alignmyheart | au of an au

Percival's hands hold Essek's hips and sides as his husband straddles him and sets to his task, in part to keep from interfering or helping. His jaw tightens briefly as the drow's elegant fingers tease his cock through his clothes in the process of removing them. His hands tighten as Essek draws his cock out, hard and aching and flushed.

He is silent as his mate sinks down on him, but his entire body shudders as the wet, perfect, welcoming heat of Essek's cunt surrounds him. His breathing changes, hard and sharp, but still even. And as his husband settles, Percy drops his head forward, gently pressing it to Essek's shoulder. The pleasure sweeps him up and he turns his head, mouth open against Essek's neck - his husband's scent and taste are intoxicating this close. Percy's thighs spread more, and without being asked he rocks up into his mate, ensuring that he is as deep as they both want him.

Percy's hands bunch the soft fabric of Essek's dress and robes, trying to focus on the texture there in a weak attempt to draw some of his attention away from his cock.

Essek welcomes the way Percival bends toward him. He lifts a slim dark hand to cradle the back of his head as he feels the warm, wet hint of lips on his neck, followed by the puff of breath as his husband breathes him in. They fit together so well, close and entwined in every way. The drow gives a soft, pleased gasp as his husband steadies himself and pushes up into him, ensuring the perfect length of his cock is properly buried in his needy cunt.

"Very good," he murmurs approvingly on an exhale, and begins to rock. It's little more than a lazy backward roll of his hips, lifting his body just enough to get some friction between his walls and the satisfying fullness of his alpha inside him. "You have been pleasing me so well, my love." The slow, wet sound of them coming together is a backdrop to Essek's breathy praise. "I am looking forward to rewarding you soon."

He allows Percy's hand to wander where they will. He's made no rules about how he is permitted to distract himself or stave off his orgasm so long as it does not interfere with how Essek wants to use him. With his mate so helpfully holding his dress and robes for him, it leaves his hand free to follow the gentle curve of his belly down to his mostly soft cock, rubbing at the head with his fingertips not to encourage hardness but just for the sensation itself, a muted pleasure that makes him moan softly and flutter around his husband.

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.

Indeed, Percival has never been content to be anything but an active participant, which Essek both enjoys and admires. It feels good to feel him moving under him, the counterpoint to his own slow, shallow rocking that pushes his cock deep with every thrust. They hold each other close, feeling rather than seeing. When an arm curls around his back, Essek lets himself lean further into his husband's body, cradled there, and in turn cradles the back of his head more tenderly. He rubs soothingly with his palm and scratches lightly through his pale hair with his nails, much as he does when Percival takes his wolf shape.

His touch keeps his mate there against his neck, where he can feel his stifled moans and the distracted movement of his lips. Essek's own breath catches as teeth scrape prominently over his pulse, then latch onto delicate skin with intent. Essek tightens again as the sharp prick of pain winds up the tension in his body. His thighs squeeze Percival's, his cunt throbs around his cock, and Essek lets it wash through him, pushing him toward an end Percival won't share.

By now, his husband knows how to raise marks even on Essek's dark skin, bruises deeper and redder than the cool grey-purple of the rest.

He tries to focus on the scratch and scrape of Essek's nails through his hair. Percy's voice is muffled against his mate's neck as he moans, shuddering beneath Essek as soft walls tighten and squeeze around him. It's hard to find that place in his mind that lets him float a bit, not detached from this, but not quite as intensely wrapped up in it. Otherwise he will come, there will be no stopping it.

So Percival tries to breathe as steadily as he can and he wraps his arms around Essek as much as he can without hindering his husband's movements. He bites harder on his mate's neck - harder than he means to - when he feels another wave of tension through his husband's cunt. So he makes himself let go. He sucks hard, then releases the spot he's bruised in favor of pressing his brow against Essek's shoulder.

"Darling," he gasps out, not quite begging. Percy manages to let go of Essek's back and he reaches between them to offer gentle attention to his husband's soft cock. Essek doesn't seem interested in getting hard again, but Percival knows this will feel good. And gods, he wants to encourage another orgasm.

