Work Text:
“But I know I'm feeling emotional, and I know that's when I need to shut up and listen to you.”
It’s what got Percy into this position in the first place, kneeling at the foot of their bed, grasping his wrists with the opposite hand. There are no bindings, nothing keeping him there but a firm command and his own, unquestionable desire to please, to stop thinking, if only for a moment. The plush carpet that usually keeps Percy’s knees from getting unbearably sore is nowhere to be found, but the bite of the hardwood and the rabbiting pulse below his thumbs is enough to keep him steady, eyes lidded against slanting moonlight.
He’s lost track of time. They’d left the pub perhaps an hour ago, perhaps a day ago, with chocolate on Percy’s tongue and Vex’s fingers tightly laced in his. With her usual swiftness she put him deftly in his place, as soon as the door latched behind them, and Percy had sunk gracefully, gratefully to his knees. It’s a routine they’ve built, started by accident after a moment of weakness on Percy’s part over a year ago. Naturally, Vex had adapted; she’s always been clever, sharp, and sound of mind, and it’s one of the things Percy loves about her most.
Percy exhales softly through his nose, shifting his weight and the clasp of his fingers, stiffness creeping into his joints. His core smolders, black powder beginning to catch, and with another shift he gets a tantalizingly, painfully brief moment of pressure, of pleasure, as his half-hard cock is stimulated by the seam of his slacks. On another night, he might rise upon his knees and rock his hips forward, chasing intangible heat that exists only in sense memory, but there’s too much that’s happened today for Percy to want to move.
The rushing of his thoughts, the tangle of emotions, only begin to recede when Vex’s hand slides across one of his shoulders, then the other, slipping back to rest firmly against Percy’s nape. The hairs stick there, beads of sweat forming from internal turmoil and the ever-growing flame of a want too big to name, and Percy bows his head under the slender fingers, wonderfully cool to the touch. Sometimes, she talks, speaking at him instead of to him, detailing all the things she plans to do to him as she circles him like a predator stalking cornered prey, and other times, like tonight, she’s quiet, forcing Percy to focus on things more subtle than the croon of her voice.
Her footsteps are innately familiar, the soft rhythm of her breathing loud in the relative quiet of their room, the pads of her fingers soft yet unyielding as they curve around the side of his neck, just shy of his pulse, beating furiously—because of her. Always, because of her. No firefight, no ancient dragon, no political scheme or successful deception gets Percy’s heart going quite as fast as Lady Vex’ahlia does. It is rare Percy lowers himself for anyone, to anyone, but Vex is always above him—he puts her wants, her needs, her wishes above his own, submits to her physical presence above him, whether it be standing or seated, beckoning him to come over here, Percival, no, not walk, you know better than that.
To think he finds pleasure in crawling between his Lady’s legs. What a surprise that would’ve been to the Percival of a year ago—what a comfort it is now.
The pressure of Vex’s fingers against his neck increases and Percy sighs, head tipped obediently to the side, hearing a soft hum of approval in response. His core coils at the inherent praise in it, heat sparking through his veins, burning like the barrel of his gun does after round after round of deadeye shot. There’s nights where he might deign to urge Vex on, to beg with less grace than he’d ever admit to showing as he yearns to give her pleasure, to receive pleasure in return; nights where his body unwinds at her command, her hand firm against his nape or fingers tangled roughly in his hair, her heels digging into his back with an unyielding pressure that elicits noises more depraved and desperate than he thought himself capable of making.
The fingers drop—the pressure eases. Percy wets his lips, opens his eyes, watches as Vex steps around him and moves elegantly to the bed, sitting at the foot of it with her legs loosely crossed at the ankles. It’s rather dark in their room, lit dimly by a few candles, light warm where it hugs the curve of Vex’s face, a milky, ephemeral contrast provided by the moonlight sneaking through the curtains. She’s beautiful like this, so casually in control—but she’s always beautiful, and he never fails to tell her as much, voice low and murmured by her ear, words dropping with kisses down the plane of her abdomen, across the expanse of her thighs.
There’s marks there, days old by now and faded. Percy longs to darken them again.
He shifts slightly on his knees but stills when Vex tuts at him, his head bowing slightly in apology though his eyes stay trained on her. “Restless?” She asks, voice soft and lilting, and Percy nods; it isn’t so much that he cannot withstand kneeling, but desire claws at him, tugging at his abdomen and rustling his still tumultuous thoughts, and when his eyes drag over her, Vex laughs and croons, “Come here, darling.”
