Aaaah -- [ A soft cry uttered at the mercy of Ignis' hot, hot mouth, the way it closes over his nipple through the slip, mouthing at him like he intends to break him just from this alone, and Noctis has never been more sensitive. He has never been more turned on, there's just something about Ignis' reaction to the slip that he wears that thrums hot in his veins, heightens the anticipation and excitement. His hands tremble when they finish the last button, shucking the shirt off his shoulders with obvious impatience.
His chest burns with traces of his kiss, and Noctis squirms under the teasing, half-tempted to twist away from the way he cups his balls, lightly-calloused palm providing a glorious heat and friction that makes him giddy. Instead, he instinctively tries to close his thighs around his hand. ]
Ignis. [ He breathes, ragged and besotted and three degrees shy of wrecked. There is color high on his cheeks as he shamelessly arches into his mouth. More, he needs more -- Ignis courses like a drug in his veins, his attentions a frightfully coveted thing. He's so hard it hurts, and a hand comes to curve at the back of Ignis' head, brushing over the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. The other splays over his shoulder, blunt nails digging gently into him. ]
Do something about it. [ Ignis is too far out of reach for Noctis to strip him of his trousers, so he settles for the next best thing: bossing Ignis around. ]
[ Mediating that longing in Noctis is just like trying to placate a third-degree burn on skin; there's no curbing the damage, just salvaging what's left behind in the disaster and making the best of it. His hands trace shallow curves and the shallower dip of the chemise, silky, and then he's got to lift his hands for the eventuality of his shirt getting summarily tugged off, fabric pooling at his wrists that he takes a slight detour to remove.
While Noctis's fingers prey upon his shoulder, nails enamored, voice even more enamored, Ignis hums his pleasantries, dragging his attentions to the other nipple, teeth raking just shy of perverseness. His mouth lifts with a grin, unseen from this treacherous angle. ]
Duly noted.
[ Unfortunately, a good portion of the lingerie below his waist will need to be stranded above it as one of his hands fondly scope out the space between his legs, kneading and kneading him down. But he's insufferably gentle for being invasive, long fingers slipping around the head of Noct's cock as it beads with precum, taking the weepy mess of it along his fingers as he tucks around the frenulum, feeling out the underside with a softly biding thumb. ]
Patience.
[ He'll console him. He will. He'd even offer himself to the pyre if that'd mitigate his agony some, but he's too much of a glutton for his Highness's aching cries like some kind of insatiable sadomasochist, so he takes his time pulling an orgasm from him, stroking over the intricacy of his veins, the stiffness that Noct's taken on while carefully perching himself to undo the button on his trousers, then unzipping them. ]
[ Noctis says archly, because really, what kind of good came out of patience? And that seems even worse where Ignis is concerned, because at this point Noctis will do just about anything to make sure that he keeps touching him, which comprises boldly wrapping both of his legs high on his waist to lock him in place, pulling him close impatiently.
It's not often that Noctis reconsiders, but the idea comes to him unbidden as he watches Ignis unbutton and unzip, himself reaching down to slip his hand into the confines of his briefs, fingers curling around his cock, tucked so snugly inside there. He draws his cock out in return, shivering at the pleasure Ignis provides him with his fingers alone, rubbing over the veins on the underside of his cock, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine and rendering him a mess. He's rolling his hips hopelessly into his grip, as if doing so would afford him more of what Ignis is currently giving. His nipples are taut and stiff, sensitive the way Noctis had never really thought they would be, aching for attention when Ignis draws away; the lace scraping over sensitive buds make him squirm, the purest form of torture his chamberlain's just devised. ]
Second thought. Keep your clothes on. [ And the full length mirror just off to the side reveals them in all their debauchery beautifully; he turns his head to look, watching himself splayed shamelessly underneath Ignis, a gift to be unwrapped, and Ignis bent above him, all feral grace and calculating passion, Noctis' legs wrapped around his waist, lace and silk riding up to pool at his sternum, his cock almost obscene, the way it fills under Ignis' avid attentions. ]
Look at us. [ He murmurs, breath catching as he returns the favor, thumbing gently over the large, thick vein on the underside of Ignis' dick, tracing over it with loving care. Look at them here like this; in Noctis' heady intoxication he discovers a taste for exhibitionism, admiring how their bodies are slotted together, two halves of a whole. ]
[ It's true. Nothing good comes out of waiting but an anticipation that won't consign itself or find the least bit solace in the trouble taken. Yearning becomes Ignis, rolling off in turbulent waves, and every ounce of his frustration imparts itself with relief when he's pressed this close, leaning into Noctis and precariously balancing on him when he's ungovernable. ]
Good impulse.
[ Good instincts. He's not very patient to exercise restraint or the bodily inconvenience of removing clothing either, lavishing affection on Noctis's chest, a self-assured glide of his mouth down his sternum as Ignis hitches that leg wandering around his waist up further along his back, casts it around to join the other so he'll be dragged down into the undertow.