Essek is well aware that the strength of Percival's will can only do so much. If they continue like this for too much longer, he'll come whether he wants to or not. Essek doesn't get any satisfaction from setting him up to fail, and he doesn't intend to make his husband's first orgasm in several days an unintentional one that he'll feel badly about. He wants it to be the reward it's meant to be. Which means that he has to pay very close attention every time he drops his hips and feels Percival's cock throb inside him, he has to listen to every muffled moan, he has to know the difference between Percival thrusting up into him and an involuntary twitch of his hips that means he's close.

His whole body tenses and his mind briefly clouds over as his mate's teeth sink harder into his neck, surely leaving a discernable bruise behind. Essek's head isn't the only one spinning when his husband's mouth leaves his newly marked skin. He can hear the warning in that gasped endearment clearly.

"I know," he assures breathlessly, holding nothing back as he takes his pleasure. From the friction answering an ache inside him to the sting of the bite to the gentle and skillful handling of his soft cock, he can feel his peak approaching quickly. "Just a little more, dear one."

He really is so good at this. Essek's fingers scrape harder, restlessly through his hair. Essek knows how to angle his own hips to rub relentlessly at his sweet spots, and his voice rises in a high, breathless gasp as he feels the full body tingle of an impending orgasm wash through him. Feeling merciful, he pushes up on quivering thighs and off of Percival's cock entirely, ensuring that when he tightens, he won't inadvertently milk an answering orgasm out of his husband.

"Your fingers," he gasps, demanding something to clench down on as that scale inevitably tips and his body is overloaded with a wave of sensation, shaking and panting sharply.

Percival trusts Essek. From a marriage built on cold alliance to this had seemed so unlikely, but he trusts Essek. He knows that a failure here will not change anything between them, but Percy will be disappointed given his effort so far. He wants to meet this challenge. Some base part of himself wants to prove that he is and can be everything Essek asks of him. Even if it means not coming for days when his husband smells divine and has his own sharp needs.

When he hears that soft, breathless reassurance and encouragement, he wraps himself in it. He knows how it feels when Essek is nearing his peak and a startled sound escapes him when his husband suddenly moves and pulls off him. His aching cock twitches in protest, or perhaps simply in reaction to the sudden exposure to cooler air. Percy worries he might have done something wrong, but then--ah. He nods and leans up to kiss his husband hard as three fingers push into Essek's wet cunt, immediately feeling the urgent wave of tension.

Percy fucks his mate as he needs and deserves, breaking the kiss to pant against Essek's neck as he feels the other man start to shiver apart in his arms. He murmurs soft, breathless encouragement as slick walls try to milk his fingers.

Essek gasps into his husband's neck as orgasm crashes through him. His cunt clings tight to the three fingers fucking him, and though it had interrupted the flow of his own pleasure, he knows he was right to swap Percival's cock for his fingers when he had. After three days of regular sex without being permitted to finish, he couldn't be expected to last through this. And Essek wants him to last, wants him to succeed. He wants to tell him how well he's done today, and tomorrow he wants to finally grant him the pleasure he's earned.

Perhaps it is an unusual thing to be proud of, but Essek is so proud of him. Percival has spent days now giving him everything he wants without question, even while being denied himself. It makes Essek love him even more. Even now he whispers to him so sweetly as he works him through and past his peak, helping him to wring every ounce of satisfaction from it that he can. Essek gasps his name and murmurs the depth of his love in Undercommon as he wills his shaking legs to continue holding him up.

Though Essek is skilled enough in his affectation that it isn't obvious, it is difficult for him to leave his mate's needs unattended to. Especially when it is as obvious as this, his cock standing erect and straining between them, still wet from Essek's cunt. It has always pleased Essek to take him inside to completion, to feel his seed pour out into his body and the tension rise to a blissful crescendo and drain from Percival's form against him. He's pregnant because they've done quite a lot of that. He misses it, just as he misses brining him off with his hands or his mouth, misses feeling that shudder of completion and the unique contentment that comes along with knowing he's made the man he loves feel good.

Soon is a promise he's made to both of them.

He relaxes gradually, smearing hazy kisses to his attentive alpha's neck as his cunt continues to pull gently at his fingers. He reminds himself not to wrap his hand around his cock the way he wants to.

He breathes and holds Essek through his orgasm. His hand slows but doesn't quite stop, offering far more gentle attention as the intensity of his mate's pleasure ebbs. Eventually, he leaves them buried, offering Essek that full feeling for as long as he wants it. It isn't quite the same, but it is all Percy can give him right now, especially in this room.