She hasn’t told him to rise, so Percy moves forward on hands and knees—a new piece of their game, one he might find demeaning had he not been blessed with the sight of Vex’s eyes dilating, the first time he’d done it, her legs spreading easily to invite him between them, just as she does now. She hasn’t changed from earlier, and Percy’s fingers twitch with the desire to undo the fastenings of her clothes as he brings his hands to rest in his lap, his knees spread to accommodate the bulge that’s formed resolutely in his trousers.
“Go on,” Vex says, and there’s an undercurrent of fondness in her voice that makes Percy shiver, his blood warming at the reminder that this woman—this incredible, strong, intelligent woman—has chosen him to bestow her affections upon. One day, he’ll set a ring for her with one of the many gems they’d gotten from the Conclave, form the band himself, but they are already closer than any other husband and wife could ever be, their bond deeper, forged in iron and ash and blood, and while a ring isn’t necessary to reaffirm their commitment, Percy knows he’ll make one all the same. “I can see you’re dying to undress me, dear, and you’ve been so good. Take your time, hm?”
They’ve had plenty of nights where they’ve torn off each other’s clothes, but nights of luxurious slowness have been a rarity. That doesn’t mean Percy finds it easy to slow himself down, to undo the laces of her boots and the fastenings of her pants, easing everything off with careful fingers before he sets the garments aside. Her hand finds his hair, and she combs through it as he hooks his fingers into her underwear, planting a featherlight kiss to the inside of her knee before those are eased down, too, revealing her cunt, visibly wet despite her even facade.
Percy allows himself a moment of satisfaction at the sight as he sets the fabric aside, his cock throbbing as his hands slide up her legs. Salivating with the urge to taste, he tries to ease them apart, to be granted access to where he wants most, but a sharp tug to his hair gives him pause, eyes lifting to meet Vex’s. Judging by the slight smile on her face, he’s sure he looks a flushed, hungry mess, submissive between her legs, but he cannot find it in himself to be self-conscious when she looks just as ready to devour.
“Slowly.” Vex reminds him, relinquishing the hold on his hair long enough to cradle his face, and Percy pushes into the touch, her palm calloused and warm against his cheek, before her touch recedes in silent permission to keep going.
And so he does.
He takes his time even as his body burns with the urge to surge forward, to press his tongue between her folds, to feel those muscled thighs press against his head, to listen to her keening noises, the broken sound of his name—but Percy goes slow, kisses up one leg and down the other, getting to the crease of her hip but no further. The marks get darkened again with pointed nips and slow sucks against the delicate skin there, and he’s rewarded by a symphony of Vex’s noises, shifting from soft sighs and hums to quiet, behind-the-lips moans.
Though Percy would love getting her to squirm and moan for him before he even reaches her cunt, he cannot stop himself from finding the space between her legs after the third pass across it. He kisses the rise of her clit, flattens his tongue against it, and is rewarded with a quiet moan, a tightening of her slender fingers in his hair. She tastes divine, rich and deep like wine, and Percy makes a low noise in the back of his throat as he slides down, tongue darting out to taste Vex fully.
Her legs part further around him, inviting him deeper, as her heels find homes on either side of his spine, and Percy’s cock throbs in his pants, fabric growing wet around the curve of his tip. The temptation to palm himself is strong, but his hands stay steady as they rise to grasp Vex’s hips, the jut of her hipbone a smooth ridge below his palms. Once this is all over, Percy will spend hours, days, mapping out her body with his mouth, his hands, like he did the night they’d gotten married, but—he’s getting distracted, mind wandering off from his task at hand. If Vex notices, she’s gracious enough not to remark on it, instead flattening her hand against the back of his head to steady him.
His tongue traces her folds, swallowing the slick that has gathered between her legs, and when he finally pushes his tongue inside her, nose bumping against her clit, Percy’s rewarded with another moan, melodious and soft. Hips twitching—Gods, he’d do anything to be buried to the hilt inside her—Percy flicks his tongue once, twice, jaw straining as he tries to push it deeper inside her. He’s clever with his tongue, in bed and outside of it, and cleverer still with his fingers, but Vex hasn’t asked for more yet, no matter how badly Percy wants to give it, so he tells himself patience, tells himself slow, and drags his tongue against her walls.
Minutes drag on before he begins to feel Vex’s body quiver, and his hand slides down to her thigh, gripping where marks have darkened and bloomed like ink once more, and yes, there, he feels her tremble, muscles shaking below his hold. Percy moans into her, flicks his tongue more firmly, and above him, Vex whimpers, thighs pressing closer to his head.
