among the Dens? Not unless one is exceptionally eager," Essek hedges, the deliberate airiness of his voice ruined a little by the way it hitches as Percy's lips find his ear. The way he shivers isn't subtle.
Thankfully the method Essek has in mind for travel back to their temporary home doesn't involve a carriage at all. It's rather more efficient than that.
Essek is well aware that he is only making this more inconvenient for Percy as he continues to encouragingly rub the growing bulge in his breeches, but it's heady to feel him harden so quickly beneath his touch. He can feel the heat building through the fabric, too.
"Oh? You don't want them to know how hard I make you, Percival?" His head tilts in a play at curiosity, but his voice lowers to a silken lilt. "They'll already be well aware soon, won't they? That you needed me so badly you just couldn't wait." The violet of his eyes burns through the shadows of the hallway, glancing in the direction the little group of passers-by had gone. "I suppose there are worse rumors to spread. A reputation for desiring one's spouse is hardly detrimental."
Percy braces his arm against the wall near Essek's head and gives in to his desire. He rocks against his husband's hand, meeting his rhythm and the perfect pressure of his palm. He doesn't let himself indulge for too long, well aware that he will have to stop this eventually, unless they truly are to consummate here.
His eyes are heavily lidded as he looks at Essek, drinking in the wicked hypotheticals. Well, he can't let himself be left completely in the dust here. He adjusts his stance, keeping Essek right were he is as his hands slide down along his husband's sides, feeling the shape of him.
"No, far from the worst rumor," he agrees, amusement back in his voice. "If anything, it's further evidence as to how prosperous this marriage really is."
Percy lowers himself so that he can catch Essek by the backs of his thighs and he promptly hoists the smaller man up. He lets the wall take Essek's weight and Percy leans into him, a wicked smile of his own flickering to life. His lips just barely brush his husband's.
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Including Lady Kima.
He gives the halfling woman a dry look, but doesn't chide her. Rather, he finds himself warming under Essek's quiet praise and, while he cannot hide the sort of bashful look that crosses his face, he manages not to blush. Percival looks down for a moment, then his gaze flicks up to Essek's face, bright and warm and... perhaps it gives him away. But perhaps that's all right.
"Impressively so," he agrees. "It did not take us terribly long to realize we are in the same book, if not always on the same page." But even that they have managed in stride and Percy rather thinks they're there now. "Essek has been integral to some new projects."
He lifts his head when he catches sight of another familiar face. With measured grace, Percival disengages from Essek. His hand slides along his husband's arm to catch his hand, offering it a chaste kiss before they part entirely.
"I leave you in capable hands, I need to have a word with the Hearthmaker." Another council member he will happily introduce his husband to, but Percy wants to get a word in with the somewhat surly dwarf before exchanging pleasantries. He holds Essek's gaze for a moment longer before he gives a polite nod to Allura and Kima. He sweeps off, moving at an impressive clip to catch up to Theadorn.
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"You do like him," Lady Kima declares slyly, as though Essek had not just said something much to that effect. But it brings him back to himself and reminds him of the conversation he is supposed to be involved in.
"Yes," he agrees simply, because that seems to be the right thing. "I do."
If he had his way, he would spend the rest of the party talking to Allura. She's interesting, knowledgeable, and he knows for certain that she thinks he belongs here, which is more than he can say for anyone else. But alas, she has others to converse with, and cannot spend her evening discussing magic with him, though she does promise another meeting in a less formal setting. Essek hates parties. At least in Dynasty, he was so well known that he never had to look for anyone to speak with; other would come to him, clamoring for his attention and perhaps a little favor. Irritating, to be sure, but it meant that he had power, which in turn opened up further opportunities.
Before she leaves him entirely, Allura imparts an absolutely crucial bit of wisdom: she lays a hand on his shoulder and leans close enough to speak undetected. "So that you are aware: there are emissaries of the Empire here."
Essek certainly doesn't need to be told why that may prove a problem for him. They could confront him directly, they could spread their malicious misinformation to those he will have to see and work with here, ruining his reputation before he can get a handle on it, or even worse--
"Who?"
