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When Essek was a child--probably twelve or thirteen; he couldn’t quite recall--one of the Umavi’s cooks had served a traditional soup seasoned with pepper seeds. It was his first time eating anything spicier than the earthworm jerky sold on the street in the Gallimaufry. The soup itself was delicious, but the burning sensation in his mouth had quickly become so overwhelming he’d burst into tears and fled the dining room, much to the amusement of his baby brother Verin. After composing himself, he’d finished the rest of his meal in tiny bites and sips, moderately distressed by how he couldn’t seem to stop eating even as his face turned purple and his nose ran like a faucet.
Thereafter, he’d had the soup prepared with only a very small amount of pepper seeds. Unfortunately, it seemed it was the pepper seeds that gave the soup its unique flavor, and the meal wasn’t quite the same without them. He wanted the pepper seeds, even when eating them felt like swallowing hot coals.
Essek felt similarly about Caleb Widogast.
Well, no. Essek had many deep, complex feelings about Caleb Widogast that could never be expressed via crude soup analogy. More accurately, his feelings about sex with Caleb Widogast were somewhat similar to his feelings about spicy soup, in that the problem was not that Essek didn’t want to have sex with Caleb. He wanted to have sex with Caleb more than he’d ever wanted to have sex with any individual in his entire life--and there had been other individuals he’d wanted to have sex with. He had spent what was frankly an excessive amount of time imagining what it would be like to have sex with Caleb.
He was just afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle the heat.
Caleb didn’t have any idea what he was doing to Essek.
All of the Nein were shockingly unselfconscious when it came to nudity, but unlike Jester or Beauregard, Caleb didn’t move like someone who was aware of his own appeal and was eager to show off. And neither was there a light hunch of modesty, as there was on Fjord. It was more like he just… didn’t expect anyone to be looking, and didn’t care much if they were either way.
So he must not have any idea that Essek was actively trying not to drool as Caleb perfunctorily disrobed and sank into the hot tub. He must not have realized that the noise he made as he relaxed in the water would go straight to Essek’s dick, forcing him to cross his legs where he sat on the edge of the pool.
For his part, Essek was still fully clothed save for his footwear, soaking nothing above his feet, as always.
“Ess-ek!” Jester called from the other side of the tub. “When are you going to get in? Are you just going to sit on the side forever?”
“Don’t pressure him, Jester,” Fjord admonished.
“But it’s so nice and warm!”
“It’s fine. I’m enjoying the steam,” Essek lied. He was already planning to go relax in his own bath for an hour where no one could see him.
Later, he made it back to his room--the room Caleb had designed just for him--and collapsed into the perpetually steaming tub. He imagined Caleb getting in with him, sighing happily as he entered the water… and then making more pleased sounds as Essek reached for him and began to touch him.
In the end, Essek made do by touching himself, thinking about what Caleb’s face might look like as Essek brought him to his climax.
When Essek was in his thirties, he’d met another young Drow by the name of Meron at one of his mother’s obligatory parties. He and Meron had hit it off immediately; Meron wasn’t an arcanist, but he was a fellow new soul, and he was in training to be a historian. They spent the better part of two hours bemoaning the close-mindedness of the Clerics, who had little interest in preserving any records of society prior to the embrace of the Luxon.
Eventually, they’d snuck out of the party, Essek had shown Meron his room, and in short order they were making out on the chaise longue. It had all been going quite well until Meron had begun to disrobe--at which point Essek, filled with a sudden inexplicable terror at the prospect of being naked with another person, had faked an urgent Sending from his mother and fled the scene.
Later that night, he’d stood in front of his full-length mirror for a full half an hour before finally stripping out of his formalwear. Then he had stared at his reflection for another half an hour, trying to figure out what it was he wanted covered up. But, while he didn’t find what he saw particularly spectacular--a bit too scrawny in some places, a bit too soft in others--neither could he find any great flaws that he should be ashamed to uncover.
