nascere | LET'S PLAY {open post}

[ It's a good match. It's a match that benefits every single party involved and involves no bloodshed for years to come. The alliance of Nifleheim is one that makes more sense than anything else they could hope to do and Ignis, despite spending countless hours in meetings and in the library, can't find a way out of it. He tries everything possible and then debates going a step further - going to the leaders and either trying to appeal to their better natures or threaten them, but won't do either.

Not when it's not just one land at risk for his foolishness, but two.

It will usher in a new era of peace and prosperity, the news claims on the radio in the morning. Ignis resists the urge ti throw his dagger through the blasted thing.

ALLIANCE SECURED - WEDDING DATE TBD! A newspaper cheerfully states, listing profiles of the king and princess directly after. It's not a flattering photograph of Noctis but it doesn't matter; he's beautiful either way, the line of his jaw, the blue of his eyes, the fall of his hair. Ignis sucks in a breath, holds it, and steels himself for what has to come.

( 'It's not that I think you haven't thought this through - I know you've thought about it every single direction you could,' Gladiolus says late one night, their shoulders brushing as they sit in front of the campfire; foolishly, Ignis had accepted the trip not realizing that this was, effectively, an ambush. 'But I know you. You've told the kid no a grand total of what, five times? If I'm bein' real fucking generous here, too. So you're telling me that this-- with this you're going to tell him no for the rest of your life? You're gonna sit there at his shoulder as his right arm and tell him no and you think that's...gonna work.' )

At the time, Ignis had been furious and stung that Gladiolus went through all of this effort just to say he doubted him, but under all of that was the awful sense of agreement. He doesn't think he can last forever with him like this, but he doesn't trust himself to last forever without him like this, either.

It would be easier, Ignis thinks bitterly, if Octavia weren't someone who he genuinely liked. She wanted to like Noctis, she arguably did like him because he was terribly easy to love like that, but she also didn't fight this. He could respect her quiet certainty, the way that she stayed by Noctis' side, just as doomed to unhappiness as the rest of them but bearing it with the same grace. She assists in every new effort that Ignis or Noctis starts; through her they do gain everything they need to rebuild, to help others rebuild.

Sometimes, he thinks seeing the reports of towns flourishing, the letters they receive in from people they've helped over the years - he thinks that might be enough. Maybe this, and staying at Noctis side would be enough. Then, Noctis comes to him, once, twice, a dozen times and every time Ignis thinks no, I'll stop this while his body says I missed you, I missed us. It is rather like an addiction. He'd never picked up smoking, never liked alcohol enough to abuse it. But Noctis -- Noctis is an addiction all on his own. He makes it hours, days, weeks. Twice, he makes it a month before he breaks though he's not even sure he can count those - both were trips when he was away supporting the crown. When he got home it always ended quickly. During those periods, he tries to be responsible. He dates. He tries to make meaningful connections out in this new world that they've sacrificed everything to build.

The men and women he date aren't bad. He's still friends with two of them - one a professor at the local college, who Ignis consults on various matters here and there, and another a doctor, a pediatrician. He owes it to himself during these...breaks, doesn't he? To look into what else -- who else is out there. In a lot of ways, it's almost like a death and Ignis thinks that if he'd died, Noctis is the kind of man who wouldn't have wanted Ignis to grieve forever at his grave. He needs to move on, and while the dates aren't bad, they're just...there. No spark, no connection. Maybe he's too focused on Noctis, maybe he's too picky, maybe maybe maybe. A thousand maybes but none of them matter, because Ignis keeps repeating the same damn cycle over and over again.

Over time, Aranea's work brings her in Ignis' path often enough that work finds its way into the bedroom during these periods. It's simple; they both know that nothing will happen outside of the bedroom and they both leave whatever does happen in there behind. It's the simplest thing in his life, somehow, doing the dreaded mix of business and passion. Funny how that works, hm, Aranea purrs, and leaves a perfect set of teeth imprinted against the meat of his back from where she's got him pushed against the wall. Let's just focus on the passion side, then.