Allura leans back, brow furrowing. "Astrid Beck, the new Archmage of Civil Influence, and a few attachés from Dwendal's court. She asked to be put on the guest list last minute. I'll admit that I don't know much about her yet."
Immediately Essek feels his blood run cold. It's because of him. What other reason does the Archmage of Civil Influence, a former Volstrucker, have to suddenly attend a soiree in Tal'Dorei? It isn't exactly her scene. After a week spent at a cautious distance in the Blooming Grove, she would recognize him very well, and he has no doubt that she is aware of the full scope of his crimes, and what a danger he is as a loose end. Which isn't even touching on the awkward circumstance of her being the former lover of his almost--whatever he and Caleb almost were--
His fear and trepidation must somehow register on his face, because he feels Allura squeeze his elbow, her expression sympathetic. "I'll do what I can," she promises him. "She hasn't asked about you, if that is any consolation."
It isn't. Of course she wouldn't ask.
"Thank you," he manages to say, tightly. "The warning is very much appreciated." He and Allura separate after that, and Essek dedicates himself to locating two people: his husband, and Astrid Beck.
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When he hears it announced that a member of the Assembly is here, something in him goes steely. The title isn't familiar, nor is the name, but that hardly matters to something etched into his bones. He keeps an eye on her after he's made aware of her presence, though he is careful not to be distracted from his conversations.
He's in a circle with a few of the attachés from the Empire, as well as a handful of nobles from other parts of Tal'Dorei, a glass of wine in hand. He's already in a mood, and so when one of the attachés so casually says something insidiously vile about the Kryn Dynasty in general, and makes an insinuation about Essek specifically, he has no interest in holding his tongue while his husband is slandered. He's in a mood to obliterate someone.
"Excuse me."
Percival does not raise his voice, but suddenly everyone in their circle has fallen silent and they are looking at him. He looks at his wine for a second longer, then cuts his gaze to the attaché. The man starts to open his mouth again and Percy makes a gesture to silence him.
"That's Lord Essek Thelyss de Rolo, Baron of the First House of Whitestone and Conservator of Arcane Interests on the Whitestone Council. And he is my husband."
His tone is genteel, with a few generations of nobility and sheer wealth to back up the snobbery he is about to unleash. His back is straight, and his eyes are utterly unforgiving despite the ease with which he speaks. He might almost sound friendly, if not for the way he has pinned the man in place. The attaché squirms beneath his unyielding attention.
"So despite what opinions you may hold of drow or the Kryn in particular, do watch your manners."
The condescension in Percy's voice is enough to make a few people look away in secondhand embarrassment. He holds the attaché's gaze, then smiles. There is nothing kind in it.
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He makes for Percival first, meaning to at least advise him of his own wariness, when he overhears the tail end of the conversation in his husband's circle. Honestly, what the Dwendalian spouts is nothing Essek hasn't heard before, and he isn't especially ruffled by it, expecting as much from those of the Empire as a matter of course. But watching Percival snap to his defense without missing a beat, lethal and efficient and cuttingly haughty--now that is something special.
Essek hovers back for a few moments longer just to let the shame and embarrassment really sink in before he approaches, smoothing sliding his hand into the crook of Percy's elbow. "You look bored, k'allis," he says, inviting and coy. He can't keep the smirk from his lips as he very deliberately looks at no one else, as though they may as well not be there. "Have you missed me that much?"
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"Only debating matters of etiquette," he says warmly. "But your absence was sorely noted."
He hands off his wine glass to a passing server and offers a gracious smile to the others in their circle.
"Pardon me, I have neglected my husband long enough."
As Percy turns them from the group, he can hear a flurry of low voices pick up conversation: more than one suggest the attaché should probably find a way to apologize before leaving Tal'Dorei, as it would be terrible if trade with Whitestone suffered due to a slight. There is something to be said for sitting on top of a very valuable mineral, and while Percy has no intention of interrupting trade, he's content to let someone sweat over the possibility.
He steers them toward the dance floor, as it is one of the few places they might have any chance at privacy without stepping out.
