[ Noctis Scientia, oh, by the Six that name gets him so hot he's just pushing the tray further away, climbing onto the bed and securing himself above him, one hand on the bed beside his head, the other palming down his chest, down into the elastic of his sweatpants (it's terrible how Ignis manages to look so perfectly stunning even in sweatpants, what the hell), curling his hand around his cock.

There, there they are. It looks like they're starting something, after all, and their now coffee-logged breakfast is going to get cold. He doesn't care; all he cares about is having him. Gently pushing off his glasses and setting it neatly aside, he's grinning. ] I like that. Noctis Scientia. Take your pants off for me, mister. You're not going to be needing them for what I'm about to do to you.