With just one hand, Percy manages to get his cock tucked back into his smalls at least, so he doesn't risk any skin-to-skin contact with Essek if his husband needs to lower himself more. He's quite aware of the trembling strain in the wizard's legs. Percival holds Essek against him as he tries to catch his breath, as he tries to bring himself back from that brink. He knows there is a reward waiting for him. He knows there is more than that, now that they've had this discussion.

Eventually, Percy withdraws his fingers and they slide wetly over Essek's thigh as he coaxes is husband to relax on top of him. He gives Essek a tired but affectionate kiss.

"You are exquisite, my love. Always."

After his fingers leave him, Essek sinks back into Percy's lap, and into a warm, weary kiss. His recurring arousal is sated for the time being, and he feels content in the pleasant heaviness of his body, though his husband continues to smell incredibly appealing. He cradles Percival's jaw between his hands as he pulls back enough to look at him, lips curling up faintly at one corner.

"As are you." He bestows another short kiss and reaches between them. He's careful not to touch the other man's covered erection directly as he buttons him back into his trousers, but some contact is unavoidable. "You have been so very good for me, my clever boy."

His lips stray to the corner of Percival's mouth, then to his cheek, before pulling back to catch his eye, affectionate but expectant. "You will be again tomorrow as well, won't you? I want to let you have your release, but you will have to earn it one more time."

"Is there--" His breath catches when Essek's hands brush against him, even if it is just in the task of buttoning him up again. He remains silent for the kiss, and Percival's tongue flicks out briefly like he might still taste his husband on his lips once they part. He manages to collect himself enough to continue his question: "Is there a time when you would like to begin?"

While Percival does have some work, he's managed to get through a large part of his pile today specifically to keep his day light and open for whenever Essek wants to do... what they've discussed.

Essek considers the question with a soft hum. His fingers trail lightly up along his husband's chest over his shirt, idly following lines of muscle and patterns of scars he knows by heart.

"Late afternoon," he decides. That will give them plenty of time for an extended session, and the timing should work to have dinner sent up to their room after. Then they will have the remainder of the evening together for Essek to remind Percival of how wonderful and loved he is. With the intensity of what they've discussed, making plenty of time for that is essential. "Be sure that you have finished your work by then. I will come and collect you here when it is time, and we will make our way up to my tower together."

Perhaps Percival had assumed, as he hadn't yet specified, that this would be happening in their bedroom. That isn't Essek's intention. If his husband is amenable, he intends for this to occur entirely in his own territory, so to speak.

"Your tower?"

The way Percival asks reveals curiosity rather than trepidation or hesitation. He hadn't even considered that this might happen in Essek's tower and it makes him wonder what his husband is planning, what it will be like, and that does not help his already aching arousal.

"I'll likely do most of my work here," he says. "I'll be easy to find." He has every intention of making sure of that.

"Good. I won't be pleased if I have to hunt you down." Though Essek sounds unruffled, the flash of fang as his lips curl implies that in that situation, his displeasure would become Percival's problem.

With a flick of his fingers Essek adjusts his own localized gravity to make his dismount from his husband's lap far more graceful than it would have been otherwise. Back on his feet, he remains hovering an inch or two from the floor.

"Yes, my tower," he agrees without elaboration. "Will that be a problem?"

As with all of his other questions on this matter, this is one he wants a genuine answer to. If Percival won't be comfortable there, he has no issue relocating.

"No, not at all," he says. Percy stays where he is as Essek lifts himself up and away; only when his husband is clear does he sit up more. He can't help but drink in the sight of his mate, ruffled and sated and wearing his clothes in such away that accentuate the evidence of his pregnancy. Percival can't think about any of that too long or he might lose himself again.

"I will be here, awaiting your call."

Slowly, Percy stands again and manages to straighten his own clothes. Essek's scent is all over him, and it will haunt him for the rest of the day. He suspects Essek will be pleased with that.

"Will I see you for dinner?"

Essek is adjusting his clothing as they speak, tugging askew hems and bunched robes back into their proper places so that he can at least appear presentable again. As he reties the sash keeping his robe closed and cradling his gently rounded stomach, he glances back up.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

His hands smooth briefly across his middle to check that everything fits as it should--and perhaps to draw his husband's eye there--before he raises himself another inch or two from the floor and captures Percival's lips again. Their mingled scents sit heavy in the air, though naturally the one Essek picks up on most prominently is his alpha's lingering arousal. It takes determination to resist, though not nearly so much as it will likely take Percival to work through the rest of the afternoon.