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Well--perhaps not all of them, he notes wryly as they approach the dance floor. Though they've practiced, Essek would prefer they avoid dancing entirely. Still, Percy has the right idea about where to go to avoid being overhead, and Essek resigns himself with a sigh. "I suppose I should do this properly." With care and consideration for his beautiful new gift, he lifts the edge of his mantle until it is drape over his arm, well clear of the floor, before he allows his feet to touch the ground. "Lead, please," he requests primly, and arranges his hands accordingly to follow.
They slide into place smoothly among the other dancers, which Essek credits to Percy's grace in this area. When he feels sufficiently obscured, he begins to share the most pressing (and least incriminating) pieces of what is on his mind.
"I am very concerned about Astrid--the Archmage of Civil Influence, who is in attendance tonight," he confesses, keeping his voice low. "She and I are...acquainted, from my stint with the Mighty Nein." Among other things. "I am not entirely certain how she feels about me, given my former position, or my presence here. She is an extremely dangerous person, even without her new title."
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"I cannot say I am thrilled to hear of any member of the Cerberus Academy in Tal'Dorei." He knows there are certainly agents across the continent, but a ranking member is another matter entirely. Percy knows his distaste for the Assembly may seem random, but he does not offer any further insight to his position. He's more concerned about Essek's discomfort.
As they spin around the dancefloor, Percy manages to catch sight of Astrid in passing. The fact that they are in motion obscures that he is looking at all, and quickly enough his attention is centered on Essek again.
"Do you think she's hear for some specific purpose? Something regarding you?"
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What he wants to say is yes, I think she is here because of me but I don't know what she wants. But that would be presuming much, even if it is likely, and he also can't give Percy an honest reason for why she would want to target him specifically without exposing things he is far from ready to discuss with his still relatively new spouse.
While he knows that Percy must be looking for her when he glances away, Essek keeps his gaze steadily on Percy. "You are probably aware that the Assembly and the Empire's leadership have a...symbiotic relationship, you could say. Though the crown has its own network of spies, the Augen Trust, the Archmage of Civil Influence is specifically in charge of the Volstrucker, an elite force of assassins and spies specially trained in the arcane arts. Astrid was one herself until very recently."
As he talks, excuses come to him. It doesn't feel good to tell his husband half truths, but they sound plausible, which is what he needs now. "I have been a target for such assassins practically since I became Shadowhand. But this is the first time I have ever been...vulnerable, I suppose. Far from the Dynasty. I still know many secrets that would be of great use to the Empire. I worry that I am now seen as...easy pickings, perhaps. My own arcane abilities can only protect me so much, especially against an opponent who is a trained killer and also an experienced magic user."
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Percival looks at his husband and his hand tightens briefly where it holds Essek's. He's quiet for a moment as he leads them around the floor, relying on muscle memory as his mind works.
"We could always try to find out why she's here," he says after a moment. He'll try to get something out of Seeker Assum, or at the very least alert him. Though he cannot imagine that the Council's spymaster would have no knowledge of this woman or the risks she could pose. Still, he wants to protect Essek however he can.
"You may yet be a target, but you are not alone. Nor are you completely unprotected."
Percy spins them to the edge of the floor and stops them there. Unthinking, he reaches up to cup Essek's cheek. This man who has become dear to him... He looks up again, making a quick scan of the room. Then he leans down, lips against Essek's ear.
"She's leaving with someone, out into the hall. I suddenly find myself in need of a bit of air... will you join me?"
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Lost in his own thoughts, Essek is startled by the hand cupping his face, and briefly thrown off by the sweetness of the gesture. His eyes dart up to meet Percy's and he finds a gravity there that serves to calm his anxiety enough for focus to return. He isn't alone. He has his husband, someone who cares for him. Someone who had mere minutes ago defended him without even knowing that Essek would overhear it. After a lifetime of relying only on himself, it's easy to forget that he now has someone else willing and able to protect him. Being reminded of that brings a surge of emotion that Essek can't compartmentalize quickly enough to keep it from showing. His lips part gently and his brow furrows up. But the time for these feelings is not now. They have a chance to find out what is really happening here, and they must act quickly.
