To be fair, I am the cat that got the cream. His favorite kind, too.
[ In one very, very specific way. He's licking his lips for emphasis, always one for a terrible pun -- it's what he shares with Ignis, this awful love for cringe-worthy puns, and that naturally leads to things that should never be repeated outside these four walls. Coming to run a hand through Ignis' hair fondly, gently pushing it back from his face (Noctis loves looking at him mussed and disheveled, but there's something profoundly enthralling about the intensity of his eyes when he looks at him, and he finds himself hooked on it), as he lets himself be dried off. Ignis' hands on his body are a welcome, wonderful thing, and he takes him along with him when he ends up sitting on the bed, so ridiculously cool under his damp ass and he squirms, trying to get comfortable.
But he doesn't have long enough to focus on that, not when his beautiful lover gets on his knees, all broad shoulders and smouldering intensity, and absently Noctis thinks of all the time he's mocked movies with conventionally handsome men who pout just so, but then here Ignis is, out-smouldering just about all of them and making Noctis' heart race in ridiculous ways because Astrals, to hear him say let me have you again, and if he'd been more giddy than this, he'd swoon. Already he's close, and he bites his lip, shivering at the stripe of heat up his very hard, very awake dick.
Damn it, he thinks absently. He loves it when he looks at him like that, and Noct knows that his own self-control is dangerously close to dissipating. It's one thing to be pleasuring Ignis, but it's another thing entirely to be on the receiving end and to be driven almost out of his mind with lust. How does he look like this, that perfect cupid's bow parted and with him expressing a desire he would never otherwise hear? He's grasping his own dick and pitching forward before he can help himself, pushing the thick, flushed head past willing lips, groaning softly at how soft they feel, how hot and wet his mouth is. ]
You have all of me. Everything. [ He promises, his voice raw and almost broken as he sinks deep into his mouth, a hand at the back of his head to keep him there. ]
no subject
[ In one very, very specific way. He's licking his lips for emphasis, always one for a terrible pun -- it's what he shares with Ignis, this awful love for cringe-worthy puns, and that naturally leads to things that should never be repeated outside these four walls. Coming to run a hand through Ignis' hair fondly, gently pushing it back from his face (Noctis loves looking at him mussed and disheveled, but there's something profoundly enthralling about the intensity of his eyes when he looks at him, and he finds himself hooked on it), as he lets himself be dried off. Ignis' hands on his body are a welcome, wonderful thing, and he takes him along with him when he ends up sitting on the bed, so ridiculously cool under his damp ass and he squirms, trying to get comfortable.
But he doesn't have long enough to focus on that, not when his beautiful lover gets on his knees, all broad shoulders and smouldering intensity, and absently Noctis thinks of all the time he's mocked movies with conventionally handsome men who pout just so, but then here Ignis is, out-smouldering just about all of them and making Noctis' heart race in ridiculous ways because Astrals, to hear him say let me have you again, and if he'd been more giddy than this, he'd swoon. Already he's close, and he bites his lip, shivering at the stripe of heat up his very hard, very awake dick.
Damn it, he thinks absently. He loves it when he looks at him like that, and Noct knows that his own self-control is dangerously close to dissipating. It's one thing to be pleasuring Ignis, but it's another thing entirely to be on the receiving end and to be driven almost out of his mind with lust. How does he look like this, that perfect cupid's bow parted and with him expressing a desire he would never otherwise hear? He's grasping his own dick and pitching forward before he can help himself, pushing the thick, flushed head past willing lips, groaning softly at how soft they feel, how hot and wet his mouth is. ]
You have all of me. Everything. [ He promises, his voice raw and almost broken as he sinks deep into his mouth, a hand at the back of his head to keep him there. ]