Despite the ache he carries with him for the rest of the day and through the night, Percival does sleep soundly that night. And even though his husband does not ask him for anything come morning, he can't ignore the growing anticipation. They part after a light breakfast and Percival secludes himself in his preferred study.

It's difficult to focus and he is once again grateful for the sheer amount he managed to get done yesterday, even after Essek's visit. It leaves considerably less to do today, and that is both a burden and a blessing. He doesn't have the mind to focus on more tedious tasks, but he also has less to distract himself with as he waits for his husband's appearance. They did not specify a time, only that Essek would come for him in the afternoon.

When he does catch his mate's scent, Percival's pulse jumps and he has to take a deep breath to settle himself again.

Percival isn't the only one who can't focus for most of the day. Several hours into the morning Essek already regrets forgoing sex earlier, bothered by his own arousal more than he has been in weeks thanks to his husband's regular care. Focusing on their afternoon plans only serves to worsen that condition. But focus he must, because he is the one in control, and he must settle on a loose plan, at the very least.

Which leaves him very hot and bothered--and smelling like it--by the time he arrives at Percival's study. Thankfully, he is present just as he promised. Though Essek conceals his body entirely today behind heavy black robes shaped only by the ornamental silver belt around his middle, there is no hiding his scent.

Still, he shows no indication that he is already aching between his legs when he approaches Percival's desk, his robes sweeping lightly across the floor where his feet do not. "Here you are," he greets. Because they haven't begun yet, he allows the warm affection he feels to color his voice. "Are you ready, my love?"

Essek could be wearing something utterly shapeless and Percival would still know exactly what he looks like beneath. He's spent far too long adoring every inch of his husband's body.

He swallows thickly and takes another steadying breath as Essek greets him, and he cannot help the smile he gives in answer to the warmth in the wizard's voice. He's always sensitive to smell, moreso since the infection in the Feywild. He couldn't ignore Essek's scent even if he wanted to and his body starts to respond accordingly.

"I am," he affirms. Percival closes his notebook and comes around his desk to brush a kiss to Essek's cheek: he wants to offer affection while he can.

Essek is of much the same mind. He tilts his head to meet his husband in a full kiss, pouring all of his tenderness into it so Percival will remember it later, when he is being anything but. Essek has been cold and sharp for so long that it feels like who he is, uncompromising and untouchable. And though it is disturbingly easy to slip back into those old habits, that isn't him. Not anymore. There is so much in his life now worthy of tenderness. His friends, his loving husband, the potential for their future together he now carries within his own body.

But it truly seems as though Percival will find something satisfying and cathartic in the treatment this cruel, aloof version of Essek will give him. And if that is the case, Essek will gladly play the role he'd spent a century perfecting.

"Then come," he says, drawing away with a flicker of a smirk. "We'll begin when we reach the tower. Is there anything more you would like to request or make me aware of before then?"

"I don't think so," he says as he follows Essek out of the study. The staff already know not to disturb them and dinner has been arranged to be brought to Percy's room later. He stays close to Essek as they walk, taking the nearness and affection while it's freely given.

"And if there is any reason for me to interrupt the proceedings, I know how." He reaches then to let his fingers brush Essek's. He laces their hands together. "And if, for some reason, I can't... I trust you."

They have not been married long, by some measures, but he trusts Essek's insight and what he's learned of Percival's mannerisms and moods. Perhaps that is too much to put on him, but. It's there none the less.

Gliding along beside his husband, Essek slows when Percy takes his hand, and comes to a stop entirely when he expresses his trust. Though they would not even be considering this if they did not trust one another, it is still a sentiment that strikes deep at the core of him. So few people in his life have placed trust in him, and of them, Percival is the only one he has not yet disappointed. He will not begin today.

"As I trust you," he murmurs, raising his free hand to brush his fingers in an affectionate caress against his cheek. "Your safety and enjoyment are paramount. Should I suspect either of these things to be compromised, I will not hesitate to bring everything to an immediate halt." He is floating at a height to look him directly in the eye, and does so. Facing one another, alone in a wide hallway of their shared home, Essek's lilting voice is soft as silk between them, but firm in his convictions. There is steely determination in his bright violet eyes.

