[ Ignis doesn't bark out a laugh because that would be undignified, but it's a damn close thing. Faux-scandalized, he touches a hand to the center of his chest and watches those briefs get tossed onto the ground in turn. ]

Is that a promise or a threat, Noctis Scientia?

[ The tray is moved aside, one catastrophe averted which means he doesn't feel any guilt when he arches up into the next kiss eagerly, hungrily, his hands already wandering. Since Noctis' hand is quite occupied between them, hot and rough against the thick swell of his cock and Ignis' own, he takes to exploring all that newly bared skin. Both hands squeeze at Noctis' ass just because he can, because it's a nice one and because it'd be a shame to let it go unappreciated and then they wander up, stroking over the scar on his back, the knobs of his spine, threading in his hair to pull firmly and tug him into another kiss that's borderline messy, but ultimately perfect. ]

A summer wedding. [ When they break for air, Ignis whispers it into his mouth between a sigh and a moan, Noctis' hand on him perfect. ] On the longest day of the year, maybe. And then I'm going to steal you away somewhere -- maybe with a beach, with fishing.