And yet looking at the whole picture filled him with a sense of restless embarrassment and faint horror. Like he wasn’t supposed to be seen without his clothes, the way he wasn’t supposed to be seen without his skin. Without his layers he was disturbingly unfinished and incomplete, like a hermit crab between shells.
He’d had a few truncated affairs since then, but he always managed to wriggle out just before the moment he was expected to uncover himself. Most of the time he was content to focus on his work, and he kept too busy to dwell on his carnal failures. He even flattered himself with the thought that he was simply too preoccupied with cerebral pursuits to waste his time on something so base as sex.
But every now and then, he would try to relieve an itch and be unable to satisfy himself; he craved to be touched by someone else. In his imagination, he had no fear or hesitation; his ideal partner touched him exactly how he wanted, and his partner loved everything Essek did to them. Sometimes he conjured visions of himself and another in the third person, watching as they engaged in some debauched activity that he couldn’t quite bear to imagine directly, yet excited him all the same. When he finished, he would curl up in his chair, or on his bed, or wherever he happened to be, feeling utterly bereft as he tried to hold himself.
It would be easier, Essek thought, if he simply wasn’t interested in that sort of intimacy. He knew not everyone was. But he was interested--that was the whole problem. He was forever taking tiny sips of spicy soup while craving a mouthful.
Essek quickly grew tired of the soup analogy. It was not inaccurate, but it was trivial; it seemed blasphemous to compare his feelings on Caleb to his feelings on soup. He required a more sophisticated metaphor; one that would convey the gravity of his predicament. (The word he was looking for was romantic, though he would not admit it.)
At the risk of crossing the line into melodrama, he couldn’t help but think of the sun. It was all but an object of worship to anyone who venerated the Luxon, but while Essek was no man of faith and never had been, he did not need to be in order to appreciate its painful beauty.
Once, a few decades ago now, Essek had been at the edge of the city on a day when the Bright Queen had rolled back the cover of darkness. He’d watched as the buildings, the sky, and the ground beneath his feet lit up with vibrant colors usually muted by shadow. In the sunlight, the spires of the Lucid Bastion glittered like a giant prism, crowned with wispy pale clouds against the clear sky. The sheer blueness of the sky above would have moved Essek to tears, were his eyes not already watering furiously in the searing midday light.
He would stare, squinting like a fool, at the depthless blue above him until he couldn’t stand it any longer; then he would cover his face and attempt to rest his eyes enough to look again, trying to commit every cloud and blade of grass to memory. Tears ran down his face until his sunburned cheeks stung from the salt. He would have looked directly into that glorious yellow star until his retinas melted if only he’d had a cleric on hand to bless away the resulting blindness.
As it happened, Leylas Kryn herself mistook his wonder for color that day for a deep religious reverence. She gave him a promotion as soon as the sun went down.
For the first time since they’d begun their affair, they had the luxury of a night alone. The rest of the Nein were milling about the Tower, minding their own business for once--and Caleb was in Essek’s room, pinning him against the door with kisses pressed to his face and neck. Essek ran his hands over Caleb’s shoulders, clutching aimlessly at the outline of him, and Caleb seemed to take that as a request to shrug off his coat, and then his scarf, and then his shirt. Essek was hardly able to process anything except the sensation of warm skin under his hands; he almost didn’t notice when Caleb unclasped Essek’s cloak and began to undo the catches of his shirt.
Unfortunately, he did eventually realize what was happening, and he was knocked unceremoniously out of the blissful give and take of kissing Caleb. He froze, suddenly excruciatingly aware of himself and what he was doing.
Caleb paused his work immediately, pulling back. Essek looked down, humiliation washing over him in hot, prickling waves. “Are you alright, Schatz?”
