[ For what it's worth, his own daydreams are fairly pedestrian. Maybe it's a consequence of the monotony paperwork introduces, making him so starved that his take on romance is the vision of Noctis parading himself around the kitchen in one of his dress shirts and little else, head propped to lean on his shoulder while berating Ignis on the addition of bell peppers to the omelette wallowing in the pan, or how cheekily the dimple at the corner of the prince's mouth presents itself when they forego brushing up on ways to handle foreign disputes in favor of resolving the latest argument (namely, curing a pair of lips in sore need of kissing). The point is that it's all very domestic, all very tame for delusions of grandeur. Noct never developed a liking for vegetables, but his libido's never been left particularly wanting for it, and Ignis can't find fault with the prince's appetite only intensifying as the weeks pile on.
Four days and five hundred and forty minutes since he's last been in Noctis's company and the hours meld. It's not the longest he's been away when he's played diplomat for months upon months several times before, but years ago he wasn't courting King Regis's son, the apple of his father's eye. Sleep-deprivation and those ten successive mugs of Ebony are finally catching up to him, long after they've mutilated his concentration. Currently on stenographer duty in the main conference hall with Gladio's father drafting up another plan for reconciling with the Nibelheim Empire, Ignis nearly misses the ping of phone as it buzzes awake; what alerts him isn't the notification itself, but the chime he's set whenever Noctis expresses chooses to contact him, and he glances over on a stray whim.
And then the next several minutes of Clarus Amicitia's voice are forever lost on him. Transcribing the rest of the speech becomes a pipe dream when Ignis's fingers renounce dictation in favor of twitching in shock over his phone screen. ]
y
[ Incredible. That was supposed to be you haven't left much to the imagination or some such drivel, suave the way he's utterly incapable of affecting right now. Apparently he's so far gone that he's forgotten the rest of the goddamned sentence, what with common sense immediately vacating his body and all, never to be seen again. It takes the announcement of the meeting's adjournment for lunch break to snap out of his trance and steadily, steadily walk in just a way his cock isn't threatening to oust itself from his slacks, gathering enough of his sanity to keep any treacherous desires surrounding Noctis's dick on the down-low until he can slip into the chef's dining quarters (one of his personal retreats from back when he was a mere child learning the intricacies of fine cuisine) and practically topple onto one of the seats in his haste to get away from polite company. Ignis's hard-on, gradually stiffening in his pants, is barely kept at bay as he carefully punches in his text, letter by grueling letter, until he's calmed down enough that he won't go careening into blatant sexual innuendo at the flip of a switch. ]
I scarcely doubt I have a proprietary right to any part of you, Highness.
[ Inversely, all of him belongs to Noctis, especially like this, with his fingers tapping a maddened tempo into the dining table shortly after to distract himself from denouncing self-respect and jerking off right here with the semi-erection he'd rather not acknowledge at all. Absolutely no good will come of the picture he's been sent, there's no way he'll be able to keep it remotely secure on his phone, but he doesn't have the heart to bring about its death sentence right now. The notion of Noct sprawled over upholstery in the sanctity of his apartment and fitfully stroking himself off to thoughts of him is a horribly compelling one, but Noctis can't flay him with guilt any harder than he's flaying himself. ]
[ Ignis, despite fastidious appearances to the contrary, has always been a romantic, and it's one of the things Noctis has always appreciated about him even if the general notion of it sometimes goes over his head. The man is impeccably domestic, preferring small, heartwarming gestures to overblown ones -- all of it suiting the prince just fine (considering how romantically and emotionally inept Noctis can be). And speaking of suiting him, the minutes that drag on is almost unbearable, Noctis waiting by his phone for a response, any response aside from the single letter sent back in response.
So he's seen it, and a cursory glance at the time reveals Ignis' possible location -- Noctis is not the most devoted keeper of Ignis' timetable, not by a long shot, but he's aware that he should be in some sort of meeting right now. Ignis is prodigiously gifted, a quick study and dangerously intelligent; it's no wonder that he had been designated as tutor and companion at such a young age. Even now, he is still fiercely sought after; a lesser man would be jealous, but Noctis is aware that there are times when Ignis works himself to the bone, when he's running on fumes and yet still manages to keep everything in working order, much to Noctis' guilt.
Fingers thumbing over the screen, he mollifies himself by scrolling up to the previous texts, every one of them casual conversations, fitted with frequent requests and regular dispassionate entreaties and peppered with softer moments, fonder moments. Ignis likely deleted them from his phone, those softer moments, but Noctis saves it for moments when he finds himself missing his lover beyond a good, hard fucking. Noctis might find that he has a growing appetite for carnal pleasures thanks to hormones and all that messy shit that happens when you're becoming an adult, but he finds himself smiling at Ignis' quips, the evident thread of concern and care that lines every exchange they have together.
Not for the first time, he thinks of how fortunate he is that he possesses the loyalty of a man like Ignis, second to none in almost every way that counts. Exhaling, slowing down on his stroking -- not that it'll help, his own fantasies do very little in the way of courting release at this point -- and he's tempted to send him a follow up text when he responds.