From now on, he'll need to ban enticements that come so slim and alluring on Noctis, slinky in the material, flippantly turning his head so it gives with just a push, directed sidelong at the mirror. But beauty's in the eye of the beholder, and although he can see himself, thoroughly debauched and down a shirt, there's only one person in that mirror who matters. ]
Look at you. You're more than I know what to do with.
[ More than he can bear. He's thwarted by it, their bodies pressed together, Noctis's thighs soft and insistent at his sides, fingers crumpled irresistibly around his erection, and Ignis shudders, sated and wanting. He closes his fingers around his hipbones then, grinding them together so they're worked snug, like they're twining together, made whole and complete. It's obscenity cast like reverence, his fingers slipping around Noct's so their hard-ons are angled together, movements sloppy and undermined with each pulse of heat that radiates outwards, but he's a man possessed by his king. He can't help it, the throb of his erection, the loosely sobbing breaths when the hem of the lace ends and his mouth is warm over Noctis's bare ribs. ]
You ever gonna -- aaah -- stop flattering me that way?
[ It's no secret that for all of Noctis' ego, he has little idea of how to gracefully accept compliments, especially when they're uttered by Ignis with such intensity that he feels his cheeks heat up. Gods, he's behaving like a teenage girl that's just sad. He's supposed to be seducing Ignis, primed to drive him out of his mind with mounting desire, and here he is, hopelessly seduced.
Not about to admit defeat, he continues to stroke his cock where they both can see, languid and thorough and deliberate, enjoying how he feels in his hand as he rubs his thumb up and down the veined ridges of his dick, lingering at the root of it before sliding back up to curve his thumb deliberately over the flared tip, toying with the foreskin just because he can, gently pulling it back before releasing.
He's letting himself be hitched up a little higher, exposing himself shamelessly as he digs his heel into the small of his back, gasping with unbridled pleasure at the warmth of his mouth, the sin he lavishes onto his skin. And oh, how Ignis seems to close to becoming undone, when his hungry mouth is pressed over his ribs and Noctis swears Ignis can hear the wild pounding of his heart from here. They are tangled together as one, and he issues a quiet, pleasure-filled keen of approval and want, and he's grinding his hips impatiently against him, wild and in need of a good taming. ]
Gods, Iggy, you feel so fucking -- [ He continues breathlessly, his words thick and heavy, tossing his head back when their cocks slide each other again and again, their hands joined in mutual yearning, and oh, how Ignis feels so, so very good. He tightens his hand. ] Come on me.
[ On the lace and satin, on his flat stomach; the first of a few rounds they will surely go tonight. Noctis wants to be marked, had, and after all, this particular piece of lingerie is made for ruining. ]
Youβ you can't teach an old dog new tricks, I'm afraid.
[ And he's like a hound, bloodthirsty and preying on what he can get, triumphant when he's the one losing to savagery. Bad to the bones, with yearning shaking tremors out of him, sharing their warmth until it's something melting and horrifically visceral, gouging out his lungs for breath so each exhales ends on a moan. Sweat's raining down his temples, glasses condensed with the heat that clouds his vision, so Noct's misting up and all that's left is the heartbeat ticking beneath his mouth, the frantic staccato of it humming in time with his own. He's smudging the insults and compliments alike away, the material of the silken fabric coming up when Noctis tugs him down and he crumples with the drop, grinding furiously hard into their hands, choking down his erection.
When Noctis makes the request, he's past coherency and proper speech, panting a fevered tempo into the side of his neck, groaning with the need that's clambering up him. When Noct's head falls back, the pale stretch of his neck exposed, it shouldn't be a shock that Ignis goes right for the maiming, lifting Noct's leg further along his waist with a fervor that should fall under critique later, when they're both back to relying on sanity instead of instinct.
But there's no halting right now, even when he near-sobs along the lace, mouth wandering by Noct's clavicles, clung to him so he's enshrined more in his arms than lying on the bed. There's no controlling the trajectory of release; it's just enough to cut loose, shuddering underneath the tumult of orgasm, spurting in some jerky rush on him, against his best efforts to contain it just his fingers. Bent over the bed, the mess of it is clinging to his fingers, but there's cum on Noctis's stomach, trickling through the half-aborted intricacy of their bodies when twined this close, and it's awful, how much this says about his restraint (coming on command, like something rehearsed). He can't control the slump, either, so he just goes with itβ sinks down on one side, nosing by Noct's shoulder, beyond articulation. ]
[ His Ignis comes on command, and there's everything intoxicating about having him unravel just so. It's a rush of power, potent and exhilarating, and Noctis makes a low noise of approval as his fingers stroke his cock, milking every pulse from him, watching the sticky spurts of cum spatter-spill past his fingers onto his stomach, dripping on his own cock, staining the lace-silk concoction with his seed, welcome and wanted. It's wonderful, what it says about his beloved's willingness to indulge him his lurid whims, and Noctis swipes some of the cum from his stomach when he's done, licking it off his fingers, tasting the familiar bittersaltiness of it before he turns his head, draws him into a slow, languorous kiss.
He's still hard, still aching, dripping with need, but he doesn't pay much attention to his dick right now, not when Ignis sinks down on his side, pressed closed to him. ] I think you're delicious.