They never linger for too long; both of them are on borrowed time, but it's nice to linger afterward. To press his face into the curve of her throat and let himself drift for a few moments before the tackiness of sweat drives him crazy and he rises to shower. There's a thick folder of paperwork on his desk now - the latest reports from the hunters she's coordinating in each town as a sort of extension of the crown, keeping the outer areas safe from anyone trying to pick them off. In the time it takes Ignis to slide back into his underwear and start looking through it before his shower, Aranea dresses and makes her way out, hood pulled high, dressed in something fairly shapeless, uninterested in anyone seeing her comings and goings.

It's been barely a few moments when the door opens and Ignis sighs, running a hand through sweat-damp, sex-mussed hair, only making it worse. ]

Did you leave something be-- ah.

[ Not Aranea at all, but his king. Wonderful. Ignis tucks the paperwork under his arm to file and resists the urge to cover himself. Noctis has seen him naked too many times to count. Noctis has seen him undone underneath him too many times to count. He shouldn't feel embarrassed. Noctis is the one bursting into his room without so much as a knock, and a little sharp, Ignis starts gathering his clothes from where Aranea had dropped them and wouldn't allow him to retrieve them. ]

If you're not going to be knocking, should I leave a sock on the handle so you don't interrupt anything?

[ The room smells like sex, and in that moment Noctis knows that he's made a terrible mistake. In his willfulness he has chosen the hard way out, chosen to pierce himself with knowledge that Ignis has found himself buried in someone else, taken his pleasure with someone that isn't him. The weight of it is a punch to the stomach, but Noctis knew, of course -- what had he been expecting?

There he is, nearly naked and mussed and everything that Noctis had thought belonged only to him, and he bites his tongue. He ought to be better than this, but the marriage only brings out all the ugly things he's hated about himself, the things he thought himself above. Noctis had seen him naked before, to be sure -- but to know that someone else had been privy to this just minutes before feels like a stone pressed deep in his chest.

Someone's pressed him close and kissed him, left their mark on him, and jealousy burns sickly down his spine, a vicious, writhing thing that leaves Noctis with the desire to hurt, to claw, anything to dispel all that's gathering inside him. He shouldn't be here, not here with the man that he loves with the worst of himself, but the ring sits warm against his chest like it's its own kind of mockery, and for a moment he's at a loss as to what to say.

What can he say? Ignis is fully within his right to do as he pleases, it's not as if Noctis has an official claim on him anymore, and the knowledge of it burns, scorches inside of him. Finally, cycling from anger, from the desire to snap, he settles on something more genuine, something underlying all of the other feelings. It's late, he's tired, and Ignis doesn't deserve getting snapped at. ]

Must it be here?

[ Part of him wants to make excuses, to usher Noctis out until he can open the windows and shower, covering up evidence of this. He hadn't slept with anyone else that he'd dated; once or twice, he got close, but for the most part, he was finding that he wanted some sort of connection. After loving so hard and so long the idea of not having any sort of emotional connection to someone was...difficult.

Aranea, he respected, he knew. They'd fought together and nearly died together on a number of occasions. She offered simplicity in a world that often wasn't, without any of the issues dating brings. Distantly, he know that he's putting a band aid on the would rather than cauterizing it, but he can't seem to stop himself. Worse, she knows exactly how to read him as well as he reads her these days, knows when it's going to be nothing remotely physical, they're just going to discuss business, knows when he wants to be bent over the bed and made to curse into the pillows. She never calls him on it directly, but she also doesn't hide her disapproval. This time, it takes a tangible form.

Inside the bundle of paperwork is an offer of a job. Merc work with her, under a contract with the crown. She knows enough people in enough high places between the Empire and here that it's an easy play, no doubt. She's offering him a chance to get away from it for a while, to travel and refresh. To be involved in a different way, to protect Noctis in another capacity. It's tempting. When it looks as if Noctis wants to fight, Ignis exhales and presses his hands flat to the table, waiting until he watches those edges soften, hackles lowering.]

