Not that it matters much to differentiate anymore, but it is true nightfall in Lestallum, stars twinkling brighter beyond the windows than Noctis has ever seen them. He ponders them for a while, maybe a touch too long, and finds them a bit strange ultimately. Is it the way they flicker that’s off? Almost as if to signify the fact that something unnatural had taken place, and in point of fact, something unnatural truly had.
He cocks his head as he turns, tossing a few unruly tresses from his line of sight in order to study the figure seated nervously in the black leather chair across the room. Raising a hand to his chin to stroke thoughtfully at the sparse bristles of his dark beard, he wonders at the familiar face gazing warily down at his hands, elbows perched neatly on his knees. A young face.
Familiar doesn’t quite cut it. Despite every atom in his body telling him it can’t possibly be real, the figure in the chair bears the same deep cerulean eyes set beneath long, dark lashes. The gentle slope of his nose came to the same graceful point above a similar pair of full lips, perhaps a little too full. He still wore his youth in some areas more than others; in soft curves and incongruous proportions that read more cute than handsome.
This was Noctis Lucis Caelum, heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Lucis, and The Chosen King of all of Eos.
Himself, in the flesh, a decade his own junior. A simple, mystifying slip up by the ever talented Umbra, and behold.
“He mustn’t remain here for long,” Ignis’ rich voice echoes through the silence, hanging in the air like a drawn out syllable.
Noctis, the Noctis, turns to him, noticing at once the tension in his jaw and the worry knitting his brow just a bit beneath his visor. He’s sat at one of the hotel beds here in the Leville where they often decided to stay on nights they wished to avoid pretty much everyone else and languish carelessly in one another’s company. Both his feet are planted firm on the floor, his hands resting at his knees in perfect symmetry, posture pulled taut and neck stretched long as can be. Beautiful, as usual.
Noctis sucks his teeth, taking a few steps forward to meet Ignis at the edge of the bed. He lifts the visor from the bridge of his nose, forgetting momentarily the intimacy in the gesture given that they have a rather rapt audience.
“Take these off, Iggy,” he says with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, setting them aside as Ignis follows the sound of his voice with his eye line, pursing his lips in faux dissatisfaction despite his propensity always to heed his King.
“If you simply must have your way, Majesty,” he replies, draping his words in careful deference once more, a sign of anxiety that Noctis has come to sense and dread, for a nervous Ignis made for an agitated King.
This turn of events has set him on edge, and rightfully so. It was worrisome, though Noctis found it peculiar and exhilarating in a way, if not a bit disquieting. It was difficult to avoid the way the sight of his younger self, eyes still bright and lacking a certain amount of knowledge about the future, made his heart sag with a detestable nostalgia that only made his current situation more acutely unbearable. He glances into his eyes, his own eyes, and notices something at work there, something that he doesn’t need more than a few seconds to recognize. The silence that follows is deafening, apparently.
“I’m curious, have I missed something?” Ignis asks finally, focused in the general direction of the boy but canting his head toward Noctis.
“He’s staring at you,” Noctis answers, expression on his face nigh unreadable.
Noct, the Prince, doesn’t seem to have heard.
Noctis, the King, gazes at him, at himself, gazing at Ignis, and Ignis parts his lips and narrows his open eye, inquisitive.
The young Prince leans forward involuntarily, hands still gripping at his knees, studying Ignis as though it’s the first time he’s ever seen him. Noctis can’t help but smile a little sorrowfully at the look in the eyes of his younger self; a look that borders somewhere between awestruck and love struck. He takes a few steps toward the boy, leaning half into his line of sight, but he only cranes his neck to peer around.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”
The elder of the two spoke reverently, and his proximity and persistence seemed to be enough to snap young Noct out of his reverie. His head darts up, mouth agape as if to form an excuse or a denial, but he relents when met with the warm grin worn by his older self.
“He…well, yeah. Of course he is,” he stammers, and Noctis has to find Ignis and read his response to the sound of his young Lord’s voice.
It’s as Noctis suspected.
He kneels beside Noct, one hand on the chair, one gesturing to Ignis still seated on the bed.
“He’s changed a lot. From your Ignis, I mean. Somehow, and I’m not exactly sure how, he managed to just grow more and more stunning.”
Ignis shifts a little uncomfortably, milky hues of his eye catching the light before bowing his head, wearing his embarrassment just as well as he’d wear virtually any garment.
“I’m right here, you know,” he speaks low, but there’s a downright bashful tone to it that gives Noctis a chill.
Ignis is affected. He can’t see this young Noct, and yet he can. Surely, if there was a Noctis in his mind that he was able to remember, to piece together from fragments of memories that time and blindness hadn’t yet stolen, he certainly looked more like the young man in this armchair than the world weary man leaning alongside it. Now, he’s just as bewitched by the sight of his love as the Prince, and when he addresses the boy he can’t help but allow his attentions to fall only on Ignis.
“Sorry,” young Noct answers sheepishly.
Noctis feels his heart tighten into a knot when Ignis pauses, wincing at the sound of the boy’s voice. It pierces him sharp as the point of a dagger, eyes clenching shut and entire body drawn taut under the stress of something. Something Noctis knows all too well.
“Don’t be sorry,” he near whispers, voice laden with a quiet intent, and Ignis stirs slowly, relaxing mind and body around a vague sentiment that couldn’t be more plain to him and him alone.
The Prince wants Ignis; wants to touch him, to be close to him, to know him perhaps because he’s familiar and Noct is far away from his own version of reality. And Noctis knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that Ignis wrestles in the moment with similar feelings.
