Essek feels so good. Percival keeps his head where it is, eyes closed as his husband's fingers stroke into his hair and hold his head. Fine tremors shake him as he endeavors to be more than just a body Essek is using: he is participating. He meets every subtle rock of his mate's hips, making sure that he slides deep every time even if they are going for deep friction rather than long strokes. He slides his arm around Essek's back, clutching the soft fabric there.

He soaks in the praise and encouragement, the promises that he will be given relief soon. He breathes deep his mate's scent. Percy doesn't trust himself to speak, not entirely. He may beg, and he is unwilling to do that when Essek has already assured him that he will not suffer for too much longer. He can endure, he is strong enough to give this to his mate. To give Essek everything he asks for.

Still, he can't help a sharper sound - a choked moan - as the velvety heat of Essek's cunt flutters and squeezes around him. His hands tighten where they are, white-knuckled in his effort to show restraint. He mouths Essek's neck, lets his teeth drag over his lover's pulse. He finds a place to bite and suck, wanting to leave a mark if he cannot leave his seed.