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.
Though Percival certainly means it to come off jokingly, Essek's expression softens to something almost approaching vulnerability. Both hands lift to cup his husband's face, looking down at him with the knowledge that he adores him but not the words to say so.
"I am very glad of that."
Spoken with a quiet tenderness, perhaps he comes close enough.
As Percival's hand cups his hip, sparking a renewed desire, Essek leans down to capture his lips again, slow and sweet and full of simmering heat. "You can touch," he murmurs when he breaks away, still close enough that his lips brush Percy's mouth. "I want you to touch." Resting a knee on the bed on both sides of his waist, Essek slides down into Percy's lap, pulling him into another kiss.
The moment he's given permission, Percival touches. His hands stroke over Essek's thighs and hips, the perfect curve of his ass. He kisses Essek again as the other man eases onto the bed, straddling his lap. He pulls his husband closer, until he can feel Essek's cock brush against him.
Percy presses a hand to the wizard's back and slides it up his spine as his other arm rests loosely around Essek's hips. He dips his head to lavish attention along his neck, the kisses more heated with teeth and tongue as he tests to figure out exactly what his husband likes. Knowledge is irresistible and this is no different, especially when he can put it to such good use. His tongue teases over Essek's pulse, then he sucks lightly. Percival finds himself wondering exactly what it would take to make a bruise show on his husband's dark skin.
He grips Essek's thigh to tug him closer still, trying to eliminate the space between them.
This is what he wants. Essek gradually relaxes as Percy begins to explore his body with hands and mouth, touching him in ways no one has in many years. The lips on his neck quickly reduce him to soft moans and a gasped ah at the gentle sucking over his pulse.
"Like that," he encourages breathlessly, pulled flush against his husband until he can feel the outline of Percy cock between them nestled right up against his own, separated only by the breeches he'd requested Percival keep on for now. There was a reason for that: Essek wants to do this unwrapping himself.
His hands slip between them as Percy lavishes him with attention, finding the clasps to work open the front of Percy's breeches. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he reaches beneath the loosened fabric to curl his fingers around his husband's cock, giving it an eager stroke as he looks down between them. It's flushed a warm red, and noticeably bigger than other men Essek has been with in the past, purely because he has only ever been with other drow, who like him tend toward pretty and slender. And Essek cannot help but find everything about his husband's very human body delightful and intriguing.
"Quite sturdy here, too," he comments, softly teasing.
Percy gasps against Essek's skin as his husband finally touches his cock again without fabric between them. He's never been a particularly loud lover, but the delicious stroke of Essek's hand earns him a quiet moan, muffled against his shoulder. He lifts his head as the wizard looks down at him and he can't help a lopsided smile at that particular comment.
"All for your enjoyment, darling," he purrs, quietly breathless. His hands slide up to cradle Essek's face, to draw him into another kiss that betrays Percy's fraying patience. Despite that, he is not inclined to rush Essek: he wants this to unfold the way that his husband wants. If this is to be their long-belated wedding night, Percival wants it to be good. To have been worth the wait, even if neither of them could have ever anticipated ending up here.
Percy finally slides his glasses off. He glances around for somewhere to put them and settles for leaving them on the bed for right now. He'll hopefully remember to move them before they end up on the floor.
He runs a hand down Essek's chest and stomach, making no mystery of his goal. Percy keeps his eyes on his husband's face as he finally curls his fingers around his cock, which is just as pretty as the rest of him. His thumb sweeps over the head before he strokes down. It occurs to him that while he was told to wait for Essek here, he'd not been told to stay here. So his hands move again and, with some impressive coordination, he picks Essek up and rolls them over so that he can pin his husband against the blankets.
For all that Percy is more physically robust, he has no doubt that Essek could very quickly and firmly put him in his place should he cross a line. But he hopes it doesn't come to that.
Essek is also quickly nearing the end of his own patience. There had been plenty of kissing and foreplay there at the castle--so much that they were very nearly on the verge of more. He loves hearing Percival's soft moan as he strokes him, and he's encouraged to find out what other sounds he can pull from his husband tonight. But the first touch to his own cock has Essek swearing quietly in Undercommon, hips rolling into Percy's grip. It feels so fucking good to be touched by someone else, and especially by Percival, that it's genuinely disappointing when he stops--or at least, it is for the splitsecond before he rolls them over.
