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Gladio takes the stairs two at a time, tasked with waking Noctis up from where he fell asleep in Gladio’s bed a few hours prior. Ignis is expecting them at the Citadel and they need to beat traffic.

Noctis isn’t in Gladio’s bed where he fell asleep. He wonders if maybe Iris is distracting him, although he thought she was at practice tonight. Her bedroom door is cracked, so he pushes it open.

Noctis gasps, spinning around to face Gladio. His face turns instantly red and his knees clamp together, naked and visible beneath the hem of his little sister’s school uniform.

Gladio needs to look away, has to look away, but does not. He stands, frozen, white knuckles on the doorknob while Noctis shrinks beneath his gaze. His gaze sweeps over his bare thighs, his hands, clutching himself through the skirt, his face is as red as the ribbon Noctis had held in his hand, now floating towards the floor.

Tears begin to spill over Noctis’ cheeks and he faces the floor while he cries.

Gladio wrenches his eyes away and closes the door. In the hallway, he reaches his hand into his joggers and squeezes his hard cock painfully, willing it away, desperately trying to calm the shameful knocking of his heart.

Noctis hides in the room for hours. Gladio texts Ignis to cancel their appointment, telling him Noctis has the flu. He listens to Noctis cry. He desperately tries to ignore his arousal, but even after two-hundred push-ups, his erection returns with the briefest memory of Noctis’ thighs. Eventually, he has to give into the need to furiously masturbate and so he takes a shower and he leans his head against the tile, fucking his fist until he comes with a shout that echos through the chamber.

When he steps out of the shower, Noctis is gone, Iris’ uniform left in a crumpled pile on the floor of her bedroom.

He does not show up for practice for three days. Gladio does not text him. He doesn’t know what to say and he doubts Noctis would even respond. His nights become desperate episodes of self-stimulation, shamefully replaying the scene over and over again, torn roughly in two by arousal and heartache. He saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, and it is haunting him. He is supposed to shield the prince, not make him cry. He needs to find a non-verbal way to tell Noctis that he’s okay, he won’t tell anyone, and he doesn’t mind.  

-

Noctis’ head snaps to the sound of his living room door unlocking. He pauses his video game, setting down the controller. He glares at the door as it opens, wondering which one of his keepers is waltzing in unannounced. 

Gladio stares at him from beneath the brim of his ballcap. He shuts the door and Noctis’ heart sinks. He immediately looks away from him, shakily reaching for his controller and unpausing the game in an attempt to look casual, but his cheeks burn red and he feels his eyes brim with tears anyway.

“Noct.”

He won’t look at him. He glares at the television screen, a single tear slipping from each eye when he blinks.

“Don’t want you to cry,” Gladio says.

Noctis swallows against the lump in his throat.

“Brought you a present.”

Gladio drops a wrapped box on the coffee table in front of Noctis. He pauses the game to look at it. It’s a thin box, black and shiny, probably clothing, wrapped in a single silver ribbon.

Noctis looks up at Gladio. Gladio has retreated several paces back, to give Noctis space. He stands with his arms crossed, watching Noctis with an unreadable expression.

“Go on, open it,” he says, nodding at the package.

Noctis’ eyes flit around the room, but he has no way to escape. Gladio has literally cornered him in his pajamas, in his own home to go through this presentation. He hopes he isn’t being mocked. Noctis sighs, dragging the giftbox towards himself. Sliding his thumb beneath the ribbon he pops it free.

Slowly Noctis reaches into the box and peels back the tissue paper, revealing a shirt and skirt folded precisely. They look almost like a girl’s school uniform, but the skirt is a grey and black plaid, and the white button up shirt has thin black leather wrapping all of the hems.

Noctis breathes out slowly.

“Now you have your own,” Gladio says. “So you don’t have to sneak around.”

Noctis stares at him. Gladio has not moved a muscle.

“Do you want to try it on?”

Numbly, Noctis rises to his feet and carries the gift to his bedroom.

Methodically, he dresses, hardly believing that this is actually happening, wondering if this is just another humiliating nightmare like the ones that have been plaguing him all week. He breathes shakily as he steps into the skirt, struggles to close his shirt with his trembling fingers.

He stands in the mirror, staring at himself in awe when Gladio’s voice comes through the door.

“Can I see?”

Noctis stares back at himself. He loves the way he looks. But what will Gladio think?

