alignmyheart | au of an au

A few months after the end of Essek's heat, they have confirmation that he is not pregnant. They'd both suspected it, but it was no less disappointing. If nothing else, it made clear for both of them that they really want this. So they'll keep trying.

In late spring they find themselves at a gathering in Westrun. Nobility and merchants from Tal'Dorei and Wildemount are mingling at some grand affair and Percival cannot think of any reason why Whitestone should not be represented. Besides, he wants Essek to see more of the continent than Emon and Whitestone.

As they get ready, Percy picks out Essek's jewelry for the night. He lingers behind his husband, admiring his sleek silhouette and finding himself pleased that Essek has decided to go relatively unadorned. He doesn't need it: he's stunning just as he is. The silver and gold of his wedding band, pearl earrings, and silver filigree decorating the elegant tips of his ears. Percy puts the earrings in and trails kisses down his lover's neck. Essek smells amazing. He always does, but tonight... Percy is driven to distraction just standing near him. It takes iron will to avoid trying to get his hands beneath Essek's dress. He'll make it through the night and have his husband either in the comfort of their guest quarters here or back in Whitestone if they want their own bed.

The gala is pleasant. There are plenty of familiar faces - including Allura Vysoren and Vex'ahlia Vessar - in attendance. Percival manages to be his charming self relatively early in the evening, but as the event draws on, he finds himself--utterly distracted. Irritable. And before he says something he'll regret to a person who probably doesn't deserve it, he slips away to get a drink or... something. Still, a glass of champagne does nothing to help how warm he feels or how tetchy he feels.

While it had been a disappointment initially to learn that his first shared heat did not in fact yield the result he'd been striving for, Essek has come to see it as a boon. He and his husband shared the feeling, which has only strengthened his resolve. If they are still set on it months later, then this must be the right path. In the months between his last heat and his next, they've had more time to discuss and prepare, and Essek has only become more charmed by the idea, despite the extensive research he's been doing. He's determined to be pregnant before the end of the year, which seems attainable, with two heats in that time, if he keeps to a regular schedule. Though with Percival's influence, who knows, really? He's never been bonded to an alpha before, and sometimes it seems like his body is trying to make up for the previous century of self-denial, and nothing is predictable any longer.

Perhaps he should have considered that this might apply to Percival as well.

Essek had been pleased to receive his amorous attention while they dressed--a prelude to what might occur later while they undress, he hopes. The first part of the gala had been fine, as far as parties go; the two of them look good together, and Essek is always pleased by the attention they garner in that respect. He's always been a little fueled by the envy of others, and in present company, he doesn't feel bad about it in the least. The familiar faces make things more bearable as well; he's always liked Allura, and he's grown to like Vex'ahlia more than he ever expected to, given his own envy issues.

But as the evening goes on, his husband becomes restless. Perhaps it is only obvious to those who know him well, but his conversation becomes shorter and sharper, and while he is never outright rude, he is unusually brusque. He has his hand on Essek constantly, seemingly unwilling to be further than an arm's length apart--until he departs himself, that is. Essek watches with mild concern from across the lavishly decorated space as he drinks half a flute of champagne at once. The ruddy flush in his pale face is not from drink; they've barely had any tonight.

Excusing himself politely from his current conversation, he weaves his own path through Westrun's elite invitees, hovering far enough from the floor to avoid having his dress or his feet tred on. This side of the room is not so crowded, but he still keeps his back to the rest of the room when he arrives at Percival's side, raising a cool hand to his face and pressing the back of his fingers to his cheek, feeling the warmth he already knew he would find.

"Are you feeling unwell, my love?" he asks quietly, concern delicately creasing his brow.

Something in him settles and sharpens at the same time as Essek approaches him and Percy almost can't help the way he turns his head into his husband's touch as cool fingers press to overheated skin.

"No," he murmurs automatically. Then he sighs and says, "Yes."

He is feeling unwell and strange and overwhelmed by the crowd and the sound and everything that he can't quite tune out the way he normally might. Rather than a din he hears details and he finds himself wondering if this is what it would be like as a wolf in a setting like this, but he isn't--the moon is still days away, it can't be that coming on. He'd ache differently, too.

Now that Essek is close to him all of Percival's senses narrow to him. The scent of his cologne and his soap, the sound of his voice, the feel of his presence. Percival wants to take him away from this, wants Essek to himself. Unthinking, he slides an arm around Essek's waist to pull him closer.