She had business to attend to, earlier. It was less of an issue for her to come here than for me to make my way to her hotel. I have an early meeting in the morning.

[ He's not ashamed of passing time with someone else, of trying to move on, but when Noctis keeps standing there and doesn't lash out, he goes for the robe hanging on the door and pulls it on just slow enough that it doesn't seem like he's rushing to hide. ]

If you need something, it won't take me long to clean up and I can meet you in your study.

Edited 2017-12-31 11:12 (UTC)

[ She, is it? Ignis has always been fastidious about who he allows into the Citadel, regardless of whether she has business here or not. That he sent her off without escorts meant a measure of trust -- and there's a short list of women who would have business nearby, and who Ignis trusts enough to grant access. A hotel means she's not local to Insomnia, and from then on it's a much, much shorter list. ]

Aranea?

[ He could be wrong, but at this point she seems the most likely candidate. His heart, whatever is left of it in the months that have passed, is in his throat. How had they become like this, from a fierce, consuming love to this, awkward tension too thick in this room, the smell of sex that threatens to make him sick. For all of Noctis' noble intentions to let him go, to encourage him to find his own happiness, he always comes back to this, the desire to keep him close, the fierce need to have him, still.

It's jealousy that still churns in the pit of his stomach, and it's jealousy that drives him to ignore Ignis' last words -- what he needs, Ignis no longer wishes to give him. At least, not right now. ]

Is it serious?

[ Does he even have the right to ask him that anymore? ]

[ Part of him thinks to keep it secret - Noctis doesn't need to know the comings and goings of the people Ignis attempts to date and is wildly unsuccessful with. There's no holding to do that, though, he knows. Noctis is, as ever, his weak point, his blind spot, and this isn't something that he necessarily wants to keep hidden from him. ]

Aranea.

[ It's a quiet confirmation as he tugs the robe closed the rest of the way and ties it in place. His clothing is settled to be washed, now, which means he really, desperately needs a shower because his skin is tacky with sweat and it's desperately uncomfortable. Noctis still stands there, though, looking almost lost standing in a bedroom that once Ignis had invited him into whenever he liked, that they'd done everything in, retreating to Noctis' bed for the clean covers.

Now that he's covered, it's easier to go over to Noctis and touches his arm lightly. ]

Would you want really want to know if it is?

[ Does he, really? Noctis' gaze tracks him when he pulls on the robe, jealousy giving way to an aching longing that is painful in the way it's been a part of him for as long as he can remember. Sated only when he pushes, when he presses into Ignis and disregards everything else while his wife sleeps in an empty bed. ]

Does she love you like I do?

[ Yes, he wants to know. He steps towards him and oh, how he smells of her and sex, and instead of being repulsed, he reaches to cup his cheek, sliding up to curl fingers in his unruly hair, falling all over his gorgeous face. Once upon a time, this was all for him. If he were younger, he would have given into the urge to lash out, to hurt him the way he's hurting right now, but oh, Noctis understands how Ignis hurts, too. This is an outcome they both hadn't wanted, and now there are three of them steeped in misery. Noctis had urged Octavia to find her companionship elsewhere, to seek her own partner who can give her what he cannot; but what about Ignis? Try as he might, he cannot let him go, cannot bring himself to ask him to do the same.

He will take him however he is, even after sex with another -- and Noctis can only be bitter about how far he's fallen, how he's never had a chance when it comes to Ignis. ]

Edited 2018-01-01 02:52 (UTC)

[ He wants to escape to the shower not because he thinks that the shower is going to magically fix everything, but because he's a coward. Because the shower is an escape, an excuse for him to leave and not have to deal with the very real sight of Noctis in front of him. ]

She isn't married.