He feels the wind beneath his skirt as he pull the bedroom door open. He steps barefoot into the hall.

Gladio’s eyes rake over him. Noctis tugs self-consciously at the hem of the skirt. Suddenly Gladio is approaching him, but he stops a few feet away. Noctis looks back at him, and finds Gladio’s erection burgeoning inside his pants.

Noctis flushes with embarrassment at the sight of it, huge and eager and unashamed. He looks sharply away from Gladio, wrapping his arms around his body.

“Ya look real pretty, princess,” Gladio breathes.

Still looking at the floor, Noctis hears Gladio leave his apartment and lock the door.

-

Gladio is surprised when Noctis shows up for practice the next day. The prince enters the Center and sets his bag down, making the typical infrequent eye contact and greeting Gladio casually.

“Hey.”

They spar. Discussion never approaches the clothing, but Noctis seems at ease and so Gladio decides to avoid the topic for as long as the prince wants to.

And then four days later, Gladio cannot stand it.

They fight in the afternoons and Gladio is forced to look at Noctis’ body, study his limbs, and his t-shirt and shorts do nothing to help him forget the way Noctis looked standing sheepishly outside of his bedroom, presenting his decorated body for Gladio’s viewing.

And he goes home after practice and locks himself in his bedroom and jerks off into oblivion, selfishly thinking there’s no better person to know the prince’s secret than his Shield, the person sworn to protect him.

The next day at practice, he gives in. Noctis is tying his shoes at the door, moments from leaving when Gladio asks.

“So have you worn it?”

Noctis stands up and looks at him.

“No,” he says.

He walks out.

At the end of practice the following day, Noctis drops to his ass on the mat and breathes up at the ceiling. Gladio rises, fetching two bottles of water and a small glass jar from his duffle bag.

He hands Noctis a water and sits down before him, shaking the bottle in his hand. Noctis narrows his eyes at him over his water bottle.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“You learn some stuff having a little sister,” Gladio smiles.

Noctis looks skeptical, but he doesn’t protest when Gladio takes his hand and begins to paint his nails. Slowly, he paints each one of them glossy black, his eyes trained on his task, letting Noctis’ shy gaze land fully on his face.

He blows on Noctis’ fingers when he’s done, gently placing Noctis’ hand back in his own lap.

“Give em a little while to dry,” he says.

Noctis nods, his mouth slack, pink around his cheeks and eyes. He is still watching Gladio as he rises to his feet. At the door, he shoulders his backpack and pulls his ballcap on backwards.

“Get pretty for me tonight, princess.”

An hour later, Gladio’s phone begins to vibrate with incoming texts messages.

Photo after photo of Noctis donning his skirt, all of them below the neck, but all of them undeniably his Prince, flaunting the gift Gladio had brought him, and then a single text.

I lied.

-

Noctis sends him four days worth of photos. Gladio replies with one word.

Beautiful.

Noctis knows he’s beating it. He sets his phone down and spends the rest of the night looking at the way his painted nails look against his pale thighs, running the glossy surface of them across his lower lip.

Tomorrow is Saturday. Unless he arranges it, he will not see Gladio until Monday.

For the fourth night in a row, he falls asleep in his skirt.

Noctis wakes up late the next day. He showers and eats two pop-tarts for breakfast, wrapped in a bathrobe, but with no appointments, he can only resist for so long, and Noctis quickly slips back into the outfit.

He stands in front of the mirror for a few minutes, turning and studying himself. He rolls the skirt at the waist band, and bends slightly at the waist, his grey boxer briefs visible beneath. After several days of resisting, Noctis gives in. He drops to his knees beside the bed, pleated plaid ass in the air as he fishes out a box from deep beneath his bed.

Inside of it, a pair of knee high socks from one winter of soccer as a teenager and a single pair of underwear he bought sheepishly in the mall, claiming a girlfriend. Prior to Gladio’s gift, his only indulgences.

Noctis yanks his boxers down and steps into the black silk panties. They’re simple, no frills, but he loves the way the fabric feels stretched across his cock. He tugs the socks on, pulling them as far up his calves as he can manage. He stands with the mirror to his back, and his folds at the waist and looks at himself between his thighs. The sight of his skirt slipping over his ass as he bends over, revealing his silk panties and pale cheeks makes Noctis gasp at his own reflection.

He stands up and walks over to his bed, rolling onto his back and holding his phone above his face. The last text from Gladio lingers from the night before.

