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Of the Essence

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"I have time for one more," he says low in his throat as he slips his slick cock back inside his slacks, spent and yet stiff with urgent lust.

The light still thrums strong and persistent in his veins, especially given the sight of his now disheveled adviser rising from his knees, swiping deft fingers across his bottom lip to catch the come from the corners of his mouth. Those same fingers, glove and all, disappear between soft, used lips before emerging clean.

"Is there somewhere I can--"

"The desk," Noctis answers him abruptly, a hand grasping at Ignis' upper arm to coax him into a turn.

Turn he does, without a moment's hesitation, and Noctis follows close behind to grunt warnings when he's near enough to the dark, oaken piece of furniture. If it weren't for the hand at his back he might have passed out when Ignis hiked up his Glaive coat to hastily unfasten his pants and work them down over his hips, already bending as if drawn to the surface of the desk by some great force beyond his ability to understand or deny.

Noctis digs in the pocket of his good dress slacks for a packet of lube, a necessity he'd learned to keep handy on days spent in the palace that might get too long or too insufferable for him to wait until he was safely in his own bed before enjoying the company of his lover. He spares little time as Ignis situates silently before him, tearing the lube open with his teeth and spitting the scrap to the floor.

Spreading two fingers with lubricant, he works them together, freeing his cock as he buries a hand between the taut curve of Ignis' cheeks, finding heat and resistance as the first digit slides inside.

"Mmmn," Ignis moans, chest and cheek flat atop the desk and palms spread wide over it, elbows tucked close to his torso. Noctis holds his coat, strenuously heavy with embroidery, to the small of his back awkwardly with the hand still clutching the half used packet of lube, wriggling a second finger into the tight pull of Ignis' hole, already silky to the touch.

"I'll be quick about it, we don't have a lot of time. You gonna be okay?"

Ignis lifts his head and turns slightly, his scar coming into view, a hair askew and catching the light cascading in from the window opposite him. Always astonishing in a way Noctis can’t adequately describe.

"I'll be sure to let you know when to worry," he reassures, already anticipating and hungry, having spent the last few minutes in supplication, ignoring his own very hard cock.

"You can't be so loud this time, they're gathering in the conference hall right next door."

"Of course, Majesty," Ignis purrs, somehow managing to weave deference and sarcasm seamlessly.

The rest of the lube Noctis applies to his cock before tossing the packet to the floor. He squeezes himself earnestly, long pulls along the shaft as he rubs Ignis open with slick fingers, priming him, until that hand is needed at Ignis' hip. Positioning his head takes seconds; he eases inside almost immediately, simmering heat sweetly familiar and yet always overwhelming. Ignis tenses and exhales, tremulous and threatening whines, clearly showing off his effort to obey the law of silence.

"Ah, ah," he moans, muted, as his gloved fingers curl about the far edge of the desk and his neck cranes in an arc that has his gaze nearly pointed toward the ceiling.

"Damn, I swear you're tighter than usual," Noctis grunts just as a rivulet of sweat runs down the center of his forehead. "Hang on for me, Iggy, almost..."

Half way there, actually.

And the spectacle of Ignis isn't helping him keep his wits. He is beautiful all the time, incredible when he's naked in Noct's sheets and calling his name, but something about seeing him like this is different. Something about the cut of the jacket and how it hugs his frame, about the sound of leather and chains squeaking and jangling and their boots scuffing the floor...

“Noct!” Ignis suddenly yelps, and Noctis can feel his body pulse around his cock.

“Sshh,” Noctis hisses automatically in response, reaching forward to hook his fingers into the collar of the Glaive coat and yanking, hiking Ignis up by the throat with a curt jerk.

The grip at his adviser’s waist dissolves into an artless kneading, the likes of which is meant to impart comfort as Noctis withdraws and reenters, drunk on the throttled sound that comes out of Ignis and the scraping of his feet on the floor as he writhes in discomfort. The desk is somewhat low and the incongruity in their size leaves Ignis’ long legs bent at the knee, his awkward need to shift his weight keeping him off kilter and ungainly in a way not typical of their less spontaneous encounters.

Voices could be heard a room over, shuffling of feet and dragging of chairs. Noctis tries to ignore it as the need to take Ignis sharpens. Pausing enough to readjust his angle, he thrusts with renewed speed and purpose, leaning down to hush Ignis when his mewls become too raised. The heel of his palm pressed into the small of his back forces a ragged sigh that breaks Noctis’ resolve in two.

It’s not like there’s time, and with the rhythmic snap of his hips the desk rocks and shudders, creaks along with the rattling contents trapped in the drawers and the shifting tin of pens on top that jostle in a determined play to remain upright. All the sounds flood his ears, somehow amplified by the uncharacteristic quiet, coalescing and drowning him out completely.