[ Ignis' voice is gentle, the same tone he's used a thousand times over when delivering difficult news to Noctis. This, of course, isn't nearly the same as any of the other news he's had to deliver up to this point. This is another beast, something awful in a different way because they can't fight it. There's no battle to win, no way for them to persevere in the face of everything in their way. This is life and there's nothing they can do to avoid it. All they can do is find a way to live with it.

Noctis' hand slides up, cups his face, strokes over scar and skin and brushes back his hair and it's so, so intimate that every inch of him aches in response. Octavia -- Noctis' wife, damn everything, his wife is waiting in their bedroom while Ignis looks at her husband and wants so fiercely it's like nothing else. How long will you last this time, he asks himself and already knows the answer. ]

We're no longer children, Your Majesty. [ The title isn't meant to hurt but he knows that it has the power to cut just as surely as his daggers. ] Love isn't enough, sometimes.

[ Love isn't enough sometimes, and isn't that something. Noctis finds that he comes to hate that gentleness, the way he delivers them so softly as if the message itself will hurt less if he moderates himself. But this is a different thing entirely, this isn't news that affect the crown -- this is something that hurts. He doesn't hide it when it flickers in his eyes; but there is no way he can walk away from this. ]

Yeah. [ He says softly, and he hates, again, how Ignis addresses him like this -- the title used to be uttered in jest, in warmth and teasing; how it pleased him when Ignis murmured that in bed, complete with the softest of kisses. But now his words cut in the way they've never done so before, but Noctis doesn't pull away, his hand coming down to tug on the knot that holds his robe shut. So what if he needs to shower? Noctis has forced himself to be accustomed to so much, how much more difficult can this be? ] But it'll have to do.

[ There's an offer in that folder, a way for him to take a break - to stop this, whenever he wants. Distantly, he wonders if Aranea had given him this without actually expecting him to consider following through. Maybe. Maybe she thought that he would debate it for ages and keep it as a fall back plan in case things went even further south. Maybe it was simply done out of pity. It can't be fun or easy watching a man linger in the shadows, hopelessly devoted to someone he can never have. It has to look pathetic, from the outside.

The silk parts easily, loose knot sliding undone and it slides over the line of a shoulder, sagging. Ignis can't bring himself to fix it, not sure if it's because he knows where this is going and isn't strong enough to resist, or because he wonders if the bruising, the half-moons she'd pushed into his skin will stop Noctis so Ignis doesn't have to. ]

It can't.

[ It's not a no. It's never a no. Ignis closes his eyes and tips his head back but doesn't shove him away like he ought to. ]

Is this how it's going to be forever, Your Majesty? Stolen moments while your wife sleeps in your bed?

[ It's not a no. It's what Ignis says for its own sake -- because Noctis is already more than aware of how this is shaping up, how it looks. Noctis will always chase after him because he never knows how to let him go, because if Ignis runs, he will come for him no matter where he goes. And in all that matters Ignis has him; he has his heart, he has all of his love, which is what is killing all three of them, isn't it?

The silk spills over and he sees the half-moon crescents left on his skin; feels a roiling anger at Ignis having allowed another to mark him so. But this, too, is punishment -- for Ignis and for himself. If he had said no to Nifleheim, how would things have turned out? He swallows against a ferocious swell of possessiveness, reaching behind him to click the lock shut, pushing him back against the bed.

If Aranea had gotten to him first, then Noctis has to wipe out all traces of her from his skin, from inside him, around him. His mouth comes to suck a vivid lovebite on his throat, hands coming to slide the robe off his lovely, exquisite frame. Ignis might be taller, but it doesn't matter. ]

The only bed I belong in is yours.

[ He'd always thought of infidelity as the most painfully boring trope used in movies and books. Either you married someone because you loved them or you didn't, and if you were married to someone you didn't love and it wasn't for duty, then you should do right by them and leave. That's how it works, logically. That's how it should work.

Worse: his dalliance with Aranea was what felt like the affair, despite it being the only thing he's done for himself that hasn't actively almost harmed another relationship. Aranea was simple.