Nothing else to say? Noctis asks Or are you still too busy jacking it?

Gladio begins to respond right away but the three dots rotate endlessly. Noctis takes a picture up his skirt, the shape of his half-hard dick visible through his fitted underwear. Before he can overthink it, he hits send.

Immediately, Gladio responds.

I haven’t slept.

Noctis feels his face go numb. He rolls over in bed, pressing his growing arousal into the mattress.

Another text from Gladio, I can’t stop touching myself.

Noctis smiles, blushing to himself and looking away from his phone like Gladio can see him through it. At first, it was scary to have Gladio aware of his secret, but so easily Gladio has turned it into something empowering instead.

Don’t hurt yourself , Noctis tells him.

You look perfect, Princess

Noctis stares at the message for a few moments and then he crawls off the bed and approaches his floor length mirror. He covers his face with his hand in the reflection and takes a picture of his body so he can show Gladio his socks, the just barely visible shape of his short erection teasing the material of the skirt.

Gladio never responds.

Noctis changes into basketball shorts and a hoodie. He plays video game for the next five hours.

Sorry, Princess

Noctis lunges for his phone.

Where’d you go

I was at a field training with my dad. Left phone in locker. No sleep did me no favors

Noctis smirks.

Sorry

You’re not

Noctis bounces his phone in his hand, trying to think of what to say when Gladio sends another text.

Left you a package downstairs

Noctis glares at the text, uncertain. He calls down to the front desk, and the attendant tells him that his bodyguard did indeed leave a package. They send it up, he is handed another thin black box like the one before. The sight of it makes him blush, like it’s obvious what is inside. He takes the package and shuts the door.

The first thing he finds inside the box there are a pair of thigh high black tights. Elated, Noctis drops to the floor in the living room and shucks his basketball shorts, slowly sliding his legs into the nylon socks. He fishes from the back of pair of black panties and scoffs at the heart shaped window of lace in the backside, but he pulls them on, fascinated by how high they come up over his hips and the straps that attach to his socks with tiny silver snaps. He stares down at his legs on the floor, and already his stiffening cock presses up against the material of his underwear.

The last thing in the box is a strappy black bra, and he has to stand in front of the mirror to figure it out, but eventually he manages to wrap the lacy cage of it around himself. He looks at himself in the mirror for a long time, admiring the way the bra straps slink over his shoulders and around his ribs, infatuated with the way mouth of his his socks and garters squeeze at his thighs.

When he returns to his phone, Gladio has explained.

For under your uniform.

Or not, Noctis replies, sending with it a shot of his pale ass peeking through the heart shape window in the back of his panties.

Fuck, Noct

And a moment later, a picture of his cock.

Noctis stares at the picture in awe. Gladio is big, he can tell that much. His cock is purple from over-use, but still hard and veiny and yearning where it is clutched in Gladio’s fist.

For me, Noctis replies.

All for you, princess. Seeing you pretty makes my cock so hard

Noctis let's out a shuddering breath. He sets his phone down and steps gently into his skirt, slides easily into the shirt. He fastens his uniform in the mirror and runs his hands over himself feeling the tease of his lingerie though the layers of his clothing. He runs his painted fingers over his hips and down the front of his skirt, to palm at his own erection where it presses up against his undergarments.

The same sense of peace that comes with dressing up washes over him and emboldened by the image of Gladio’s erect fascination, Noctis feels perfect . He spins slowly while he buttons his shirt, watching the straps of his socks crawl up beneath his skirt.

When he's dressed, Noctis flops on top of his bed and rubs his smooth calves together, listening to the slip on nylon while he stares at the photo of arousal his bodyguard has offered him. His own dick starts to throb needily. Noctis rubs himself through his skirt for a while and then he flips the fabric onto his stomach and takes a picture of his short hard cock, pink and pinned sideways by the constriction of his lace panties.

Six, Gladio says. Wish I were there.

It's a bold statement.

What would you do if you were

Just watch

Not touch?

Not without permission, princess.

Noctis chuckles; Gladio, ever considerate. It should be strange to be sexting with Gladio, knowing his coach and long-time friend is on the other side, hard because of Noctis, fucked up for Noctis, pumping his big cock for Noctis . It should be unnerving, this irreversible change to their relationship, but draped in all of his gifts, Noctis feels nothing but soft, and pretty and terribly aroused by the knowledge. He rolls over in the bed, his hips seeking friction against the mattress, trying to picture what Gladio must look like right now.