Highness, he says, and Noctis knows this is a thing he usually does when he subconsciously wants to put some distance between them -- meaning he's come too close too quickly. Noctis considers more motivation than deterrent (there is little that's more satisfying that pursuing Ignis and being the reason for his rapidly waning self-control). Has he found somewhere quiet to settle in and text him? Maybe that chef room, perhaps; Noctis has always managed to find him there when they were little. ]
And yet, it only gets hard like this when I'm thinking of you.
[ He sends him another image, cock jutting proudly, slick and nearly glistening with his legs spread. ] If only you know what I'd give to have you between my legs right now.
[ Meanwhile, Ignis is just trying to find his chill even at the height of exhaustion here, which is turning out to be more difficult than previously believed, given his predilection for constantly overthinking things. Being half-catatonic isn't helping matters in the slightest, but sleep here and he'll end up missing the meeting entirely, so Ignis practices breathing exercises, elbow digging into the table as his hand digs into his cheekbone, drifting in and out of consciousness with a half-stiffened dick and enough self-respect to keep himself from plummeting into the very depths of indecency. A few minutes go while he practices his attempt at being alive with moderate success, until his phone beeps a couple of times in tepid reassurance.
Glancing at the picture just about confirms two things: one, his sudden jolt of wakefulness, and two, his raging erection. It's singularly terrible.
But having his brain cells abruptly die on him is intense enough of a shock to inure him from passing out during this brief respite between meetings. The image alone conjures much of the previous week they'd spent lounging in bed in the hours before the sun sought to tear open the sky, and Noctis's legs had been just as pale and unblemished then, pliant underneath his probing touch, which does wonders for his awareness now. If Noctis had any intent on instigating a Pavlovian response from Ignis with a couple thirsty texts, he's gotten his wish fulfilled. From where he's slouched over on the table, Ignis isn't salivating like a dog in the throes of heat, but it does take a bit to reply past the erotic stupor hijacking his mind as he tries desperately to remember why he isn't in the apartment condemning them both to sexual purgatory instead of fighting off a boner in the head chef's personal kitchen. Championing his higher faculties over his more debased impulses is a real struggle at the moment. ]
Surely you wouldn't have thrown a lure this blatant if you weren't confident you'd be able to reel your target in.
[ O, Mr. Fisherman of the wide, blue sea, casting his net and catching an extremely tired (and shamefully aroused) chamberlain. Ignis, out of an unsurprising lack of lewd photos or the drive to whip out his dick and snap a picture just to prove a point, eventually settles on point-black audacity as his weapon of choice. ]
I'll bite. What cod you leverage as bait? Or was that just as I trout: a red herring?
[ He's literally texting Noctis fish puns, now having accepted the void and gone right off the deep end. What a day. ]
[ Sweetly oblivious to his shamefully aroused chamberlain's carnal and sleep-related woes, the young prince lounges about shamelessly, not deigning to handle matters by himself, at least until he receives a response. Strangely enough, it's not a stinging rebuke for the dangers of royalty sending dick pics to their boyfriends, but... fish puns?
Noctis stares at the succession of texts, then looks them over again to make sure that he isn't seeing things. No, Ignis is definitely bored out of his gourd from all the endless meetings Cor and his dad make him sit through, and something's finally snapped. Oh, holy shit. He's making more than one terrible, awful fish pun and Noct's boner is forgotten for the moment in favor of horror and amusement. Mostly amusement. And no small amount of delight.
Oh, they broke Ignis. Someone's going to pay, but until then, the fisherman is going to have to have some fun with his gorgeous, lovely, priceless specimen of a catch. ]
Are you playing koi with me right now? Tuna around and let me see that bass, Little Mermaid.
[ It's called capitulating to lightheadedness; he's typing without much stock put into the fact he's set himself on a vicious downward death spiral via puns, which couldn't go worse if he'd planned things out to the letter like this, injecting the amount of wordplay exploitation necessary to kill a lesser man in cold blood from secondhand embarrassment. ]
Oh, hardly, I've haddock quite enough of your floundering. Do let minnow when you're done carping. Idly fishing for flattery will only get you no fin from me.
[ Have his cheap witticisms glutted themselves to the point of obscenity? Probably. Ignis sobers up, thumbing back up some to the risquรฉ pictures, then scrolling back, back down, attempting to convince himself he doesn't need them. When Noctis's sense of discretion rakes itself over the coals, he needs to be responsible, and more to the point, sane. Give him a couple minutes to type through the fugue. ]
Now that I've gotten your attention, you should know that it's far too risky for you to keep such candid shots of yourself. As tempting as the prospect may be, I'd rather not share you with the general public should the images ever be leaked. I'm quite certain your father would have me exiled for entertaining the risk alone, never mind pursuing a relationship with you on the sly.
