Percival is trying to ingratiate himself again, and unfortunately he is doing a rather good job of it, because Essek loves him. He can't help melting back against him a little when he curls an arm around him, murmuring into his hair. Light, he smells so good. Essek's hips cant back a little and he feels his cunt tighten with a hopeful throb of arousal as Percival plays with the belt of the robe he'd just pointedly tied like he's considering undoing it.

But this is just it, isn't it? He'd teased him and then refused to fuck him. Essek deserves to maintain a little spite. He picks up another morsel and pops it into his mouth, since Percival had been so insistent.

Normally he would punish this sort of transgression by edging his husband until he was satisfied he'd earned an orgasm, or pinning his hands to the bed with gravity so he couldn't touch him. But neither of those solutions work well during his heat, because Essek would be punishing himself just as much. He craves his husband's touch more than anything, and the last thing he wants is to keep him from coming. In fact, he wants to make him come as many times as he can stand.

"If I am cross with you, perhaps you can imagine something that will put you back in my good graces," he suggests.