Essek is skeptical at best, but Percival seems determined. "If you wish," he says, with a dismissiveness that implies he knows he's correct, but will graciously allow his husband to figure that out for himself.
He accompanies Percival on through the evening, remaining close for both their sakes. From his perspective, there is a slow but noticeable change. He can feel Percy's annoyance and frustration with the rest of the world even when he isn't making it obvious and does his best to soothe it, but there is only so much he can mitigate. Especially when he is the reason (though never the object) for it.
This isn't painless for him, either. Naturally, he reacts to Percival's mood and proximity and the change in his scent, and more than once has to steady himself against the flood of arousal it brings on. He also has to wonder how much those around them pick up on. How much they can smell.
The nail in the coffin, so to speak, is when Percival snaps in response to what had been a charged compliment from Essek's perspective, but far from vulgar or rude. Essek is adept at dealing with interest of this sort--dismissing it with skillful politeness when he isn't in the mood, or spinning it to his advantage if he finds cause. Well aware that tonight is not the occasion for the latter, he's about to implement the former with a subtle flash of his wedding ring before Percy cuts in. It's so unlike him that Essek is frozen with surprise for a moment before he makes a hurried apology on his behalf. With a hiss in Undercommon that he's certain Percival must understand on a primal level if not an intellectual one, he slips his hand into his mate's arm and pulls him away.
There are several hallways leading off from the main chamber, and he makes for the one that looks to have the least foot traffic. "That was far from tactful," he says under his breath. "If we are to stay, you need to release some hot air." Is that the phrase in Common? Light, he doesn't care.
no subject
He accompanies Percival on through the evening, remaining close for both their sakes. From his perspective, there is a slow but noticeable change. He can feel Percy's annoyance and frustration with the rest of the world even when he isn't making it obvious and does his best to soothe it, but there is only so much he can mitigate. Especially when he is the reason (though never the object) for it.
This isn't painless for him, either. Naturally, he reacts to Percival's mood and proximity and the change in his scent, and more than once has to steady himself against the flood of arousal it brings on. He also has to wonder how much those around them pick up on. How much they can smell.
The nail in the coffin, so to speak, is when Percival snaps in response to what had been a charged compliment from Essek's perspective, but far from vulgar or rude. Essek is adept at dealing with interest of this sort--dismissing it with skillful politeness when he isn't in the mood, or spinning it to his advantage if he finds cause. Well aware that tonight is not the occasion for the latter, he's about to implement the former with a subtle flash of his wedding ring before Percy cuts in. It's so unlike him that Essek is frozen with surprise for a moment before he makes a hurried apology on his behalf. With a hiss in Undercommon that he's certain Percival must understand on a primal level if not an intellectual one, he slips his hand into his mate's arm and pulls him away.
There are several hallways leading off from the main chamber, and he makes for the one that looks to have the least foot traffic. "That was far from tactful," he says under his breath. "If we are to stay, you need to release some hot air." Is that the phrase in Common? Light, he doesn't care.