It's honestly remarkable how quickly Essek can school his features back into a confident smirk, and how it immediately makes him feel more secure. Honesty is difficult.
"By all means, let us step out for a moment."
He reengages his anti-gravity spell automatically as they make their way as quickly as they can toward the hallway exit without seeming suspiciously in a rush. Floating means that Essek easily avoids stepping on any toes, and when they finally leave the ballroom chamber and step into the comparatively low-lit hall, he makes no sound beyond the soft rustle of his cloak.
They're just in time to see Astrid enter a door several rooms down and close it behind her. She was speaking, but as Essek processes what little he heard, he realizes he didn't understand a word of it and immediately recognizes the language as Zemnian. This close to the party, Essek would guess that the room she's using must be an ancillary sitting room or something of the sort for hosting more private meetings. If anyone is still talking, their voices don't carry this far through the closed door. They'll have to get closer.
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The corridor is far more quiet and cooler, and Percy breathes a quiet sigh. He doesn't mind social functions, but the press and the swirl of people occasionally overwhelms him. He'd learned long ago to mask that. He catches sight of the woman in question disappearing through a door and he mutters a soft curse. He recognizes the room, though, and his fingers brush Essek's on his way closer. He recalls the door being relatively light: built for privacy but not security. Which means they may have a solid chance of hearing through it if they're just close enough.
Percival brings them to a little alcove near the door itself, purely decorative and not immediately visible from the door itself unless someone makes an effort. He lets Essek stand closer to the room, assuming he's in better position to provide cover. He doesn't speak Zemnian - perhaps an oversight that should be corrected - nor does he have any spells that might allow him to understand.
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With a whisper and a gesture, Essek casts a high-level Comprehend Languages, enabling both of them to understand what's being spoken. Essek's ears prick, the tips flickering minutely.
"--found nothing about increased shipments." Eadwulf. A chuckle follows, and his tone turns teasing. "You sure this wasn't just an excuse to check up on Bren's drow boyfriend?"
"That isn't important here, as you are well aware." Astrid, unruffled. "What matters is that he is now the lord of Whitestone's drow husband. The Kyrn aren't going to let the disgraced Shadowhand retire to Tal'Dorei to marry just any noble. There is a good reason for his placement, and I can't think of a better one than residuum. Even in small quantities, more than half the raw ore on the market comes from Whitestone. If the Dynasty is getting a direct supply, I need to know about it."
Essek feels a churning in his stomach, though he can't immediately tell if it's nerves or relief. They apparently aren't here to assassinate him. That's good. That's very good. But the Empire digging into Tal'Dorei's arrangement with the Dynasty could be catastrophic, especially with Astrid's knowledge of his crimes. She could leverage that any number of ways if she decides to. And the casual mention of Caleb--it's a lot, on top of everything else. Without really meaning to, Essek shrinks back a little further into the alcove, putting his back to the wall. In hindsight, would really prefer that Percival not hear any of this.
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It takes him a moment to realize that Essek has backed away, pressed to the wall in the alcove as if he can't stand to hear more. But Percival cannot bring himself to stop listening. They might only be here for the sake of gathering information, but it is information that ultimately involves Whitestone. And his husband's place there.
Percival looks away from the door, turning his attention to Essek. He doesn't want to risk speaking just yet, but he reaches to touch the wizard's hand, fingers lightly catching.
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While he has been thinking, the conversation in the next room has continued.
"So what do you want to pursue?"
"We'll meet with your contact. You'll get details, and I'll have to return to the party."
There's a little shuffling, possibly the scrape of furniture against the stone floor. A few other words whispered too softly to hear. And then, "Okay, come on."
There is no sound, but Essek feels the thrum of high-level magic in the air. The silence continues for several long seconds as he considers what may have occurred. Have they gone somewhere else? Was the spell Teleport? If one has the spells to spare, that would certainly be faster and easier than sneaking around a crowded castle. Essek frowns as he looks to Percy again. He doesn't want to depart just yet on the chance that he is wrong, but he risks a murmur, drawing closer to do so.
