[ Noctis snorts, faint but still audible. He doesn't want to think about anyone else giving Ignis what he gives him -- he still wildly, ferociously hates the idea of another touching Ignis the way he has, kissing and touching and holding him, the recipient of the way Ignis looks at him, soft-eyed and vulnerable and warm.
He can see it now, in his mind's eye, swallowing the desire and aching to renew what they had, to feel him again. But he can't, not like this, even if every ounce of him wants to kiss him stupid and steal every word from his lips.
There's only ever been him, and that's enough for Noctis. There is a weight that lifts off of him that he never realised was there, and even when relief sets in there is another question that lingers. ]
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He can see it now, in his mind's eye, swallowing the desire and aching to renew what they had, to feel him again. But he can't, not like this, even if every ounce of him wants to kiss him stupid and steal every word from his lips.
There's only ever been him, and that's enough for Noctis. There is a weight that lifts off of him that he never realised was there, and even when relief sets in there is another question that lingers. ]
So where do we go from here?