Though Essek lets himself be pulled, his concern deepens. Like Percival, he mentally counts the days until the full moon and concludes that it is still too early for him to be feeling symptoms of transformation. He would know; he's spent the last several full moon cycles with his werewolf husband and learned to identify the particular signs. This isn't that, though it does share a few commonalities. He...responds to him in a similar way when the transformation is near, this hazy sort of singular focus.

Despite his own aversion to public displays of affection, Essek lets his hand slide to cup the back of Percy's neck as he leans up to kiss his cheek, light and soft near the corner of his mouth. When he leans back an inch and breathes in, he nearly shudders. Something in Percival's scent is different--or enhanced, perhaps, sharper and thicker, and it makes his skin prickle beneath his dress like a physical touch. He's shocked by just how arousing he finds, warmth flaring between his legs as though in automatic response.

While he's yet to experience one of Percival's ruts--and indeed, that of any alpha--Essek is a very smart man, and the clues seem clear enough now, leading all the way back to this morning.

"Are you due for rut very soon?" he asks, speaking even more quietly now. He imagines Percival would have told him if he was, and likely would not have wanted to be in Westrun at a party rather than at home in their own bed.

The subtle change in Essek's scent as arousal hits him earns a soft, tightly restrained groan from Percy and his arm tightens around his husband. He wants to bury his face against Essek's neck and bury his cock--

He takes a sharper breath, trying to get a hold of himself as Essek murmurs his question. Is he? Percival has never really kept track of them. He doesn't know if it's something in his history or his transformative curse or something else, but his ruts have been irregular in general. He tries to think of when he had his last one - not very long after he and Essek married, very early days. He'd sequestered himself and, given the lack of stimulation, it had passed relatively quickly. That had been that. He shivers.

"I--I don't know," he confesses, forcing the words out. "They've never been all that predictable."

Percy resists the urge to nuzzle into Essek's hair. He knows how his husband feels about public displays and he's always respected that, but he can't--He forces himself to stand straight, putting five or six inches between his face and Essek's skin and hair.

"It's possible," he admits. "Likely, even? I hadn't thought--"

He thought he'd have more time. Or he hadn't been thinking of it at all, which is possibly worse. Percy makes himself smile.

"I'm fine," he assures, though he suspects it isn't nearly as convincing as he'd like it to be.

Oh, Light. He might not be able to tell what Percival is thinking exactly, but with that soft groan and the way he pulls him closer, he can guess. He gives a wordless hum to convey understanding and acknowledgement. That lack of predictability must be difficult to deal with. And it would make sense, he reasons, for it to have been sped along--perhaps even directly triggered--by their recent discussions and preparations.

Even as his own heart rate elevates, he levels a very dubious look up at his husband when he attempts to reassure him.

"Are you?"

It certainly doesn't seem like the sort of thing he'll be able to keep under wraps for the remainder of the evening--but if Percival wants to try, he won't stop him. It would be a slight to leave so early.

"You will not mind, then, if I accept a few offers to dance," he says mildly, knowing that he'll do no such thing.

Percival takes another deep breath and lets it go slowly. He even manages a smile and gently pinches Essek's chin.

"I've managed under worse conditions." If he can make it through a formal dinner with the bloody Briarwoods, he can make it through the rest of this evening until such a time that he and Essek can leave without seeming to be rude.

When he feels ready, Percival rejoins the gathering with Essek and resumes working the room to build connections. He can be charming when he wants to be, but tonight it's far more difficult to maintain, even with Essek at his side. Maybe especially with Essek at his side. More than once he has to stop himself from getting short or giving in to his senseless irritation with the presence of others. It annoys him to hold back his desire to touch Essek; that annoyance turns to something sharper when he notices other people admiring his husband. Normally he would simply take a base sort of pride in the fact that someone else wants what he has, but that isn't how he feels now.

An hour or so after admitting he might be in a state, Percival says something rather cutting to someone offering Essek a somewhat flirtatious compliment.

Essek is skeptical at best, but Percival seems determined. "If you wish," he says, with a dismissiveness that implies he knows he's correct, but will graciously allow his husband to figure that out for himself.

He accompanies Percival on through the evening, remaining close for both their sakes. From his perspective, there is a slow but noticeable change. He can feel Percy's annoyance and frustration with the rest of the world even when he isn't making it obvious and does his best to soothe it, but there is only so much he can mitigate. Especially when he is the reason (though never the object) for it.