Your smile, it is always your smile, he’d said suddenly after they’d untangled from one another on one of the nights they stole away from the rest of the world. Even when I can’t recall any other detail, your smile is still there. Imprinted forever.
He loved that smile, went on about it from time to time, says he knows it’s just the same, says he can feel it beneath his thumbs when he presses them to the corners of Noctis’ adoring grin.
But Noctis knows that’s not entirely true. It sags at the corners with the weight of responsibility; some of the smooth, fullness of youth worn from the lip. It strains to lift itself from the prison of a hard line or an outright frown, held mercilessly down by a fate that none of them can unmake.
“Come,” Noctis says suddenly, standing and taking his younger self by the arm. He’s met with surprised eyes as the boy follows suit, leaning away as though he can’t believe what he’s heard.
“Where?” he asks, but Noctis is already pulling him toward the bed gently, a curious sort of smile playing at his lips.
When they stop abruptly before Ignis, he straightens, drawing in a tense, audible breath that he seems to hold in his lungs. Noctis takes the young Noct by the wrist, holding it up in the air a few inches from Ignis’ face, nodding.
“You can touch him, if you like.”
Both Ignis and Noct react in unison, Noct’s trembling fingers drawing back and brow worrying, Ignis’ eye darting nervously, hands fisting in his lap, noisily straining the leather of his gloves.
“M…Majesty,” Ignis breathes, head tilted in Noctis’ direction and eye searching, a line appearing sharp between his brows. Noctis smooths it out with the pad of his thumb as he leans forward and laughs a bit too warmly for the situation, perhaps. Placing the same hand at Ignis’ chin, he lifts it, silencing him with a reassuring kiss.
“Don’t worry, Iggy. It’s alright.”
When he draws away, he can sense Noct staring at them, and when Ignis flushes through a shallow nod, the boy’s eyes widen to almost double their size. Noctis rests a hand heavy on Ignis’ shoulder, feeling the precise moment when Ignis allows the tension in his body to ease. He cocks his head toward Ignis, looking directly into Noct’s eyes, inviting.
“Go ahead,” he encourages.
Noct’s eyes somehow manage to appear both timid and wolfish as he takes a wary step between Ignis’ knees, sighing as he brushes the fingertips of one hand over the top of Ignis’ thigh. He regards Noctis again, hesitating, holding his breath, but when met with another nod, he leans his weight onto the hand, reaching the other toward Ignis’ lips. They part before eager fingers, casting warm breaths over the pads of his fingertips, paralyzing him in his tracks.
Ignis is anticipating the touch, vulnerable in a way Noctis is unsure if he’s yet seen. When Noct finally gathers his courage, he closes the distance, tip of his middle finger falling directly atop the scar on Ignis’ bottom lip. He traces it once, twice, three times, as Ignis’ breath hitches in his throat.
“I haven’t…had the chance to be with him,” Noct says quietly, eyes glued to the movements of his own fingers first, then fluttering up to rest at scarred brows and eyelids. “Since Altissia.”
Ignis exhales, eye closing as though blocking out the memory.
“Sorry,” Noct says automatically, still playing at soft lips.
“You needn’t apologize, Highness,” Ignis answers, and the deference raises Noctis’ brows. “I give what I’m called to give. Some sacrifices are worth the greater good.”
The King chooses to ignore what he’s sure was laced with a bit of heartfelt disdain. Noct seems to sense a sort of tension sparking in the air.
“What happens to me?” he asks suddenly, perhaps because he thinks Ignis may really tell him.
“You can’t know,” Ignis answers, shuddering slightly when the purse of his lips around the word ‘you’ resembles a kiss to Noct’s fingertips.
Noct exhales a bit rough, so close to Ignis’ face that he gives him a start.
“That bad, huh?”
Ignis goes rigid again beneath Noctis’ grasp, opening his mouth to speak just as Noctis felt the need to interject.
“Neither bad nor good, Highness. It is…ordained. You mustn’t stray from your path.”
Noct drops his hand to Ignis’ other thigh, considering, still studying the lines of Ignis’ face intently, as though there was some cosmic truth hidden there that he could unearth if he only had enough time. Noctis sympathizes with the feeling.
“…you stay with me, at least.”
There’s a long pause and it’s nothing short of agonizing.
“I take my place beside my King only until I cannot follow.”
Noct blinks, hands clenching at Ignis’ legs, lidded eyes cast down at the curve of Ignis’ lips, still revealing a peek of his brilliant, white teeth.
“You sound like him. But…” All at once, the boy leans forward, right hand darting up to grasp Ignis by the chin as he parts the man’s lips with his own, mouthing at him somewhat clumsily.
At least, Noctis finds it clumsy; until he realizes that maybe it has a particular purpose. He sits beside Ignis on the bed, arm resting behind his sightless lover on the mattress, pressing his chest into Ignis’ arm so that he knows Noctis is there if he needs him. He watches Noct as he absorbs over and over again the sensation of older lips, amused and frankly a little embarrassed at his method, or lack thereof. Ignis appears to be straining, chest rising and falling erratically, and the warm spread of his palm can be felt atop Noctis’ thigh.
“Slower,” Noctis commands gently, laughing to himself. “It’s not always about you.”
