[ Tact, Noct. Undressing him is just going to give him ideas, all of them obscene and crafty and entirely not meant for polite company.
Laughing up what he can't handle is just about how he's going to get by today, between the systematic removal of his shirt and the fingers he's clung to the sink, his last bastion to all things decent and good, summarily pried off. Ignis's shoulders take on a shuddering hunch afterwards, shoulder-blades jumping just so when Noctis's fingers skim his hip, sprawl high enough on his throat that they apply pressure with the swallowing inhale. ]
Ah, well. I'm not one for exhibitionism.
[ And luring Noctis into the bathroom just to witness him removing the plug hardly seems conducive to anything remotely good. Getting stripped down to his garter socks and glasses only bodes disaster, a cataclysm in the making. But even this forecast sees to not the end of a storm, but the start to it, when Ignis, still stricken with his fair share of mortification, reaches around by way of compromise, layers his hands over the little knob of Noctis's upper spine. ]
Though there are always exceptions to the rule. [ Every inch of his lingering fondness for Noctis, even at its worst, makes itself known in his vice grip, blinking away from the mirror and it's dull fascimile to Noct, proper. ] I missed you quite dreadfully today. I've lost the element of surprise, but I hope I've managed to shock you some, all the same.
[ Tact is just saying things that are not true, Ignis. Nobody has time for that. ] And it is my house.
[ He hums softly, helping him to shed the rest of his clothes, save for the sock garters that look so deliciously comely on him. He gets to wear that for the rest of the night, he decides, and he's momentarily derailed from his nefarious plan to love the hell out of Ignis when he feels his chamberlain reaches around to press over his spine, pressing against the upper knobs of it the way he likes it. He's leaning in to kiss his mouth now that Ignis has turned to look at him, greedy for the plush softness of his answering kiss. ]
You have, you know. I never knew you could be this beautiful.
[ And this alluring, all long legs and lean body and that plug up his ass. Noctis bites back the rest of that, impossibly fond and full of affection for the man pressed up against him. ] Maybe you shouldn't have turned off your phone if you've missed me that much.
[ A glint of playful mischief, but he understands. Ignis has one of the smartest, sharpest minds in Lucis, and it stands to reason that he is exposed to as many meetings and political facets as possible in order to best do his job -- and that requires focus, not minutes wasted looking at Noctis' dick.
Risk jeopardizing our relationship for a facsimile of the real thing? I have a tad more restraint than that.
[ Not enough to keep him from inflicting a butt plug on himself, as per his Highness's candid wishes, but he'd much rather keep this space in Noctis's life, entirely out of his depths and drowning under the brunt of subjectivity. He'd be more obliging under a few glasses of wine, but he'd always fold to Noct, which has squarely landed him in his sock garters and nothing else as of late. Kind of appalling, but not at all improbably, given his track record.
Ignis slides down until he's eye-level with Noct's groin, his back a crane-arch when he affixes his hands pulled thin over Noctis's hips. ]
Would you do me the honors?
[ Do him the honors and remain perfectly calm while he peels down Noctis's pants, then goes about laboriously stripping away his underwear. Instead of taking his mouth to what's greeted him, though, he presses his hands to the shape of it, fingers crested around the shaft, soft as his grip has a tendency for being. The strokes that come down are benignβ fickle, soft, keeping up with that look of jackals and hyenas on him, coy as he can get while bent down, utterly naked, and jerking Noct into a state of incoherence. ]
Only now does my prince lavish me with praise. [ Thoughtfully spoken, like Noct's affection is something discrepant and easily trifled with, challenging over the phone, sweet in-person. ] You should know that you're exquisite to behold. You've always been, but the years have done you exceptionally well.
I -- aaaah -- lavish you with praise all the time!
[ Probably! Noctis is pretty sure he's incoherent with sweet nothings whenever they have incredible, mindblowing, wonderful sex that makes Noctis' toes curl just remembering it. The prince has never really been good at expressing himself beyond that, when all boundaries had been broken down between them and Noctis, in heated, passionate moments, know that continuing to play it cool does no one any favors. He's effusive during their lovemaking, genuine and eager, lavishing praise and compliments on him like raindrops on a flower.
Ignis is on his knees before him now, and Noctis swallows hard, mouth dry at the fact that he's kneeling on the tile in those glorious sock-garters that Noctis swears he will never have Ignis remove, ever. His older lover folds, and Noctis claims without question, so greedy for Ignis that he'll willingly take what he gets, a trait that will inevitably lead to his own downfall.
