The wolf sneezes as Essek casts, as if the arcane energy tickled his nose. But when he focuses again, he can see his husband leaning on the surface made out of the blanket. Percival's intrigued about the spell. He's always found Essek's dunamancy fascinating and he likes listening to the wizard explain what he's doing when Essek is inclined to do so. Tonight, however, he has more pressing things on his mind.

Then I have an hour to breed you until you can't walk. Or until you're satisfied.

Whichever comes first.

He prowls closer and nudges Essek. His instinct says to just push his mate over, bend him and mount him. He noses between Essek's thighs, damp with slick and saliva.

Bent over or on your back. Decide quickly.

Even if his need is burning, he wants Essek to be comfortable. An unhappy mate defeats the purpose of any of this.