It had been a compromise. Percy has every intention of allowing Essek to teleport them back to Whitestone when they are ready to leave Emon. He presses closer between his husband's thighs and the sting of Essek's nails against his chest helps to keep him in the moment. And when it feels relatively easy to thrust his fingers into Essek, Percy finally pulls them free.
He braces himself over the elf and strokes the remaining oil over his cock, adding to what Essek already bestowed on him earlier. The moment he touches himself, he nearly falters. Percy doesn't dare do more than necessary. Despite that, he teases both of them a bit: his cock slides against Essek, brushing past his hole without any real guidance.
"And you?" he asks quietly. "Did you ever think about this?"
Percy grinds against his husband again and finally a quiet, strained moan escapes him. Gods, he is aching.
After the gradual process of being filled by Percy's fingers, suddenly being empty is a genuinely unpleasant feeling. But it's not to last, he thinks, as his husband crowds between his thighs and strokes oil over his cock. It's a compelling sight, and Essek finds he wants this as badly as he did before he came.
That Percival hesitates even a moment surprises him. A soft noise catches in Essek's throat; his rim has gotten so sensitive from being gently worked open, and the grind over it is maddening. His husband's cock feels burning hot pressed against him, and fuck, looks big just resting there against the curve of his ass. He's well aware that is all a matter of relative scale and perspective, but from his own--this is going to be an experience.
"Yes. Often."
He offers no elaboration of his own just yet, suitably distracted as he is. His hand trails down, just the pads of his fingers rather than his nails. Percival's chest and abs are toned, and Essek indulges himself by appreciating the musculature hands-on.
"You spent so long making me ready for you," he purrs, violet eyes flickering up to Percival's face. "Don't you want to know how perfectly you will fit inside me, k'allis?"
"Desperately," he confesses. "But I also want to savor this."
Percival shifts his position again, lowering himself more toward Essek's wandering touch. He's rather grateful that the sharpness has relented, soothed by the warmth of Essek's hand.
His forearm remains braced against the bed as the other hand reaches between them again to guide his cock. Finally, finally, he pushes in. He doesn't rush, as badly as he might want to take Essek with a single thrust. He might even be able to after all of that foreplay, but no. He meant what he said.
He sinks in slowly, luxuriating in how it feels to finally consummate this marriage. And when their bodies finally meet, he lets go of a heavy breath, edged with a soft moan. His nose bumps gently against Essek's and for a moment, Percy stays still, giving them both a few seconds to adjust. Essek is tight, but not to the point that it would worry him. His fingers stroke through his husband's pale hair as he rolls his hips, barely pulling back before he slides back in. This is everything he's wanted, better than his fevered dreams.
Essek is glad that it's slow when it finally happens. Not because there is any pain, but because he can feel it better this way, inch by gradual inch, all smooth, slicked heat. He watches, mesmerized by the ease with which his husband's cock sinks inside him. Percival took care of him, put off his own pleasure for so long to make this perfect, and now they both get to enjoy it.
At first he makes little noise himself beyond a contented hum, but appreciates Percival's quiet moan. His hands cradle Percy's face tenderly, keeping him close so that he can kiss him as slowly and thoroughly as as the way he has filled him. It's an easy, relaxed kiss, but Essek's breath hitches at the first shift inside him, a short grind that feels like a precursor to more of the same.
"That's it," he murmurs encouragingly, "this is our wedding night, Percival. Show me why I was right to marry you."
Percy is, by nature it would seem, a quiet man, even in moments of passion. But is breathing is heavy and it is so very clear that he is utterly wrapped up in what he's feeling, in the pleasure of finally being this deep inside his husband. He keeps up those small, grinding thrusts just to fully appreciate what he's been given.
He closes his eyes as they kiss and they stay that way for a few seconds more after they part. Essek's encouragement does not go unheard, however, and a smile flickers to life. Percy reaches to adjust the pillow beneath his husband's back, making sure his hips are tipped just so. Fingers stroke back through the elf's hair and Percy kisses him again as he really starts to move.
He indulges himself - them both - with languid, long strokes. He pushes himself up a bit more so that he can actually watch as his cock sinks in, caught up in the way they look together as much as he is in the perfect heat of Essek taking him. Percy's sharp gaze lifts to Essek's face as he gives a harder thrust, testing what his husband might like.
It's fascinating and erotic just to watch Percival watching them, and Essek's gaze is heavy, focused on his husband's face while his is on the very compelling picture his cock makes opening Essek up. Well oiled and well prepared, his thrusts are smooth and uninhibited, and Essek feels only a satisfying fullness without any hint of pain or discomfort.
He's caught watching when Percival's attention shifts, but Essek doesn't mind. He meets his gaze boldly, pupils blown wide and dark, with a contrast of white lashes fanning down over them when his eyes shut suddenly, brow knitting up as Percy pushes into him rougher than he has yet.
"Yes," he hisses, sharp and pleasantly surprised. "Yes, you can take me like that. You won't hurt me."
There is confidence in that statement, a certainty that Essek is backing with trust earned over months of building a brand new life together. It feels good to be connected this way, and every shift and thrust and grind inside him buzzes along his nerves, building pleasure and arousal back up. Dark, slender fingers still adorned with silver rings curl around his own length, stroking with practiced ease to encourage his cock back to stiffness.
