[ Despite how long it's been, Ignis hasn't forgotten the tell-tale signs that Noctis is close. He can read it in the way his hips jerk forward, the noises he makes, the look on his face, all of it. It's overwhelming in the best possible way, knowing that he's the one responsible for this. There's an awful, tiny part of him that thinks: no one else can give him this. No one else knows Noctis' body so intimately because Noctis hasn't allowed anyone else to do so.
Despite his affection for Octavia, nothing can tamp down the swell of vicious pride and possessiveness at this, that he's the one that gets to see the king of Lucis undone by lips and tongue and hand, by Ignis himself. The fact that it's riding the edge of too much, that his throat is fucked raw and his lips are stretched tight around the swell of him doesn't matter. He'd meant it earlier when he said anything and if him on his knees, worshiping his king is further proof of his devotion then so be it.
The strangled noise that escapes is one that he commits to memory, along with the first hot pulse down his throat. It's been long enough that he has to focus, has to shut everything else out and sink back, tilting his head just so to accept everything his king gives him, swallowing each salty rush until the ragged thrusting stops. When he's certain it's done he pulls off with a wet gasp and sinks into him bonelessly, pressing damp lips against the warm skin of Noctis' belly, hungrily nuzzling him as he wraps a hand around the wet length of him and strokes just shy of too hard, wringing everything out of him while he pants for breath, trembling helplessly. ]
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Despite his affection for Octavia, nothing can tamp down the swell of vicious pride and possessiveness at this, that he's the one that gets to see the king of Lucis undone by lips and tongue and hand, by Ignis himself. The fact that it's riding the edge of too much, that his throat is fucked raw and his lips are stretched tight around the swell of him doesn't matter. He'd meant it earlier when he said anything and if him on his knees, worshiping his king is further proof of his devotion then so be it.
The strangled noise that escapes is one that he commits to memory, along with the first hot pulse down his throat. It's been long enough that he has to focus, has to shut everything else out and sink back, tilting his head just so to accept everything his king gives him, swallowing each salty rush until the ragged thrusting stops. When he's certain it's done he pulls off with a wet gasp and sinks into him bonelessly, pressing damp lips against the warm skin of Noctis' belly, hungrily nuzzling him as he wraps a hand around the wet length of him and strokes just shy of too hard, wringing everything out of him while he pants for breath, trembling helplessly. ]