Percival nearly closes his eyes as Essek's nails drag over his chin. He does as their mouths meet in a kiss: the sharp edge earns a quiet groan before they part again. He gets up slowly and eases onto the couch next to his husband, shifting to get comfortable as he tries to anticipate exactly what Essek will want from him. He has his suspicions.

It's been a trial, there's no denying that. And even now knowing that Essek will likely take his pleasure and leave it at that has that anticipation of discomfort setting in. But this is not needless suffering, not something done to him out of cruelty or malice. It is a game they are playing, and while they can stop at any time, Percival has a competitive streak too wide for his own good.