Tipping his chin back to grant easier access to the strip of bare skin above the neck of his gown, Essek smiles, slow and satisfied and smug. His breath catches and his cunt flutters as Percy nips at his ear.

"I am counting on it." His voice is low and silky, spoken just loud enough to be heard between them. He does have Prestidigitation, but that doesn't mean he intends to use it. If he wants to return to that party still leaking his husband's come, that is his business.

But of course, whether he does or doesn't, and even if they both appear immaculate again, there is no hiding their scents--Percival's especially, as his rut becomes more pronounced. "Everyone is going to know that we stepped out so you could breed me," he murmurs, and lets his fingers drag up the back of Percy's neck, just enough to slide into his hair without disheveling it completely. "There certainly won't be any mistaking that I am yours."