alignmyheart | au of an au

"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."

Essek's lips curl up at the corners into a knowing little smirk. "I am pleased that you agree." He really is. The determination he recognizes in his husband's eyes is exciting and attractive, and he finds he is looking forward to testing his mettle even more than he anticipated. And his willing submission always thrills him. "Because I will admit to harboring some...concerns. But we will address them in due time."

Though his posture is already perfect, Essek's chin tilts up a little further. His gaze flits down to Percy's folded hands briefly before returning to his face, curious and intent, but missing its typical warmth.

"First, tell me, Percival: what are you good for?" A fingertip trails lightly along the arm of his chair, his nail dragging along the upholstery as he clarifies, "I am not interested in hearing about the de Rolo name or the wealth and prosperity of Whitestone. What can you offer me as a man?" A delicate brow arches. "As the man who would presume to be my alpha, especially."

"What a question," he says, remaining mild. Might as well while he still can. Still, the fire's been lit and Essek knows him well enough to recognize it if he looks. It's both a relief and a challenge to be divested of approaching this as a de Rolo. Essek wants him as Percy, and only Percy.

He sits forward a bit more.

"I've been told I'm relentless," he says, eyes bright and intent on his husband's elegant face. "Nor do I do anything by half-measures. Even without the name, the title, or the wealth, there is nothing I'd deny you."

Percy's mind races ahead, laying out what arguments he might make. "I've built things from nothing. I may not be a wizard, but you have in me a mind that can keep up with yours, and a body that most certainly can. I don't quit until I'm satisfied."

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?"

It's unfair how attractive the gentle curve of Essek's belly is, the evidence of their repeated attempts for an heir now realized. And it's unfair that even in this room, with scents less familiar, that Essek's still cuts through everything to fill his awareness. It takes effort not to just slide to his knees in front of his mate, his beautiful omega.

He tips his head at the question.

"A certain resilience I think even sons of the Dynasty wouldn't have," he says. "This is the only life I will ever live, I have no memories of lifetimes past to call on, or talents learned. My brilliance, like yours, is purely my own."

Percival knows that not every person in the Dynasty is on a second, third, or whatever multiple lifetime. But he has learned through Essek what consecution does.

"I am and will only ever be Percival de Rolo. I am and will only ever be yours, Essek Thelyss. There is no one in this life or any other who could take me from you, if you'll have me." Percy looks down and he can't help a smirk, brimming with confidence and when he lifts his gaze again he gives Essek a more wolfish look. "And if you wish to put me in competition with other alphas, my love, I will win. You know I have something that none of them do."

He caught that dogged earlier, and while he has thought of it as a weakness rather than a strength for so long, he will try to argue it's advantage now. He might be a feral creature compared to the consecuted souls of the Dynasty, but that raw strength and virility will be entirely at Essek's disposal, should he want it. Surely that counts for something.

Essek is utterly in love with this man, and not showing it when he says possibly the most romantic thing he's ever heard is asking far too much. There is a brief flicker in his eyes that displays both his surprise and adoration as Percival promises him his devotion in this life--the only one he will ever have. It almost feels unfair that he cannot embrace him in this moment. But Essek throws up his walls again like he would throw out a spell, hiding that flash of emotion behind impassivity.

He will bring this up again later, he tells himself. When this is over, he will tell Percival how much that promise means to him.

Though he allows his lips to curl, it is a cruel sneer to balance out the way his heart beats with love--and with growing arousal, attracted as he is to the confidence his husband displays, the certainty that he could give Essek more than any other alpha. Essek is in complete agreement, but that is not the game.

"What you have is a curse that you cannot control which forces you to become a wild animal on a regular basis, abandoning your duties for days to prowl the wilderness like some common beast. You are saying I should be pleased by this?"

This is entirely opposite to the feelings he has expressed about Percival's transformation before, and he can remind him again later that none of it is true. But he still hates to crush this line of thinking when it is one of the few times he has heard him speak positively about it. But he had asked, and Percival agreed it was fair game.

"If anyone else knew this creature fathered my child, I would be ruined. It seems to me that this is a defect rather than a boon. What is a brilliant mind worth if it is wasted on a feral dog?" This isn't a rhetorical question. Essek's gaze is sharp, calculating. He's waiting to be convinced of the benefits.

Percival thinks he sees a flicker of desire and affection, but Essek is far too good at this game to let it last more than a second.