Noctis, closing and locking his door like he owns not just the Citadel but Ignis' space and time too, is not simple.

How long are you going to last, he thinks, and sidesteps before he can be tumbled back onto the bed, before Noctis can strip him out of the last flimsy bit of cloth between them. He gropes for his robe a little unsteadily, a little too quick for it to be refined. It's tugged to his throat, his gaze cutting away the moment Noctis says that with so much warmth and feeling that once, Ignis could have believed it. ]

The only bed you want to be in is mine. That's the difference.

[ Sharper, this time, willing Noctis to be the one to understand so Ignis doesn't have to push. ]

Is this fair to either of us? Answer me. Is this what you want another ten years from now? Shall we continue to sneak around like unruly teenagers hiding from our parents?

Is this fair? Don't you already know by now, Ignis?

[ Noctis' response is harsh, incredulous. None of this is fair, nothing about this is even remotely fair to any one of them, but this is the hand they've been dealt, the path that had been chosen for them the moment Noctis was born. The question Ignis levels at him is not surprising; he's considered that at length, more attuned to his own emotions and state of mind than anyone usually expected him to be.

No, Noctis is aware of all of this, he knows damn well what he's doing and how fucked up he is, and his heart clenches when he raises his head to meet Ignis dead in the eye. ] The only other alternative is being without you, and I --

[ And he cannot abide -- the thought of it makes his throat close up, makes him reject it so fiercely; it's unthinkable to endure. ] There is no alternative. You can't ask that of me.

I know it's not fair. I know precious little has been fair, for you, for most of your life.

[ He's sorry, he's so, so sorry, because if ever there were a person who deserved fairness, who deserved something right, it's Noctis. He's sacrificed everything so that everyone else can lead the lives they did before Ardyn and his machinations, and now he's sacrificing again, every moment in an unhappy marriage.

It could maybe be happy if they weren't both distracted, weren't borderline obsessed with each other. It's love, he's not about to deny that, but it's also something darker, something with sharp edges that they keep cutting themselves and each other on. ]

I told you I would be ever at your side, Noctis. It may not be in the same capacity, but maybe I've been the one letting this drag on for too long. [ Maybe, he says, as if it's not absolutely his fault for letting this go on so long. ] I'm going to shower. I'm not -- Six damn us both but I'm not going to let anything happen before a shower.

[ It could never be a happy marriage as long as Ignis isn't a part of it, it's that simple. Noctis has only ever loved Ignis to the exclusion of just about everything, that streak of cruelty in his singlemindedness that Octavia wordlessly endures, aware at every moment that his love can never be afforded to her, not when Ignis predominates and eclipses all else.

It's obsession, it's something more powerful and immovable than love that takes hold in them both, and Noctis finds that he doesn't care. ]

And I told you I would not have one without the other. [ Noctis hadn't fought him on it that day, but he had not budged from it -- he will not. He doesn't stop him when he heads for the shower, only choosing to open the windows to let the air in. It's absurd in so many little ways, how Ignis doesn't say no to him, how Noctis stubbornly demands to stay. ]

[ He meant alone but maybe he should have realized that by mentioning it, Noctis would simply assume he was invited. Of course.

Teeth clenched, Ignis heads for the bathroom and turns the water on hot, steam filling the bathroom bit by bit as soon as the water kicks on. He doesn't feel dirty after his and Aranea's -- whatever they're calling this. It's more that he doesn't like the implications of it, of Noctis touching him directly after he's spent hours trying to distract himself. Maybe it also doesn't feel fair, but then, fairness has nothing to do with anything these days.