His chamberlain is coy but no less beautiful for it, a fox in the grasp of his own mischief, far from benign but hopelessly soft, and Noctis falls for him over and over again, breath catching in his throat as he gentle rocks into his hand, stiffening in his grasp, his pants pooled around his feet. He wants more, and he wraps his hand around Ignis' too, sharing in the jerking off, his desire sparking and inflaming, and his free hand comes to curl in Ignis' hair, gently tugging on him so that he'll look up properly at him. Pink-cheeked and flattered, Noctis finds himself wanting more. ] Ignis -- come up and kiss me.
[ Probably! This whole tangent he's gone off on is a self-defeating prophecy, talking in circles about praise and reciprocity when he wouldn't refuse Noct of anything. It doesn't take sweet words and the soft grip of his fingers on him lacing to keep Ignis grounded; it's all that Noct is that compels him to cede, boyish and brilliant and utterly transfixing. Something in the prince's nature that keeps Ignis so besotted even when he's stranded his knees on the ground, mouth sickled into a smile. ]
I know. You're more affectionate than I rightly deserve.
[ The ruse: how calm he's playing his devotion off when he replaces his hand with his mouth, pretending at emotional repose when he's a man harangued by love. Give it a second and he'll be driven half-mad when Noct's delicate, fine-boned fingers wrap around him to jerk him off, messy and unbefitting of any future king, and Ignis's no-nonsense pragmatism slips off for laughter, pulled off and away from him so he doesn't start choking on the utter ridiculousness of it all. ]
You know you'll have to contend with three cups of Ebony, Noct.
[ The acrid, crushed taste he's imbibed over the course of the day and how Ignis has only staved off coffee breath by picking up a dental hygienist's habits, but he readily obeys, pulling himself up to his feet. Against his palms, the fabric of Noct's shirt is a sense-memory he's all too acquainted with (his face was tucked up against it just the evening prior, curled around the body it swathed in his sleep) and Ignis pulls Noctis into the kiss, their mouths brushing to stick when he leans in.
Another slow inhale, and Noct should be able to detect how the muscles in his arm bunch up when he sneaks an arm around the small of his waist to keep him from retreating. The nudity's a bit of a spin on their usual kiss-and-tell, causing him to flush from the shoulders up, but it's hard to justify tossing on the button-up that Noct's so surreptitiously removed when he's seen him naked countless times before. Best just save any regrets for the morning after, when he's got the time to gripe and bemoan looking anything less than modest. ]
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no subject
Laughing up what he can't handle is just about how he's going to get by today, between the systematic removal of his shirt and the fingers he's clung to the sink, his last bastion to all things decent and good, summarily pried off. Ignis's shoulders take on a shuddering hunch afterwards, shoulder-blades jumping just so when Noctis's fingers skim his hip, sprawl high enough on his throat that they apply pressure with the swallowing inhale. ]
Ah, well. I'm not one for exhibitionism.
[ And luring Noctis into the bathroom just to witness him removing the plug hardly seems conducive to anything remotely good. Getting stripped down to his garter socks and glasses only bodes disaster, a cataclysm in the making. But even this forecast sees to not the end of a storm, but the start to it, when Ignis, still stricken with his fair share of mortification, reaches around by way of compromise, layers his hands over the little knob of Noctis's upper spine. ]
Though there are always exceptions to the rule. [ Every inch of his lingering fondness for Noctis, even at its worst, makes itself known in his vice grip, blinking away from the mirror and it's dull fascimile to Noct, proper. ] I missed you quite dreadfully today. I've lost the element of surprise, but I hope I've managed to shock you some, all the same.
no subject
[ Tact is just saying things that are not true, Ignis. Nobody has time for that. ] And it is my house.
[ He hums softly, helping him to shed the rest of his clothes, save for the sock garters that look so deliciously comely on him. He gets to wear that for the rest of the night, he decides, and he's momentarily derailed from his nefarious plan to love the hell out of Ignis when he feels his chamberlain reaches around to press over his spine, pressing against the upper knobs of it the way he likes it. He's leaning in to kiss his mouth now that Ignis has turned to look at him, greedy for the plush softness of his answering kiss. ]
You have, you know. I never knew you could be this beautiful.
[ And this alluring, all long legs and lean body and that plug up his ass. Noctis bites back the rest of that, impossibly fond and full of affection for the man pressed up against him. ] Maybe you shouldn't have turned off your phone if you've missed me that much.