A shivering breath of relief escapes him with that encouragement. Percy adjusts his position, moving against Essek as his knees spread, helping his balance. His hand strokes down Essek's waist and over his hip until Percival can grab his thigh, hiking it against his side just to feel him closer. With bold confidence, he picks up the pace as Essek's hand drifts between them to stroke himself. Essek's hands are beautiful as it is, but the adornment of the rings provides stark contrast against his dark skin as he strokes himself.
His hand is tight on his husband's thigh as Percy gives in to long-building desire and sharp need. He fucks the wizard, grinding against him as their bodies meet as he moves harder, a bit faster.
"Essek--" Percy breathes his husband's name like a prayer and a moan edges his voice. Pleasure coils up in him, building again sharply now that he isn't being denied. And yet it becomes clear that he is still minding himself when his hips falter. He pulls back further - not quite out - and waits a moment before he plunges back in. Percy crashes into a kiss, his urgency clear.
When they part, he tries to meet Essek's gaze again. He very deliberately slows down this time, even if it amounts to teasing himself. He needs to get this out before he loses sense completely. Percy's lips drift over Essek's ear, teeth grazing the lobe - careful of his earrings.
"Where do you want me to finish?" he asks, voice heavy and breathless when he finally manages the words. Percy knows exactly what he wants, but this--well. This is something they've never had to learn about each other.
Finally, Essek can feel his husband beginning to unwind. It isn't that Percival lacks control as he begins fucking him with a need, but that he allows himself to focus more on his own pleasure now that he's been assured of Essek's. And it's so good, receiving that desire, feeling it crackle electric from Percival to him with every full, deep thrust. He whispers yes in response to his own name, letting the sound of it on his husband's tongue fuel his swiftly climbing arousal. His breath stutters in soft gasps and words of encouragement as he strokes his cock in time with the grind of Percival's hips. Like that, it fills steadily in the circle of his fingers.
Just as his thighs close tight around Percy's waist, knees hiking up near his ribs to encourage him to push deeper, his lips part readily with a soft moan for a desperate, searing kiss. His free hand rests against the back of Percival's neck, steadying, and remains there as Percy's mouth leaves his to speak low and close.
The tip of his ear twitches gently with his proximity and the scrape of teeth earns a sharp gasp and a full-body shudder before Essek composes himself enough to respond. "Inside," he bites out, like he had never considered anything else. "I will let you fill me, husband." His hand squeezes, fingers lightly grazing the soft, close-cropped edge of Percy's hair. The slow drag of his cock inside him as they speak is almost maddening. "So let go for me," he urges. "I want to feel how you fuck when you are not hindered by self-discipline."
There's that word again - let - conveying this sense of privilege that Percy certainly feels has been granted. He closes his eyes as Essek's fingers brush against his hair, tension in his shoulders briefly fading as he is not only given permission, but encouraged. He lifts his head to kiss Essek again, short but full of desire, and then he pulls back.
It takes nothing to pick up that urgent pace that allows him to revel in the perfect friction of his husband's body. He lets go of Essek's thigh in favor of hooking that arm beneath the elf's knee, keeping it against his ribs as he buries himself in short, firm strokes. He loses himself in chasing that edge of pleasure until he hits it, and falls over it. Percy gasps sharply, voice caught in a breathless moan as he comes. He drags Essek against him like they might somehow get closer yet as he pushes deep. His hand slides along his husband's arm, finding his free hand so that he can lace their fingers together and gently pin Essek's hand in place.
His head bows, bumps against his husband's as that burst of ecstasy ebbs into something equally pleasant. Percy lets Essek's leg slide from his arm in favor of reaching between them, wrapping around the elf's hand where he strokes himself. He doesn't quite help, but neither does he hinder.
Essek doesn't regret giving his permission for his husband to take his pleasure, because while it lasts, it's incredible. Percival is a force, a man driven by need, and Essek holds the proverbial reins as the only one who can give him what he aches for, which is heady in itself. But the hard, insistent grind of his cock in shallow, greedy strokes is divine, especially as he hits an angle that makes Essek's back arch and draws a low, appreciative moan from his chest, and keeps going, a steady grind against that sweet spot that makes his vision blur at the edges and his cock drip over his palm.
It all halts quite suddenly when he comes, of course, but it's entirely worth it. The throb of his cock and the heat that comes with it as he spills his seed into him--that isn't something Essek has permitted in a very long time. But with Percival it is so viscerally satisfying, both the sensation itself and feeling as intimately as possible the way his handsome human lover experiences the height of his pleasure. There's almost a covetousness to the way he clutches him close and presses as deep inside as he possibly can, and Essek finds that very appealing.
There's a gentle shift inside him as Percival leans over him, and Essek turns his face a fraction of an inch so that their lips nearly brush. "Don't withdraw until I've come," he instructs in a breathless whisper, but nevertheless firmly enough to make the command clear. Even the presence of Percival's hand over his as he continues to stroke himself--with purpose, a tight squeeze along his smooth shaft all the way up over the wet, flushed head--ignites something hot and heavy low in his gut, winding the tension in his body even tighter.