Noct complies, lips obviously slowing until, to Ignis’ surprise, an eager tongue joins the fray, darting between lips still quivering with hesitation to lave greedily at Ignis’ own tongue. He exhales into the boy’s mouth, fingers trembling at his King’s thigh. Noctis watches him fight what is clearly pleasure; he’s seen it on his face many times before, although it’s safe to say that now it’s tinged with a hundred other emotions that still set Noctis’ blood aflame. Ignis won’t surrender to it of his own accord, not without reassurance, without a soft place to fall. He returns Noct’s enthusiastic kisses with stiffness not typical of him, and it causes Noctis to settle a warm hand over Ignis’ gripping one. When Noct finally pulls away it’s characteristically sloppy, a single strand of spit tethering them to one another until it snaps and lands across Ignis’ bottom lip. He pants helplessly, cheeks red and eye heavy with that particular breed of agony that has nothing to do with physical pain. Noct wipes his own mouth clean with the back of his hand, eyes finding Noctis’ as if to ask permission.
“He likes to be kissed along the neck,” he draws a finger from his own jawline, down across the prominent tendon of the throat, “here.”
“Noctis,” Ignis hisses, and he turns to the King, either in scorn or to bare his neck; either way, it didn’t matter.
Noct nods, clambering back into Ignis’ personal space, this time resting a hand on the man’s shoulder so that he could press his open mouth into the tender flesh nice and easy. He braces himself with a knee on the bed, leaving him in a half straddle of one of Ignis’ legs.
Noctis hums to himself as Ignis clutches his hand again, neck stretching long and mouth falling a bit slack. He’s getting a touch closer to abandon, little by little, in painstaking increments, and that makes Noctis’ heart light with adoration. Noct sucks dutifully at Ignis, cunning boy, bathing him in marks and saliva if the little vulgar, wet sounds were to be believed. Ignis cants his head slightly away from Noct’s amorous activities, eyes still shut and brows still furrowed with restrained release.
“This is most…irregular,” he breathes in halfhearted protest, sliding his hand down to grasp Noctis’ inner thigh when he bends close, his lips along the high set of Ignis’ cheekbone.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks seductively, tongue grazing the rough, pointed edges of Ignis’ scar, tracing slowly backward to lick tentatively at the arcing cartilage in the shell of his ear. Ignis shudders when Noctis’ breath spills hot into his ear and down his neck, folding into it, caught between two deft, hungry mouths.
As if summoned, Noct’s hand descends from its perch on Ignis’ shoulder to grab at his chest, catching a thumb in the collar of his shirt and loosening a button.
Noctis supports Ignis at the small of his back, letting his other hand curl inward over Ignis’ thigh, burying his fingertips in the heat deep between his legs.
Ignis sighs and it’s just so ragged, the attention from all angles rending him already asunder.
“No…I suppose not…”
The lights are dim and the hour late, and Ignis huddles nude on the bed, back flush against the chest of his King, both hands of his Prince resting heavily on his knees as the young man settles between his legs. Noctis had guided them here, to this exact moment, instructing Noct on how and where and when to touch Ignis to maximum effect, and before long they were undressed save for Noctis, who still wore his trousers loose about his hips. His arms are wrapped around Ignis’ torso, nose buried in his neck as he whispers in the ear of the positively gorgeous, keening creature in his embrace.
Noct leans forward to kiss at the exposed skin of Ignis’ chest and stomach between Noctis’ caressing hands and strong arms, brushing his own hard cock along Ignis’. He sucks in air through his teeth, the task of holding back to meet Noctis’ every instruction clearly weighing heavily on him.
“Ignis,” he manages to utter through his gritted teeth as he grinds down into Ignis once more, searching for that shock of pleasure with mounting fervor.
“That’s good, use your voice,” Noctis praises, turning his lips to meet Ignis’ ear intentionally, letting the words pour from his lips like honey. “He needs to be able to hear you. He likes it.”
Ignis groans, letting his head drop back against Noctis’ shoulder.
“You get off when you look at him. Well, he’s different, isn’t he? He’s more. You have to be attentive to him,” he squeezes the pleasant curves of Ignis’ chest and is rewarded with an audible “ohh.”
Noct looks up a bit worried, as though afraid he’s done something wrong. His eyes are so blue, and utterly huge, Noctis is amazed he’s never noticed how large his own eyes are, and he bites his bottom lip, crooked.
“I want to…touch him.”
“Then ask him,” Noctis nuzzles at Ignis to compel him to lift his head. He does so, lazily, hair falling askew strand by strand, exhaling loudly and twining his fingers with Noctis’.
Noct leans forward almost jovially, color in his cheeks brightening at the very thought of Ignis awaiting the sound of his voice.
“Ignis, will you let me…ah, can I touch you?”
Ignis nods in response.
“I’d like that very much, Highness,” he says sounding taxed, needing to be tended to more than Noctis had realized. All the slow schooling was simply torturous teasing, it seems, but the King would be lying if he said it didn’t completely satisfy him in a way.
Noct smiles, rearing back onto his knees and gazing down at Ignis—spread before him like a feast—absolutely brimming with satisfaction over his many choices. His nimble fingers finally extend to graze the length of Ignis’ cock, tracing a line along the strong vein on the underside from head to base. Ignis inhales sharp and catches the sound as though he hadn’t meant for anyone to hear. Noctis nudges him with an angular cheekbone, beard rasping along Ignis’ jaw in the way Noctis knows he’s come to enjoy, despite his initial protests about a young King looking too unkempt.
“Hanging in there, beautiful?” Noctis asks, warm in Ignis’ ear.
Ignis nods, fingers twitching.
“I’m fine,” he answers just a touch breathless, and Noctis knows he’s holding back exactly what needs to be released.
Noct’s hand grips Ignis’ cock, tight in his hot palm, and he pulls. It’s a little artless, admittedly, but Ignis shifts beneath the touch, clearly enjoying it, pressing backward into Noctis and breathing deeply as Noct’s other hand slides down a thigh, inward, stroking absentmindedly at the cool skin of his balls. Ignis’ toes curl and his legs tense; he turns his face away from Noctis, silent. All signs that can be read as though they were lines from an open book. At least, for Noctis they are more familiar than the back of his own hand. He looks to young Noct, who still plays wordlessly between Ignis’ parted legs, now having descended to place innocent kisses everywhere but the poor man’s cock.