[ He murmurs, a soft smile tugging at the side of his mouth, his leg coming to drape over his waist again all the same, turning fully to him. It's after a moment that he's gently removing his glasses, folding it and setting it neatly on the nightstand next to him. ] Do you want to fuck me?
[ Because he wants this, because he's ached for his cock inside him for the past many days, Ignis' absence a constant, low-level sort of misery that's only endurable because of exams, of all the other things that were present to take his mind off the fact that the bed has been bereft of him for so long. ]
[ He'll give himself up for consumption if that'll satiate Noct, tearing into the core of Ignis as he effortlessly does, appropriating his heart for his own whims. Not a bad way to go. Not at all. Otherwise, Ignis takes after a shark enamored by the spill of blood, searching out the source and brings in Noctis with a hand around his nape for that bruising, draining kiss that siphons away some of the ache.
The barbarity in him abates, little by little, and he comes away with his mouth wet and gaze focused, recovering enough obscene grace to take the loss of his glasses in good stride. The taste lingers in his mouth as it presses into a thin line, an undercurrent of languor traveling his voice. ]
You're beautiful. [ Just a non-sequitur to add to all of those other non-sequiturs, arbitrated just so. He's got a face on him that speaks of his amusement even when his humor's felled, legs braced on the mattress. His smile revives. ] Do you want me to?
[ A soft-edged accusation, the corners of his mouth tugging up. Coyness is hardly an asset, dispelling the twist of Noctis's legs to scoot down and down so that the prince's kneecaps are riding at his shoulders, soles of his feet someways down his back, as he kisses him, down the pale wash of his thighs, then up along his groin, lips pressed along the base of his cock and his balls in idle patterns, Noctis providing the axis of the world upon which to spiral himself around. ]
[ Noctis breathes. His yearning makes him polite when he asks Ignis to fuck him, to make love to him -- the prince has missed his beloved in the days that span between them, all of it taken up by their respective duties, but it doesn't mean the absence goes unnoticed. And here they are, Noctis with Ignis' cum on his stomach, his own cock still hard and dripping with need, and he's gasping when he's folded nearly into two, knees over those strong, broad shoulders.
It's a good thing he's so flexible, because he's issuing a soft whine of longing when Ignis presses his lips to his thighs, his cock, his balls, pulling taut with potent arousal. He feels empty inside, needy, and pinned down like this he could do little more but squirm, his hand coming down to curl through Ignis' hair, gently pulling but not forcing him everywhere. ]
Aaah -- Iggy...! [ Soft cries as he feels his tongue against his heated skin, and he's so turned on he fears he might burst into pieces, his cock bobbing obscenely against his mouth. Ignis is so very beautiful when he goes down on him, and Noctis will make good on that offer to devour him in time. Now, now it's time to be consumed, to be taken whole, and to remember just how good Ignis feels buried deep inside of him.
He squirms, pressing up into his mouth, begging without words, cheeks flushed pink at the compliment. It seems like Ignis always knows how to get to him, to know what to say to make him unfold and offer himself to him, his spine tingling with his talented ministrations. ]
[ Muscle memory, after all this time spent away. His heart's stuck in a bell jar or something equally oppressive, tinny and echoing and loud out of his chest, or crushed where Noct's somehow gotten his hands around it for safekeeping. Not in the literal sense, but the sort that rolls an entire ocean over him so his balance is irrevocably torn asunder, his hands sliding to shape around him, pulling in like just Noct can transfix him, keep him from going entirely lost.
Inelegance is preying on his mouth, otherwise, sweet on him, kissing him out of the keening fits and the start of panting as it all runs down his throat, like his presence is wounding on him, and Ignis stops some, if just to give him a moment to catch his breath before he resumes down by Noctis's inner thigh, supplanting another kiss there.
Please. Please, please, please. His lungs are inarticulate, but also planted on the words that shudder out of Noctis, panting, the lithe lines of his body pulling up to meet the shape he's cast, only to startle as his lips travel down the scope of him. No immaculacy, this time. Just yearning for its own profane sake.
Ignis musters up a smile. It sits shrewd on his mouth after Noct's let him topple them both over, leaving him flat on his back while he splits Noct's legs apart. Briefly, he leans back up, teeth scraping over Noct's lips, then reorients himself: ]
Yes.
[ And that answer comes from being undone too many times by Noct's whims, like the slinky spill of his lingerie or the cum ribboning over it, the heat in him that translates its way over into Noctis when he presses tight against him, then insideβ wrenching in as Noctis's body stretches to conform around him. The clutch is unbearable, pouring on down from base to tip, but he sinks in a little more until he's seated fully inside him. His face fortifies even in lounging decline, waiting for his Highness to acclimate, then he broaches him for these slow, minute thrusts, his balls slapping against Noct with every lurch forward. ]
[ Yes, and it's one word with a world of meaning in it.
Yes, Ignis says, and Noctis' heart skips a beat because no matter how often his lover yields to him, all beauty and grace and elegance with a feral savagery threaded underneath it, brought to almost breaking point, it will never cease to be something of untold magnificence. His lips burn with Ignis' kisses, burning a line down his throat, making an invisible mark over his racing pulse.