[ Reporters would have a field day with the scandal, and moreover, Noct's privacy would be burst wide-open. At that junction, any sundry number of fish puns from his chamberlain wouldn't be able to mitigate the ensuing backlash. ]
Noctis stares down at the wall of text that somehow has nothing to do with imminent plans for buggery on/with him, and it's a testament to how much he loves Ignis that he actually skins through it. Yeah, he knows it'll get him in real deep shit -- and Ignis in worse but he's a reckless eighteen year old with a raging libido and wildly in love with an older man who needs to go to bone town with him right now instead of being in boresville with a bunch of dusty relics but nobody's perfect. Said eighteen year old is also not in possession of higher faculties when all bloodflow is presently taking a vacation right down south.
It's also just one and no one can get their hands on it, right? And if they do, Ignis can fix it. He always does. And right now before Ignis can get himself into a bigger snit, Noctis decides to solve the problem. ]
Delete them, and come over. Have you even had lunch?
[ occasionally he feels tempted to throw himself into moving traffic to avoid another day of mundane work, so that's hardly the right question to pose here. ]
Only when you're acting peevish.
[ is he serious? does he want to be ntr'd? he's not gonna elaborate because fighting flippancy with flippancy will obviously knock sense into noct's head here if iggy just tries hard enough. with any luck, hopefully it'll be the one he thinks with. ]
Not yet, but as needs must. While we're entertaining more reasonable options for my brief respite, have you eaten?
[ He's totally looking to be ntr'd, but Noctis is a good and innocent boy who has no eyes for any other and therefore Ignis has essentially struck gold.
Be grateful, Iggy. ]
I can't believe you'd whore a peevish me out. It must be the sulking, isn't it.
[ But point taken, he knows. He's already deleted the photos. Even so, he quite misses him. Not that he will admit it in so many words. Instead: ]
Oh, absolutely. I love nothing more than having a stand-in to deal with your wrath in my stead.
[ no, he'd be insanely jealous with someone flirting with his highness, even in passing. he'd practically lose his goddamn mind watching someone else make love to noctis, but that's the whole appeal of ntr, isn't it. ]
As much as I'd love to endorse your downward spiral into junk food addiction in-person, my hostage situation won't allow me the freedom, I'm afraid.
[ This part comes out a little belated, like he's well and truly struggling with the words, or his emotions have disemboweled him one too many times for him to type the next couple of sentences with any degree of chill. ]
For the record, it was a magnificent shot. Very atmospheric. As a cameraman, I'm certain Prompto would be proud of its artistic integrity.
I think you'd break the poor bastard over your knee first.
[ Noctis knows. He knows Ignis wouldn't stand (haha) for any stand-in, and he's not nearly insecure enough to bait him with it. Because Six know Noctis is just as possessive, just as jealous of anyone who try to get their hands on Ignis. And there are many. The man is prime, excellent catch, and he's most likely the most handsome man in all of the Citadel, which is really saying something.
Not that Noctis would admit that to him. He half believes Ignis already knows. ]
You realise I'm going to eat the whole pizza as a personal challenge, right? And it's a meat lover's special.
[ Interestingly enough, not a double entendre. He really had just pulled on pants, paid the dude and got himself a huge pizza. ] Whats the protocol on pizzas holding crown princes' arteries hostage? Also Prompto is SO dead.
[ g o d, 10 gil that he doesn't end this conversation without succumbing to a brain aneurysm ]
I believe it was 'quit while you're ahead'.
[ ignis doesn't want to go back to the apartment and have to physically resuscitate noct with a defibrillator when he's on the brink of pizza-induced death, okay. all the cholesterol is just gonna exhibit itself badly given enough time, even on the prince. ]
If you keep your atrocious dietary choices to a minimum, you stand a fairly good chance of outrunning me later.
[ y'know, when he's chasing noctis to shove an entire salad down his gullet like an absolute madman. ]
[ 10 gil he gives iggy an aneurysm before the hour is up. also he's not worried about cholesterol when ignis is all too happy to put him through his paces in bed. so. ]
Wait, why do I need to outrun you? What are you doing?
You'd be surprised what a good motive can do in incentivizing surrender.
[ say, twisting noctis's arm until he screams uncle like ignis is a brute of ill intent like gladio, or couching his entreaties in softer, more harrowing appeals to conscience, like prompto. good thing he's not either of them: he couldn't pull blackmail off nearly so candidly, otherwise. ]
Take me strapping you to a chair and force-feeding you greens, for example. [ foodplay, kinky ] But I could just as easily tie you down and deepthroat you until you came dry, and then some.
[ just think about all that mind-blowing fellatio he could be having, really consider it. ]
[ He surrenders. He surrenders immediately. He's white-flagging the fuck out of this conversation if it will get him to Deepthroat town. Suddenly the meat lover desires a very, very different kind of special that only a certain chamberlain can satisfactorily provide, and it's minutes later that Noctis tears his eyes off the words to muster up a response.