This isn't painless for him, either. Naturally, he reacts to Percival's mood and proximity and the change in his scent, and more than once has to steady himself against the flood of arousal it brings on. He also has to wonder how much those around them pick up on. How much they can smell.

The nail in the coffin, so to speak, is when Percival snaps in response to what had been a charged compliment from Essek's perspective, but far from vulgar or rude. Essek is adept at dealing with interest of this sort--dismissing it with skillful politeness when he isn't in the mood, or spinning it to his advantage if he finds cause. Well aware that tonight is not the occasion for the latter, he's about to implement the former with a subtle flash of his wedding ring before Percy cuts in. It's so unlike him that Essek is frozen with surprise for a moment before he makes a hurried apology on his behalf. With a hiss in Undercommon that he's certain Percival must understand on a primal level if not an intellectual one, he slips his hand into his mate's arm and pulls him away.

There are several hallways leading off from the main chamber, and he makes for the one that looks to have the least foot traffic. "That was far from tactful," he says under his breath. "If we are to stay, you need to release some hot air." Is that the phrase in Common? Light, he doesn't care.

They're in the hallway before Percival really catches up with what's happened. Essek is terribly forceful when he wants to be - a trait Percy generally finds attractive - and even in his irritation Percival doesn't offer resistance to him.

"Did you say what I think you did out there?" He feels better - clearer - as they leave the crowd behind. He can't quite help the urge to pull Essek closer to him even as his husband vents his own annoyance. Gods, he smells good. Divine. Percy knows he can't do this now, but he wants to. Now that he has Essek more or less alone, it's difficult to keep it from his mind.

Get it together, de Rolo.

"If I release hot air, that gentleman from Emon is leaving with a broken jaw."

Not getting it together.

Essek raises a brow, but he did say exactly what Percival probably thinks he did. After more than a year of marriage, it would make sense for him to have picked up some Undercommon--particularly the filthier phrases. If he's already come to that conclusion, he doesn't need to confirm it.

Since it is rather the point of this interlude, he does allow himself to be drawn closer again, easily done when he is still hovering several inches from the floor. His hands brace against Percy's shoulders, and his mouth settles somewhere between a pout and a frown. (Blow off some steam, he thinks--that's the correct phrase.)

"That is precisely the problem. While the sentiment is appreciated, my husband typically reserves the breaking of jaws for more grievous offenses than daring a little flirtation with me." Something needs to be done to keep these impulses in check, or they really will have to go, even if Percival continues to stubbornly insist he'll be fine. Better to insult by quietly departing early than by causing a scene.

Still, Essek is fairly certain he knows what would help. He just needs to find somewhere close that is at least somewhat secluded, though he can't be too choosy in present circumstances. Besides, he suspects that in his current state, Percival might find it especially appealing to stake a claim on him where they might be discovered.

"Would you feel more at ease," he murmurs, "if you could touch me now? Exactly the way you want to?"

Percival can feel himself get tense as Essek presses closer and lowers his voice. The heat hits him and he swallows thickly as his mind goes blank. Once again, his entire world narrows to his husband and Percy can feel his pulse jump. He swallows thickly and his hand slides down the elegant line of Essek's spine.

"Yes," he says heavily. His other hand reaches down to grip Essek's hip and he has to resist the urge to start pulling up his mate's dress right here and right now. With Essek floating, it's that much easier to lean close and nuzzle his neck, his ear. His teeth graze the lobe, careful of his earring. Essek's scent makes him dizzy with the sudden rush of need.

"I would fuck you against this wall, my love, if I thought I wouldn't end up thrown back." He grins and kisses Essek's neck, the sliver of skin above the high neck of his collar.

Essek's own pulse is speeding up quickly. The closer they are, the more Percival puts his hands on him, his mouth, the more difficult it becomes to think. It's more than just becoming aroused by his handsome husband's desire for him--the way Percival smells right now, thick and attention-grabbing, is making him wet. His breath stutters when he feels Percy's teeth on his ear, and he almost unconsciously leans into him when he finds the barest bit of skin to kiss high on his neck.

"I know you would. Dirty boy, you would love for everyone in that room to see how well you fuck me." His voice is lower still, barely above a whisper. "That does have a certain base appeal, but I am not for display."

A hand drops from Percy's shoulder to cover the one on his hip. Dark, slender fingers curl over paler, blunter ones and encourage him to take a fist full of the black fabric of his dress. "Everything beneath is for your eyes alone," he breathes. "Why should I want to show anyone else?"

