Percival, of course, takes the bait completely. Essek's triumph is short-lived, however, because as soon as he feels the length of his husband's very hard cock against his stomach, he also becomes acutely aware that he's already beginning to soak through the silk of his smallclothes, and his own cock is straining against the confines of the same garment.

As appealing as being fucked here right now sounds, it unfortunately falls on him to be the one to display a modicum of restraint here. "Come on, then," he murmurs, a little more rushed than he would like to appear.

Breaking from Percival's hold is a sad thing, but he doesn't go far. He takes his hand in a tight grip and hovers just ahead, leading him further down the hallway, low-lit and nearly as grand as the reception chamber and ballroom. He's looking for anything to duck behind--a cracked door, an alcove, a statue, even a particularly robust potted plant. Ultimately, he finds none of those things. But another hall, smaller and even less lit, veers off in a sharp right, and Essek takes it. It isn't cover, exactly, but it seems deserted, and isn't directly visible from the ballroom. This will have to do.

Nearly as soon as they are out of eyeshot from the doors, he backs against the wall and draws Percival against him by the belt. He leans up to kiss him as his fingers deftly release the buckle, and within a moment he has a hand slipped down the front of his trousers to cup his cock. Beneath the inscrutable dark fabric of his dress, Essek's thighs rub together urgently, as if that might actually do something to alleviate the pressure building between his legs. His cunt is already clenching around nothing.

"Here," he gasps against his husband's lips. In the low light, the violet of his eyes is almost luminescent. "Right now."