The world shifts, and then his back hits the soft mattress and he's suddenly looking up at Percival over him, pressing him down into the bed, and it's exactly what he needs. His cock lays stiff against his stomach and his thighs part around Percival's waist, inviting him as close as he'd like.
"Just like this," he purrs, drawing Percy down for a needy kiss, a little easier now that he is no longer wearing his glasses. One fang scrapes over Percy's lower lip as he draws back, intentionally just enough to sting. "I want you over me just like this while you open me up for your cock."
He could never have imagined Essek like this and every new facet of this man is exciting. He meets the kiss with sharp fervor and his cock throbs as Essek's teeth catch his lip. He smiles against their next kiss, then lifts his head to take stock of how far the night stand is. Then it occurs to him there might not be anything there. For as comfortable as their marriage has become, Percival never actually anticipated this.
"I don't suppose you've anything to help us with that...?"
He realizes that it's possible that someone else might have had the foresight to provide for two men who share a marriage bed. No one in the keep would know one way or the other.
As he awaits his husband's answer, Percy leans to investigate the bedside drawer, without giving up his position between Essek's thighs.
Essek himself could hardly imagine that this needy, erotic creature could be him, especially after so long spent without inviting anyone to his bed. But he has never been with anyone that he wanted quite as much as he wants Percival, and everything he does only makes him want it more.
But of course, they can't proceed on feeling and desire alone. There are practical measures to be considered.
"Ah, of course." Without hesitation, Essek takes Percy's hand. With an arcane word muttered under his breath and his fingertips gently grazing over Percy's palm, Prestigitation leaves both of their fingers slick with a clear, semi-viscous oil. "A useful little spell," he murmurs, and reaches between them to wrap his oiled fingers around Percival's cock. Preemptive, perhaps, but he strokes slow and tight up along the shaft, squeezing over the head and back down again, just wanting to give his husband a little pleasure, and perhaps satisfy his own curiosity a little further.
"Terribly practical," he agrees with feeling as Essek's slick hand strokes his cock. Percy rocks his hips to meet his husband's touch and leans down to kiss him soundly.
As he pulls back, Percival shifts his weight more onto his knees. He keeps his eyes on Essek's face as his hand slips down between them. Slick fingers tease between his cheeks, rubbing slowly over his hole. He's utterly entranced by the lean lines of his husband's body.
"How long has it been, darling?" he asks rather tenderly. He's in no hurry now that they're here, regardless of how worked up they both are. His other hand strokes over Essek's thigh, gently pulling him closer.
The first touch of Percival's fingers to his hole causes a visible shudder. Essek's normally cool-toned skin has flushed a dark plum color, particularly over his cheeks. His eyes fall closed as he acclimates himself both to his husband's touch and the way he calls him darling. The buzz of arousal through him almost makes him feel like he's floating, but the sheets against his back tell him otherwise.
"Longer than you have existed, at least," he says primly, violet eyes flickering open again to look over Percival's features. "I do not do this casually."
Which explains the idea of letting Percival fuck him, a privilege afforded to very few.
A quarter of a century at least seems like a long time, even for an elf. But something softens in him at the realization of how privileged he is in this moment. He presses his free hand to the bed, propping himself over Essek, not quite within reach for a kiss unless he leans closer, or unless Essek sit up.
Percy takes his time, rubbing and teasing gently before he lets one finger push in. His breath catches in his throat at the perfect heat of him, a little dazed with that first penetration.
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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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"I am very glad of that."
Spoken with a quiet tenderness, perhaps he comes close enough.
As Percival's hand cups his hip, sparking a renewed desire, Essek leans down to capture his lips again, slow and sweet and full of simmering heat. "You can touch," he murmurs when he breaks away, still close enough that his lips brush Percy's mouth. "I want you to touch." Resting a knee on the bed on both sides of his waist, Essek slides down into Percy's lap, pulling him into another kiss.
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Percy presses a hand to the wizard's back and slides it up his spine as his other arm rests loosely around Essek's hips. He dips his head to lavish attention along his neck, the kisses more heated with teeth and tongue as he tests to figure out exactly what his husband likes. Knowledge is irresistible and this is no different, especially when he can put it to such good use. His tongue teases over Essek's pulse, then he sucks lightly. Percival finds himself wondering exactly what it would take to make a bruise show on his husband's dark skin.