Every word stokes the fire in him and feeling Essek's encouraging touch threatens to make him forget everything else. His fingers curl tightly, dragging up his husband's dress - not far enough to get a hand beneath it, not yet, but acknowledging that guidance. The way his mate echoes that possessive feeling in him threatens to undo him.

He tries to keep his breath steady.

"Essek..." There's almost a plea in his voice. Begging permission or begging his husband to stop before it goes too far, or some strained position between each pole. His arm tightens around Essek's waist, closing the scant space between them just to make sure the wizard can feel the shape of his aching cock through his formal wear.

"If you don't want me to fuck you here, right now--"

Percival doesn't quite finish the ultimatum. If Essek does not want him to drag his dress up and fuck him against this wall, he has to guide them elsewhere. Percy doesn't have it in him to navigate.

Percival, of course, takes the bait completely. Essek's triumph is short-lived, however, because as soon as he feels the length of his husband's very hard cock against his stomach, he also becomes acutely aware that he's already beginning to soak through the silk of his smallclothes, and his own cock is straining against the confines of the same garment.

As appealing as being fucked here right now sounds, it unfortunately falls on him to be the one to display a modicum of restraint here. "Come on, then," he murmurs, a little more rushed than he would like to appear.

Breaking from Percival's hold is a sad thing, but he doesn't go far. He takes his hand in a tight grip and hovers just ahead, leading him further down the hallway, low-lit and nearly as grand as the reception chamber and ballroom. He's looking for anything to duck behind--a cracked door, an alcove, a statue, even a particularly robust potted plant. Ultimately, he finds none of those things. But another hall, smaller and even less lit, veers off in a sharp right, and Essek takes it. It isn't cover, exactly, but it seems deserted, and isn't directly visible from the ballroom. This will have to do.

Nearly as soon as they are out of eyeshot from the doors, he backs against the wall and draws Percival against him by the belt. He leans up to kiss him as his fingers deftly release the buckle, and within a moment he has a hand slipped down the front of his trousers to cup his cock. Beneath the inscrutable dark fabric of his dress, Essek's thighs rub together urgently, as if that might actually do something to alleviate the pressure building between his legs. His cunt is already clenching around nothing.

"Here," he gasps against his husband's lips. In the low light, the violet of his eyes is almost luminescent. "Right now."

Percy groans, but he lets Essek pull him further down the corridor, then around a tight corner into another. Perhaps it's for the best that he left the decision to Essek, otherwise they would end up on the floor exactly where they were.

Further away from other scents and sounds, Essek fills his senses. Percival presses his husband into the wall, meeting the kiss with urgency as Essek's clever fingers work his belt and trousers open to get to his cock. Percy, usually who tends toward less noise during sex in general, cannot help another moan as his mate's hand slides over his aching erection.

His hands drop to Essek's hips so he can start hiking up the dress. "Fuck," he hisses, nearly brought to his knees by the scent of his mate's arousal. Percy doesn't even think as he bites Essek's neck, mostly getting a mouthful of fabric but finding some satisfaction in it anyway. He lifts his head, nose brushing Essek's cheek as he gets a hand beneath the heavy fabric. Tension rolls through him when he feels how damp the silk is between Essek's thighs and with very little ceremony, Percy pushes it aside to plunge two fingers into him. His mouth falls open and he grinds against Essek's hand and the back of his own. Even outside of his heat, Essek takes his fingers so easily just now and it makes him ache.

"Can you take me?" he murmurs, feeling delirious. Even going into rut - even as a wolf - not hurting Essek remains at the forefront of his mind.

With remarkably steady fingers, Essek strokes the stiff shaft of his husband's erection, lifting it carefully from his trousers as Percival successfully lifts his dress. The heat between his legs only grows as he curses and bites at his neck, and Essek moans sharply when his soaked smalls are quickly and crudely shoved aside and two thick human fingers push easily into his cunt, tight but yielding. A shiver courses through his body as he flutters around them, and he parts his thighs to allow more.

"Of course I can take you," he snaps, but with impatience rather than irritation. The concern is sweet, truly, but he simply does not have the time for it. He's obscenely wet for not being in heat--fuck, is he going to go into heat?--and he is already aching to be filled with his alpha's cock, currently cradled in his palm.

His head spins with the scent of his mate in rut flooding his senses. He's never smelled anything so uniquely appealing. Already it takes effort to remember where they are and why he has to keep his voice down.

"Fuck me," he gasps, hips rocking down onto the fingers buried inside him. "I won't go back there until I am full of your seed."

