Only recently has Essek been given reason to consider whether that is something he wants. The idea itself doesn't bother him; he's been aware of his body's capacity to bear children since he was an adolescent, and doesn't resent it. For so long he assumed he simply never would, because he also assumed he would never find someone he would wish to have children with. It seemed ridiculous to think about himself as a parent. It still does.

But Percival--as he'd expressed days ago, his husband would be a wonderful father. Understanding this, knowing Percival, loving Percival and wanting him to have everything he deserves--that has shifted his perspective. Lately, he has been considering things he'd never bothered to before, and found his own answers surprising.

Drawn back against his husband's body, wrapped in his arms and with a strong hand sliding up his throat to grip his jaw, he nearly begs for it. His ear twitches, sensitive, at the brush of lips and the hushed works spoken against it. His empty cunt tightens pathetically with a pulse of arousal that climbs his spine and spreads through his body. Of course he wants to have children with this man. Of course he wants to carry them himself. The thought has been driving him wild for days now.

That resolve could be the heat, of course. He might blame it on that if he hadn't decided weeks ago that he wanted to try. He wants to have this experience at least once--perhaps more if he doesn't find it too trying. His hand comes up to lay over Pericval's on his stomach, keeping it there.

"I too meant what I said," he confirms, whispered. "I hope our efforts this week will show results. I want this, dear one."