“I ought to be,” Essek muttered. Caleb’s brow furrowed, and he took Essek’s hand, leading him over to sit on the bed.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. Essek fidgeted the hem of his half-undone shirt.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I liked it, but I… That is—I don’t know why, but…”
Caleb waited patiently. The guileless concern in his eyes made Essek feel guilty. Caleb hadn’t done anything wrong; Essek was the one who couldn’t handle intimacy like a normal person. Light, but putting this vulnerability into words was like pulling teeth. “I want us to, ah-- be together , but in the past I’ve--I start to think too much--the sensations are intense, and--I don’t like to feel exposed.” He clutched his shirt tighter.
“We don’t have to do anything right now,” Caleb assured him. “We don’t have to do anything, ever.”
“No! I mean--” Essek chewed on his lower lip to keep it from trembling, the shame like a physical weight pressing down on him. “I want to do everything --I really want to.” He cringed further at the needy whine in his own voice. “I’m just--I only--” he searched for words in Common, then in Undercommon, but found nothing. He didn’t even know how to describe his own problem.
“Hmm. Perhaps we are just going a little too fast for you, then,” Caleb mused. Essek’s ears drooped. He didn’t want to stop now; he’d been so looking forward to the moment they finally had time alone… “You don’t have to undress if you don’t want to. Do you mind if I do?”
Essek blinked. His brain felt like it was shorting out. “Um. Yes. I mean--that would be fine. Good, even.”
“Okay.” As if it was nothing, Caleb shucked off his socks, and then his pants, and then his underwear. He was now completely naked save for his amulet. Essek’s overtaxed brain sparked feebly as it tried to take in Caleb’s exposed form. He’d seen it before, but not like this. Not when Caleb was inviting him to look . He half expected to see an afterimage when he closed his eyes.
“Is it alright if I kiss you?” Caleb asked.
“Please do,” Essek whimpered. Before he could berate himself for the wobble in his voice, Caleb was kissing him again.
Caleb kissed him softly, close-mouthed, and stroked his hair, leaving his shirt and pants alone. Slowly, Essek began to relax again, reaching out to touch Caleb’s uncovered skin with tentative hands. He liked kissing; he knew how to do this. Looking and touching had been nearly too much, but touching without looking was better. Caleb hummed appreciatively under Essek’s hands, deepening the kiss to taste the inside of his mouth. Then, against Essek’s parted lips, he asked, “do you want me in your hand?”
“Gods,” Essek choked. “ Yes , but--I don’t want to get it wrong.”
Caleb smiled against his mouth. “It’s not so complicated. Here,” and he took Essek’s hand in his and placed it over his erection.
“Hhrgh,” said Essek, but he didn’t pull away.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” Caleb whispered, and guided Essek’s fingers to wrap around him. They both shuddered as Caleb moved Essek’s hand, up and down, gently stroking his length.
Essek buried his face in Caleb’s shoulder, afraid to look at what he was doing. He couldn’t even begin to explain why the sight of another man’s penis should intimidate him so. He felt like he shouldn’t even be allowed to see Caleb’s erection; like it was blasphemy to look upon it, like if he did it would burn out his eyes. It was so firm in his hand, but such a delicate thing at the same time; he was terrified of doing something wrong, of hurting Caleb by accident.
“Hmm,” Caleb moaned quietly, bucking his hips very slightly into Essek’s grasp. “You feel so good, Essek.”
That went straight to Essek’s own erection. He dared a look at Caleb’s face. His eyes were half-closed, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed almost as dark as his hair. Emboldened, Essek tightened his grip, very gently. Caleb sighed, eyes closing.
Then a trickle of pre-come touched Essek’s fingers, and his excitement tipped just a few degrees too far into anxiety; he jolted slightly at the unexpected sensation, pulling away and casting Prestidigitation on instinct.
“Sorry,” he babbled when he realized what he’d done. “Sorry, I was--surprised, I don’t know why--”
“Shh,” said Caleb. “Just breathe. Do you want to stop?”