Already, a tease.
“Ignis,” Noctis speaks low, turning into the man’s neck and craning to draw closer to his ear. “Let go.”
Ignis clamps his lips into a hard line, both eyes shut tight, and rolls his head back toward Noctis, rubbing their cheeks together, sighing, twitching when Noct pulls at him a little too hard.
“I can’t, Majesty,” he sounds burdened; voice a bit broken already and they’ve barely begun.
“Yes you can. You’re choosing not to. You think you’re hiding it? Iggy…” Noctis kisses him along his jawline, freeing a hand from Ignis’ chest to draw lines along the stretch of his elegant collarbones. “I can see how it affects you. Just let go. Feel him, if that’s what you want. Let his touch satisfy you. Really, feel him.” Noctis wants to be reassuring, but Ignis winces, jaw momentarily slack as he takes in a ragged breath.
“Believe me, Noctis…I am.”
Ignis suddenly shouts, a muffled but surprised thing nonetheless, and Noctis’ attentions are drawn downward to the sight of young Noct having tested the flesh of Ignis’ cock with a warm tongue. He’s fixed on a single point below the head, little tongue darting spear-like into it as his hands continue to stroke lazily.
Noctis turns to look at Ignis again, to study the complexities in his expression fully, to absorb exactly what is heavy on his heart even through his desire.
“You can see him. Can’t you.”
Ignis’ cheeks are flushed and his breaths are quick and shallow as he tries to keep pace with the sprightly creature at his lap. His unscarred eye searches ceaselessly, dazed, the knit in his brow seeming damn near permanent at this rate. His lips are parted again in tacit ecstasy, and though Noctis knows it’s not the best moment for distraction, he always finds the glimpse of a delicious tongue behind rows of white teeth incredibly alluring.
“I…I’m sorry,” he whispers so quietly, Noctis can hardly believe what he’s heard. He lifts a hand to catch Ignis by the chin, finding a way to gather him even closer. Despite the ache in his chest, he smiles, though he isn’t entirely sure why, and presses yet more kisses to Ignis’ temple.
“Hush, Ignis. You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he laces it with the very real smile on his lips, hoping in earnest that it translates to Ignis. Knowing that it will.
Ignis mewls suddenly, the warm wrap of Noct’s mouth around him changing the intensity of everything, launching him into a state of comparative urgency as the Prince sinks slowly down the length of his cock. He moans and whimpers freely for the first time, relaxing finally as the little sucking sounds floating up from between his parted legs begin to make even Noctis a bit lightheaded.
“This you were always quite good at,” Ignis breathes, and Noctis nearly laughs. Squeezing him by the chest yet again in feigned insult, Noctis brushes his thumbs lightly over two pert nipples, catching a blunt nail in one of them and teasing relentlessly.
“You saying you want to replace me with a newer model already?” he quips into Ignis’ ear, shifting his own hips to dig his erection hard into his adviser’s back. Ignis is at last starting to sound like himself; like he does on the nights when Noctis takes him apart alone and leaves him singing his name gratefully in that lovely accent of his.
“Of course not, it merely, ahh…it feels so much like the first time,” Ignis trails off into a string of little unintelligible pleased noises that never fail to make Noctis swoon.
Curiously enough, Noctis is amused by the prospect of Ignis imagining their first time together. They were younger than Noct is now, however compared to the rough hands and bearded nuzzles that Ignis has become accustomed to, he’s sure the boy currently stuffing himself full of the man’s cock felt much more akin to whatever Ignis was remembering. He is hard at work, though he seems to love every second of it. Actually, Noctis already knew that to be true, as watching Noct take Ignis inside his mouth again and again only made him hungry to do the same, tongue darting out to lick absentmindedly at dry lips. He makes a wolfish sound, nose and mouth pressed into the long line of Ignis’ neck, rolling both of Ignis’ nipples between thumb and forefinger, tugging, twisting. Ignis jerks beneath him involuntarily, choking Noct with the sudden upward surge of his dick. The boy retreats, poorly stifling a wet cough as his face reddens further.
Noctis is careful not to laugh, as both of them seem to suffer equally; Noct from embarrassment, Ignis from lack of attention.
“Highness,” Ignis starts to apologize, attempting to lean forward but caught in his King’s steel grip.
Noct has a hand outstretched toward Ignis in an effort to keep him at bay, the other raised to his mouth as he coughs hard a few more times.
“Don’t worry,” his voice cracks a bit, but he sounds just fine otherwise. “I wasn’t exactly pacing myself.”
“Nor was I,” Ignis admits, reaching down to swipe a hand over his own cock and leave it there in his grasp. He leans his head into Noctis’ before he can react with an inquiry. “Cold.”
“Easy fix,” Noctis responds, swatting Ignis’ hand away as he bends them both forward just a bit in order to reach Ignis with his hand. He clenches hard and rewards him with a few slow pulls as he commands Noct to retrieve the vial of lubricant left sitting atop the bedside table.
Ignis is completely relaxed now, pliable beneath his King’s grip even as Noct crawls back to the spot between his legs, sliding warm, intrepid hands down parting thighs. Noctis is contented to see that Ignis is welcoming the attention from the both of them, and he knows now beyond the shadow of any doubt that this was the only decision to be made the second Noct arrived in this time. Ignis is and has always been magnetic to him; a beacon that he could follow even in the darkest hours of his life. Now Ignis attracts him by two, like moths to a flame, and Noctis is determined to make him thankful for it.