Oh, look at what just stirred again. But see, Ignis always likes a good fight and a chase before the eventual claim, and Noctis finds himself licking his lips. ]
And what should I be doing to earn deep throating rights, sir?
You could try convincing me. That's a rather novel idea.
[ Woo him into the pursuit, sexual innuendo or otherwise. Pictures are off the table but text certainly isn't so unpardonable a sin when he's here with a dying erection in the chef's quarters, hungry for only the chase after nearly forty-eight hours of ennui. All work and no play makes Ignis a dull boy. Maybe he's just a little tired. ]
Appeals to logic are all the rage, I've heard. Not finishing an entire pizza by yourself would be a good place to start.
[ There's more than one reason why deep-throating is a bit of a rarity, but he can pull out all the stops if Noctis only persuades him. He's just trying to make the most out of this hypothetical. ]
Why don't you start by telling me how badly you've wanted this?
So ick pics are a no-go but me telling you how much I want to push my dick down your throat and make you gag for it is okay? Pretty sure 'logic' is not the thing I'm appealing to here, unless that's a new name for your ridiculously sexy mouth.
[ just straightening (heh) out some things here, because noctis is definitely interesting in rising to the challenge. seduce his sleep-deprived chamberlain? yes, please. ]
Did you delete them yet? Because I bet you haven't. I bet you keep sneaking looks at it because you can't believe I'd be this hot for you.
One option would fetch a pretty penny on the black market and ruin your good reputation, and the other would induce wild, dubious speculation and open up venues for sprawling sex talk with the up-and-coming king of Lucis. In retrospect, the lesser of two evils should be obvious.
[ noct's astuteness just about kills him dead, but then he's always terribly quick to the draw. it's not mere happenstance that he ended up at the top of his class, ennui for reports notwithstanding. look, he's not a hypocrite if he's still planning to delete the picture after his lunch break. there's no double standards well and thriving here, just his own enthrallment at work. ]
I havenโt. [ y e t ] Youโre utterly mesmerizing to behold, Noct. Thereโs no place Iโd rather be than between your legs, watching you fall apart.
Both are terrible evils. I'd rather you be the only one to know how much I love it when your lips are wrapped around my cock. Or how beautiful I think you are when you look at me the way you do, and all I want to do is kiss you senseless.
[ How is that for pursuit? Noctis is not smooth -- only intense, smouldering when he actually applies himself. Unversed in games and clumsy with words, he can only speak the truth and hope Ignis finds them worthy. ]
I would fall to pieces only for you. You're the only one who can put me together again.
Then you see the crux of our issue. I'd only want you to have eyes for me. I only want you to know how I'd take you apart with my mouth.
[ And that can't happen if his phone's confiscated, or lost, or some stranger catches the right vantage point to glance over a certain, unsuspecting prince and his equally unsuspecting shoulders. Noctis lavishes on the obscenities and Ignis shakes his head, endeared. ]
Though I can't say there isn't a draw in a million others knowing how you shudder and keen shortly before climaxing. [ Inside of Ignis, outside of him, under the duress of a mouth, and more, more, insatiably, when Noct's touched himself, goaded on by a vibrator, or denied and led all the way to slow-edged release as it culminates. ] The sounds you make when you're right on the precipice, gnashing your teeth to keep the sounds inside, in particular. What makes you think I'll put you back together?
[ Greed's got him feeling like an irredeemable bastard, honestly, self-indulgent and utterly wanton, his heart full-to-brimming. ]
[ The pizza's getting cold, but Noctis finds that he doesn't care, too enthralled by the fact that Ignis is upping the ante by several degrees. It's not hard to imagine, with all vividness, all the things he describes. Ignis' possessiveness is breathtaking, and he closes his eyes, leaning back in his couch as he thinks of sharp green eyes and a full, sensuous mouth, the clever way Ignis so systematically renders him a love-glazed wreck. ]
You just want them to hear me say your name. Remind them that I'm only yours before you swallow me whole. I'd empty myself in you, Iggy. I'd watch you swallow every drop, the way you're so hard like sucking me off is what turns you on. Or maybe you just like being on your knees.
[ He stifles a soft groan, and shit. Shit, he wants him so desperately, he wants to say this to him in person instead of relying on text, but Ignis has work to do and Noctis is stuck wondering if he can make him come in those immaculately tailored pants or get him to sport a hard-on he'll have to hide when his break's over. ]
You'll put me back together because you'll want to do it all over again. Watch me crumble and beg for your hands, your mouth, your dick. Your fucking tight ass. I'd press you down and eat you out for hours.
[ The bloody nerve of him! Having lived his whole life on his knees and developed a certain fondness for masochism, of course he'd choose to serve his king even to the point of crassness, funneling heat and arousal into Noctis as he cried and gasped out the rest of his grievances into the air. Oh, Ignis is enamored. He is. He's like a flame inducted into an inferno, the warmth tenting up his slacks a predicament in the making. ]
I do. The expressions you make would undo anyone, though I assume that comes part and parcel with obscene grandeur. Aren't royals supposed to hold themselves impervious to the desires of common men? You'll corrupt them all, like you've so injudiciously done to me.