Essek shook his head vigorously, staring mournfully at Caleb’s cock. Half of his brain wanted to put it in his mouth, while the other half wanted to run away screaming. He had fantasized about going down on Caleb more times than he would care to admit, but always with the quiet fear that he’d be stymied by the physical reality of the act, and also that he would be terrible at it and Caleb would be disappointed…
“Can you cast Mage Hand ?” Caleb asked, interrupting Essek’s shame spiral.
“Yes… why?”
“Ah, well…” Now Caleb looked a bit embarrassed. “I’ve been thinking, for a while, that I would like you to--to use your Mage Hand and, um.” He moved his own hand behind him. “It was just a silly thought, but if your own hand is too much, then maybe…”
“Oh,” Essek breathed, and immediately cast Mage Hand.
Caleb was right; it was less overwhelming for Essek this way--and no less pleasurable for Caleb, it seemed. After a brief pause during which Caleb retrieved a small vial of oil, Essek trailed the hand down Caleb’s back, ghosting over his spine before carefully touching the opening between his cheeks. Caleb groaned and shifted onto his hands and knees in front of Essek, following Essek’s arcane hand with his own.
Essek was inexperienced when it came to having partners, but he knew his own body well enough, and he understood this part could be slow. Caleb, however, soon had one of his own fingers inside.
“Your turn,” he said as he withdrew, managing to look a little coy even as he was blushing furiously. Fuck. Caleb truly contained multitudes.
Essek followed Caleb’s lead, slipping one finger of the arcane hand carefully inside of him, slowly moving it in and out. Caleb whimpered, gripping the sheets with his own hands. “Keep going--like that—”
Essek continued to move the hand, crooking the finger and thrusting in and out, while Caleb moaned and gasped in front of him. Essek had touched, before; now he got to look, and the sight--Caleb naked on his knees for Essek, his entire body flushed various shades of pink, hair unbound and falling around his shoulders, erection hard between his legs--was intensely, dizzyingly hot. Essek nearly dropped his concentration on the spell.
“More, please,” Caleb gasped. He began to move his hips, thrusting back against the arcane hand. “Essek, another-- oh!” His eyes fell shut as Essek added a second finger. He threw his head back, and the look of pure bliss on his face was almost blinding.
Essek, for his part, was so hard he wondered if he might climax just from watching Caleb. His heart pounded like he was running for his life, and some small animal part of his brain still struggled to tell the difference between the overwhelming throb of Caleb-induced lust and mortal terror. He took a deep breath to settle himself and scissored the fingers slightly. Caleb rewarded his efforts with a choked cry, circling his hips and driving against the fingers with increasing speed.
He’s fucking himself on my Mage Hand, Essek thought stupidly, with what little blood he had left in his brain. (Most of it was undoubtedly in his dick at this point.)
“Can I touch you again?” He said out loud. At Caleb’s enthusiastic nod, he scrambled across the two feet between them and grasped Caleb in his shaking hand once again, still thrusting into him from behind with arcane fingers. Caleb fumbled to kiss him, sloppy and open-mouthed as he trembled and finally came apart under Essek’s hands.
Immediately, he slumped over and pulled them both down onto the bed, deftly dodging the wet patch he’d just left, eyes closed in bliss. “Mmm. You did so well, Schatz .” Then he cracked one eye open. “You haven’t come?”
Essek shook his head, shifting a bit uncomfortably.
“Can I?” Essek nodded. “Okay. Roll over--yes, like that--'' and he reached around Essek’s waist from behind, slipping a hand carefully into Essek’s pants to grasp his aching erection. “Good?”