"Essek--" Percy tries to cut back a groan, voice tight as his husband makes his demands clear. His jaw gets tight as he withdraws his fingers. "Get your arms around my neck, darling."

It's no hardship for him to grab Essek by the back of his thighs and get him into the position he needs - easier still if the wizard has his floating cantrip going. Percival reaches down to guide himself, mind clouded with the urgency he feels and the scent of his mate. With a bit of coordination, he can finally push in. Essek is tight around him, but yielding, and Percy pushes his face against his husband's neck to muffle the sharp moan rising in his throat.

Essek always feels good, but the perfect, slick heat of him just makes Percy need him more. His hand slides to grip his husband's thigh, keeping it against his hip as he gives a thrust, making sure that he's buried.

"Of course you can," he sighs, sounding almost relieved to have at least this. To know that Essek is his and that his mate wants everything he has to give. "My beautiful, perfect husband--"

His praise comes with heavier breathing and Percival adjusts their position slightly to make it easier to fuck Essek the way he needs to.

The complete ease with which Essek is lifted against the wall proves that he hasn't released his anti-gravity cantrip, making him light as air in his husband's arms. Still, he does as instructed, wrapping his arms tight around Percy's neck. His nails scrape across the fine fabric of his coat as his cock sinks in. He gives a sharp little gasp, and again when Percival thrusts in to ensure he's taken all of it. His thighs tighten reflexively where they're spread around his hips.

No matter how often they do this, the stretch of taking him in is fresh and sweet, and it blanks out everything in his mind. Essek breathes out a decadent moan, savoring it. “Every time I forget how much you stretch me, how full I feel of you,” he whispers, dragging a hand down to touch where his husband's cock disappears inside him. His fingers brush his slick folds, the base of Percival's cock, and the slip of damp silk pushed hurriedly aside.

Maybe this should feel embarrassing or dirty, being so desperate they had to fall together in an open hallway, so rushed they didn't even remove his smalls, all so he could take his mate's cock sooner. But it doesn't. Well, perhaps it does feel a little dirty, but only in a way that arouses him more.

His rucked up dress hangs toward the floor, pushed up to his hips and held out of the way by the hands clutching his thighs.

Percy bows his head to keep it near Essek's. He breathes in sharply as elegant fingers brush the base of his cock where he thrusts into his husband, trying to fill him each time. Essek always knows how to work him up with words alone, having the slick, perfect heat of the drow's cunt around him as he hears them is almost too much.

He doesn't think he'll last like this, not with the sharpness and suddenness of the feeling in the base of his spine or the ache building in his core. He wants to breed Essek, feeling the urge the most intensely he has since Essek's heat. There's a faint swell at the base of his cock, not a full knot but certainly the threat of one as he plunges deep again. He nuzzles against Essek's neck, bites his ear as his grip tightens on Essek's dark thighs.

Vaguely aware that this will truly be quick, Percy lets go of one thigh so that he can get his hand around Essek's cock instead.

Oh, he knows his husband is far gone if he doesn't talk back. Percival likes to weave words like this possibly more than Essek does, to often devastating effect.

Essek tucks his face against the other man's neck to scrape his teeth against it, sharper when he feels the swell starting at the base of his cock push up into him on the next hard, full thrust. This pace is already wrecking him, his cunt clenching and pulsing as Percival's cock rubs along his tight walls just right, but the promise of a knot has him gushing, so wet and soft that it'll be easy for it to pop in and swell right up inside him.

On this, Essek is of two very opposing opinions: he can't put that in me now and he must put that in me now. Spending precious time tied is a fine way to get caught. But Light, how hot would it be if he knotted and bred him right now, where anyone could see? Even after months of discussion (and several enjoyable nights where they'd played at trying to get pregnant, knowing it was a slim possibility at best), he hasn't felt this primal desire to breed since his heat.

When his husband reaches for his cock, the silk slides just as easily off that too. Essek muffles a helpless cry against Percy's skin as he grips and strokes him just the way he likes. He's going to come in no time at all, he realizes, and he nearly can't believe it except that the pleasure permeating every inch of his body is so intense there could be no other outlet. His thighs squeeze around Percival's waist, his cunt squeezes around his cock, and he struggles to say the words he knows he should, don't knot me, because they are so antithetical to what he wants.

Even if Essek said them, Percy might be hard-pressed to hear those words in his current state. It has been a long time since he felt this mindless. Even when Essek was in heat, he felt like he had a modicum of control even when his husband didn't. Now? That edifice is crumbling quickly.