Noct has the vial in hand, already unscrewing it when Noctis catches his eyes.
“Get them nice and slick before you touch him. Don’t be shy. Use more after the first few strokes, you know what to do.”
Noct nods emphatically, eager, wetting nearly an entire hand before he tosses the vial aside. By now in his life, Noctis knows he and Ignis have been together on more than one occasion, but he also remembers that it wasn’t often he was afforded the opportunity to take Ignis, and furthermore to take his time with him.
“Don’t rush,” Noctis adds as the boy leans forward and gingerly rubs the pads of his middle and ring fingers along the hot ring of flesh exposed by Ignis’ dutiful spread of the legs.
Noctis observes patiently as the Prince takes his time, the advance of his nimble fingers making itself known through the intensity of Ignis’ reactions; the tone in his voice when he mutters a word of praise, the pitch in his moans when they escape completely unfettered, the angle and degree to which he arches his back or twists at the hip when Noct prods inside him just right. He has to remind Noct once or twice not to become too entranced, to consider his lover’s condition, to touch and to speak and respond in kind if what he’s doing does in fact please him. He picks up on all of it, clearly intent on absorbing the information and the experience, cooing and humming right alongside Ignis in their shared pleasure. Noctis’ own desire is heightened to the point that he can barely choke it down, but he does, because the plan to unravel Ignis and impart knowledge to Noct is far too intriguing and immediate a thing.
Noct wriggles several fingers into the man at his mercy, canting forward to lean his own leg into the back of his hand, trapping the digits inside the unyielding suction of Ignis’ body as he bends to kiss the beleaguered man on the mouth. He isn’t tentative or curious anymore; he’s thinking, plotting; Noctis can see it in his eyes when the boy draws back to peer down at Ignis’ parted lips as he pants for air and grinds against Noct’s leg.
Similarly, Noctis is pressed hard into Ignis, cock trapped between his own belly and his lover’s back, when the edges of his restraint begin to fray. The hand pumping at Ignis’ length loosens and slides down yet further until Noctis has to wedge the tips of his fingers into the near non-existent space between Noct’s palm and Ignis’ perineum; swiping through the excess lube that the overzealous boy had used to aid in his own ministrations.
Just as his fingers curl and pull at the stretched rim, Ignis jerks, unwittingly clawing at the King’s wrist.
“Too much?” Noctis asks, wary enough to pause. Ignis’ chest heaves but he doesn’t answer, seems to be considering. “I think you can take it,” Noctis purrs into his ear, pushing the bridge of his nose into the side of Ignis’ head hard enough to bend his neck. A little hurt noise catches in his throat when Noctis begins to prod at him again, emboldened by young Noct’s steady thrusting and scissoring.
Ignis’ grip slackens, hand limp atop Noctis’ arm as his fingers join the Prince’s inside the tight heat of Ignis’ body. They grind against one another within, finding two separate rhythms as Noctis’ heart skips a beat or three. Something about touching Noct’s fingers this way, his own fingers, buried deep inside of their shared friend and adviser and so much more, something about the vulgar sounds of Ignis’ hole as they stretch him wide even as he swallows them up, something about it makes his head foggier than ever.
Noct claws at Ignis’ shoulder with his free hand, lips pressed into the scar across his nose. Noctis has leaned so far forward in order to reach between Ignis’ legs that the man is trapped snug between their bodies, both struggling to claim him at the same time. Noctis buries his face into Ignis’ neck, nipping and licking to keep from staring straight forward at the young body now only inches away from him. If he lets his eyes linger too long on the curve of a collarbone, the soft lines of a boyish neck and chest, he may not be able to look himself in the mirror ever again without dropping dead.
When Noctis can feel that the yield in Ignis’ body is sufficient, he removes his own fingers, returning the hand to its place around Ignis’ cock, squeezing gratefully in an effort to abate what Noctis is already aware is a need nearing its agonizing crest.
“It’s time, don’t you think, love?” Noctis smiles, arm wrapped about Ignis to knead lazily at his chest again. Ignis shifts as Noct’s fingers come to a halt inside of him.
Noctis gives the boy a look and a nod, and after a moment of clarity he withdraws. To his credit, he sits back on his haunches, same hand stroking at Ignis’ rim, primed and open for the next phase of his Lords’ collective assault.
Ignis raises a tentative hand to his hair, combing errant strands back and away from his face. He’s able to keep his breathing even and voice steady, however the dramatic rise and fall of his shoulders betrays him.
“You’re implying the both of you are finished dithering?” he asks with the curl of lips, tilting his head in Noctis’ direction.
Noctis laughs in response but he yanks at Ignis a bit cruelly, reminding him that his pleasure is in his capable hands.
“Noct,” Ignis hisses automatically, immediately crumbling under prolonged anticipation.
“Yeah. That’s better.” The King averts his eyes, finding and seizing the gaze of the Prince. “Take him. He’s ready now.”
Noct slows, regarding Ignis thoughtfully, draped there across his King’s chest as Noctis has reclined a bit to allow Ignis to relax the muscles in his back. He places a hand at the strong hipbone jutting from beneath Ignis’ skin, then the other, clinging to him as he leans his weight forward and glances down at his own cock like it’s the first time he’s ever seen it. He’s swollen pink and weepy, having gone utterly ignored this entire process. Noctis can see the reality of it bloom in the Prince’s face in the form of a bright flush. As the boy aligns himself, tucking his legs high beneath Ignis’ thighs, Noctis takes to murmuring in Ignis’ ear exactly what he longs to hear.