His heart belongs to Ignis, and he aches and sighs, soft and willing with an equally fervent yearning. His absence is an unwelcome change that Noctis has never gotten used to, no matter the duration or frequency, and he's an unholy mess of sweat, drying cum, and a tight, hot hole that's more than ready for Ignis to slide back inside of him.
And slide back he does, smooth but firm, Ignis pouring all of himself into this sacred, carnal act, and Noctis reaches up to cling, to hold tight as he swallows him whole, accommodates and encomapsses all of him, taking his cock inside with a warm sigh. He's welcome here, forever and always, and his words catch when he feels him fill him up, thick and long and so, so very full that the ever-constant irrational fear of Ignis possibly not fitting inside of him sparks in the back of his mind, and is summarily dismissed.
No, Ignis will always fit inside of him like the perfect piece of a missing puzzle, slotting into place as he closes around him, warm and pulsing and fully intent on pleasing him and making up for lost time. His hand coming to rest on his cheek, Noctis grinds back against him with soft, breathless moans, laying out his pleasure for Ignis' consumption, cheeks flushed with color and mouth parted in shameless enjoyment. ]
Missed you. [ He pants, clenching down tight around his cock, feeling the press of his balls against his ass and the obscene sounds of their fucking in the silence of their apartment. Gods, but he loves when Ignis fucks him, when he opens up and takes him inside and gives himself over. His hands slip right down to cup and squeeze Ignis' ass, feeling the tight, firm flesh in his palms. He huffs softly. ] Missed all of you. Tell me you liked ruining my lingerie.
[ His fingers curl, briefly, adjusting his hold on Noctis like Noctis adjusts his hold on him, forcing the bend to his elbow when he crashes down into the first thrust. It's not a long plummet, posed as inches instead of miles. Ignis learns, and relearns; he sees Noct's mouth ebb into a sharp arc of a grin, then sees through it. (And it's maddening, leaving him wry under the strain of that gaze, and those eyes, and that heart, all slicing him open to something undone. He's the one coming apart. His back's relenting to arch just so, telegraphing every ounce of his intent.)
One failed attempt at subtlety, and now he's never going to live it down. Ignis gasps, a low sound, when Noctis bends his knees, limbs loose, and steadies him. A minute passes. He's thinking about the drop of sweat perilously running down the slope of his cheek, drawn out like any tear. Noct's reaching ferociously for him, spitfire and challenging, grappling down his spinal cord, then his ass.
And Ignis laughs, indulgent. All of his infatuation shines in his throat. Too much. Too much. Noct would've been better with someone who could match that teetering absorption in him; Ignis has no talent for love, he's not daring enough. Fortune favors the bold, and he's chronic with his scruples.
But he's rising to the challenge, because that's all that can be done. His knuckles momentarily rasp on the bones of Noctis's ribs as he stills just to admire him, grinding and sweet. ]
Beautiful.
[ Years of pondering Noct and squashing down that pining for him have rendered him inarticulate. Let him amend that, shaking his head when he resumes the pace, the next thrust steady and clean as any cut. His breath is lost in a wash of sighing, words coming up in startled fits, clouding up like steam. ]
I loathed it. You know that better than anyone. [ Especially later when he'll do laundry and contend with the potential for stains, salvaging what he's destroyed. Ignis inhales, hummingbird-quick, then loosens, slowly, then all at once, mouth draped over his throat, thrusts taking a turn for the severe. ] But I've got an appetite for ruining you that I can't seem to satiate.
[ Noncommittal, though, even with the thrum of Noctis's body enfolding him like one overlong heartbeat, jumpstarting pulses of heat in his groin. ]
I love you. I love you so much I can scarcely wrap my mind around it.
[ And isn't that affection, shaped like Noctis's hand on his cheek, eloping with all of his common sense and decency. ]
[ There's a reason why people shouldn't talk during sex -- all good sense goes out the window and all that's left is good-natured babbling, with Noctis more than anyone else. Ignis looks at him like he's a work of art, but he knows he's unworthy of such regard; the man is elegant, sleek and graceful, consuming him like a panther with prey, and Noctis, unwieldy and too eager, all sharp angles and rough corners, approaching this like he approaches a fight.
After all, there's not all that much difference when it comes to fighting and fucking, and so on. Far from inarticulate, Ignis seems to pull the requisite measure of seduction out his ass, rendering Noctis hapless to his charms all the same. He meets him halfway, enveloping Ignis into the clasp of his body, and he arches his neck to reveal his throat, feeling the heat of his lips against his pulse.
Oh, it's delicious, how Ignis fits so beautifully against him, in him, that his gasps punctuate every sleek, glorious thrust, filling him up and making his toes curl. He ruins him, of course he does; with every word, with every kiss, the prince forgets himself, giving himself over to Ignis, to press his heart against his own and to confess his own love in ragged whispers. He's leaning up to kiss him fully, guiding him to his lips as he presses his forehead to his helplessly. ]
Mnngh -- please...
