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.
"Mm," Essek hums in agreement, enjoying the hands roaming his body without thinking much about where they are headed. "It is feeling prosperous indeed."
For as much time as Essek spends hovering, he doesn't expect to be lifted off his feet now. There's a sharp gasp as his back meets the wall again, taller than he was and supported by Percival's grip on his thighs. That smile, brimming with self-satisfaction, is making him fall in love all over again. As soon as his heart rate has come back to a reasonable level--a reasonable level for how turned on he is, at least--he lets his arms drape over Percy's shoulders.
"How strong you are, k'allis," he murmurs, genuinely impressed, and lets their lips touch again in a fleeting kiss. "But let me help you anyway."
For Essek, it is a simple thing to adjust his relationship to gravity. A few murmured words in Percy's ear, and suddenly Essek weighs much less in his arms than he had a moment before--exactly half his previous weight, in fact.
"All that human ruggedness, darling. And someday you'll have to tell me what that means," he says as he coaxes Essek's legs properly around his waist. It has taken his husband's hand from his cock, but it's worth it to see the look on his face.
Even if Percy is prepared for something to happen, his hold on Essek still tightens in reaction to the sudden shift in his weight, as if he's concerned that the wizard might float away. Satisfied that he won't, he kisses Essek again, slick and deep.
"If we keep this up, we're going to consummate this union in this alcove," he murmurs. "And I feel obligated to say that the only public displays of that I've ever heard of have been limited to royalty. Or very, very nosy families."
Another kiss, as if he cannot get enough of Essek's mouth.
"Someday," Essek agrees coyly, and lets himself sink into the kiss that follows, thighs tightly clasping Percival's waist. They could certainly get off this way, he imagines, kissing and grinding against one another with intent. Merely having Percy between his legs is exciting, let alone being hoisted up the wall by his human ruggedness.
Between kisses he finds himself smiling constantly, and eventually snorting softly at the deliberately silly ultimatum Percy presents. "As appealing as that idea is, I would prefer to take my time with you tonight," he decides, and very sweetly kisses his husband's cheek. "We will have to make our farewells quickly. I intend to teleport us back to the keep in no more than five minutes."
He is in no state to go back into that ballroom, and he's sorely tempted to send Essek in to make his farewells for him. But another idea occurs to him.
"Can you send a message to Allura? Tell her that we're retiring early and ask if she'll make our excuses."
He trusts her not to say anything to irreparably damage his reputation or Essek's. Percival slides his hand along his husband's thigh, trying not to get too ahead of himself. And perhaps it's rude, but as Essek begins his message, Percy tips his head to trail kisses along his neck, absently nudging the high collar out of his way.
Oh, this brilliant man. Essek presses a kiss to his other cheek as a reward. "Of course. You are lucky to have such good friends, Percival."
Essek draws his fingers together and then apart in his somatics for Sending, and barely stifles a gasp as Percy's mouth begins to explore his throat. That is not what he wants to Allura to hear.
"Apologies for interrupting, Arcanist. This is Essek. Percival and I are retiring early, and he wonders if you will kindly make excuses on our behalf."
He manages to keep his voice even and collected as he speaks the message, thankfully, despite Percival's interference. The response comes quickly.
"She said that she had a feeling we would not return after stepping out earlier, and that she will convey our gratitude and regrets to those necessary." Whether that means what he suspects it might is...up for interpretation, at least. Either way, he sighs with relief at the knowledge that they will soon be alone, tipping his head back to enjoy the kisses Percival is still peppering along his neck. "But you will have to let me down if I am to draw this teleportation circle."
"I'll send her flowers tomorrow," he murmurs against Essek's throat. Then he sighs, because Essek makes a very valid point regarding the circle. Before he lets his husband down, though, Percy holds Essek's thighs tighter and grinds them together. Then, slowly, he lets the wizard down so that he can do his work. And Percy takes the opportunity to try to collect himself at least enough for the brief trip back to the keep.