“I love the way you say my name, Iggy,” he says, voice practically dripping from his lips.
Ignis arches, mouth falling agape around a ragged sigh. Noct seems to have sheathed himself inside of Ignis in a single forward stroke, lifting him just a hair as he seats himself comfortably. He makes a meek, choked sound through clenched teeth, squeezing at Ignis’ hips with enough force to leave bruises.
Noctis raises a hand to Ignis’ throat, tracing the line of his jaw with his thumb while his other hand curls tight about the head of his cock.
“Sounds like it feels good,” Noctis teases, smiling when Ignis grits his teeth and whines. “He’s already filled you up, thanks to all that dithering.”
“Yes,” Ignis replies, breathless. “Thanks, indeed…”
Noctis chatters at the Prince for a few seconds off and on, making certain he has the angle that Ignis likes best and the tempo and pressure to illicit the strongest response from his body and from his lips. He moves with the sway of their bodies when Noct thrusts methodically, rocking his aching erection against Ignis’ spine. His back muscles tremble with exertion as he presses forward into Ignis each and every time the man is forced into his chest by Noct’s strong, snapping hips.
Noctis huddles close, biting into Ignis’ shoulder, basking in all of his taxed little noises when his head lolls to the side, bringing quivering lips near to Noctis’ ear. He’s never once left Ignis unsatisfied, but the way he writhes and keens tonight is altogether different. He is in love with it, with the feel of his young Lord inside of him, touching him, occasionally muttering his name along with some earnest but sheepish praise.
The three of them happen into a downright impeccable rhythm; Noct’s thrusts, Ignis’ hips rolling to meet them, Noctis serving as a counterweight to both of their rapacious movements. Noctis feels the warmth of precome on his fingers as Ignis’ cock weeps with each tug. He swipes a thumb through it, sliding into the slit and coaxing an immediate jolt from the wracked body in his lap.
“Ig…nis,” Noct mutters between breaths that become more and more labored with each stroke. “Ignis, you’re…so fucking…beautiful.” He leans forward, hair clinging to the sweat at his brow, and rests his forehead against Ignis’ as he continues to move, both of his hands drawn back and gripping at the meat of Ignis’ thighs. Noct exhales hot into Ignis’ mouth, both of them struggling to find air beneath the weight of their desires. “Perfect…perfect…per…fect…”
Noctis can’t take much more on the sidelines, regardless of the fact that he willfully placed himself there. The hand at Ignis’ throat ascends, fingers hooking into his open mouth and sliding wet across his tongue. Ignis bites down gingerly, laving greedily at the pads of his King’s fingers, opening up obsequiously when they plunge further inside. Noctis can feel warm breath from the Prince falling across his knuckles, followed in mere seconds by the unmistakable flick of a tongue dragging along the coiling tendons of the back of his hand.
Fuck, he thinks, and groans into the nape of Ignis’ neck, burying his face in his hair to hide the absolutely confounding fire in his cheeks.
Ignis sucks feverishly at Noctis, positively starving for something, anything, and Noctis can’t bear to peer around at the two of them, cock so excruciatingly hard that he can hardly focus. The rapid jolting thrusts that Noct has descended into makes it clear that he’s bringing himself too close to climax, an outcome Noctis simply cannot abide by. With colossal strength, he slips his hand free of Ignis’ lips and snatches him by the jaw, mouth finding the shell of his ear.
“You’re going to get just what you’re looking for, don’t worry.”
“Aah, whatever do you mean, Majesty?” Ignis asks, playing coy despite his compromised position.
Noctis hums, bending forward dramatically to jostle Noct from his playtime and reclaim control of the evening.
“Sit back,” he commands, pressing a firm hand into one of Noct’s shoulders and pushing him gently until he slides unceremoniously out of Ignis with a wet squelch. Ignis whimpers, sounding a little dissatisfied, and Noctis uses it as an opportunity. “You’re both getting too close to the edge,” Noctis laughs, shimmying finally from behind Ignis and scooting to the end of the bed, throwing his legs over the side. “And Iggy here can take a lot more.”
Ignis still assumes the position despite being free of clambering hands and selfish mouths, legs spread wide and weight thrown back onto his elbows. His head is turned to Noctis, hanging a bit slack, neck stretched long and seductive. There aren’t any marks there yet, a fact which Noctis knows he must rectify in due time.
“What will you give me, your Grace?” Ignis inquires just above a whisper in a tone to indicate he already knows the answer. Knows, and wants. Needs.
Noctis bends and reaches, curling fingers around Ignis’ bicep and pulling gently, encouraging him to the edge of the bed. Ignis complies; slinking effortlessly on all fours before dropping a hip to the mattress, anticipating the direction Noctis is headed. The King caresses the face of the man that he loves, thumb grazing affectionately over the jagged points of Ignis’ scar.
“Lie down,” he directs softly. “On your back. Relax a minute.” His eyes are brimming with adoration as he peers down at Ignis, face up, the edge of the bed hugging the curve of his neck as his head only barely hangs over the side. His open eye is cloudy but alert, bright against the lingering flush of the rest of his face. He licks and bites expectantly at red lips, a sight that only makes Noctis more eager to get on with his plan.
Tearing his gaze away from Ignis, he finds the Prince sitting on his knees, hands rested at his thighs and eyes fixed on the man spread across the sheets. It’s beyond obvious that he wants nothing more than to crawl in between Ignis’ legs once again, breach the clenching borders of his entrance and claim him for his own, dig new little bruises into his flesh with his fingers. Noctis wants to give him that, and he’s sure Ignis does as well, however he must control himself and find a way to last.