[ So sweet, too sweet; oh, he will drown in him. ]
[ All the shrewdness in him bleeds out at once. Ignis can't help it, gutted first by that proprietary holdβ Noctis's iron-clad grip, spiking up to clutch and take him even furtherβ and then that guilelessness when running his resolve raw when he's met mid-thrust. Crushed fingers are a nascent possibility he doesn't bother entertaining even when he's tucked them to cradle around Noctis's lower back, tucked underneath his ribs and the sheer fabric spread thin over it. Sense-touch, while he's slouching low like he's in his death throes, coasting over mortality like he's coasting down Noct's throat with his lips.
The despicable man that Ignis is, the smile he affords that bared throat is tangibly felt when he's pressing his mouth so ardently, parodying so much of his fondly terrible humor. This is who you have to live with, your Highness. The happiness in him is climbing to absurd levels and only careening from there. It's only a free-fall from here on out. There's no doubting where Ignis's allegiance lies with the heavy affront of a kiss on his Adam's apple, legs braced either side of him. ]
You're lovelier than I can put to words. I absolutely detest it.
[ Of course. Feigning polite abhorrence won't keep Noctis from exploiting this loophole the next time he's gone and left his room in disarray. Averse to common sense, Ignis doesn't retreat when the warmth goes rampant, Noctis fit about him and clenching to snare, and his breathing cuts down to ribbons.
Inevitably, it's sweet. That alone is an unbelievably perverse thought to entertain when his dick's grinding against Noctis on every plunge forward, adrenaline on the rise. His mouth's impaired with the salt on Noct's skin, voice coming out thick and blurry on the next downswing. ]
Noctis. Don't look away. Keep your eyes trained on me.
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His chest burns with traces of his kiss, and Noctis squirms under the teasing, half-tempted to twist away from the way he cups his balls, lightly-calloused palm providing a glorious heat and friction that makes him giddy. Instead, he instinctively tries to close his thighs around his hand. ]
Ignis. [ He breathes, ragged and besotted and three degrees shy of wrecked. There is color high on his cheeks as he shamelessly arches into his mouth. More, he needs more -- Ignis courses like a drug in his veins, his attentions a frightfully coveted thing. He's so hard it hurts, and a hand comes to curve at the back of Ignis' head, brushing over the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. The other splays over his shoulder, blunt nails digging gently into him. ]
Do something about it. [ Ignis is too far out of reach for Noctis to strip him of his trousers, so he settles for the next best thing: bossing Ignis around. ]
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While Noctis's fingers prey upon his shoulder, nails enamored, voice even more enamored, Ignis hums his pleasantries, dragging his attentions to the other nipple, teeth raking just shy of perverseness. His mouth lifts with a grin, unseen from this treacherous angle. ]
Duly noted.
[ Unfortunately, a good portion of the lingerie below his waist will need to be stranded above it as one of his hands fondly scope out the space between his legs, kneading and kneading him down. But he's insufferably gentle for being invasive, long fingers slipping around the head of Noct's cock as it beads with precum, taking the weepy mess of it along his fingers as he tucks around the frenulum, feeling out the underside with a softly biding thumb. ]
Patience.
[ He'll console him. He will. He'd even offer himself to the pyre if that'd mitigate his agony some, but he's too much of a glutton for his Highness's aching cries like some kind of insatiable sadomasochist, so he takes his time pulling an orgasm from him, stroking over the intricacy of his veins, the stiffness that Noct's taken on while carefully perching himself to undo the button on his trousers, then unzipping them. ]
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[ Noctis says archly, because really, what kind of good came out of patience? And that seems even worse where Ignis is concerned, because at this point Noctis will do just about anything to make sure that he keeps touching him, which comprises boldly wrapping both of his legs high on his waist to lock him in place, pulling him close impatiently.
It's not often that Noctis reconsiders, but the idea comes to him unbidden as he watches Ignis unbutton and unzip, himself reaching down to slip his hand into the confines of his briefs, fingers curling around his cock, tucked so snugly inside there. He draws his cock out in return, shivering at the pleasure Ignis provides him with his fingers alone, rubbing over the veins on the underside of his cock, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine and rendering him a mess. He's rolling his hips hopelessly into his grip, as if doing so would afford him more of what Ignis is currently giving. His nipples are taut and stiff, sensitive the way Noctis had never really thought they would be, aching for attention when Ignis draws away; the lace scraping over sensitive buds make him squirm, the purest form of torture his chamberlain's just devised. ]
Second thought. Keep your clothes on. [ And the full length mirror just off to the side reveals them in all their debauchery beautifully; he turns his head to look, watching himself splayed shamelessly underneath Ignis, a gift to be unwrapped, and Ignis bent above him, all feral grace and calculating passion, Noctis' legs wrapped around his waist, lace and silk riding up to pool at his sternum, his cock almost obscene, the way it fills under Ignis' avid attentions. ]
Look at us. [ He murmurs, breath catching as he returns the favor, thumbing gently over the large, thick vein on the underside of Ignis' dick, tracing over it with loving care. Look at them here like this; in Noctis' heady intoxication he discovers a taste for exhibitionism, admiring how their bodies are slotted together, two halves of a whole. ]
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Good impulse.