The places they touch are points of electric sensation, and it spreads through him as Essek sinks further into it, feels himself clenching around his husband's spent cock, feels his chest rising and falling with the shortness of his breath, feels the rise of pleasure like the inexorable pull of gravity between his palms, both familiar and wonderous. His keen ears register a noise which he only momentarily recognizes as his own voice, soft but sharp, a whimper for each new, powerful pulse through his body.
He falls silent when his orgasm overtakes him, eyes closing and breath stuttering as his body tenses, tight, and he spills against his stomach with the continued rhythmic stroke of his hand, pulling each little peak from him until he's spent.
Percy grins at the sound of Essek's voice as he gives that command. His hand squeezes his husband's where it's pinned to the bed.
"I wouldn't dream of it, darling." He lowers himself, though he's careful not to block the steady movement of Essek's hand. It's thrilling to feel his lover's excitement mount, the tension that ripples through him and the way his breathing changes. Percy drinks in all of it from this intimate position. He murmurs almost delirious praise against Essek's neck and his ear, trailing kisses and gentle bites as the wizard writhes beneath him, seeking his own release.
He makes himself put more space between them when he feels Essek start to spill: he wanted to watch this, and he doesn't intend to deny himself. His own body trembles and shivers as Essek tightens around him, arches beneath him.
As they lay there, both of them trying to catch their breaths, Percy finally lowers his weight more. He's careful still, his other forearm soon braced against the bed so that he can frame his husband. His smile lingers and he leans down to kiss Essek, gentle and sweet this time, lingering as long as either of them can stand it before they need to breathe again. This is something Percy hasn't allowed himself in a long time. He's found ways to meet his needs, of course, and he has never been disappointed in that, but this--it's different. This is raw and unplanned and full of mutual longing. And this is a man he's fallen in love with.
"You are divine," he murmurs, still quietly breathless. The smile in his voice is apparent even as he brushes a kiss to Essek's brow.
He hasn't quite caught his breath before Percival kisses him again, but that doesn't stop him from returning it. Kisses like this, tender and soft, have been a rarity in Essek's life, in part because he has not often allowed them. Too close, too intimate. But Percival, it seems, holds a tether to his heart, and it winds tighter with every moment. People don't kiss this way unless they care, he thinks. And Essek aches to be cared for.
"Sacrilegious praise," he murmurs, lips curling in a satisfied smirk. "I like it."
Opening his eyes with a slow blink, he focuses on Percival above him, not able to look at his face, but content to watch how he moves. The press of lips to his brow is a sweet ache in Essek's chest. How is it possible to long for someone you are still intertwined so intimately with? His fingers press harder into the back of his husband's hand, but he doesn't push to break free of that hold yet.
This is the first nearly clear-headed moment they've had since they kissed back at the palace, and as Essek sobers, he can't help wondering about what is next. What will change? Will their marriage become a true union of souls, rather than the political alliance is has been? The idea seem almost too good to contemplate. And Essek has no idea when or how or if he should broach that subject.
What he settles for is a kiss to Percival's neck right against the point of his pulse, the beat of his heart so close to his skin and a little fond teasing. "If I must marry you again to repeat that experience, I will."
Percy smiles, feeling sated and heavy and warm. He closes his eyes as Essek's lips press against his pulse and he remembers the little thrill of pointed teeth against his throat.
"If we must do it again, I insist on an actual reception," he quips back. It occurs to him that he really should pull out to avoid collapsing on Essek entirely, even if that is a very tempting thought. He kisses Essek again, then slowly, reluctantly, he pulls out and moves to lay at his husband's side.
That allows him to focus more on the wizard's face, beautiful and--flushed? The light is dim, but he's quite certain he can see the color in Essek's face. His own mind drifts to what happens next. When they wed, Percy had resigned himself to a somewhat cold marriage. As they got to know each other better, he had hope for intelligent companionship and a partner in governance.
And now? This is something he never anticipated. Not even for a moment. Because this marriage had been arranged far outside their input, though perhaps Percy did have more say in the matter than Essek had. His thumb strokes against Essek's where they still hold hands, his grip loose now so that the other man could be free if he wants to. It feels like an unspoken tension has melted away, and Percival finds himself hoping that nothing else will rush in to feel that vacancy. And there are other things to consider: does anything change in Whitestone? Is this a one-off? Stress relief that both of them needed?
Gods, he hopes not.
But in this moment he is free to admire the soft light on Essek's skin and the well-fucked look on his face. Percy finds he's quite grateful that he's nearsighted rather than far: he would have hated to have missed this.
"I hate parties," Essek grumbles, but gladly accepts another kiss. There's only mild discomfort as he's left empty a moment later, easily put aside in favor of easing the pillow out from under him to stretch out beside Percival. He can feel his wandering gaze and takes quiet pleasure in being admired. Despite being flushed and sticky and probably disheveled, he feels radiant. Though his fingers practically itch to form the familiar somatic movements for Prestidigitation, he consciously holds off for now, choosing to live a little longer with the tangible evidence of what they'd just shared.
With a soft hum, Essek looks away from his husband's face to focus on their joined hands. It already seemed impossible that he has found peace and purpose and companionship in this arrangement, but to find love as well verges on absurd. Yet he knows what he feels, even if he is still learning how to express it. But the crux of the matter is whether that feeling is mutual, and if it is, what they will do knowing that.
