[ Ignis watches his king with the softest look on his face, drinking in the sight of him. It's not fair just how much he loves this man; he didn't think he was capable of loving someone else so much, so fully. Noctis has always had that effect on him, though; he pushes Ignis to be more, to achieve more, to experience a thousand things he'd never considered in the first place, all before lunch. They better each other, two halves of the same whole. ]

Yes, this, too.

[ Ignis doesn't laugh. Not because it isn't funny, not because he isn't terribly fond of Noctis, but because he doesn't have a bit of breath left to dedicate to the effort. Noctis' fingers withdraw and he murmurs his protest, but then, then Noctis is guiding the damp head of his cock, slick with precome and lube against Ignis' hole and pushing. It is always a little bit uncomfortable, but that's sex. He adjusts with a leg hitched around Noctis' waist, a hand braced on the bed to shift his weight a little bit and then melts into it, there's no other word for it. His own cock is forgotten, unimportant when faced with broad shoulders and too-blue eyes over him. Ignis cups his face with both hands after wiping one onto the sheets, and tugs him in for a kiss, as fierce as it is warm. ]

So many opportunities for you to spill coffee on the comforter when I bring breakfast. To -- aah, Gods, I forget sometimes just how good you feel inside me.

[ It's a casual but half-shocked little aside, Ignis' back arching, body twisting in a sinuous little stretch. Softly, with all the meaning he can pack into three little words: ]

I love you.