"Seeing you on your knees gives me ideas," he purrs, making a verbal nuisance of himself since physically interrupting Essek is out of the question.
This isn't his first teleportation, thankfully, and so he doesn't really need to be told what to do when Essek is ready. Percival stays close, again resisting the urge to be a distraction: he would hate very much for a lapse in concentration to land them somewhere odd.
As he concentrates on drawing the circle, there is little Essek can do but shoot his husband the occasional pointed look for each of his lascivious comments. Thankfully, it takes only a minute to complete, and he has performed this particular spell so many times that he could almost do it while trancing, provided he knew the destination well enough. Tonight, there is almost zero chance of them arriving off course; he has spent time at the keep, and he also has at least one item on his person originating from it.
When the circle activates, they step through it together, and together appear exactly where Essek had specified: their shared bedroom at Greyskull.
"Well," Essek says lightly, clearly pleased, "that was a success." With care, he undoes the fastenings at his throat to remove his mantle, draping the fabric over his arm as crosses the room to hang it by the door. "You should undress down to your breeches, I think, and sit at the foot of the bed while you wait for me. I will be only a few minutes."
Despite his nonchalance, this very much does not sound like a suggestion.
"Straight to our bedroom? Terribly efficient." Percival had been expecting to arrive on the circle in the arcane workshop, but he can hardly complain about this direct route. That Essek immediately starts issuing orders does nothing to dim Percy's arousal. If anything, it sends a spike of heat through him. A smirk curves his mouth and he admires his husband for a moment before he complies.
He removes his formal wear, taking time to drape things over the back of a chair. Despite the urgency he feels, his movements are measured and precise, unhurried, and perhaps a little for Essek's benefit, should he feel the need to look.
Despite his noble position, Percy is quite fit. While his tinkering requires fine manual dexterity, it also requires the ability to work metal in a forge. And he tends to fence a few of times a week to keep in practice. His torso is a testament to his life prior to settling in Whitestone for good. He's more scarred than one might expect, some older than others: brutal slashes, possibly from claws, across his chest and stomach and smaller, more round marks where he's been shot. And smaller still, fine cuts in various places that don't all seem to have rhyme or reason for their placement. And on his upper right arm is a tattoo from the Slayer's Take guild; the left arm, from hand to should bears strange branching scars that look like lightning.
Undressed as far as he's been told to, Percival looks Essek's way and sits at the foot of the bed, focused on his husband and quietly admiring. It occurs to him that he should take his glasses off, but... not yet.
It takes all of Essek's willpower not to look at Percival as he begins to undress himself. He goes back and forth from the trunk he brought along with him to the wardrobe to the desk, removing his boots, and then going layer by layer. His jewelry he leaves for now, but tonight's selections were fairly understated. The Message earring Percy had given him, however, is stored safely away with the rest of his important magical items in a pouch that he sets atop the desk.
Sneaking a glance or two from his periphery, he glimpses the impressive sculpting of his husband's chest and arms, and many of the wide array of scars that mark his torso. It is one thing to know that Percival was an adventurer, but another to see evidence of so many wounds inflicted and healed. Most of the Nein are scarred in some way, but none to this extent, to his knowledge. Perhaps having two clerics in the group is to thank.
While Essek projects confidence, thinking of Percival helps him overcome his own trepidation as he slips off the last of his layers, leaving himself entirely bare. He is aware that physically he has nothing to be ashamed of. His dark grey-purple skin is smooth and unmarked, his build is elegant and lithe, in line with many of his people, and he has been admired many times for his features. But it remains true that it has been a very, very long time since he has shown himself to anyone. After decades upon decades of celibacy, some nerves are to be expected. Taking control the way he has is part of mitigating them.