[ Good instincts. He's not very patient to exercise restraint or the bodily inconvenience of removing clothing either, lavishing affection on Noctis's chest, a self-assured glide of his mouth down his sternum as Ignis hitches that leg wandering around his waist up further along his back, casts it around to join the other so he'll be dragged down into the undertow.
From now on, he'll need to ban enticements that come so slim and alluring on Noctis, slinky in the material, flippantly turning his head so it gives with just a push, directed sidelong at the mirror. But beauty's in the eye of the beholder, and although he can see himself, thoroughly debauched and down a shirt, there's only one person in that mirror who matters. ]
Look at you. You're more than I know what to do with.
[ More than he can bear. He's thwarted by it, their bodies pressed together, Noctis's thighs soft and insistent at his sides, fingers crumpled irresistibly around his erection, and Ignis shudders, sated and wanting. He closes his fingers around his hipbones then, grinding them together so they're worked snug, like they're twining together, made whole and complete. It's obscenity cast like reverence, his fingers slipping around Noct's so their hard-ons are angled together, movements sloppy and undermined with each pulse of heat that radiates outwards, but he's a man possessed by his king. He can't help it, the throb of his erection, the loosely sobbing breaths when the hem of the lace ends and his mouth is warm over Noctis's bare ribs. ]
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[ It's no secret that for all of Noctis' ego, he has little idea of how to gracefully accept compliments, especially when they're uttered by Ignis with such intensity that he feels his cheeks heat up. Gods, he's behaving like a teenage girl that's just sad. He's supposed to be seducing Ignis, primed to drive him out of his mind with mounting desire, and here he is, hopelessly seduced.
Not about to admit defeat, he continues to stroke his cock where they both can see, languid and thorough and deliberate, enjoying how he feels in his hand as he rubs his thumb up and down the veined ridges of his dick, lingering at the root of it before sliding back up to curve his thumb deliberately over the flared tip, toying with the foreskin just because he can, gently pulling it back before releasing.
He's letting himself be hitched up a little higher, exposing himself shamelessly as he digs his heel into the small of his back, gasping with unbridled pleasure at the warmth of his mouth, the sin he lavishes onto his skin. And oh, how Ignis seems to close to becoming undone, when his hungry mouth is pressed over his ribs and Noctis swears Ignis can hear the wild pounding of his heart from here. They are tangled together as one, and he issues a quiet, pleasure-filled keen of approval and want, and he's grinding his hips impatiently against him, wild and in need of a good taming. ]
Gods, Iggy, you feel so fucking -- [ He continues breathlessly, his words thick and heavy, tossing his head back when their cocks slide each other again and again, their hands joined in mutual yearning, and oh, how Ignis feels so, so very good. He tightens his hand. ] Come on me.
[ On the lace and satin, on his flat stomach; the first of a few rounds they will surely go tonight. Noctis wants to be marked, had, and after all, this particular piece of lingerie is made for ruining. ]
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[ And he's like a hound, bloodthirsty and preying on what he can get, triumphant when he's the one losing to savagery. Bad to the bones, with yearning shaking tremors out of him, sharing their warmth until it's something melting and horrifically visceral, gouging out his lungs for breath so each exhales ends on a moan. Sweat's raining down his temples, glasses condensed with the heat that clouds his vision, so Noct's misting up and all that's left is the heartbeat ticking beneath his mouth, the frantic staccato of it humming in time with his own. He's smudging the insults and compliments alike away, the material of the silken fabric coming up when Noctis tugs him down and he crumples with the drop, grinding furiously hard into their hands, choking down his erection.
When Noctis makes the request, he's past coherency and proper speech, panting a fevered tempo into the side of his neck, groaning with the need that's clambering up him. When Noct's head falls back, the pale stretch of his neck exposed, it shouldn't be a shock that Ignis goes right for the maiming, lifting Noct's leg further along his waist with a fervor that should fall under critique later, when they're both back to relying on sanity instead of instinct.
But there's no halting right now, even when he near-sobs along the lace, mouth wandering by Noct's clavicles, clung to him so he's enshrined more in his arms than lying on the bed. There's no controlling the trajectory of release; it's just enough to cut loose, shuddering underneath the tumult of orgasm, spurting in some jerky rush on him, against his best efforts to contain it just his fingers. Bent over the bed, the mess of it is clinging to his fingers, but there's cum on Noctis's stomach, trickling through the half-aborted intricacy of their bodies when twined this close, and it's awful, how much this says about his restraint (coming on command, like something rehearsed). He can't control the slump, either, so he just goes with itβ sinks down on one side, nosing by Noct's shoulder, beyond articulation. ]
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He's still hard, still aching, dripping with need, but he doesn't pay much attention to his dick right now, not when Ignis sinks down on his side, pressed closed to him. ] I think you're delicious.
[ He murmurs, a soft smile tugging at the side of his mouth, his leg coming to drape over his waist again all the same, turning fully to him. It's after a moment that he's gently removing his glasses, folding it and setting it neatly on the nightstand next to him. ] Do you want to fuck me?