"I think they have left." He hesitates a moment before adding, "I am sorry. All of that was..." What are the words for it? Incriminating? Proof that he is not to be trusted?
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He turns his head back to Essek when he speaks. The hesitation in the wizard is noticeable. Percy knows that Essek is caught up in something. Why else would the Bright Queen marry off such a ranking member of her court? He's suspected there is more to this arrangement on the Dynasty's end, but he has refrained from asking Essek - he seems to have embraced his new life. The Empire's interest in him doesn't really surprise Percival, all told, but...
His thumb brushes lightly over Essek's wedding band. Vows are only as good as the people making them.
"Was politics that I'm not entirely ignorant to," he says quietly as he meets Essek's gaze. "Essek--"
He cuts himself off as light pours into the corridor from one of the ballroom doors opening. Percival freezes, suddenly wondering if this alcove is enough to conceal them from people that might walk by.
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Everything is interrupted by the beam of light slashing into the corridor's relative darkness as several figures emerge. Essek can hear them talking and laughing, but what they're saying doesn't matter. What matters is that there is no way they won't be seen as the group passes by. Essek immediately curses himself for not preparing Invisibility today. He can't cloak them, but being spotted here will look deeply suspicious.
Apart from snooping and conspiring, what else could they be doing? The answer is obvious.
"Trust me," he whisper urgently, which is probably the most absurd thing in the world. With Percival's hand still holding his, it's easy for Essek to return the grip and tug on his arm, urging him closer as he puts his back to the wall. Raising his other hand to his husband's face, he traces the sharp, handsome line of his jaw with the tips of his fingers before boldly covering the back of his neck, using it to draw him down as Essek leans up. There is no time to prepare himself. One moment he is looking into Percival's eyes and the next he is kissing him, full and wanting. This needs to be convincing, and a tentative, hesitant kiss won't cut it.
It's unexpected and sudden and possibly far too soon, but Essek feels his heart trip anyway with nervous excitement, feeling Percival's mouth against his and his body crowding close.
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The voices approach, still laughing and talking amongst themselves. Percy isn't really listening, even if he probably should be. Instead, he's caught up in the way Essek's lips feel against his, the delirious newness of having his husband pressed up against him. This is really the closest they've been outside of riding together. His fingers stroke along Essek's cheek and into his hair.
Perhaps he shouldn't press this, but he's of a similar mind: this has to look convincing and he will apologize profusely later, if he needs to. His tongue brushes Essek's lips, entreating entry. Light grows as the party nears, either a torch or someone's cast dancing lights or something. Percy doesn't open his eyes to look, caught up in what he's doing.
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The embrace he initiated earlier tonight was as much as he dared without further impetus, but now, driven to it by forces beyond his control, he wonders why he had waited to do this. Percival responds so quickly and so eagerly, holds him close and cards his fingers into his hair and deepens their kiss--surely it can't all be for show.
Footsteps and voices draw nearer, but all of that is in Essek's periphery. His eyes have fallen closed, so he loses any visual clue to how close they are to being noticed. The way his hips roll to grind against Percival's finding barely any space between their bodies, must appear very convincing indeed. And by the light, he's greedy, because he still wants more.
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His mind goes utterly blank the moment Essek arches against him. It's far too easy to shift his position, to press a leg between his husband's. There is an urgency that strikes him as he is compelled to respond, a desire long held back. He's caught up in the way it feels, the rawness of it that surely cannot be for the sake of their passing audience. The light fades, as do the voices, but it takes Percy a moment longer to break the kiss, just enough to allow them both to breathe. In that moment, he thinks he should pull back and absolutely apologize for getting carried away. But he doesn't, staring at Essek's face in the dim light.
His hand slides from Essek's hair to brush across his cheek again. Say something. Instead, his gaze lowers to the wizard's lips and, before he can stop himself, his thumb brushes over the bottom one.
"Forgive me," he murmurs, though he still cannot quite bring himself to retreat.