[ As if sucking off a high-maintenance prince who would brandish every bit of his influence onto his much-affected chamberlain wouldn't stir longing to any hypothetical audience present, like ships to a lighthouse's beacon, entranced by the hope of finding absolution. ]
But overconfidence will be your clever undoing, your Majesty. My stamina well outlasts yours. Perhaps I'll tie you up until you're well and truly begging that you can't go on without me.
[ He's no picky eater, after all. ]
I must say I'm green with envy with the me you've conjured up to handle you. Were you imagining me touching you earlier? If only I could have seen how longing must have crossed your face. It's enough to drive a man insensible.
But you're not a common man. Teach me how to hold myself impervious to you, because right now all I want is to have you all to myself.
[ And like ships to the lighthouse's beacon, the ones seeking absolution would all be torn up on the rocks -- there is only one that Noctis will spare, the only one that will ever have his affections, and that is his much-affected chamberlain, still so articulate even in the throes of unrelenting longing, aching to be fulfilled.
His hand finds his dick again, curls around the base of it as he leans back with a soft, shaky sigh, the idea of being tied up and mercilessly edged, the absolution Ignis would grant him, profound and whole, and it's only with effort that he sends the next text. ] I'm imagining you touching me right now. I want to be buried inside you so badly right now, Iggy. Wanna watch you reclaim every inch of what's yours, because you can handle me just right, can't you? You know just how to make me beg.
Only because you leave yourself open for handling. Begging, just as much. As you're well aware, I can only work with what I've been given.
[ Cunning and brilliant as Noctis is, he falls to simple ploys of touch and deprivation, aching and languorous and riling the blood. Conversely, if anything is ending Ignis's unfortunate stint as Noct's adviser today, it'll be the raging erection that he's horribly stingy with at the moment, breathing staggered and faint while he ignores his more debased urge to jack off or make a break for the apartment. He's so screwed; ten minutes left on the clock until he's due back at the boardroom and his lungs are squeezing all the air from his throat themselves. ]
Why don't you clue me in on how I'm touching you? For later reference.
[ So he can emulate the fake, imaginary Ignis that Noct's conjured up just for this round of snappy, insinuatory remarks, for the moment when he doesn't have to rely on text to get the point across. ]
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no subject
Four days and five hundred and forty minutes since he's last been in Noctis's company and the hours meld. It's not the longest he's been away when he's played diplomat for months upon months several times before, but years ago he wasn't courting King Regis's son, the apple of his father's eye. Sleep-deprivation and those ten successive mugs of Ebony are finally catching up to him, long after they've mutilated his concentration. Currently on stenographer duty in the main conference hall with Gladio's father drafting up another plan for reconciling with the Nibelheim Empire, Ignis nearly misses the ping of phone as it buzzes awake; what alerts him isn't the notification itself, but the chime he's set whenever Noctis expresses chooses to contact him, and he glances over on a stray whim.
And then the next several minutes of Clarus Amicitia's voice are forever lost on him. Transcribing the rest of the speech becomes a pipe dream when Ignis's fingers renounce dictation in favor of twitching in shock over his phone screen. ]
y
[ Incredible. That was supposed to be you haven't left much to the imagination or some such drivel, suave the way he's utterly incapable of affecting right now. Apparently he's so far gone that he's forgotten the rest of the goddamned sentence, what with common sense immediately vacating his body and all, never to be seen again. It takes the announcement of the meeting's adjournment for lunch break to snap out of his trance and steadily, steadily walk in just a way his cock isn't threatening to oust itself from his slacks, gathering enough of his sanity to keep any treacherous desires surrounding Noctis's dick on the down-low until he can slip into the chef's dining quarters (one of his personal retreats from back when he was a mere child learning the intricacies of fine cuisine) and practically topple onto one of the seats in his haste to get away from polite company. Ignis's hard-on, gradually stiffening in his pants, is barely kept at bay as he carefully punches in his text, letter by grueling letter, until he's calmed down enough that he won't go careening into blatant sexual innuendo at the flip of a switch. ]
I scarcely doubt I have a proprietary right to any part of you, Highness.
[ Inversely, all of him belongs to Noctis, especially like this, with his fingers tapping a maddened tempo into the dining table shortly after to distract himself from denouncing self-respect and jerking off right here with the semi-erection he'd rather not acknowledge at all. Absolutely no good will come of the picture he's been sent, there's no way he'll be able to keep it remotely secure on his phone, but he doesn't have the heart to bring about its death sentence right now. The notion of Noct sprawled over upholstery in the sanctity of his apartment and fitfully stroking himself off to thoughts of him is a horribly compelling one, but Noctis can't flay him with guilt any harder than he's flaying himself. ]
no subject
So he's seen it, and a cursory glance at the time reveals Ignis' possible location -- Noctis is not the most devoted keeper of Ignis' timetable, not by a long shot, but he's aware that he should be in some sort of meeting right now. Ignis is prodigiously gifted, a quick study and dangerously intelligent; it's no wonder that he had been designated as tutor and companion at such a young age. Even now, he is still fiercely sought after; a lesser man would be jealous, but Noctis is aware that there are times when Ignis works himself to the bone, when he's running on fumes and yet still manages to keep everything in working order, much to Noctis' guilt.