Whatever Noctis is doing in the bedroom is ignored. The windows open will help, of course, and it isn't as if they had sex in his bed; she'd pushed him up against the wall and that's where they'd stayed. Maybe he should've, but he doesn't trust Noctis not to want to fuck where they had, as if he's reclaiming Ignis for his own again. Without waiting to see what the other man will do, he slides into the shower and closes the door firmly, turning his face into the spray. ]

[ Really, Ignis. You should know your liege and lover a lot better than that by now. Of course he's going to assume that he's invited -- Noctis has been denied little, his willfulness augmented by the surety of his birthright. It's a twisted state of matters, how so much has been taken from him and yet how he had been denied little when it comes to Ignis.

It's moments later that he carefully sheds his clothes, willful and demanding to a fault, pushing where Ignis gives, taking where he hasn't asked him to stop, and even if he's grown through the years he would always want Ignis, and he steps into the bathroom with him, sliding open the doors to ease behind him, an arm sliding around his waist. The hot water is nearly scalding, and this time Noctis doesn't mind if it scours Aranea from Ignis' skin. He belongs only to him, heart and mind and soul, and Noctis will relinquish nothing. ]

[ He should but he isn't sure what he's hoping for. Maybe, that Noctis decides to leave, or to wait until they have to talk in his study. Maybe, that he waits until Ignis washes himself, as if that will make things better.

Neither of these happen; Ignis presses his face into the wet-hot stream of water and is endlessly relieved that they'll hide at least some of his shame, and then Noctis is pushing his way in. A better man would be angry. A better man would chastise him, would tell him that he has a wife waiting, that he's cheating with a man who can never give him what they both want. A better man, Ignis is not.

The door opens, the shower door opening next and Ignis, weak as ever, unable and unwilling to say no, shifts into him. He isn't so foolish as to give him full run of the shower, but he does tilt himself enough that he's not hogging all of the hot water, does move so that they can share it and stares at Noctis a long, quiet moment, not sure if he's more disappointed in himself or the king. ]

Hurry up, then.

[ He lifts his hands and squirts the soap into them, quiet as he works it over himself, decidedly not looking at the long, strong lines of Noctis' body, decidedly not thinking about how he could take him here in the shower and Octavia would never know or care. ]

[ There's more than enough disappointment to go around, Ignis -- and Noctis is no stranger to it himself. He wakes to wonder about it, too; the things he's done, dishonorable in the eyes of so many for Ignis' sake, but love is love and for his sake Noctis would rake himself through the coals and come out of it bleeding.

For Ignis' sake, Noctis can be the villain of this story.

They share the shower, and Noctis gently eases his hands away, taking some soap for himself, wet palms coming to smooth over Ignis' shoulders, his chest, stomach, lower. He steps so impossibly close, looking back at him with eyes the color of the bluest sky, unclouded and impossibly clear. He knows exactly what he's doing, what he wants, and Ignis is at the heart of it all. ]

[ It, like all things with Noctis, would be easier if this was just about sex.

If it were only about sex, Ignis could tell him no. He doesn't have any great desire for it, doesn't hunger for it, doesn't desperately desire to feel the touch of another against him. Sex is base, sex is something that he enjoys greatly when done well and passes the time when done mediocre at best.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), sex with Noctis is always fantastic. It's a side-effect of always knowing exactly just what does it for another person. It's a side effect of having sex on a consistent basis for years.

It means that when Noctis slides into the shower and presses in close against him, sliding soapy hands over him, Ignis is familiar. He knows every bit of calluses on the smooth line of his palms, knows just where to touch in return to drag noises out of him. If he doesn't use that knowledge, well, that's his own fault.

Instead, he focuses on washing his hair independent of Noctis, tilting his face into the spray. When it's done and he's clean, he gives Noctis a long, lingering look and then shakes his head. ]

You can finish. I'll be in bed.

Edited 2018-01-01 10:30 (UTC)

[ But it's not about sex at all -- if it were, wouldn't it be so much easier? Ignis leaves the shower too quickly, and Noctis is left to himself for minutes as he cleans himself up, affords himself minutes to clear his head. He will not return to Octavia tonight, he's sure of it; she is a good woman, perhaps even better than anyone deserves, especially him, but it's long past for self-flagellation when Noctis knows he wants nothing else for himself but Ignis.

