The complete ease with which Essek is lifted against the wall proves that he hasn't released his anti-gravity cantrip, making him light as air in his husband's arms. Still, he does as instructed, wrapping his arms tight around Percy's neck. His nails scrape across the fine fabric of his coat as his cock sinks in. He gives a sharp little gasp, and again when Percival thrusts in to ensure he's taken all of it. His thighs tighten reflexively where they're spread around his hips.

No matter how often they do this, the stretch of taking him in is fresh and sweet, and it blanks out everything in his mind. Essek breathes out a decadent moan, savoring it. “Every time I forget how much you stretch me, how full I feel of you,” he whispers, dragging a hand down to touch where his husband's cock disappears inside him. His fingers brush his slick folds, the base of Percival's cock, and the slip of damp silk pushed hurriedly aside.

Maybe this should feel embarrassing or dirty, being so desperate they had to fall together in an open hallway, so rushed they didn't even remove his smalls, all so he could take his mate's cock sooner. But it doesn't. Well, perhaps it does feel a little dirty, but only in a way that arouses him more.

His rucked up dress hangs toward the floor, pushed up to his hips and held out of the way by the hands clutching his thighs.