Essek shifts just an inch or two closer, enough that his toes can brush Percival's ankles and he can turn his face to press his forehead against his shoulder. Not quite cuddling, but an indication that he doesn't want to detach.
"It is rare that I have the inclination to do that with anyone. Even rarer that I have the opportunity to follow that inclination," he says, musing aloud. "Rarest of all is when I wish to remain afterward."
"Then I'm blessed thrice over," he murmurs as Essek's brow bumps against his shoulder. Percy moves slowly, finally untangling their hands so that it's easier to roll onto his side to face the other man. He rests his arm beneath his head; he wants to reach for Essek with the other, wants to pull him closer, but given that confession, he isn't sure that would be entirely welcome. Still, he shifts a bit closer and he lets his hand slide over Essek's waist and hip.
"It's been... years, I think, since I was with anyone that didn't require coin up front." He doesn't sound ashamed of that fact, only recounts it. Percy hadn't been in a place where he could let feelings factor in. He believed he had nothing to offer to anyone who might want him. And he did not dare hope that someone might want him.
His fingers drift up Essek's arm, then down again. Percy doesn't want to break this moment. He feels like he's hanging in the air, and unlike Essek, he doesn't have a spell that will keep him there.
"Not blessed," Essek corrects. "I want these things because you are an exceptional man, and you have earned my admiration."
Mistakenly, Essek had thought he was relaxed already. But Percival's touch over his hip and side and along his arm lulls him into a state of near trance, present and aware, but peaceful. Essek reaches for him too, laying a hand against his sternum and touching idly the lingering red lines his nails had left behind on his pale skin. They've faded, but not yet disappeared entirely.
"Practical," he murmurs. "My desires tend to be too specific, or perhaps I would do the same. Typically I find myself wanting a person rather than craving a particular act, and even a professional cannot assist with that." His gaze follows the trail of his fingers, down and then back up to the middle of Percy's chest. "But given access to the object of my desire...I can crave quite a lot."
Percy is only made aware of the lingering welts when Essek touches them. And as Essek relaxes beneath his touch, he feels bold enough to close some of the scant distance between them. It would be up to Essek to tuck close, but Percy hopes the invitation is clear.
Between Essek saying that he has earned his admiration and confessing that his desires are quite specific, Percival finds himself quite flattered. It feels--like an unexpected privilege, given the realities of their situation. He drapes his arm over Essek so he can trace the line of his husband's back, touch still just a light caress. His lips part to speak, and then--
I can crave it quite a lot.
Percival's breath catches quietly and a sly smile blossoms across his face.
"Is that so?" he murmurs, voice low and warm. "I doubt I could find it within myself to deny you."
Especially after that showing. Beyond that, the thought that Essek might want more is thrilling in a different way. This isn't just a one-off. And, entirely unbidden, Percy thinks of the fun there is to be had in Whitestone.
Perhaps he had been too shy to ask, or worried that he would dislike it after all, but as Percy drapes an arm over him and inches closer, Essek acknowledges something: in this moment, he wants to be held. He wants to feel Percival's arms around him and and he wants to press close to his warm, pale skin, and he wants to stay there.
He's glad he hasn't yet, because he's able to catch the fetching quirk of his husband's lips, but now that the possibility exists, it feels magnetic.
"I hoped that would be your response," he drawls, and resolutely tucks himself against Percival's body. "I would feel very foolish indeed harboring such a strong attraction if you only wished to do this once."
Percy hadn't realized there had been one last bit of uncertainty in him, but he feels it fade as Essek nestles close against him. He tips his head down to kiss his husband's hair, lingering there for a moment as Essek gets comfortable. His arm tightens, offering more support.
"Oh, I'm rather afraid you might have opened the floodgates, my dear." He slides his hand to tip Essek's head up for a kiss. His thumb strokes along his lover's jaw. When they part again, his smile returns.
"If I have my way, the castle will think we're having a delayed honeymoon."
He cannot imagine saying no to Essek now, not in this matter. He's been attracted to this man since they met, though it had been purely aesthetic. As he got to know Essek better, it grew, deepened into real desire and attraction. And now? Percy fears he might be wrapped around the wizard's elegant fingers.
There are worse tethers.
"I think--I hope this isn't premature, but. You are welcome to join me in my room whenever you like." And if Essek prefers to maintain his own suite for the sake of space or privacy, Percival is hardly going to insist that they merge living spaces. But he wants his husband to know his door is truly open, should Essek wish to come through.
Essek stifles his smile against Percy's shoulder, quietly delighted by his enthusiasm. The concept of a honeymoon is foreign to him, not because citizens of the Dynasty don't ever take time for themselves after being married, but because Essek always expected that he would be performing social and political duties to his Den and the court in the period of time directly following his wedding. And he was correct. As silly is Percival is being, it's amusing to think they might make up for not having one in this way, at least.
So much has changed over the course of a few hours. Essek has only recently learned just how possible it is for a relatively short period of time to permanently alter the trajectory of a life lasting centuries. It has become impossible after that, and after fearing that his time remaining in this world might actually be very short, to take any amount of time for granted.