Fingers thumbing over the screen, he mollifies himself by scrolling up to the previous texts, every one of them casual conversations, fitted with frequent requests and regular dispassionate entreaties and peppered with softer moments, fonder moments. Ignis likely deleted them from his phone, those softer moments, but Noctis saves it for moments when he finds himself missing his lover beyond a good, hard fucking. Noctis might find that he has a growing appetite for carnal pleasures thanks to hormones and all that messy shit that happens when you're becoming an adult, but he finds himself smiling at Ignis' quips, the evident thread of concern and care that lines every exchange they have together.
Not for the first time, he thinks of how fortunate he is that he possesses the loyalty of a man like Ignis, second to none in almost every way that counts. Exhaling, slowing down on his stroking -- not that it'll help, his own fantasies do very little in the way of courting release at this point -- and he's tempted to send him a follow up text when he responds.
Highness, he says, and Noctis knows this is a thing he usually does when he subconsciously wants to put some distance between them -- meaning he's come too close too quickly. Noctis considers more motivation than deterrent (there is little that's more satisfying that pursuing Ignis and being the reason for his rapidly waning self-control). Has he found somewhere quiet to settle in and text him? Maybe that chef room, perhaps; Noctis has always managed to find him there when they were little. ]
And yet, it only gets hard like this when I'm thinking of you.
[ He sends him another image, cock jutting proudly, slick and nearly glistening with his legs spread. ] If only you know what I'd give to have you between my legs right now.
no subject
Glancing at the picture just about confirms two things: one, his sudden jolt of wakefulness, and two, his raging erection. It's singularly terrible.
But having his brain cells abruptly die on him is intense enough of a shock to inure him from passing out during this brief respite between meetings. The image alone conjures much of the previous week they'd spent lounging in bed in the hours before the sun sought to tear open the sky, and Noctis's legs had been just as pale and unblemished then, pliant underneath his probing touch, which does wonders for his awareness now. If Noctis had any intent on instigating a Pavlovian response from Ignis with a couple thirsty texts, he's gotten his wish fulfilled. From where he's slouched over on the table, Ignis isn't salivating like a dog in the throes of heat, but it does take a bit to reply past the erotic stupor hijacking his mind as he tries desperately to remember why he isn't in the apartment condemning them both to sexual purgatory instead of fighting off a boner in the head chef's personal kitchen. Championing his higher faculties over his more debased impulses is a real struggle at the moment. ]
Surely you wouldn't have thrown a lure this blatant if you weren't confident you'd be able to reel your target in.
[ O, Mr. Fisherman of the wide, blue sea, casting his net and catching an extremely tired (and shamefully aroused) chamberlain. Ignis, out of an unsurprising lack of lewd photos or the drive to whip out his dick and snap a picture just to prove a point, eventually settles on point-black audacity as his weapon of choice. ]
I'll bite. What cod you leverage as bait? Or was that just as I trout: a red herring?
[ He's literally texting Noctis fish puns, now having accepted the void and gone right off the deep end. What a day. ]
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Noctis stares at the succession of texts, then looks them over again to make sure that he isn't seeing things. No, Ignis is definitely bored out of his gourd from all the endless meetings Cor and his dad make him sit through, and something's finally snapped. Oh, holy shit. He's making more than one terrible, awful fish pun and Noct's boner is forgotten for the moment in favor of horror and amusement. Mostly amusement. And no small amount of delight.
Oh, they broke Ignis. Someone's going to pay, but until then, the fisherman is going to have to have some fun with his gorgeous, lovely, priceless specimen of a catch. ]
Are you playing koi with me right now? Tuna around and let me see that bass, Little Mermaid.
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Oh, hardly, I've haddock quite enough of your floundering. Do let minnow when you're done carping. Idly fishing for flattery will only get you no fin from me.
[ Have his cheap witticisms glutted themselves to the point of obscenity? Probably. Ignis sobers up, thumbing back up some to the risquรฉ pictures, then scrolling back, back down, attempting to convince himself he doesn't need them. When Noctis's sense of discretion rakes itself over the coals, he needs to be responsible, and more to the point, sane. Give him a couple minutes to type through the fugue. ]
Now that I've gotten your attention, you should know that it's far too risky for you to keep such candid shots of yourself. As tempting as the prospect may be, I'd rather not share you with the general public should the images ever be leaked. I'm quite certain your father would have me exiled for entertaining the risk alone, never mind pursuing a relationship with you on the sly.