His erection has flagged a little in the time it has taken to arrive and undress, but it will take no time at all to return to his previous fervor, he's certain--and doubly so when he finally deems himself ready and turns to face Percival. Finding his husband patiently seated at the end of the bed as instructed and looking even more handsome than he had expected is a potent thrill. A few slow, measured steps bring him to meet him, and Essek edges his way between Percy's knees, standing close as he looks down at him.
"Human ruggedness indeed," he observes, tracing a slash across his chest with the tip of a finger.
Essek is beautiful, and while Percy is quite sure that his husband knows that about himself, it does not stop him from openly admiring the drow as he undresses. The graceful lines of his body, the way he carries himself. Perhaps he could have imagined this under the layers he's accustomed to seeing, but the real thing is far more satisfying.
As Essek approaches and stands between his legs, Percival grips the edge of the bed to keep himself from touching right away. His own arousal is still apparent and it's taken some effort to not give himself some relief.
He finds himself very intrigued by the way his husband has taken charge, though he has absolutely not forgotten the heated promise whispered to him in that alcove. He tips his head up as he holds Essek's gaze and he finally lifts a hand to let his fingers brush lightly along the outside of his thigh, toward his hip. The lightness of his touch mimics Essek's as he traces a scar.
"It seems I'm quite hard to get rid of," he says with a wry smile. More emboldened, his palm slides over Essek's hip, thumb sweeping along the bone.
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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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For as much time as Essek spends hovering, he doesn't expect to be lifted off his feet now. There's a sharp gasp as his back meets the wall again, taller than he was and supported by Percival's grip on his thighs. That smile, brimming with self-satisfaction, is making him fall in love all over again. As soon as his heart rate has come back to a reasonable level--a reasonable level for how turned on he is, at least--he lets his arms drape over Percy's shoulders.
"How strong you are, k'allis," he murmurs, genuinely impressed, and lets their lips touch again in a fleeting kiss. "But let me help you anyway."
For Essek, it is a simple thing to adjust his relationship to gravity. A few murmured words in Percy's ear, and suddenly Essek weighs much less in his arms than he had a moment before--exactly half his previous weight, in fact.
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Even if Percy is prepared for something to happen, his hold on Essek still tightens in reaction to the sudden shift in his weight, as if he's concerned that the wizard might float away. Satisfied that he won't, he kisses Essek again, slick and deep.
"If we keep this up, we're going to consummate this union in this alcove," he murmurs. "And I feel obligated to say that the only public displays of that I've ever heard of have been limited to royalty. Or very, very nosy families."
Another kiss, as if he cannot get enough of Essek's mouth.
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Between kisses he finds himself smiling constantly, and eventually snorting softly at the deliberately silly ultimatum Percy presents. "As appealing as that idea is, I would prefer to take my time with you tonight," he decides, and very sweetly kisses his husband's cheek. "We will have to make our farewells quickly. I intend to teleport us back to the keep in no more than five minutes."
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"Can you send a message to Allura? Tell her that we're retiring early and ask if she'll make our excuses."
He trusts her not to say anything to irreparably damage his reputation or Essek's. Percival slides his hand along his husband's thigh, trying not to get too ahead of himself. And perhaps it's rude, but as Essek begins his message, Percy tips his head to trail kisses along his neck, absently nudging the high collar out of his way.
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Essek draws his fingers together and then apart in his somatics for Sending, and barely stifles a gasp as Percy's mouth begins to explore his throat. That is not what he wants to Allura to hear.
"Apologies for interrupting, Arcanist. This is Essek. Percival and I are retiring early, and he wonders if you will kindly make excuses on our behalf."
He manages to keep his voice even and collected as he speaks the message, thankfully, despite Percival's interference. The response comes quickly.
"She said that she had a feeling we would not return after stepping out earlier, and that she will convey our gratitude and regrets to those necessary." Whether that means what he suspects it might is...up for interpretation, at least. Either way, he sighs with relief at the knowledge that they will soon be alone, tipping his head back to enjoy the kisses Percival is still peppering along his neck. "But you will have to let me down if I am to draw this teleportation circle."
