Essek has his hands buried deep in Caleb's greying hair when he has the realization.
The two of them are already firmly attached at the lips and barreling rapidly towards fucking on top of Caleb's students' papers, again. Caleb has yet to set aside his bifocals and Essek is studiously ignoring how one of his rings has grappled one side of Caleb's glasses chain into an unforgiving snarl, and in this long moment Essek genuinely realizes that his husband is becoming quite the silver fox.
He was aware before, of course – he had more than prepared himself for the many, many lovely ways in which Caleb would show his age over the coming decades – but there was something so visceral about being able to see it under his palms that made the whole process click in a way that it had failed to previously. Something about it makes him feel terribly young. Essek separates their lips and pulls his tongue back into his own mouth with a small wet noise that goes straight to his hole. He blinks, languidly, smiling into the small pecks Caleb continues to pepper against his mouth.
"Do you still find yourself up for this, my love?" Essek murmurs teasingly, lips brushing against rough stubble that he really must convince Caleb to grow out again. "I would not want to strain you, after all."
Caleb's eyes flutter open, glittering with an amused twinkle that Essek sees often, and even more so before a particularly delightful evening. Caleb's lips part again and he nips Essek's bottom lip with his blunt teeth before pulling back achingly far, his hands still steady on Essek's hips.
"You know," Caleb says, smiling more than he is smirking (though Essek can tell this is meant to be the latter), "I believe I am getting tired of you goading me about my age. Didn't anyone teach you to respect your elders, Schatz?"
Essek grins, small, private, and devious. "I've always been one to defy expectations, Caleb Widogast," he says, tilting his chin so that he can look up at Caleb through his lashes. Caleb throws his head back and laughs, and Essek feels affection bloom warmly in his chest like a drop of paint in a cup of water as Caleb's glasses fly off of his face, the chain still attached to Essek's hand.
Fill 1/?
Essek has his hands buried deep in Caleb's greying hair when he has the realization.
The two of them are already firmly attached at the lips and barreling rapidly towards fucking on top of Caleb's students' papers, again. Caleb has yet to set aside his bifocals and Essek is studiously ignoring how one of his rings has grappled one side of Caleb's glasses chain into an unforgiving snarl, and in this long moment Essek genuinely realizes that his husband is becoming quite the silver fox.
He was aware before, of course – he had more than prepared himself for the many, many lovely ways in which Caleb would show his age over the coming decades – but there was something so visceral about being able to see it under his palms that made the whole process click in a way that it had failed to previously. Something about it makes him feel terribly young. Essek separates their lips and pulls his tongue back into his own mouth with a small wet noise that goes straight to his hole. He blinks, languidly, smiling into the small pecks Caleb continues to pepper against his mouth.
"Do you still find yourself up for this, my love?" Essek murmurs teasingly, lips brushing against rough stubble that he really must convince Caleb to grow out again. "I would not want to strain you, after all."
Caleb's eyes flutter open, glittering with an amused twinkle that Essek sees often, and even more so before a particularly delightful evening. Caleb's lips part again and he nips Essek's bottom lip with his blunt teeth before pulling back achingly far, his hands still steady on Essek's hips.
"You know," Caleb says, smiling more than he is smirking (though Essek can tell this is meant to be the latter), "I believe I am getting tired of you goading me about my age. Didn't anyone teach you to respect your elders, Schatz?"
Essek grins, small, private, and devious. "I've always been one to defy expectations, Caleb Widogast," he says, tilting his chin so that he can look up at Caleb through his lashes. Caleb throws his head back and laughs, and Essek feels affection bloom warmly in his chest like a drop of paint in a cup of water as Caleb's glasses fly off of his face, the chain still attached to Essek's hand.