He grips Essek's thigh to tug him closer still, trying to eliminate the space between them.
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"Like that," he encourages breathlessly, pulled flush against his husband until he can feel the outline of Percy cock between them nestled right up against his own, separated only by the breeches he'd requested Percival keep on for now. There was a reason for that: Essek wants to do this unwrapping himself.
His hands slip between them as Percy lavishes him with attention, finding the clasps to work open the front of Percy's breeches. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he reaches beneath the loosened fabric to curl his fingers around his husband's cock, giving it an eager stroke as he looks down between them. It's flushed a warm red, and noticeably bigger than other men Essek has been with in the past, purely because he has only ever been with other drow, who like him tend toward pretty and slender. And Essek cannot help but find everything about his husband's very human body delightful and intriguing.
"Quite sturdy here, too," he comments, softly teasing.
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"All for your enjoyment, darling," he purrs, quietly breathless. His hands slide up to cradle Essek's face, to draw him into another kiss that betrays Percy's fraying patience. Despite that, he is not inclined to rush Essek: he wants this to unfold the way that his husband wants. If this is to be their long-belated wedding night, Percival wants it to be good. To have been worth the wait, even if neither of them could have ever anticipated ending up here.
Percy finally slides his glasses off. He glances around for somewhere to put them and settles for leaving them on the bed for right now. He'll hopefully remember to move them before they end up on the floor.
He runs a hand down Essek's chest and stomach, making no mystery of his goal. Percy keeps his eyes on his husband's face as he finally curls his fingers around his cock, which is just as pretty as the rest of him. His thumb sweeps over the head before he strokes down. It occurs to him that while he was told to wait for Essek here, he'd not been told to stay here. So his hands move again and, with some impressive coordination, he picks Essek up and rolls them over so that he can pin his husband against the blankets.
For all that Percy is more physically robust, he has no doubt that Essek could very quickly and firmly put him in his place should he cross a line. But he hopes it doesn't come to that.
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The world shifts, and then his back hits the soft mattress and he's suddenly looking up at Percival over him, pressing him down into the bed, and it's exactly what he needs. His cock lays stiff against his stomach and his thighs part around Percival's waist, inviting him as close as he'd like.
"Just like this," he purrs, drawing Percy down for a needy kiss, a little easier now that he is no longer wearing his glasses. One fang scrapes over Percy's lower lip as he draws back, intentionally just enough to sting. "I want you over me just like this while you open me up for your cock."
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"I don't suppose you've anything to help us with that...?"
He realizes that it's possible that someone else might have had the foresight to provide for two men who share a marriage bed. No one in the keep would know one way or the other.
As he awaits his husband's answer, Percy leans to investigate the bedside drawer, without giving up his position between Essek's thighs.
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But of course, they can't proceed on feeling and desire alone. There are practical measures to be considered.
"Ah, of course." Without hesitation, Essek takes Percy's hand. With an arcane word muttered under his breath and his fingertips gently grazing over Percy's palm, Prestigitation leaves both of their fingers slick with a clear, semi-viscous oil. "A useful little spell," he murmurs, and reaches between them to wrap his oiled fingers around Percival's cock. Preemptive, perhaps, but he strokes slow and tight up along the shaft, squeezing over the head and back down again, just wanting to give his husband a little pleasure, and perhaps satisfy his own curiosity a little further.
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As he pulls back, Percival shifts his weight more onto his knees. He keeps his eyes on Essek's face as his hand slips down between them. Slick fingers tease between his cheeks, rubbing slowly over his hole. He's utterly entranced by the lean lines of his husband's body.
"How long has it been, darling?" he asks rather tenderly. He's in no hurry now that they're here, regardless of how worked up they both are. His other hand strokes over Essek's thigh, gently pulling him closer.
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"Longer than you have existed, at least," he says primly, violet eyes flickering open again to look over Percival's features. "I do not do this casually."
Which explains the idea of letting Percival fuck him, a privilege afforded to very few.
"But I wish to do it with you."
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A quarter of a century at least seems like a long time, even for an elf. But something softens in him at the realization of how privileged he is in this moment. He presses his free hand to the bed, propping himself over Essek, not quite within reach for a kiss unless he leans closer, or unless Essek sit up.
Percy takes his time, rubbing and teasing gently before he lets one finger push in. His breath catches in his throat at the perfect heat of him, a little dazed with that first penetration.
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