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"Seeing you on your knees gives me ideas," he purrs, making a verbal nuisance of himself since physically interrupting Essek is out of the question.
This isn't his first teleportation, thankfully, and so he doesn't really need to be told what to do when Essek is ready. Percival stays close, again resisting the urge to be a distraction: he would hate very much for a lapse in concentration to land them somewhere odd.
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When the circle activates, they step through it together, and together appear exactly where Essek had specified: their shared bedroom at Greyskull.
"Well," Essek says lightly, clearly pleased, "that was a success." With care, he undoes the fastenings at his throat to remove his mantle, draping the fabric over his arm as crosses the room to hang it by the door. "You should undress down to your breeches, I think, and sit at the foot of the bed while you wait for me. I will be only a few minutes."
Despite his nonchalance, this very much does not sound like a suggestion.
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He removes his formal wear, taking time to drape things over the back of a chair. Despite the urgency he feels, his movements are measured and precise, unhurried, and perhaps a little for Essek's benefit, should he feel the need to look.
Despite his noble position, Percy is quite fit. While his tinkering requires fine manual dexterity, it also requires the ability to work metal in a forge. And he tends to fence a few of times a week to keep in practice. His torso is a testament to his life prior to settling in Whitestone for good. He's more scarred than one might expect, some older than others: brutal slashes, possibly from claws, across his chest and stomach and smaller, more round marks where he's been shot. And smaller still, fine cuts in various places that don't all seem to have rhyme or reason for their placement. And on his upper right arm is a tattoo from the Slayer's Take guild; the left arm, from hand to should bears strange branching scars that look like lightning.
Undressed as far as he's been told to, Percival looks Essek's way and sits at the foot of the bed, focused on his husband and quietly admiring. It occurs to him that he should take his glasses off, but... not yet.
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Sneaking a glance or two from his periphery, he glimpses the impressive sculpting of his husband's chest and arms, and many of the wide array of scars that mark his torso. It is one thing to know that Percival was an adventurer, but another to see evidence of so many wounds inflicted and healed. Most of the Nein are scarred in some way, but none to this extent, to his knowledge. Perhaps having two clerics in the group is to thank.
While Essek projects confidence, thinking of Percival helps him overcome his own trepidation as he slips off the last of his layers, leaving himself entirely bare. He is aware that physically he has nothing to be ashamed of. His dark grey-purple skin is smooth and unmarked, his build is elegant and lithe, in line with many of his people, and he has been admired many times for his features. But it remains true that it has been a very, very long time since he has shown himself to anyone. After decades upon decades of celibacy, some nerves are to be expected. Taking control the way he has is part of mitigating them.
His erection has flagged a little in the time it has taken to arrive and undress, but it will take no time at all to return to his previous fervor, he's certain--and doubly so when he finally deems himself ready and turns to face Percival. Finding his husband patiently seated at the end of the bed as instructed and looking even more handsome than he had expected is a potent thrill. A few slow, measured steps bring him to meet him, and Essek edges his way between Percy's knees, standing close as he looks down at him.
"Human ruggedness indeed," he observes, tracing a slash across his chest with the tip of a finger.
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As Essek approaches and stands between his legs, Percival grips the edge of the bed to keep himself from touching right away. His own arousal is still apparent and it's taken some effort to not give himself some relief.
He finds himself very intrigued by the way his husband has taken charge, though he has absolutely not forgotten the heated promise whispered to him in that alcove. He tips his head up as he holds Essek's gaze and he finally lifts a hand to let his fingers brush lightly along the outside of his thigh, toward his hip. The lightness of his touch mimics Essek's as he traces a scar.
"It seems I'm quite hard to get rid of," he says with a wry smile. More emboldened, his palm slides over Essek's hip, thumb sweeping along the bone.
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