As Percival likely suspects, Essek wastes little time before swinging a leg over his lap once he's settled on the couch. There is something hungry in the drow's eyes, and in the efficient but eager way he moves. He again shifts his robes out of the way, freeing his thighs, then shifts his attention to his husband.

Graceful fingers tug at the leather of his belt, guiding the buckle open and the two ends apart. After that they slip the buttons of his trousers free one by one, all of them. There is a little unnecessary rubbing against the very evident bulge of his cock in the process, but for the most part Essek keeps his groping to a minimum until he is able to actually draw his mate's erection out from the confines of his trousers and smallclothes. He is gentle and careful, cradling the hot, stiff shaft in his palm as he shifts forward on his knees to rub the head through his folds. With his other hand, he lifts the velvet of his underdress in the front so that they both can see.

There is only a soft sigh from Essek, a relieved and content noise, as he lets their bodies align, his cunt open and slick, and sinks down into Percival's lap, appreciating the slow, easy glide as he's filled.