“Good,” Essek whispered. Caleb’s hand was larger than his own, warm, and rough with callouses beneath the slippery oil. It felt incredible wrapped around him. He let his head fall back against Caleb’s shoulder, and made a noise of pleasant surprise when Caleb nipped at his ear and kissed down the back of his neck, all while gently stroking him. Held safely against his lover’s warm body and still riding the high of successfully making Caleb come, it was only a minute or two before he stiffened and arched, then relaxed bonelessly against Caleb, his entire body trembling with the aftershocks of all the stimulation it had been subjected to. He managed a quick Prestidigitation to clean up some of the mess and sighed happily, in no hurry to leave Caleb’s arms.
They both lay still for a few minutes, soaking in the afterglow. Essek was just starting to wonder if Caleb had fallen entirely asleep when he heard him say, “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“What in the world for?” Essek rolled over to face Caleb.
“I got a little… overeager.” Caleb looked sheepish. “It probably would have been better to discuss these things with you before I tried to, ah, get in your pants, as they say.”
“Well, I did really want you in my pants. And you cannot be blamed for not expecting me to be a--a one hundred and twenty year old virgin.” He had been trying for humor, but the words came out a little more deprecating than he’d intended.
“For all I know, that is perfectly standard among your people.”
Essek smiled wryly and shook his head, turning it to hide his face in the sheets. “It is very much not.”
“I haven’t done anything like this in a very long time, you know,” said Caleb, rubbing gentle circles into Essek’s back. “I messed around as a teenager, but in truth I am not so much more experienced than you.”
“But you’re…” Essek mumbled into the sheets, unable to meet Caleb’s eyes. “You know what you like and what to do to get it. It is intuitive to you. I overthink—I want something one minute and the next I’m afraid of it. Too much pleasure makes me panic. I’m too afraid to even take my clothes off.”
“May I ask why?”
“I don’t know. My clothes are like a part of me. Without them…” Essek swallowed. “I am reduced. And I couldn’t stand it if you saw me stripped bare and found me… lacking.”
“I quite honestly don’t think that’s possible,” Caleb assured him. “But I understand. I am sorry for all those times we pressured you to undress for one reason or another.”
Essek chuckled. “That’s alright. I am very accomplished at telling people no.” He paused. “I would… I would like to undress for you, eventually. I just…”
“You need some time?”
Essek sighed. “Funny how things always seem to come back to that.”
“It is your specialty,” Caleb teased lightly.
“I fear I will make you do all the work. I want to please you and take care of you. But instead you have to take care of me and my--deficiencies. Even here, in the bedroom.” Essek sniffled, as surreptitiously as possible. Orgasms always made him maudlin, but usually there was no one around to see it. “It’s more than I deserve.”
“Essek,” said Caleb honestly, “I would absolutely love it if you were to take off all your clothes and then fuck me until I forget what time it is. If you like, maybe we can work up to that. But only if you like. I just want you with me. You do not have to worry about living up to some expectation.”
Essek cautiously met Caleb’s eyes. “You are not just saying that to be kind?”
Caleb smiled, and kissed him on the nose, briefly sending him cross-eyed. “I mean it. I promise.” When Essek still looked a bit dubious, he said, “if it helps, I will tell you something else honest. I did assume you were experienced, but only because you are so attractive. And I don’t just mean physically—you were very smooth when we first met. Seductive, even.”
“I suppose I am very skilled at affecting confidence.”
“That's putting it lightly. I thought that men and women all over the city must be after you.” He squeezed Essek a bit closer. “But the Shadowhand was a bit of a dick. I prefer Essek.”
“Essek is also a bit of a dick,” Essek pointed out. But he couldn’t help his spirits lifting a bit at all the praise. “How long had you been thinking about my Mage Hand?” He asked slyly.
The blush that had gradually faded from Caleb’s face made a triumphant return. “Ah… quite a bit longer than I should admit…”
Essek smirked. “And how long have you wanted me to, how did you put it so eloquently… fuck you until you forget what time it is?”
Caleb rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I take it back. Essek is also a dick.”
Essek laughed, and kissed him. He meant it to be a quick smooch, but Caleb flung an arm around his neck and held him close, and Essek didn't pull away.