As Essek fucks his mouth, Percy pulls his hand back so that he can push three fingers back into his mate, filling him as much as he can - as much as he's willing to - while they are jostling over the streets of Westrun. Percival's mind feels blissfully empty: there is nothing in the world that matters beyond his mate, beyond his pleasure and beyond making sure that he is good and ready and receptive for him.

And he has always loved Essek's firm hand. When he feels like his control has shattered, he trusts his husband.

Percy wraps his other arm around Essek's waist, holding him as the wizard urgently works between his fingers and his mouth. His arm tightens when Essek's hips snap forward and he plunges his fingers as deep as he can as slick walls try to milk them. Percival bobs his head down as far as he can, risking choking to swallow everything Essek gives him. He stays like that for a few seconds, head held down and fingers buried as he breathes. His body is thrumming with arousal and need, his cock hard and heavy and trapped behind his clothes, but in this moment his mind is quiet.

He lifts his head when Essek loosens his grip enough to allow it, then rests his head against his husband's hip.