Musing about this, Percival's I hope this isn't premature verges on ironic. Essek is shocked nonetheless. He simply hadn't expected to be offered such an opportunity so quickly, or at all. His fingers curl between them against Percival's chest, and slowly he leans back far enough to look up at him, wide-eyed.
"You want me to...?"
The possibility his husband is extending to him is not merely sex, but a true integration of their lives; shared living quarters, as a couple who married for love might have. Essek, who has never permanently shared a room in his life, let alone a bed, finds the idea both daunting and deeply romantic. Percival wants him enough to open up his private space to him. For someone who has intentionally lived alone for so long, it's a meaningful gesture.
"I--I imagine I will accept that offer when we return," Essek says, grasping at this possibility with both hands, because accepting love when offered is what has saved him from himself. Because he can't imagine throwing something that must have taken such courage to put forth back in his husband's face. "Perhaps not...always," he allows, accounting for his uncertainty about how unsuited he may be for cohabitation. He can't imagine not at least keeping his own quarters. "But I will certainly join you as often as it suits us both."
Even if Essek tries to hide it, Percival is pretty sure he can feel his husband smiling against his shoulder, and that feels like a little victory. Essek's smiles had been precious before, but there is a different weight now. He hadn't expected that sex would change anything, but it had. No, he thinks, it isn't the sex. It's something else. Something even more vulnerable than that.
Percy strokes his fingers along the back of Essek's neck as the wizard looks up at him. He knows how it feels to have a life changed for better or worse in just a few heartbeats, and after denying himself so much for so long, he doesn't want to let this slip through his fingers.
"Yes," he answers to the half-spoken question. Maybe it is bold or too soon, but it's an invitation, not a demand. Essek is welcome to take it or leave it as he chooses, and Percival will adapt either way. He hasn't shared space quite like that either, but he finds that he wants to. Even if Essek doesn't sleep, Percy wouldn't mind if his husband was the last thing he saw before drifting off.
His smile softens at the acceptance and his hand moves to tip Essek's chin up--but he pauses before leaning in fully for a kiss.
"I'm hardly going to insist that you give up your space," he assures. "I think my parents always had their own suites."
Frederick and Johanna had shared a bedroom far more often than they didn't, in Percy's memory, but they still had their own spaces. He gives Essek a kiss then, gentle and warm.
What a relief it is to be understood. He returns Percival's kiss gratefully, and even after remains close. His husband. Who he loves, and who it seems may love him too. How does he begin to reconcile this with how he thought he would be spending his life?
First of all, he extracts a hand to trace a familiar, lazy pattern in the air as he casts Prestidigitation to finally clean them both up. That's a good start.
"I presume then that you have no issue with me taking my rest beside you tonight?"
Percy smiles when he realizes Essek is casting a spell, and he can vaguely feel the change it brings. Once Essek is finished, Percy catches his husband's hand so that he can kiss his fingertips.
"No, you'll find no objection on my end." He shifts, lazily wrapping around Essek. "And if you want to get free... well. Do what you must."
There's a smile in his voice as he says it, almost lost against Essek's pale hair. He won't be offended if his husband feels the need to untangle himself for the sake of personal space or anything else. He will take what Essek is willing to give.
And, for the first time since they left Whitestone, Percy sleeps soundly.
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It had been a compromise. Percy has every intention of allowing Essek to teleport them back to Whitestone when they are ready to leave Emon. He presses closer between his husband's thighs and the sting of Essek's nails against his chest helps to keep him in the moment. And when it feels relatively easy to thrust his fingers into Essek, Percy finally pulls them free.
He braces himself over the elf and strokes the remaining oil over his cock, adding to what Essek already bestowed on him earlier. The moment he touches himself, he nearly falters. Percy doesn't dare do more than necessary. Despite that, he teases both of them a bit: his cock slides against Essek, brushing past his hole without any real guidance.
"And you?" he asks quietly. "Did you ever think about this?"
Percy grinds against his husband again and finally a quiet, strained moan escapes him. Gods, he is aching.
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That Percival hesitates even a moment surprises him. A soft noise catches in Essek's throat; his rim has gotten so sensitive from being gently worked open, and the grind over it is maddening. His husband's cock feels burning hot pressed against him, and fuck, looks big just resting there against the curve of his ass. He's well aware that is all a matter of relative scale and perspective, but from his own--this is going to be an experience.
"Yes. Often."
He offers no elaboration of his own just yet, suitably distracted as he is. His hand trails down, just the pads of his fingers rather than his nails. Percival's chest and abs are toned, and Essek indulges himself by appreciating the musculature hands-on.
"You spent so long making me ready for you," he purrs, violet eyes flickering up to Percival's face. "Don't you want to know how perfectly you will fit inside me, k'allis?"
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Percival shifts his position again, lowering himself more toward Essek's wandering touch. He's rather grateful that the sharpness has relented, soothed by the warmth of Essek's hand.
His forearm remains braced against the bed as the other hand reaches between them again to guide his cock. Finally, finally, he pushes in. He doesn't rush, as badly as he might want to take Essek with a single thrust. He might even be able to after all of that foreplay, but no. He meant what he said.