[ Reporters would have a field day with the scandal, and moreover, Noct's privacy would be burst wide-open. At that junction, any sundry number of fish puns from his chamberlain wouldn't be able to mitigate the ensuing backlash. ]
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Noctis stares down at the wall of text that somehow has nothing to do with imminent plans for buggery on/with him, and it's a testament to how much he loves Ignis that he actually skins through it. Yeah, he knows it'll get him in real deep shit -- and Ignis in worse but he's a reckless eighteen year old with a raging libido and wildly in love with an older man who needs to go to bone town with him right now instead of being in boresville with a bunch of dusty relics but nobody's perfect. Said eighteen year old is also not in possession of higher faculties when all bloodflow is presently taking a vacation right down south.
It's also just one and no one can get their hands on it, right? And if they do, Ignis can fix it. He always does. And right now before Ignis can get himself into a bigger snit, Noctis decides to solve the problem. ]
Delete them, and come over. Have you even had lunch?
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You think it's tempting to share me with the general public? Perv.
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Only when you're acting peevish.
[ is he serious? does he want to be ntr'd? he's not gonna elaborate because fighting flippancy with flippancy will obviously knock sense into noct's head here if iggy just tries hard enough. with any luck, hopefully it'll be the one he thinks with. ]
Not yet, but as needs must. While we're entertaining more reasonable options for my brief respite, have you eaten?
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Be grateful, Iggy. ]
I can't believe you'd whore a peevish me out. It must be the sulking, isn't it.
[ But point taken, he knows. He's already deleted the photos. Even so, he quite misses him. Not that he will admit it in so many words. Instead: ]
Delivery dude just dropped off pizza. Come over.
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[ no, he'd be insanely jealous with someone flirting with his highness, even in passing. he'd practically lose his goddamn mind watching someone else make love to noctis, but that's the whole appeal of ntr, isn't it. ]
As much as I'd love to endorse your downward spiral into junk food addiction in-person, my hostage situation won't allow me the freedom, I'm afraid.
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For the record, it was a magnificent shot. Very atmospheric. As a cameraman, I'm certain Prompto would be proud of its artistic integrity.
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[ Noctis knows. He knows Ignis wouldn't stand (haha) for any stand-in, and he's not nearly insecure enough to bait him with it. Because Six know Noctis is just as possessive, just as jealous of anyone who try to get their hands on Ignis. And there are many. The man is prime, excellent catch, and he's most likely the most handsome man in all of the Citadel, which is really saying something.
Not that Noctis would admit that to him. He half believes Ignis already knows. ]
You realise I'm going to eat the whole pizza as a personal challenge, right? And it's a meat lover's special.
[ Interestingly enough, not a double entendre. He really had just pulled on pants, paid the dude and got himself a huge pizza. ] Whats the protocol on pizzas holding crown princes' arteries hostage? Also Prompto is SO dead.
[ Ten gil Ignis hasn't eaten either. ]
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I believe it was 'quit while you're ahead'.
[ ignis doesn't want to go back to the apartment and have to physically resuscitate noct with a defibrillator when he's on the brink of pizza-induced death, okay. all the cholesterol is just gonna exhibit itself badly given enough time, even on the prince. ]
If you keep your atrocious dietary choices to a minimum, you stand a fairly good chance of outrunning me later.
[ y'know, when he's chasing noctis to shove an entire salad down his gullet like an absolute madman. ]
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[ 10 gil he gives iggy an aneurysm before the hour is up. also he's not worried about cholesterol when ignis is all too happy to put him through his paces in bed. so. ]
Wait, why do I need to outrun you? What are you doing?
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[ say, twisting noctis's arm until he screams uncle like ignis is a brute of ill intent like gladio, or couching his entreaties in softer, more harrowing appeals to conscience, like prompto. good thing he's not either of them: he couldn't pull blackmail off nearly so candidly, otherwise. ]
Take me strapping you to a chair and force-feeding you greens, for example. [ foodplay, kinky ] But I could just as easily tie you down and deepthroat you until you came dry, and then some.
[ just think about all that mind-blowing fellatio he could be having, really consider it. ]
I suppose what I decide upon all depends on you.
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Oh, look at what just stirred again. But see, Ignis always likes a good fight and a chase before the eventual claim, and Noctis finds himself licking his lips. ]
And what should I be doing to earn deep throating rights, sir?
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[ Woo him into the pursuit, sexual innuendo or otherwise. Pictures are off the table but text certainly isn't so unpardonable a sin when he's here with a dying erection in the chef's quarters, hungry for only the chase after nearly forty-eight hours of ennui. All work and no play makes Ignis a dull boy. Maybe he's just a little tired. ]
Appeals to logic are all the rage, I've heard. Not finishing an entire pizza by yourself would be a good place to start.
[ There's more than one reason why deep-throating is a bit of a rarity, but he can pull out all the stops if Noctis only persuades him. He's just trying to make the most out of this hypothetical. ]
Why don't you start by telling me how badly you've wanted this?