“Come closer, I’ll show you what he really likes,” Noctis beckons him over and Noct plods across the bed a bit awkwardly on all fours, nestling between Ignis’ legs, same as before, simply without the added pleasure of penetration. Noctis raises two fingers, a mischievous grin on his face. “And after that, you can have more. As much of him as you want.” He drops the fingers to Ignis’ bottom lip, rubbing as Ignis reveals a flash of teeth. “Right, Iggy?”
Ignis stares, transfixed; nodding almost imperceptibly.
“Anything. His Highness may have…everything.”
Noctis forces his fingers between Ignis’ soft lips, feeling the drag of teeth before a warm tongue trembles against his knuckles. Noctis digs carefully this way and that until Ignis stretches, baring the column of his neck, opening his throat in preparation for what is soon to come.
“Now, you may have to really break him down to get him to admit it, but he loves the weight of a cock in his mouth,” Noctis says with a crooked smile, watching the way it makes Ignis color with embarrassment and fight not to bite down on the digits still in his throat. Noctis pulls them out far enough to hook the forefinger and middle over the bottom row of Ignis’ teeth, tugging lightly upward to keep his mouth from closing. “He’s experienced by now, but you really have to be careful when you do it this way. Takes a lot of trust.”
Noct plants his hands on either side of Ignis’ body, craning his neck to get a closer look as Noctis uses his free hand to strip himself of his sagging pants and underwear, finally unburdening his neglected cock. He pretends not to notice the way Noct’s eyes go wide and then narrow as he steals a glance, perhaps considering something Noctis would rather not acknowledge.
Noctis takes his cock in hand, withdrawing his fingers from Ignis’ mouth entirely and massaging his throat as gently as he could manage.
“Are you ready?” he asks, voice unexpectedly tender as he switches suddenly from teacher to attentive lover.
Ignis nods, silent.
Pulling hard at his length from base to tip, Noctis milks himself of a thick bead of precome, lining up with Ignis’ waiting mouth. He draws near, hovering.
“Ignis,” he commands, and without a moment’s hesitation Ignis laps across the head of Noctis’ cock, wiping him clean as he digs the tip of his tongue into the slit to search for more. Noctis groans appreciatively as Ignis seals his lips around the smooth ridge of his King’s head and sucks.
For the first few seconds, Noctis allows himself to be swept away. He moans rather loudly, willing himself still as Ignis plays with his resolve, perfect tongue swirling around him with calculated precision that did nothing to hide Ignis’ enthusiasm. Noctis finds himself imagining what it must be like to be Ignis in moments like these, eyes merely affectation as he’s animated by the physical sensation of his sovereign King alone. In the absence of vision, his focus becomes singular, heightened, weaponized. Noctis strokes Ignis’ cheekbones with the backs of his fingers, lightly brushing knuckles along his skin to lend Ignis a tantalizing new sensation. He pushes his hips forward a mere fraction, to which Ignis dutifully responds by halting his actions and opening wider to accommodate more of Noctis.
Noctis pauses, grasps Ignis by the jaw so that his thumb lies flat across his chin just beneath the curve of his bottom lip. He looks at Noct a bit predatorily, a gleam in his eyes that only Ignis has learned to impart upon him. Noct is rapt, leaned so far forward that his cock is pressed down into Ignis’, white knuckling the sheets as he tries to get a good long look at the spectacle before him.
“Now. Watch,” Noctis growls, tensing the hand at Ignis’ jaw to hold him open as he thrusts steadily, sinking centimeter by centimeter into the simmering cavern of Ignis’ throat. Ignis claws at the sheets, straining as Noctis fills him up, displacing air with cock, stretching the interior walls of his esophagus until he’s as close to flush as he can get, feeling Ignis’ nose dug into the cool flesh of his sac. Ignis gags and moans, the muscles in his neck constricting over the outline of Noctis’ cock, buried so deeply within that he bulges visibly from Ignis’ throat.
“Fuck,” he hears Noct whisper, but he can’t take his eyes off of the sight of himself inside of Ignis as he withdraws slowly, changing the shape of Ignis’ neck as he moves.
Noctis lets his cock rest gently within, holding it still at the base in order to allow Ignis a few moments to breathe and ready himself.
“Go ahead, before I take him again. I don’t want you trying to do it while I’m inside.” These orders are for Noct, who wastes no time pulling Ignis open with his thumbs, letting the head of his cock be swallowed repeatedly by Ignis’ yet primed hole as he thrusts shallow at first, then plunges fully inside, returning his hands to their spot on the bed. It’s clear that he still wants nothing more than to watch, even as he undulates slowly, causing the beautiful muscles in Ignis’ abs and thighs to twist and coil beneath a slick sheen of sweat.
Ignis begins to suck absentmindedly again at Noctis, a little cry for attention as he lacks the ability to communicate with words. Noctis can’t help but gaze at him adoringly, to tilt his head in order to catch Ignis’ lidded eye and full faced flush. He’s well beyond his point of no return, having relinquished his status as an autonomous individual and become a touch sensitive being of pure pleasure. Noctis pets him, smiling, running his thumb over the wet, swollen bottom lip claiming his dick.
“I don’t think even I knew you were this greedy, Iggy,” he teases, though he is quite shocked at the depth and scope of Ignis’ need, stuffed to the brim at one end and silently pleading to be filled at the other. Noctis slides inward, relishing in the ability to pick Ignis apart when he hasn’t the opportunity to defend himself. “You take Royal cock like you were born for it.”