He sinks in slowly, luxuriating in how it feels to finally consummate this marriage. And when their bodies finally meet, he lets go of a heavy breath, edged with a soft moan. His nose bumps gently against Essek's and for a moment, Percy stays still, giving them both a few seconds to adjust. Essek is tight, but not to the point that it would worry him. His fingers stroke through his husband's pale hair as he rolls his hips, barely pulling back before he slides back in. This is everything he's wanted, better than his fevered dreams.
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At first he makes little noise himself beyond a contented hum, but appreciates Percival's quiet moan. His hands cradle Percy's face tenderly, keeping him close so that he can kiss him as slowly and thoroughly as as the way he has filled him. It's an easy, relaxed kiss, but Essek's breath hitches at the first shift inside him, a short grind that feels like a precursor to more of the same.
"That's it," he murmurs encouragingly, "this is our wedding night, Percival. Show me why I was right to marry you."
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He closes his eyes as they kiss and they stay that way for a few seconds more after they part. Essek's encouragement does not go unheard, however, and a smile flickers to life. Percy reaches to adjust the pillow beneath his husband's back, making sure his hips are tipped just so. Fingers stroke back through the elf's hair and Percy kisses him again as he really starts to move.
He indulges himself - them both - with languid, long strokes. He pushes himself up a bit more so that he can actually watch as his cock sinks in, caught up in the way they look together as much as he is in the perfect heat of Essek taking him. Percy's sharp gaze lifts to Essek's face as he gives a harder thrust, testing what his husband might like.
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He's caught watching when Percival's attention shifts, but Essek doesn't mind. He meets his gaze boldly, pupils blown wide and dark, with a contrast of white lashes fanning down over them when his eyes shut suddenly, brow knitting up as Percy pushes into him rougher than he has yet.
"Yes," he hisses, sharp and pleasantly surprised. "Yes, you can take me like that. You won't hurt me."
There is confidence in that statement, a certainty that Essek is backing with trust earned over months of building a brand new life together. It feels good to be connected this way, and every shift and thrust and grind inside him buzzes along his nerves, building pleasure and arousal back up. Dark, slender fingers still adorned with silver rings curl around his own length, stroking with practiced ease to encourage his cock back to stiffness.
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His hand is tight on his husband's thigh as Percy gives in to long-building desire and sharp need. He fucks the wizard, grinding against him as their bodies meet as he moves harder, a bit faster.
"Essek--" Percy breathes his husband's name like a prayer and a moan edges his voice. Pleasure coils up in him, building again sharply now that he isn't being denied. And yet it becomes clear that he is still minding himself when his hips falter. He pulls back further - not quite out - and waits a moment before he plunges back in. Percy crashes into a kiss, his urgency clear.
When they part, he tries to meet Essek's gaze again. He very deliberately slows down this time, even if it amounts to teasing himself. He needs to get this out before he loses sense completely. Percy's lips drift over Essek's ear, teeth grazing the lobe - careful of his earrings.
"Where do you want me to finish?" he asks, voice heavy and breathless when he finally manages the words. Percy knows exactly what he wants, but this--well. This is something they've never had to learn about each other.
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Just as his thighs close tight around Percy's waist, knees hiking up near his ribs to encourage him to push deeper, his lips part readily with a soft moan for a desperate, searing kiss. His free hand rests against the back of Percival's neck, steadying, and remains there as Percy's mouth leaves his to speak low and close.
The tip of his ear twitches gently with his proximity and the scrape of teeth earns a sharp gasp and a full-body shudder before Essek composes himself enough to respond. "Inside," he bites out, like he had never considered anything else. "I will let you fill me, husband." His hand squeezes, fingers lightly grazing the soft, close-cropped edge of Percy's hair. The slow drag of his cock inside him as they speak is almost maddening. "So let go for me," he urges. "I want to feel how you fuck when you are not hindered by self-discipline."
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It takes nothing to pick up that urgent pace that allows him to revel in the perfect friction of his husband's body. He lets go of Essek's thigh in favor of hooking that arm beneath the elf's knee, keeping it against his ribs as he buries himself in short, firm strokes. He loses himself in chasing that edge of pleasure until he hits it, and falls over it. Percy gasps sharply, voice caught in a breathless moan as he comes. He drags Essek against him like they might somehow get closer yet as he pushes deep. His hand slides along his husband's arm, finding his free hand so that he can lace their fingers together and gently pin Essek's hand in place.
His head bows, bumps against his husband's as that burst of ecstasy ebbs into something equally pleasant. Percy lets Essek's leg slide from his arm in favor of reaching between them, wrapping around the elf's hand where he strokes himself. He doesn't quite help, but neither does he hinder.
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It all halts quite suddenly when he comes, of course, but it's entirely worth it. The throb of his cock and the heat that comes with it as he spills his seed into him--that isn't something Essek has permitted in a very long time. But with Percival it is so viscerally satisfying, both the sensation itself and feeling as intimately as possible the way his handsome human lover experiences the height of his pleasure. There's almost a covetousness to the way he clutches him close and presses as deep inside as he possibly can, and Essek finds that very appealing.
There's a gentle shift inside him as Percival leans over him, and Essek turns his face a fraction of an inch so that their lips nearly brush. "Don't withdraw until I've come," he instructs in a breathless whisper, but nevertheless firmly enough to make the command clear. Even the presence of Percival's hand over his as he continues to stroke himself--with purpose, a tight squeeze along his smooth shaft all the way up over the wet, flushed head--ignites something hot and heavy low in his gut, winding the tension in his body even tighter.