[ Because he wants this, because he's ached for his cock inside him for the past many days, Ignis' absence a constant, low-level sort of misery that's only endurable because of exams, of all the other things that were present to take his mind off the fact that the bed has been bereft of him for so long. ]
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[ He'll give himself up for consumption if that'll satiate Noct, tearing into the core of Ignis as he effortlessly does, appropriating his heart for his own whims. Not a bad way to go. Not at all. Otherwise, Ignis takes after a shark enamored by the spill of blood, searching out the source and brings in Noctis with a hand around his nape for that bruising, draining kiss that siphons away some of the ache.
The barbarity in him abates, little by little, and he comes away with his mouth wet and gaze focused, recovering enough obscene grace to take the loss of his glasses in good stride. The taste lingers in his mouth as it presses into a thin line, an undercurrent of languor traveling his voice. ]
You're beautiful. [ Just a non-sequitur to add to all of those other non-sequiturs, arbitrated just so. He's got a face on him that speaks of his amusement even when his humor's felled, legs braced on the mattress. His smile revives. ] Do you want me to?
[ A soft-edged accusation, the corners of his mouth tugging up. Coyness is hardly an asset, dispelling the twist of Noctis's legs to scoot down and down so that the prince's kneecaps are riding at his shoulders, soles of his feet someways down his back, as he kisses him, down the pale wash of his thighs, then up along his groin, lips pressed along the base of his cock and his balls in idle patterns, Noctis providing the axis of the world upon which to spiral himself around. ]
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[ Noctis breathes. His yearning makes him polite when he asks Ignis to fuck him, to make love to him -- the prince has missed his beloved in the days that span between them, all of it taken up by their respective duties, but it doesn't mean the absence goes unnoticed. And here they are, Noctis with Ignis' cum on his stomach, his own cock still hard and dripping with need, and he's gasping when he's folded nearly into two, knees over those strong, broad shoulders.
It's a good thing he's so flexible, because he's issuing a soft whine of longing when Ignis presses his lips to his thighs, his cock, his balls, pulling taut with potent arousal. He feels empty inside, needy, and pinned down like this he could do little more but squirm, his hand coming down to curl through Ignis' hair, gently pulling but not forcing him everywhere. ]
Aaah -- Iggy...! [ Soft cries as he feels his tongue against his heated skin, and he's so turned on he fears he might burst into pieces, his cock bobbing obscenely against his mouth. Ignis is so very beautiful when he goes down on him, and Noctis will make good on that offer to devour him in time. Now, now it's time to be consumed, to be taken whole, and to remember just how good Ignis feels buried deep inside of him.
He squirms, pressing up into his mouth, begging without words, cheeks flushed pink at the compliment. It seems like Ignis always knows how to get to him, to know what to say to make him unfold and offer himself to him, his spine tingling with his talented ministrations. ]
Mmmm -- please.
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Inelegance is preying on his mouth, otherwise, sweet on him, kissing him out of the keening fits and the start of panting as it all runs down his throat, like his presence is wounding on him, and Ignis stops some, if just to give him a moment to catch his breath before he resumes down by Noctis's inner thigh, supplanting another kiss there.
Please. Please, please, please. His lungs are inarticulate, but also planted on the words that shudder out of Noctis, panting, the lithe lines of his body pulling up to meet the shape he's cast, only to startle as his lips travel down the scope of him. No immaculacy, this time. Just yearning for its own profane sake.
Ignis musters up a smile. It sits shrewd on his mouth after Noct's let him topple them both over, leaving him flat on his back while he splits Noct's legs apart. Briefly, he leans back up, teeth scraping over Noct's lips, then reorients himself: ]
Yes.
[ And that answer comes from being undone too many times by Noct's whims, like the slinky spill of his lingerie or the cum ribboning over it, the heat in him that translates its way over into Noctis when he presses tight against him, then insideβ wrenching in as Noctis's body stretches to conform around him. The clutch is unbearable, pouring on down from base to tip, but he sinks in a little more until he's seated fully inside him. His face fortifies even in lounging decline, waiting for his Highness to acclimate, then he broaches him for these slow, minute thrusts, his balls slapping against Noct with every lurch forward. ]
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Yes, Ignis says, and Noctis' heart skips a beat because no matter how often his lover yields to him, all beauty and grace and elegance with a feral savagery threaded underneath it, brought to almost breaking point, it will never cease to be something of untold magnificence. His lips burn with Ignis' kisses, burning a line down his throat, making an invisible mark over his racing pulse.
His heart belongs to Ignis, and he aches and sighs, soft and willing with an equally fervent yearning. His absence is an unwelcome change that Noctis has never gotten used to, no matter the duration or frequency, and he's an unholy mess of sweat, drying cum, and a tight, hot hole that's more than ready for Ignis to slide back inside of him.