“Gods above, Percy,” Vex pants out, her hips canting forward against the pressure of his palm. “You’ve been good, so good, darling, but I need more.” The praise makes Percy’s head spin, fuzzy with the lightning bolt of pleasure that her words always give, and Gods, nothing exists outside of Vex as he dives into her fully, tongue moving with more purpose as he fucks into her again with his tongue, laving it over her folds, sucking on her clit until she’s chanting yes, yes, yes, legs closing and widening, muscles trembling. A hand snakes up, finding one of her breasts, heavy and perfect in his palm, and as Percy’s thumb and forefinger find a peaked nipple, his other thumb finds Vex’s clit, pressing into it as he knows she likes.
Focused though he is, Percy manages to open his eyes to watch as Vex tips her head back with a moan, and she’s beautiful, a marvel of marrow and bone and energy, flushed from her ears to her chest. He falters in his admiration of her, in his satisfaction of having been the reason she is unraveling, a jolt of possessive pride flaring hot in his chest. For now, they are not members of Vox Machina, there are no wars to fight or creatures to hunt or favors to repay—they are Vex and Percy, carnal, hungry creatures who know their days may be numbered, who want nothing other than each other, to go from two bodies to one.
A moan vibrates against Vex’s clit and Percy’s rewarded with a heady moan and a sharp tug to his hair that elicits another noise from him, something so depraved and senselessly needy there’s no word to describe it. It’s animal, it’s feeling, it’s beyond language of any kind, and Vex arches into it, into him, the smell, the taste, of her, overwhelming his senses, banishing thought from his overcrowded mind with ease. The pleasure that comes with giving radiates through his body, like pressure from a bruise, but it’s brushed aside easily enough—it’s easy to ignore the push of his flesh, his sinew, his being, when Vex’s legs clamp against his ears, when her fingers twist and pull in his short hair in an attempt to find purchase.
When she comes with a cry of his name, Percy’s blood sings like it does when he fires off a shot and sees it hit a target with resounding fury, determination, success. Her legs keep him in place as he sucks in desperate breaths through his nose and drowns in her moans, in the slickness between her legs, gripping her ribs and thigh with enough force to bruise. It is a heat-death, a rebirth, the end of an era and the beginning of a new one, all captured in the endless, forever expanse of a few seconds, a heartbeat, an inhale-exhale from straining lungs. The cove of her legs keeps Percy trapped as he guides her through it, over the crest of tidal waves and coasting through to shore, lapping and kissing and sucking whatever bit of her he can get to until Vex tugs him back, oversensitive.
Despite the fact he is a breeze’s gust away from spilling over himself, Percy is euphoric, his mind—his creator’s, inventor’s mind, always whirring with one idea or the next—blissfully, wholly empty save for the blanket of satisfaction that covers him as he works his jaw, easing the soreness there. There is nothing short of reverence in his gaze as he looks up at Vex, her head tossed back, chest heaving as she catches her breath, and she is exquisite even in this dimmest of lights, brighter than any coin or jewel or flame. The taste of her lingers on his tongue, and he licks his lips to enjoy the remnants of her release there, shifting on his knees and oh, the friction he receives is nearly enough to distract him.
He must make a noise because Vex’s eyes slowly open and slide down to him, feline and amused. There is not a doubt in Percy’s mind that he looks utterly debauched, pupils blown wide and cheeks ruddy, cock insistent where it pulses between his legs, sweat beading at his temples. In this moment, he is akin to Vex’s bowstring, pulled taut and wired tight, waiting for a twitch of her fingers before he snaps. Despite that, despite the fact there is unsatiated hunger in the lift of her lips, her palms are nothing short of tender as they cup either side of his face.
Everything they’ve been through today, the emotions that hit Percy in a maelstrom upon seeing the face of a man he never thought he’d see again, the physical ache of his knees, jaw, back—none of it matters when Vex’s fingers curve across his cheeks, tapping near his eyes in silent instruction to shut them. It’s dangerous, in the moments after, when Percy is no longer a hound chasing scent. The thoughts that swirl in the back of his mind, thick and acrid like smoke, so thick it chokes him in the middle of the night and leaves him gasping for clean air, for relief, threaten to creep back in when he is laid vulnerable and bare, but her touch is confident and assured, calling those thoughts to heel, to know their place.
Over the hundreds of times they’ve done this, only a handful of nights have seen Percy broken, control snapping to a degree that leaves him catatonic, but he will not break tonight, not like that. Vex has him carefully in her hands, cradling and sheltering him from the storms that threaten to consume him, and she will not let him fall like that, not tonight.
Tonight, he shuts his eyes, presses into Vex’s hands, and submits.