Essek is sure his flush must be obvious, even beneath his dark skin. His fingers flex against Percival's chest, and he only just resists the urge to lift his hips in response to that barely-there pressure, to encourage it deeper. If his husband pressed him, if he insisted that he wanted him now, he would not resist. In an instant he would be the wanton creature he's come to know these last few days. His control hangs by a thread that could snap at any moment.

"You can begin by helping me to--to get clean, head to toe." It's unlike him to stammer or stumble over his words, but he is absolutely throbbing between his legs, stirred up by the mere suggestion of Percival's touch. "My hair first."

His only consolation is feeling the beat of Percy's heart, and knowing through that connection that he is hardly the only one affected. He has him enthralled, and there is a satisfaction to be had in that. One that will sustain him, hopefully, until he's won the very frustrating little game he'd started just to prove he could.