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Putting even the space required for breathing and words between them feels like a chasm opening up, and Essek's eyes flicker open to see conflict on Percival's face even as his thumb traces his lower lip, still tingling with his kiss. And he has the nerve to apologize, like this isn't the most incredible thing that has happened to Essek in years. It's absurd.
"No," Essek hisses, upper lip curling back enough to bare a single fang. His fingers curl tighter into Percy's jacket, nails prickling at the fabric. His eyes are brighter in the dark. "No, I will not forgive you. Not until you forget about being sorry and kiss me again."
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Percival pulls Essek into another kiss for no reason other than that he wants to. Needs to. He leans his husband into the wall, pinning him there as his hips move against Essek's, finally allowing himself to seek the friction he urgently needs. It's been--it's been longer than he cares to think about since he felt at all like this.
He should be embarrassed by how quickly arousal overtakes his sense of propriety and sense of where they are. Nothing outside this little alcove matters, not when he can feel the gentle vibration of his husband's voice, not when he can taste the wine on Essek's tongue.
"Shall I earn your forgiveness?" he murmurs, voice suddenly warm and heavy between them.
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"You will have to," Essek declares breathlessly, a little more content to go a moment without Percival's lips on his now, confident that he will have them back again soon enough. It's easy to slide his hand away from Percival's neck and slip it between them. What he seeks is readily apparent, and with fingers more used to bending the reality of time and the force of gravity to his will, he rubs unsubtly over the shape of his husband's cock in his breeches. There's a soft hum of approval followed by a deliberate stroke. He keeps his voice low, but he talks directly, pointedly, the words rolling and fluid in his unusual accent.
"I am going to let you fuck me tonight. I am going to let you press me down into our marriage bed and fuck me the way you should have on our wedding night." His lips curl in a satisfied smirk as he arches a brow. "That is the custom for humans, is it not?"
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He closes his eyes for a moment, brow bumping against Essek's as those words sink in, instantly filling his mind with possibilities. And there is something especially thrilling in the very simple assertion that Essek is going to let Percival fuck him.
"Is that not the custom among the Kryn?" There's a grin in his voice and it sounds far more controlled than Percy feels, low and flirtatious as the steady pressure of Essek's hand threatens to drive him to distraction. His hand presses against his husband's back and Percy tips his head to trail his lips along the line of Essek's ear. "I find myself thoroughly intrigued by the possibility of cultural exchange..."
He nips, careful not to catch any of Essek's jewelry. He finds himself wondering how crass it would be to have this man in a carriage bumping through Emon. Perhaps not for the first time, tempting as it may be.
"But if you keep this up, we are very certainly going to make a scene with our departure... as I do not have the advantage of such a concealing mantle."
Quite the contrary: his breeches are well-tailored and the cut of his coat will not provide nearly the cover he'll need to maintain some dignity.
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Thankfully the method Essek has in mind for travel back to their temporary home doesn't involve a carriage at all. It's rather more efficient than that.
Essek is well aware that he is only making this more inconvenient for Percy as he continues to encouragingly rub the growing bulge in his breeches, but it's heady to feel him harden so quickly beneath his touch. He can feel the heat building through the fabric, too.
"Oh? You don't want them to know how hard I make you, Percival?" His head tilts in a play at curiosity, but his voice lowers to a silken lilt. "They'll already be well aware soon, won't they? That you needed me so badly you just couldn't wait." The violet of his eyes burns through the shadows of the hallway, glancing in the direction the little group of passers-by had gone. "I suppose there are worse rumors to spread. A reputation for desiring one's spouse is hardly detrimental."
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His eyes are heavily lidded as he looks at Essek, drinking in the wicked hypotheticals. Well, he can't let himself be left completely in the dust here. He adjusts his stance, keeping Essek right were he is as his hands slide down along his husband's sides, feeling the shape of him.
"No, far from the worst rumor," he agrees, amusement back in his voice. "If anything, it's further evidence as to how prosperous this marriage really is."
Percy lowers himself so that he can catch Essek by the backs of his thighs and he promptly hoists the smaller man up. He lets the wall take Essek's weight and Percy leans into him, a wicked smile of his own flickering to life. His lips just barely brush his husband's.
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