Teetering closer and closer to climax, Noctis bends, one hand remaining at Ignis’ back while the other releases his collar to brace himself on the surface of the desk. Ignis doesn’t drop his head an inch, using his elbows to throw himself back into Noct’s hips with each advance, pushing for his own gratification with dizzying focus. A guttural choke bursts out of the King’s throat, taxed, and even the ethereal hum of the magic roiling in his body can’t help him control himself. Not this time.

“Noct, I’m close, please,” Ignis pleads, a warning to his master to decide for them both how to proceed.

Despite everything, it sounds more to Noctis like an entreaty and he can’t help but treat it as such. He fists the back of the Glaive jacket, baring more of the skin above Ignis’ ass and fucking hard with determination to bring him first. One of his adviser’s hands disappears awkwardly between his legs, likely gripping his own cock to catch the inevitable mess.

“I’ll pull out and finish, clean you up after,” Noctis manages to say between dense, labored breaths; clinical, perhaps, but he can see Ignis nod before he drops his forehead to the desk, vocalizing through a bitten lip.

The angle has Ignis pinned, and when Noctis peers down at the sight before him he can see the tension in the muscles of Ignis’ ass as their bodies collide; straining, releasing, the impact visible from the point of contact. The gold chain on his mantle jingles with the force of it all, the friction of the straps holding it to his person only adding to the peculiar obscenity of everything.

Shit,” Noctis curses, realizing he’s there, at the precipice, and he can’t stay buried inside Ignis any longer without running the risk of complicating the rest of his day. He snarls, grits teeth, is almost sure Ignis isn’t ready. “I’m fucking coming--”

“Don’t!”

Before Noctis can even mount his withdrawal, there are long, demanding fingers at his hip, crushing, scraping, trapping him too flush to even thrust, let alone retreat.

Ignis-!” he gasps just as his muscles lock and Ignis finds a way to arch his spine ever further, likely using the hand clawing at Noctis as leverage. He expels a familiar sound that Noct is accustomed to hearing much more loudly, but it does it’s job all the same.

Orgasm rumbles through him like a violent chill as he erupts hot come deep inside of Ignis for the second time in a matter of minutes, and the gasping sighs escaping from the man beneath him indicate a similar circumstance.

Ignis liberates him from his grasp to collapse again to the desk, cheek pressed to the cool, flat surface as he pants, other arm still tucked dutifully underneath him, attached to a hand presumably filled with his own mess.

“I do apologize, I...I simply wasn’t ready…”

He expels a deep breath as Noctis slips out of him and uses his bare hands to mitigate potential dripping.

“Ah, it’s you I was worried about,” he responds, amused. “No need to be sorry.”

Noctis looks left and right about the tiny but lavish office, spotting a box of tissue on the only bookshelf on the wall to his left. Ignis rears onto his elbow as if to peel himself from the desk finally, but Noctis delays him.

“Wait here, I got it. Weren’t you wearing gloves?”

He takes a few steps to retrieve the box and yanks several sheets out after sitting it down, handing a few to Ignis.

“I certainly won’t be wearing them the rest of today,” Ignis bemoans, but it’s not entirely lacking in satisfaction.

Noctis snorts as he gently but hastily wipes Ignis as clean between the legs as he can get him, tossing the length of his jacket back over his bare ass so he could stand and remove his gloves after a few moderately successful passes with the tissue paper. As he looks about for the wastebasket to toss the evidence, he finds the lube packet on the floor and decides to jam it in his pocket lest the unsuspecting resident of the office be fortunate to stumble over it.

When pants are zipped and adjusted and gloves hidden in jacket pockets, Noctis spares a moment to straighten Ignis’ wayward hair whilst Ignis frets over an excuse for their tardiness that wouldn’t be wholly transparent.

“We aren’t even late, Iggy. We’ll be right on time,” Noctis assures him before stretching upward to steal a kiss, a kiss that still tasted like him, in fact, and the lingering feelings of desire flare and crackle inside him again. The color blue.

“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it,” Ignis replies warmly as Noctis tugs at his sleeve, guiding him toward the door.

They pause, Noctis turning the handle slowly and opening it a crack to peek outside, check that the coast is clear, and open the door fully.

“Okay, let’s go--”

“Noct,” Ignis blurts out, catching the King by the forearm and stopping him in his tracks. Noctis looks him over, only momentarily perplexed.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Noctis smiles, can’t help but smile in that moment, and pulls Ignis into the full light of the hallway.

“I mean, the pleasure was all mine,” he says with a laugh as they walk together to the conference room just a few short steps away.

It’s only hours later, in his own quarters, after removing his clothes so that Ignis could have them laundered, that he goes to toss the lube packet in the trash and realizes the other half is still on the floor of the office.

Oops.