Ignis mewls lasciviously as his throat swells once more, finally losing all of his restraint and ripping his hand from the sheets to grip his own cock, still leaking precome all over the dips and curves of his belly. The Prince and King find a tentative rhythm to keep, nearly fracturing as they struggle to keep control for Ignis’ sake. Noctis stares down at the almost maddening sight before him; the morphing stretch of Ignis’ throat, the spit that glistens on his cock when he withdraws, the drag of Ignis’ lips with each movement, no matter how subtle. It’s around the time that he starts to feel the onset of his own orgasm unfurling hot in his gut that a hand enters his field of vision, resting firm at Ignis’ neck and squeezing. Ignis lets out a startled whine.
Noctis snarls, haggard, when he can feel the vise of that hand wrapped about his next thrust. His eyes widen as he blinks away stars, suddenly and irrationally provoked by a sharp chill that rattles up his spine. He swats away Noct’s presumptuous hand, face contorting into a look of irritation that he’s not even sure if Noct notices because he can’t bring himself to look at him.
“Tch, don’t be so selfish, you can’t have everything. Take his cock for him,” he spits out any old command as an excuse to veil his aberrant envy, letting his eyes fall again on the long stretch of Ignis’ neck as he continues to carefully fuck him. Bent over it, he can see now that Noct already left little possessive marks there during his amorous kissing, and Noctis laughs inwardly at himself, truly amused as he realizes how early he came to covet the little slice of heaven that is Ignis' enticing throat.
To the Prince’s credit, he doesn’t skip a beat; his fingers wriggle beneath Ignis’ palm and shoo it away, wrapping tight and pulling in swift, upward pulses that he keeps in time with his snapping hips. Noctis is a bit jarred when Ignis’ free hand darts up and behind his head to grab at Noctis’ ass, pinning him close and demanding more. Demanding it all.
Noctis weakens in the knee, nearly buckling as he clenches his own hand around Ignis’ throat and wrings out his own cries. The sensation of his hand on his own cock as it plows through the straining muscles inside Ignis’ welcoming maw makes him dizzy. The stars return in a hazy net that blurs his vision. He absolutely cannot take much more.
“Ignis,” he literally whimpers in the most desperate tone he’s used so far this night. “Please, stop me if you have to,” he pleads, because he knows now that he’s leaping over the edge, full throttle, and once in freefall he will have no way of turning back.
Ignis claws at the soft flesh of his cheek, seeming to relax every atom in his body and simply become a vessel. Noctis heaves forward, leaning his free hand on the bed while the other still pins Ignis by the throat. Noct is still bent over Ignis as well, eyes shut tight as he fucks harder than ever, the rhythm between his thrusting hips and pumping hand long since lost. Their heads hang side by side as they both vocalize as one, torn terribly asunder by the throttled, animalistic sounds Ignis manages to make beneath them.
Then it happens; Ignis comes hard across his belly and chest, the second stream shooting more up than out, nearly splattering across Noctis’ face. The last sputters warm over Noct’s knuckles and the boy comes as well, lifting Ignis’ bottom half up from the bed with a final thrust that he catches himself on, frozen still as he releases a sea of himself inside of this stunning, broken man.
Noctis grits his teeth and snaps his hips hard into Ignis’ throat now that Noct is no longer adding to the rigorous jostling of his body. His orgasm topples onto him as if from overhead, knocking the wind clean out of his lungs as he fills Ignis with his seed, muscles in his lower abdomen tightening as if to help wrench every ounce of come from his taxed body. He fucks Ignis slowly through the next stream, releasing his throat and wiping errant surges of spit and come from his face as they push free from the winch of his mouth. He runs his thumb through the area where it collects near the corners of his lips, smearing it over his own cock and Ignis’ chin and bottom lip. When he pulls himself free, his dick is followed by strands of come and saliva as well as an audible exhale of relief from Ignis.
Ignis has possibly never appeared more debauched; his eyes puffy and red, wet at the corners as he lifts his head to relieve himself of the discomfort of the sustained position. Noctis kneels to support him at his back, huddling near his ear with a voice completely devoid of any edge whatsoever.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Ignis replies a bit hoarse as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. The rest of the mess he licks away lazily as though no one can see. “Perhaps a bit better than fine, in actuality. Despite the awful mess,” he lifts a hand to indicate his torso, decorated now with pearly ribbons of come that, to both of their surprise, Noct bends to lave at, starting at the point farthest from Ignis’ face and working his way up.
“Highness,” Ignis exhales, and once again Noctis has to hold him back, grabbing him gently by the shoulders.
“Let him, Ignis,” Noctis responds, and it comes out warm but curiously like a Kingly demand.
Ignis spasms with each lick, perhaps still a bit oversensitive from all the attention, daring to appear bashful despite being packed completely with cock only moments before. Noct cleans his adviser fully, cock and all, then sits back to mouth at the last bit of come across his knuckles. It didn’t appear to be for show; it’s not like Ignis could see it anyway. Noctis stifles another grin at the thought. The Prince simply likes the taste.
Ignis insists on prying himself away from Noctis, gathering the Prince close to him and thanking him, fussing somewhat excessively and asking silly things like ‘are you alright?’ and ‘did you sprain anything?’ Noctis can only chuckle under his breath at the familiarity of it, letting the warm feeling envelop his very heart like an embrace he remembers but can’t quite place, until it cools and hardens, cracking him in half when he recalls how this night will end.
In varying degrees of awkward silence they leave the bed, one by one, falling hushed as they direct Noct to the bathroom to get clean and dressed. Ignis paces near the window, a strange habit for him, more than likely culling the urge to suggest that the Prince stay at least until the night is over, at least until he could rest and make it home safely.
But the night is never really over.
And the Prince is never really safe.
And Umbra never brings him again to their time.