Ah, well, I'd hate to interrupt him when His Majesty is occupied with such a strenuous task.
[ Fiance. Ignis would be lying if he said that word alone didn't get him going, the meaning behind it, the promise of a ring on his finger and the knowledge that they'd be together in every single way they could be. Some would probably claim that it's all ambition on Ignis' part, given his closeness to the crown since childhood, but that much is absurd; his dedication is to Noctis, throne or no throne.
Beneath him, the bed shifts with Noctis' weight moving closer, the wet tip of his dick sliding against his hole, catching and the push of it, the way he feels himself spread to accommodate the thick length of him is obscene. Ignis doesn't bite the pillow but he does grope out a hand to press against the headboard and brace himself while his other folds underneath him so he can press his face into the curve of his elbow. Part of him wishes he could see it - with the fact that he can see again, he finds that he wants to look at everything humanly possible. Maybe, he thinks, they could make a video. Host it on a private server, or just use a disposable phone or ensure their faces aren't in the frame. There's options.
Right now, he doesn't want to think about anything at all except for the fact that Noctis' body is folding in over him, and then there's the threat, the promise, and it makes Ignis shudder a sigh into the curve of his arm, pushing back against him. My love. Ignis fully intends to say something, but Noctis beats him to it with a hand curling over his dick, stroking over it easily when it's slick with his spend already. That, in conjunction with the steady roll of Noctis' hips, the press of him deep and hot and overwhelming and then the angle of it, is enough to have Ignis' fingernails digging into the plush headboard. He tries to push back on every thrust, rolling his hips, riding his dick as best as he can while like this. ]
I-- hah, ah, don't know. I'm debating it. There are merits to misbehaving.
no subject
[ Fiance. Ignis would be lying if he said that word alone didn't get him going, the meaning behind it, the promise of a ring on his finger and the knowledge that they'd be together in every single way they could be. Some would probably claim that it's all ambition on Ignis' part, given his closeness to the crown since childhood, but that much is absurd; his dedication is to Noctis, throne or no throne.
Beneath him, the bed shifts with Noctis' weight moving closer, the wet tip of his dick sliding against his hole, catching and the push of it, the way he feels himself spread to accommodate the thick length of him is obscene. Ignis doesn't bite the pillow but he does grope out a hand to press against the headboard and brace himself while his other folds underneath him so he can press his face into the curve of his elbow. Part of him wishes he could see it - with the fact that he can see again, he finds that he wants to look at everything humanly possible. Maybe, he thinks, they could make a video. Host it on a private server, or just use a disposable phone or ensure their faces aren't in the frame. There's options.
Right now, he doesn't want to think about anything at all except for the fact that Noctis' body is folding in over him, and then there's the threat, the promise, and it makes Ignis shudder a sigh into the curve of his arm, pushing back against him. My love. Ignis fully intends to say something, but Noctis beats him to it with a hand curling over his dick, stroking over it easily when it's slick with his spend already. That, in conjunction with the steady roll of Noctis' hips, the press of him deep and hot and overwhelming and then the angle of it, is enough to have Ignis' fingernails digging into the plush headboard. He tries to push back on every thrust, rolling his hips, riding his dick as best as he can while like this. ]
I-- hah, ah, don't know. I'm debating it. There are merits to misbehaving.