He dries off after, taking a towel from the rack, and he steps back into the room, and towards the bed Ignis is in, naked as the day he was born and now entirely unconcerned with it. A lifetime ago, he would've been self-conscious; but oh, they have done so much worse in the name of love, haven't they? He thinks of Aranea, wonders if they had fucked in here, if she'd pressed over him just the way he liked, and did she spread her legs for him or did he do it for her?

Does it matter? ]

[ While he's giving himself a cursory pat down, he can almost pretend that he's not about to make a massive mistake all over again. It's when he's in bed, lost in the plush covers and softer pillows that he remembers the little ring box in his closet. He'd moved it along with all of his things out, the last second of the last day.

Now, it felt like he was living in a room too large for him. He probably was, really; the quarters he'd been given were far more than what one person needed. They were perfect for two.

Back in his briefs and a tshirt, one he's had for ages and doesn't even recognize as Noctis' any longer, he thumbs through his phone, eyeing the other man as he pads out from the bathroom, naked. ]

Take care not to slip on the tile.

Yeah, what a way to finally die. Cracking my skull open on the tile in your room.

[ Noctis says dryly, before deciding that he could do with some clothes -- the window's open and it's chilly, and without so much as a by your leave, he snags a shirt and a pair of sweatpants and pulls it on.

And onto Ignis' bed he goes, climbing in under the covers like he's always belonged there even if it still bothers him that he's probably had sex in here. It's surreal, what's happening right here, right now, but he's in too deep to stop now. ] Where did you do it?

Please don't joke about your death, especially in my room.

[ For how mildly it's murmured, Ignis' face looks awful for a moment, because he can imagine it instantly and without any sort of guessing as to how it'd look. He may not have seen someone in real life have that happen to them, but deal with enough death and enough gore and you learn what will probably happen, what to expect. The long period of darkness left too many dead and Ignis has no trouble at all with his traitorous mind whispering that it would be ironic to lose Noctis during an affair like this, rather than in that awful period.

Noctis is going to make himself welcome no matter what he says so Ignis turns back to his phone, waiting for the bed to shift. ( Noctis would leave if he told him. He just needs to be strong enough to. )

Of course, he asks another question he probably doesn't want the answer to. ]

Are you feeling particularly masochistic tonight, or just trying to see where you can dig the blade in to me?

[ No joking about death. Right. He sees the look on Ignis' face and knows that he'd taken a step too far there -- his life had not been assured back then, and he had been slated to die. Ignis had saved it through sheer force of will, through his sacrifice, and Noctis can never repay him enough for it.

He climbs into bed, slides under the familiar covers and closes his eyes. He's not tired, not really -- the warmth of Ignis' body near his is an impossible thing, and for a moment he can fool himself into thinking that they've married each other, that this could be theirs. Moments earned instead of stolen. ]

Can we just -- can we forget everything else just for tonight? [ Everything else but each other; there's plenty of time for self-flagellation after this, but right now, right now Noctis needs him. He needs Ignis the man, the one so beloved of the king -- not the adviser. ]

[ The bed barely shifts with his weight, too expensive to change too much with the addition of another body. After moving out of the royal quarters, Ignis had ordered himself a ridiculously expensive, excessive mattress. If he was going to be sleeping alone at nights, then he was going to spend it somewhere good, somewhere comfortable. ]

Probably not.

[ He isn't prone to fits of melancholy, but right now, that's the only word for it. Noctis climbs into bed with him, clad in his clothes just as Ignis wears Noctis and for a moment, this could be familiar. Ignis rolls over onto his side and looks at the other man, looks at his king across the massive space between them: metaphorical and physical, and hurts. ]

Not that it particularly matters but the sheets are clean. I wouldn't -- I would have changed them before allowing you into them.

LAUGHS AWFULLY

HATES YOU

YESSS LET THE HATE FLOW THRU U

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