Even if he is prepared for the sharpness foreshadowed by that sneer, it still lands hard. Not so hard that he is interested in tapping out, but he should know that Essek would be incisive once he got his claws out. Percival's fear over being able to control the beast he becomes every month has been present ever since he understood the curse that had taken him. He worries, too, that somehow his curse might have some effect on the child they've finally conceived, despite the number of times clerics, including Pike, have reassured him that's not how it works.

But what if it is?

The doubt trickling up his back is based in something real, even if Essek's attacks aren't. For the first time since they started, Percival actually seems like he's on the back foot. His mind races, trying to find a way to answer that challenge. He wets his lips and resists the urge to fidget.

"I may be a feral dog," he says at last, finding what he thinks might be a way forward. "But you are the only one who could possibly hold the leash. My loyalty is unshakable, and all that I have - all that I am - is at your disposal."

His strength, his stamina, and yes, his cleverness and his sharpness.

Yes, that was the opening he was waiting for. Percival hesitates, and Essek watches, waits. If this were real, he would already be pushing, exploiting this weakness he's uncovered. But he gives his husband the chance to collect himself--or tap out should he find that this topic hits harder than he'd anticipated.

Essek's head tilts a degree or two with curiosity when he finally responds, and he allows a little sharp pleasure to show in the arch of a brow and the curl of his lips.

"That is certainly true," he agrees. It is an interesting angle, this concession, and he likes the conclusion it brings him to. "You need me," he murmurs. "Is that it? You know that I am the only one capable of controlling you, wild thing that you are, and you want me to bring you to heel."

If he wasn't wet before, he certainly is now.

"Perhaps there is something to be said for a dog's loyalty." Essek smiles, but not kindly. "I do enjoy the idea of an alpha who readily admits that he is in need of my firm guidance. But if I am to hold your lead, pet, your place is not there." Slender fingers unfurl in a graceful gesture toward Percy's chair, then a sharper one pointing down at the floor in front of his own. "It is here."

Expertly, Essek directs the force of gravity around his husband just enough that he will feel a change--the weight of his body slightly heavier than it was a moment ago, and a noticeable pull toward the spot he indicates. It is merely a suggestion, not so powerful that it can't be resisted. But he will certainly feel much more comfortable if he winds up where Essek wants him.

There it is. Percival feels the flutter low in his body, feels heat start to creep into his face. The thought of Essek holding onto him, keeping him in control. He knows his husband's will is iron when he wants it to be and Percy trusts it. Trusts him. And even if there is nothing kind in the drow's smile, Percival still finds himself yielding to it.

There's a moment of hesitation, like he is seriously considering what it means to go to his knees before an omega - even his omega. What it means for him to belong to Essek. But then he feels that pull, the pressure of force drawing him toward the place Essek points. His gaze flicks up to meet his husband's and he is once again impressed by what his mate is capable of.

Percival moves then. He eases from the chair and, as fluidly as he can manage, he goes to his knees in front of Essek. The feeling of pressure stops once he's there, like a reward.

"Here?"

There is no thrill quite like watching his alpha sink to his knees in front of him. The spark of hunger in Essek's gaze is undeniable. With a dismissive flick of his fingers, he dispels the minor gravity well entirely. "You figured it out quickly," he says, a hint of condescension undermining the compliment. "Smart, for a dog. But I have been training you for some time now, haven't I?"

Reaching down, his nails scrape lightly beneath Percival's chin, dipping lower along his throat then up again, ensuring his face remains tilted toward him. For a moment he says nothing, merely takes in his husband's blue eyes and pale, handsome human features. All his. The possessive and domineering aspects of his personality he's never quite managed to quell are pleased indeed.

"Doesn't this feel better?" His voice is silky, cajoling. His fingers slide into Percival's hair next, scratching at his scalp and taking a firm grip. "I could be willing to accept an obedient husband who knows his place. Are you obedient, Percival?"

It is Essek's excitement that makes Percy's spike. He's deeply attuned to his mate, and he knows the scent of his arousal. He tips his chin up, following the drag of Essek's nails. That forces him to expose his throat more, not a common position for an alpha but he doesn't hesitate or resist in the face of Essek's attention.

"Yes," he says quietly, as if it might cost him something to admit it. Even then, his eyes nearly close as his husband's fingers push into his hair, sending chills racing down his back and up again as his grip tightens. Percival meets Essek's gaze, lost in the depth of his violet eyes.

"Yes," he answers again, with a little more feeling. If it is his obedience Essek wants, that's what he'll give. No matter what his husband does to test it. "I could be. With a strong hand."

He is a wolf, after all.

au of an au - for graviturgy

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