Essek is so wet and warm and perfect in his arms and every inch of him belongs to Percival. As his mate gets tight around him, Percy pushes as deep as he can. The swell at the base of his cock grows but, perhaps lucky for them both, this early in his heat it doesn't quite get big enough to fully lock Percy in. Still, he feels the pressure when he tries to draw back and so his instinct tells him not to. His entire body shudders as he comes, the relief of it sweeping through him along with the bliss.

He stays exactly as he is, not wanting to pull out even if he can. Percy leans his weight hard into Essek and the wall and his hand keeps moving between them, intent on getting his husband off while he's still buried deep.

Light, Essek loves his husband. Somehow his body comes up with an entirely perfect compromise all on its own, rendering his dilemma null. Like this, he can enjoy the visceral satisfaction of his knot without worrying over being stuck on it. Sharp eyeteeth catch against his lower lip, stifling a gratified moan as he feels the throb of Percival's cock inside him as he comes. Behind his back, Essek's feet in their elegant little slippers hook together at the ankles, keeping him right where he is.

From the waist up, only the deep flush in his face and his dilated pupils would give him away. Even his hair is still perfectly in place. But he only has to glance down between his legs, past his rucked up dress, to see otherwise. His folds are dark and swollen and shiny with slick, and his cunt stretches around the swell of his alpha's knot, positioned perfectly just inside his entrance--just big enough to work, but not so big that he couldn't pull out of him. Percival's hand strokes with purpose over his cock, drawn out of his hastily shifted smalls, and Essek's hips rock subtly to follow the movement. His walls clench around the fullness inside him, tighter and tighter as his pleasure builds past the point where he has any control at all.

Feeling intoxicated by the scent of the two of them together in a way he hasn't since his heat, he comes with a shiver, back arching as he clutches at his mate everywhere. His cock spills over Percival's hand and his own lower stomach, bright white against his dark skin. Only his husband will hear his muted whine.

Percy shudders as Essek tightens around him and he can feel his husband's body practically milking him for whatever he has left. He sighs heavily and leans into Essek, holding him where he is and using the wall for support while they both try to catch their breaths. Percival nuzzles against Essek's neck, kisses wherever he can find skin.

He might not be stuck inside Essek, but it still takes a little while for his knot to go down again.

"You're going to have a mess on your thighs," he murmurs against the drow's warm skin. Percy bites Essek's earlobe, avoiding the earring there. He recalls that Essek can cast Prestidigitation, but that's not the point. Percival will know that he bred his husband in a side corridor, and Essek will know it too.

He can't tell yet if this was a mistake or if it will help. All he wants is to take Essek away and hole up somewhere until his rut passes, but he doesn't want to cut this short if they don't have to. He'll have to make it a few more hours, at least.

Tipping his chin back to grant easier access to the strip of bare skin above the neck of his gown, Essek smiles, slow and satisfied and smug. His breath catches and his cunt flutters as Percy nips at his ear.

"I am counting on it." His voice is low and silky, spoken just loud enough to be heard between them. He does have Prestidigitation, but that doesn't mean he intends to use it. If he wants to return to that party still leaking his husband's come, that is his business.

But of course, whether he does or doesn't, and even if they both appear immaculate again, there is no hiding their scents--Percival's especially, as his rut becomes more pronounced. "Everyone is going to know that we stepped out so you could breed me," he murmurs, and lets his fingers drag up the back of Percy's neck, just enough to slide into his hair without disheveling it completely. "There certainly won't be any mistaking that I am yours."

Percival grins wickedly as Essek says things that are going to be stuck in his head all night now. He closes his eyes for a moment as his lover's fingers drag into his hair and he lifts his head to catch Essek in a firm kiss.

"No," he murmurs, voice low. "There will be no mistaking it now."

And that appeals to some base part of him made loud by his oncoming rut. He wants everyone to know - beyond the fact that they are married - that Essek Thelyss is his mate and his omega. Someday to be the father of their children. That thought alone earns a quiet groan and Percy kisses Essek again, tongue sweeping into his mouth to taste him.

Soon enough, it's easier for him to pull out of his husband's cunt and he has to resist the urge to just drop to his knees. If he does that, they'll be here for a while. Percy makes sure to let Essek down easy before he pulls away. It doesn't take much for him to cover up again and straighten his clothes, and once he has, he's there to help Essek do the same.

An inconvenient rut

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