[ A glint of playful mischief, but he understands. Ignis has one of the smartest, sharpest minds in Lucis, and it stands to reason that he is exposed to as many meetings and political facets as possible in order to best do his job -- and that requires focus, not minutes wasted looking at Noctis' dick.
Still. ]
no subject
[ Not enough to keep him from inflicting a butt plug on himself, as per his Highness's candid wishes, but he'd much rather keep this space in Noctis's life, entirely out of his depths and drowning under the brunt of subjectivity. He'd be more obliging under a few glasses of wine, but he'd always fold to Noct, which has squarely landed him in his sock garters and nothing else as of late. Kind of appalling, but not at all improbably, given his track record.
Ignis slides down until he's eye-level with Noct's groin, his back a crane-arch when he affixes his hands pulled thin over Noctis's hips. ]
Would you do me the honors?
[ Do him the honors and remain perfectly calm while he peels down Noctis's pants, then goes about laboriously stripping away his underwear. Instead of taking his mouth to what's greeted him, though, he presses his hands to the shape of it, fingers crested around the shaft, soft as his grip has a tendency for being. The strokes that come down are benignβ fickle, soft, keeping up with that look of jackals and hyenas on him, coy as he can get while bent down, utterly naked, and jerking Noct into a state of incoherence. ]
Only now does my prince lavish me with praise. [ Thoughtfully spoken, like Noct's affection is something discrepant and easily trifled with, challenging over the phone, sweet in-person. ] You should know that you're exquisite to behold. You've always been, but the years have done you exceptionally well.
no subject
[ Probably! Noctis is pretty sure he's incoherent with sweet nothings whenever they have incredible, mindblowing, wonderful sex that makes Noctis' toes curl just remembering it. The prince has never really been good at expressing himself beyond that, when all boundaries had been broken down between them and Noctis, in heated, passionate moments, know that continuing to play it cool does no one any favors. He's effusive during their lovemaking, genuine and eager, lavishing praise and compliments on him like raindrops on a flower.
Ignis is on his knees before him now, and Noctis swallows hard, mouth dry at the fact that he's kneeling on the tile in those glorious sock-garters that Noctis swears he will never have Ignis remove, ever. His older lover folds, and Noctis claims without question, so greedy for Ignis that he'll willingly take what he gets, a trait that will inevitably lead to his own downfall.
His chamberlain is coy but no less beautiful for it, a fox in the grasp of his own mischief, far from benign but hopelessly soft, and Noctis falls for him over and over again, breath catching in his throat as he gentle rocks into his hand, stiffening in his grasp, his pants pooled around his feet. He wants more, and he wraps his hand around Ignis' too, sharing in the jerking off, his desire sparking and inflaming, and his free hand comes to curl in Ignis' hair, gently tugging on him so that he'll look up properly at him. Pink-cheeked and flattered, Noctis finds himself wanting more. ] Ignis -- come up and kiss me.
no subject
I know. You're more affectionate than I rightly deserve.
[ The ruse: how calm he's playing his devotion off when he replaces his hand with his mouth, pretending at emotional repose when he's a man harangued by love. Give it a second and he'll be driven half-mad when Noct's delicate, fine-boned fingers wrap around him to jerk him off, messy and unbefitting of any future king, and Ignis's no-nonsense pragmatism slips off for laughter, pulled off and away from him so he doesn't start choking on the utter ridiculousness of it all. ]
You know you'll have to contend with three cups of Ebony, Noct.
[ The acrid, crushed taste he's imbibed over the course of the day and how Ignis has only staved off coffee breath by picking up a dental hygienist's habits, but he readily obeys, pulling himself up to his feet. Against his palms, the fabric of Noct's shirt is a sense-memory he's all too acquainted with (his face was tucked up against it just the evening prior, curled around the body it swathed in his sleep) and Ignis pulls Noctis into the kiss, their mouths brushing to stick when he leans in.
Another slow inhale, and Noct should be able to detect how the muscles in his arm bunch up when he sneaks an arm around the small of his waist to keep him from retreating. The nudity's a bit of a spin on their usual kiss-and-tell, causing him to flush from the shoulders up, but it's hard to justify tossing on the button-up that Noct's so surreptitiously removed when he's seen him naked countless times before. Best just save any regrets for the morning after, when he's got the time to gripe and bemoan looking anything less than modest. ]