"I will hurt you, my love, if that is what you want. But I will not harm you."

Percival meets Essek's gaze, lost for a moment in his husband's eyes. His voice when he next speaks is enough to send a jolt of excitement straight through him. He takes a deeper breath and nods his acknowledgement.

"Then I am in your very capable hands, darling."

He takes the moment to lean in, closing the space between them so that he can kiss his husband. A moment to seal the promises and assurances between them, and to indulge in affection that he may not see for some time.

When they do arrive at the tower door, Percy slowly slips his fingers from Essek's. His pulse is already quicker with anticipation, even if he is not entirely sure what he should expect.

For the remainder of their walk, Essek thinks about that kiss, about Percival's trust, about his plans for the rest of the day. And when they arrive at the door, he takes a breath to steel himself, to tuck away all of the affection he is comfortable showing his husband normally. His expression smooths into a soft smile with nothing behind it; a mask of politeness, but also of expectation. It is the look he would give anyone who begged a moment of his time. What can he do for them? And more importantly, what can they do for him in exchange?

With a few swift, precise gestures, Essek disengages the arcane lock on the door. It swings open for him without him every laying a finger on the handle.

"Please come in," he invites, pleasant but cool. His shoulders suddenly seem too light, absent the weight of the Shadowhand's mantle. "Take a seat for now," he instructs with a graceful wave of a hand toward a pair of plush high-backed chairs situated in the center of the circular room facing one another. "I will be with you momentarily." With a curl of a finger, the door closes. The sound of a lock sliding into place is audible in the dark tower chamber, illuminated only faintly by a handful of cool blue magelights. Though it is mid-afternoon, in Essek's tower it is always night.

He drifts to his desk, intentionally turning his back to his guest. A hand presses to the dark purple Vermaloc wood. On its surface are laid out an array of tools he expects he may need today, from spell components to more overtly sexual implements. He reminds himself of each of them with a glance and determines himself adequately prepared before he joins Percival. He releases his anti-gravity spell only when he has settled primly in his own armchair with one leg crossed over the other beneath the layers of his dark robes. They are close enough that his dangling foot, only the toe of his leather boot visible, is mere inches from Percy's knee.

"I will conduct an assessment today," he says with that same silken certainty, "of your worth and suitability to marry me. As I was not given the chance before we were wed, I believe it is well past time. You will answer me honestly, you will submit to any test I may ask of you, and if you feel there is something you must say for yourself, you will ask my permission before speaking out of turn."

Though his authority is clear, there is nothing rude about the way Essek speaks or behaves. If anything, he is sharply polite. But his gaze is measuring, sweeping over Percival head to toe. His expression changes almost imperceptibly; one would have to know him well to notice it. But Percival knows him very well. His eyelids lower a fraction and his full lips purse together just enough to make the corners of his mouth tight. It is a look indicating that he has calculated the worth he expects from the man before him and found it wanting.

"Is this acceptable to you, husband?" His tone suggests that he expects a yes within the role he is playing, but it is a genuine question. If Percival has objections to his framing of this scene, he will alter it.

The shift in mood as they enter the tower is palpable, but Percival is ready for it. With all the elegance and grace of a scion of Whitestone, he sits in one of the chairs. Back straight, he watches Essek drift toward his desk. His heart is beating faster, but he remains outwardly steady. Essek is beautiful sitting across from him, and Percy thinks he might be seeing a fraction of what his husband is capable of when he has a mask in place.

It takes everything not to allow the faintest smile. Essek's polite but firm authority is something Percival has exercised--gods, too many times to count. He's used it to quell argument and to cut down people who have offended him. He's seen his husband deploy it before, but this is the first time it's been leveled at him. He takes a deeper breath, bearing the weight of Essek's scrutiny. The subtle shift in his expression lights something in Percival's chest. The doubt, the hint that he's found his match wanting, only makes Percy want to prove otherwise. He is already on the hook and he knows it.

Percy adjusts his glasses, then folds his hands.

"Yes, of course," he says with warm ease, the same veneer of civility. He has no doubt his will crumble long before Essek's does. "Clearly this was an oversight and should be corrected."

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