Essek is only just starting to come back to himself when Percival trades their fingers for his cock, thrusting without resistance into the soft, yielding clutch of his cunt. This is exactly what he needs, but immediately after an orgasm like that his body is so tender, and it feels like so much. His head is still in the clouds, his thighs still quivering, his cunt clinging with still-receding pleasure, throbbing around his mate's cock.

This man is going to be the death of him.

He can express himself only in sharp, panting whimpers as his husband fucks him, gathering him close and teasing his sensitive ear. It is so much sensation at once that he barely knows what to do with himself, so much intense pleasure that he can only give in and let his body do what it will, just as he had a scant few days ago when Percival had fucked him for an hour straight by his own request.

What his body decides to do this time, apparently, is send him another orgasm in short order. His cock is mostly soft, and only a little fluid drips from the tip to smear over his stomach, but his cunt tightens again and his vision blurs, and he shakes apart in his husband's arms, muffling a cry against his shoulder that sounds like please. It's already so much, but still he needs more. He won't be satisfied by his own pleasure alone--he can't be.