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So ick pics are a no-go but me telling you how much I want to push my dick down your throat and make you gag for it is okay? Pretty sure 'logic' is not the thing I'm appealing to here, unless that's a new name for your ridiculously sexy mouth.
[ just straightening (heh) out some things here, because noctis is definitely interesting in rising to the challenge. seduce his sleep-deprived chamberlain? yes, please. ]
Did you delete them yet? Because I bet you haven't. I bet you keep sneaking looks at it because you can't believe I'd be this hot for you.
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[ noct's astuteness just about kills him dead, but then he's always terribly quick to the draw. it's not mere happenstance that he ended up at the top of his class, ennui for reports notwithstanding. look, he's not a hypocrite if he's still planning to delete the picture after his lunch break. there's no double standards well and thriving here, just his own enthrallment at work. ]
I havenโt. [ y e t ] Youโre utterly mesmerizing to behold, Noct. Thereโs no place Iโd rather be than between your legs, watching you fall apart.
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[ How is that for pursuit? Noctis is not smooth -- only intense, smouldering when he actually applies himself. Unversed in games and clumsy with words, he can only speak the truth and hope Ignis finds them worthy. ]
I would fall to pieces only for you. You're the only one who can put me together again.
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[ And that can't happen if his phone's confiscated, or lost, or some stranger catches the right vantage point to glance over a certain, unsuspecting prince and his equally unsuspecting shoulders. Noctis lavishes on the obscenities and Ignis shakes his head, endeared. ]
Though I can't say there isn't a draw in a million others knowing how you shudder and keen shortly before climaxing. [ Inside of Ignis, outside of him, under the duress of a mouth, and more, more, insatiably, when Noct's touched himself, goaded on by a vibrator, or denied and led all the way to slow-edged release as it culminates. ] The sounds you make when you're right on the precipice, gnashing your teeth to keep the sounds inside, in particular. What makes you think I'll put you back together?
[ Greed's got him feeling like an irredeemable bastard, honestly, self-indulgent and utterly wanton, his heart full-to-brimming. ]
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You just want them to hear me say your name. Remind them that I'm only yours before you swallow me whole. I'd empty myself in you, Iggy. I'd watch you swallow every drop, the way you're so hard like sucking me off is what turns you on. Or maybe you just like being on your knees.
[ He stifles a soft groan, and shit. Shit, he wants him so desperately, he wants to say this to him in person instead of relying on text, but Ignis has work to do and Noctis is stuck wondering if he can make him come in those immaculately tailored pants or get him to sport a hard-on he'll have to hide when his break's over. ]
You'll put me back together because you'll want to do it all over again. Watch me crumble and beg for your hands, your mouth, your dick. Your fucking tight ass. I'd press you down and eat you out for hours.
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I do. The expressions you make would undo anyone, though I assume that comes part and parcel with obscene grandeur. Aren't royals supposed to hold themselves impervious to the desires of common men? You'll corrupt them all, like you've so injudiciously done to me.
[ As if sucking off a high-maintenance prince who would brandish every bit of his influence onto his much-affected chamberlain wouldn't stir longing to any hypothetical audience present, like ships to a lighthouse's beacon, entranced by the hope of finding absolution. ]
But overconfidence will be your clever undoing, your Majesty. My stamina well outlasts yours. Perhaps I'll tie you up until you're well and truly begging that you can't go on without me.
[ He's no picky eater, after all. ]
I must say I'm green with envy with the me you've conjured up to handle you. Were you imagining me touching you earlier? If only I could have seen how longing must have crossed your face. It's enough to drive a man insensible.
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[ And like ships to the lighthouse's beacon, the ones seeking absolution would all be torn up on the rocks -- there is only one that Noctis will spare, the only one that will ever have his affections, and that is his much-affected chamberlain, still so articulate even in the throes of unrelenting longing, aching to be fulfilled.
His hand finds his dick again, curls around the base of it as he leans back with a soft, shaky sigh, the idea of being tied up and mercilessly edged, the absolution Ignis would grant him, profound and whole, and it's only with effort that he sends the next text. ] I'm imagining you touching me right now. I want to be buried inside you so badly right now, Iggy. Wanna watch you reclaim every inch of what's yours, because you can handle me just right, can't you? You know just how to make me beg.
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[ Cunning and brilliant as Noctis is, he falls to simple ploys of touch and deprivation, aching and languorous and riling the blood. Conversely, if anything is ending Ignis's unfortunate stint as Noct's adviser today, it'll be the raging erection that he's horribly stingy with at the moment, breathing staggered and faint while he ignores his more debased urge to jack off or make a break for the apartment. He's so screwed; ten minutes left on the clock until he's due back at the boardroom and his lungs are squeezing all the air from his throat themselves. ]
Why don't you clue me in on how I'm touching you? For later reference.
[ So he can emulate the fake, imaginary Ignis that Noct's conjured up just for this round of snappy, insinuatory remarks, for the moment when he doesn't have to rely on text to get the point across. ]
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