I wanna know when you cum

Fuck I can. Do you want me to?

Noctis takes a picture over his shoulder, short skirt revealing the back of his bare thighs, caged in his garters, legs folded at the knee and feet floating in the air above him.

He captions it, yeah.

Less than a minute later, Gladio sends him a video.

Thirty seconds of his hand working fast and erratic over his long, thick cock, the sound of Gladio’s ragged breathing a soundtrack to the unpredictable and frantic way he touches himself. Noctis holds his phone close to his face, entranced. He gasps when Gladio grunts, his hand suddenly falling still as generous bursts of cum shoot from his cockhead and roll down his shaft.

Noctis does not text Gladio for the rest of the night, but he rewatches the video a hundred times, humping a pillow until he climaxes again and again. Ass up in the bed, Noctis fantasizing about Gladio lifting his skirt and coming on the heart-shaped window above his ass, seed dripping through lace and slipping into his crack. The sound of Gladio’s pleasure rattles around in his skull, heating his cheeks and making him whimper whenever he cums.

Eventually, Noctis pulls himself from his bed. On shaky legs, he washes his skirt and panties in the sink and hangs it to dry over the shower bar. Noctis leaves his socks and bra on, tugging a cotton t-shirt on and sitting down pantless at the television to play video games until he falls asleep.

The next morning, Noctis wakes up on the couch. Yawning, he sits up on the edge, looking down at his legs, still clad in black nylon. He wraps his hand around his morning erection beneath his t-shirt and pets himself while he reaches for his phone.

He sends Gladio a picture of his hand fisted beneath his t-shirt, the hem of it ending just before the crease of his bare thighs, the skin beneath the mouth of his socks a little pink from so many hours of wear.

Morning

Fuck Princess. Did you sleep like that?

Only cuz my skirt is wet, Noctis replies.

That's what I like to hear , he says. Want you to feel good.

And then a photo of Gladio’s waist in the mirror of a Citadel restroom, the shape of his hard cock clearly visible down the leg of his trousers.

Wish me luck hiding this all day

Noctis smirks.

Sorry

Don't lie

Gladio sends the same photo again, but this time he has lifted his shirt, offering Noctis a few of his chiseled stomach above the shape of his swollen cock.

Gone for a few hours.

Think of me

The whole time, Gladio responds. Promise

Several hours later, the front desk calls to let Noctis knows he has three packages waiting. He sends for them, only changing out of his lingerie so he may answer the door.

He sets the three packages on his dining room table. They are various sizes, ranging from large to small, but all in the same shiny black box, secured with a silver ribbon, like all of the gifts Gladio has sent him so far. Noctis snaps a photo of the boxes and sends them to Gladio.

More gifts?

Wanna spoil you

Who are you? My sugar daddy?

If you'll let me

He stares at the message numbly for a few moments, and then slowly begins unwrapping his presents. One by one, gingerly laying the items out on the table.

Two black velvet ribbons, decorated with silver skulls, one twisted into a bow, the other a choker, with a silver chain and clasp in the back. A soft silk nightgown in black, thin straps and laces at the bust in red. A pair of short black heels with red soles. A bag of sour apple caramel suckers, his favorite. A bottle of nail polish remover.

Noctis unwraps a lollipop and surveys the offering.

-

Gladio isn't sure where exactly he crossed the line, but he's certain it happened somewhere. Noctis never responded to him after he received his most recent gifts. For the first night in nearly a week, anxiety chews through the cloud of Gladio’s persistent arousal and he refrains from touching himself. He punishes himself with hundreds of push-ups, sit-ups, squats, imagining his father’s disappointed voice in his head, trying to fight back the shame he feels when he thinks of the carefully shredded receipts in the bottom of his bedroom wastebasket.

He sleeps fitfully, waking up in sticky boxers and Noctis’ name on his lips.

Gladio goes to the center the next day, but he honestly doesn’t expect Noctis to show. He gets there too early and sits down on a bench at the back of the room. He leans against the wall and hides beneath his ballcap, unable to stop wondering if he will be the first Amicitia renounced as Shield. Humiliation heats the air around his face.

His phone continues to sit painfully quiet in his pocket.