And slide back he does, smooth but firm, Ignis pouring all of himself into this sacred, carnal act, and Noctis reaches up to cling, to hold tight as he swallows him whole, accommodates and encomapsses all of him, taking his cock inside with a warm sigh. He's welcome here, forever and always, and his words catch when he feels him fill him up, thick and long and so, so very full that the ever-constant irrational fear of Ignis possibly not fitting inside of him sparks in the back of his mind, and is summarily dismissed.
No, Ignis will always fit inside of him like the perfect piece of a missing puzzle, slotting into place as he closes around him, warm and pulsing and fully intent on pleasing him and making up for lost time. His hand coming to rest on his cheek, Noctis grinds back against him with soft, breathless moans, laying out his pleasure for Ignis' consumption, cheeks flushed with color and mouth parted in shameless enjoyment. ]
Missed you. [ He pants, clenching down tight around his cock, feeling the press of his balls against his ass and the obscene sounds of their fucking in the silence of their apartment. Gods, but he loves when Ignis fucks him, when he opens up and takes him inside and gives himself over. His hands slip right down to cup and squeeze Ignis' ass, feeling the tight, firm flesh in his palms. He huffs softly. ] Missed all of you. Tell me you liked ruining my lingerie.
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One failed attempt at subtlety, and now he's never going to live it down. Ignis gasps, a low sound, when Noctis bends his knees, limbs loose, and steadies him. A minute passes. He's thinking about the drop of sweat perilously running down the slope of his cheek, drawn out like any tear. Noct's reaching ferociously for him, spitfire and challenging, grappling down his spinal cord, then his ass.
And Ignis laughs, indulgent. All of his infatuation shines in his throat. Too much. Too much. Noct would've been better with someone who could match that teetering absorption in him; Ignis has no talent for love, he's not daring enough. Fortune favors the bold, and he's chronic with his scruples.
But he's rising to the challenge, because that's all that can be done. His knuckles momentarily rasp on the bones of Noctis's ribs as he stills just to admire him, grinding and sweet. ]
Beautiful.
[ Years of pondering Noct and squashing down that pining for him have rendered him inarticulate. Let him amend that, shaking his head when he resumes the pace, the next thrust steady and clean as any cut. His breath is lost in a wash of sighing, words coming up in startled fits, clouding up like steam. ]
I loathed it. You know that better than anyone. [ Especially later when he'll do laundry and contend with the potential for stains, salvaging what he's destroyed. Ignis inhales, hummingbird-quick, then loosens, slowly, then all at once, mouth draped over his throat, thrusts taking a turn for the severe. ] But I've got an appetite for ruining you that I can't seem to satiate.
[ Noncommittal, though, even with the thrum of Noctis's body enfolding him like one overlong heartbeat, jumpstarting pulses of heat in his groin. ]
I love you. I love you so much I can scarcely wrap my mind around it.
[ And isn't that affection, shaped like Noctis's hand on his cheek, eloping with all of his common sense and decency. ]
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[ There's a reason why people shouldn't talk during sex -- all good sense goes out the window and all that's left is good-natured babbling, with Noctis more than anyone else. Ignis looks at him like he's a work of art, but he knows he's unworthy of such regard; the man is elegant, sleek and graceful, consuming him like a panther with prey, and Noctis, unwieldy and too eager, all sharp angles and rough corners, approaching this like he approaches a fight.
After all, there's not all that much difference when it comes to fighting and fucking, and so on. Far from inarticulate, Ignis seems to pull the requisite measure of seduction out his ass, rendering Noctis hapless to his charms all the same. He meets him halfway, enveloping Ignis into the clasp of his body, and he arches his neck to reveal his throat, feeling the heat of his lips against his pulse.
Oh, it's delicious, how Ignis fits so beautifully against him, in him, that his gasps punctuate every sleek, glorious thrust, filling him up and making his toes curl. He ruins him, of course he does; with every word, with every kiss, the prince forgets himself, giving himself over to Ignis, to press his heart against his own and to confess his own love in ragged whispers. He's leaning up to kiss him fully, guiding him to his lips as he presses his forehead to his helplessly. ]
Mnngh -- please...
[ So sweet, too sweet; oh, he will drown in him. ]
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The despicable man that Ignis is, the smile he affords that bared throat is tangibly felt when he's pressing his mouth so ardently, parodying so much of his fondly terrible humor. This is who you have to live with, your Highness. The happiness in him is climbing to absurd levels and only careening from there. It's only a free-fall from here on out. There's no doubting where Ignis's allegiance lies with the heavy affront of a kiss on his Adam's apple, legs braced either side of him. ]
You're lovelier than I can put to words. I absolutely detest it.
[ Of course. Feigning polite abhorrence won't keep Noctis from exploiting this loophole the next time he's gone and left his room in disarray. Averse to common sense, Ignis doesn't retreat when the warmth goes rampant, Noctis fit about him and clenching to snare, and his breathing cuts down to ribbons.
Inevitably, it's sweet. That alone is an unbelievably perverse thought to entertain when his dick's grinding against Noctis on every plunge forward, adrenaline on the rise. His mouth's impaired with the salt on Noct's skin, voice coming out thick and blurry on the next downswing. ]
Noctis. Don't look away. Keep your eyes trained on me.