It is very difficult to keep the hunger he feels off his face as Percival makes quite a convincing case for himself. But Essek, master of locking his feelings away, manages it. He looks suitably unimpressed despite thinking the opposite. His fingers curl delicately beneath his chin.

"Indeed. I have noted your dogged perseverance," he says, and with his slight sneer it doesn't seem like a complement. "That is a quality some would admire, I am sure. And I must commend your dedication. You have proven yourself a capable mate, at least."

Essek's other hand settles on the curve of his belly, just visible beneath the layers of his robes.

"But I suppose that is not such a difficult thing," he muses. "If all I wanted was a sire, I could get that from any man at all." Almost casually, he explains, "Among the dens in Rosohna, if I wished for a child I would have my pick of unattached alphas. Men would beg for the privilege. I could even take more than one during my heat if seeing them compete amused me." Essek has never wanted any of that, of course. It was only after he came to love Percival that he even thought of sharing his heat with anyone, let alone having a child. But it seems fitting in this scenario to trot out that at home, he would have been spoiled for choice.

Again, Essek's eyes flicker over his husband head to toe, pretending to consider. "Many sons of the Dynasty's great dens have brilliant minds and bodies perfectly capable of satisfaction." Essek's fingers tap against his lower lip. "Given the choice, why would I prefer you over any of them? What makes you special?"