The places they touch are points of electric sensation, and it spreads through him as Essek sinks further into it, feels himself clenching around his husband's spent cock, feels his chest rising and falling with the shortness of his breath, feels the rise of pleasure like the inexorable pull of gravity between his palms, both familiar and wonderous. His keen ears register a noise which he only momentarily recognizes as his own voice, soft but sharp, a whimper for each new, powerful pulse through his body.
He falls silent when his orgasm overtakes him, eyes closing and breath stuttering as his body tenses, tight, and he spills against his stomach with the continued rhythmic stroke of his hand, pulling each little peak from him until he's spent.
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"I wouldn't dream of it, darling." He lowers himself, though he's careful not to block the steady movement of Essek's hand. It's thrilling to feel his lover's excitement mount, the tension that ripples through him and the way his breathing changes. Percy drinks in all of it from this intimate position. He murmurs almost delirious praise against Essek's neck and his ear, trailing kisses and gentle bites as the wizard writhes beneath him, seeking his own release.
He makes himself put more space between them when he feels Essek start to spill: he wanted to watch this, and he doesn't intend to deny himself. His own body trembles and shivers as Essek tightens around him, arches beneath him.
As they lay there, both of them trying to catch their breaths, Percy finally lowers his weight more. He's careful still, his other forearm soon braced against the bed so that he can frame his husband. His smile lingers and he leans down to kiss Essek, gentle and sweet this time, lingering as long as either of them can stand it before they need to breathe again. This is something Percy hasn't allowed himself in a long time. He's found ways to meet his needs, of course, and he has never been disappointed in that, but this--it's different. This is raw and unplanned and full of mutual longing. And this is a man he's fallen in love with.
"You are divine," he murmurs, still quietly breathless. The smile in his voice is apparent even as he brushes a kiss to Essek's brow.
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"Sacrilegious praise," he murmurs, lips curling in a satisfied smirk. "I like it."
Opening his eyes with a slow blink, he focuses on Percival above him, not able to look at his face, but content to watch how he moves. The press of lips to his brow is a sweet ache in Essek's chest. How is it possible to long for someone you are still intertwined so intimately with? His fingers press harder into the back of his husband's hand, but he doesn't push to break free of that hold yet.
This is the first nearly clear-headed moment they've had since they kissed back at the palace, and as Essek sobers, he can't help wondering about what is next. What will change? Will their marriage become a true union of souls, rather than the political alliance is has been? The idea seem almost too good to contemplate. And Essek has no idea when or how or if he should broach that subject.
What he settles for is a kiss to Percival's neck right against the point of his pulse, the beat of his heart so close to his skin and a little fond teasing. "If I must marry you again to repeat that experience, I will."
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"If we must do it again, I insist on an actual reception," he quips back. It occurs to him that he really should pull out to avoid collapsing on Essek entirely, even if that is a very tempting thought. He kisses Essek again, then slowly, reluctantly, he pulls out and moves to lay at his husband's side.
That allows him to focus more on the wizard's face, beautiful and--flushed? The light is dim, but he's quite certain he can see the color in Essek's face. His own mind drifts to what happens next. When they wed, Percy had resigned himself to a somewhat cold marriage. As they got to know each other better, he had hope for intelligent companionship and a partner in governance.
And now? This is something he never anticipated. Not even for a moment. Because this marriage had been arranged far outside their input, though perhaps Percy did have more say in the matter than Essek had. His thumb strokes against Essek's where they still hold hands, his grip loose now so that the other man could be free if he wants to. It feels like an unspoken tension has melted away, and Percival finds himself hoping that nothing else will rush in to feel that vacancy. And there are other things to consider: does anything change in Whitestone? Is this a one-off? Stress relief that both of them needed?
Gods, he hopes not.
But in this moment he is free to admire the soft light on Essek's skin and the well-fucked look on his face. Percy finds he's quite grateful that he's nearsighted rather than far: he would have hated to have missed this.
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With a soft hum, Essek looks away from his husband's face to focus on their joined hands. It already seemed impossible that he has found peace and purpose and companionship in this arrangement, but to find love as well verges on absurd. Yet he knows what he feels, even if he is still learning how to express it. But the crux of the matter is whether that feeling is mutual, and if it is, what they will do knowing that.
Essek shifts just an inch or two closer, enough that his toes can brush Percival's ankles and he can turn his face to press his forehead against his shoulder. Not quite cuddling, but an indication that he doesn't want to detach.
"It is rare that I have the inclination to do that with anyone. Even rarer that I have the opportunity to follow that inclination," he says, musing aloud. "Rarest of all is when I wish to remain afterward."
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"It's been... years, I think, since I was with anyone that didn't require coin up front." He doesn't sound ashamed of that fact, only recounts it. Percy hadn't been in a place where he could let feelings factor in. He believed he had nothing to offer to anyone who might want him. And he did not dare hope that someone might want him.
His fingers drift up Essek's arm, then down again. Percy doesn't want to break this moment. He feels like he's hanging in the air, and unlike Essek, he doesn't have a spell that will keep him there.
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Mistakenly, Essek had thought he was relaxed already. But Percival's touch over his hip and side and along his arm lulls him into a state of near trance, present and aware, but peaceful. Essek reaches for him too, laying a hand against his sternum and touching idly the lingering red lines his nails had left behind on his pale skin. They've faded, but not yet disappeared entirely.
"Practical," he murmurs. "My desires tend to be too specific, or perhaps I would do the same. Typically I find myself wanting a person rather than craving a particular act, and even a professional cannot assist with that." His gaze follows the trail of his fingers, down and then back up to the middle of Percy's chest. "But given access to the object of my desire...I can crave quite a lot."
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Between Essek saying that he has earned his admiration and confessing that his desires are quite specific, Percival finds himself quite flattered. It feels--like an unexpected privilege, given the realities of their situation. He drapes his arm over Essek so he can trace the line of his husband's back, touch still just a light caress. His lips part to speak, and then--
I can crave it quite a lot.
Percival's breath catches quietly and a sly smile blossoms across his face.
"Is that so?" he murmurs, voice low and warm. "I doubt I could find it within myself to deny you."
Especially after that showing. Beyond that, the thought that Essek might want more is thrilling in a different way. This isn't just a one-off. And, entirely unbidden, Percy thinks of the fun there is to be had in Whitestone.
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He's glad he hasn't yet, because he's able to catch the fetching quirk of his husband's lips, but now that the possibility exists, it feels magnetic.
"I hoped that would be your response," he drawls, and resolutely tucks himself against Percival's body. "I would feel very foolish indeed harboring such a strong attraction if you only wished to do this once."
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"Oh, I'm rather afraid you might have opened the floodgates, my dear." He slides his hand to tip Essek's head up for a kiss. His thumb strokes along his lover's jaw. When they part again, his smile returns.
"If I have my way, the castle will think we're having a delayed honeymoon."
He cannot imagine saying no to Essek now, not in this matter. He's been attracted to this man since they met, though it had been purely aesthetic. As he got to know Essek better, it grew, deepened into real desire and attraction. And now? Percy fears he might be wrapped around the wizard's elegant fingers.
There are worse tethers.
"I think--I hope this isn't premature, but. You are welcome to join me in my room whenever you like." And if Essek prefers to maintain his own suite for the sake of space or privacy, Percival is hardly going to insist that they merge living spaces. But he wants his husband to know his door is truly open, should Essek wish to come through.
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So much has changed over the course of a few hours. Essek has only recently learned just how possible it is for a relatively short period of time to permanently alter the trajectory of a life lasting centuries. It has become impossible after that, and after fearing that his time remaining in this world might actually be very short, to take any amount of time for granted.
Musing about this, Percival's I hope this isn't premature verges on ironic. Essek is shocked nonetheless. He simply hadn't expected to be offered such an opportunity so quickly, or at all. His fingers curl between them against Percival's chest, and slowly he leans back far enough to look up at him, wide-eyed.
"You want me to...?"
The possibility his husband is extending to him is not merely sex, but a true integration of their lives; shared living quarters, as a couple who married for love might have. Essek, who has never permanently shared a room in his life, let alone a bed, finds the idea both daunting and deeply romantic. Percival wants him enough to open up his private space to him. For someone who has intentionally lived alone for so long, it's a meaningful gesture.
"I--I imagine I will accept that offer when we return," Essek says, grasping at this possibility with both hands, because accepting love when offered is what has saved him from himself. Because he can't imagine throwing something that must have taken such courage to put forth back in his husband's face. "Perhaps not...always," he allows, accounting for his uncertainty about how unsuited he may be for cohabitation. He can't imagine not at least keeping his own quarters. "But I will certainly join you as often as it suits us both."
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Percy strokes his fingers along the back of Essek's neck as the wizard looks up at him. He knows how it feels to have a life changed for better or worse in just a few heartbeats, and after denying himself so much for so long, he doesn't want to let this slip through his fingers.
"Yes," he answers to the half-spoken question. Maybe it is bold or too soon, but it's an invitation, not a demand. Essek is welcome to take it or leave it as he chooses, and Percival will adapt either way. He hasn't shared space quite like that either, but he finds that he wants to. Even if Essek doesn't sleep, Percy wouldn't mind if his husband was the last thing he saw before drifting off.
His smile softens at the acceptance and his hand moves to tip Essek's chin up--but he pauses before leaning in fully for a kiss.
"I'm hardly going to insist that you give up your space," he assures. "I think my parents always had their own suites."
Frederick and Johanna had shared a bedroom far more often than they didn't, in Percy's memory, but they still had their own spaces. He gives Essek a kiss then, gentle and warm.
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First of all, he extracts a hand to trace a familiar, lazy pattern in the air as he casts Prestidigitation to finally clean them both up. That's a good start.
"I presume then that you have no issue with me taking my rest beside you tonight?"
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"No, you'll find no objection on my end." He shifts, lazily wrapping around Essek. "And if you want to get free... well. Do what you must."
There's a smile in his voice as he says it, almost lost against Essek's pale hair. He won't be offended if his husband feels the need to untangle himself for the sake of personal space or anything else. He will take what Essek is willing to give.
And, for the first time since they left Whitestone, Percy sleeps soundly.