Five past fifteen-hundred, Noctis throws the door open. He’s still in his school uniform, although his tie has been loosened and his shirt untucked. His nails are chipped, but still painted. He sucks on a half-finished lollipop. He shuts the door.

Frozen by his surprise, Gladio stares at him from where he sits at the back of the room.

Noctis approaches him, dropping his backpack on the mat when he’s halfway there. When he finishes closing the distance, Noctis drops to his knees in front of Gladio, one hand coming to rest on Gladio’s thigh. He studies Gladio’s face with an open curiosity that Gladio has never seen in the typically apathetic prince.

“You didn’t text me,” Gladio breathes.

Noctis pulls the lollipop out of his mouth to say, “oh, were you worried?”

Gladio nods.

“Sorry,” Noctis chuckles, sliding the candy between his lips once more.

Gladio just shakes his head.

“I was busy,” he says around the candy. Gladio cannot take his eyes off of the place where the stick disappears behind his lips, watching them turn up in the corners when Noctis catches him looking.

It is such a contrast to the trembling and crying Noctis he had found in his sister’s bedroom a week before. Gladio had sinfully liked when he’d seen there, but he likes this confident Noctis even more. He feels selfish pride that he created this monster. Already, Gladio feels his wallet burning in his pocket.

He is sweating when Noctis pulls him from his sweatpants.

He pumps Gladio’s shaft and Gladio watches his thin fingers and chipped black nails slide up and down the length. Gladio had given him a way to take them off. Noctis chose to wear them to school. Gladio’s member jumps in his little hand at the thought. Noctis huffs to himself at the feeling. Gladio meets his eyes as he drags his lollipop from his mouth and replaces it with the fat head of Gladio’s cock. He moans raggedly, rolling his hips slightly to drag his cockhead against the wet surface of Noctis’ extended tongue.

The young prince doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing, but it doesn’t matter. At this point, Noctis could slap his cock and he would cum. But Noctis denies him even that. Suddenly, he is standing again, his eyes cast upwards to the clock like he actually cares that they should be practicing right now. He sucks thoughtfully on his lollipop and Gladio sighs brokenly from where he sits, dizzy with whiplash from the rollercoaster of emotions this week has contained.

Noctis fishes the car keys out of his pocket and tosses them to Gladio on the bench, his eyes sliding back over to Gladio, raking over the length of his still exposed erection.

“Drive me home, daddy.”

-

In an instant, Gladio is on his feet. He walks Noctis to the parking lot with a firm hand on his lower back, and Noctis doesn’t shake it, glad to see he’s knocked Gladio out of his mood. He knows just as well as Gladio does that there will be some baggage to unpack later, but for now, Noctis is only interested in indulgent action. He certainly didn’t intend to trigger Gladio by not texting him last night, he just had so many new things to play with and he didn’t get up from in front of the mirror until midnight, slowly shaking himself from his fever-dream of a weekend and realizing stupidly that he needs to find a place to hide all of his new gifts before Ignis arrived Monday morning.

That morning, he greeted Ignis with his hands in his pockets and snatched a travel mug of coffee before slipping out the door for class. Prompto narrowed his eyes at Noctis’ nails only once, saying nothing. All day long, Noctis watched the clock. He thought he’d be nervous come Monday afternoon, but he wasn’t. By the time class was dismissed, Noctis had devised a plan.

And it worked out perfectly. Gladio white-knuckles the steering wheel, his neglected cock still visible through the soft material of his workout clothes. Noctis bites through the rest of his lollipop on the short drive home.

They ride ten stories on an elevator with four other people and Gladio watches Noctis over their heads, looking further agitated at every floor they must stop. At the sixth floor a person boards the elevator and presses the button for the ninth, earning a groan from his bodyguard. Noctis tries not to laugh, but he can feel the heat radiating off of Gladio from across the lift. He slips the top button of his shirt and pulls his collar to the side, letting Gladio catch a glimpse of the lacy bra he wore to school.

Gladio slaps the wall of the elevator, startling the other rider.


“Should always take the stairs,” he grumbles. 

Noctis grins at the floor. The ride the last floor alone, but neither of them move. Upon hitting the tenth floor, Gladio leads the way. Still holding the keys, he unlocks the door to Noctis’ apartment and Noctis follows him inside.

Gladio freezes a few feet inside of the apartment while Noctis shuts the door. He stands near the wall, in the same place he stood that first night he showed up unannounced, a shiny gift box clutched in his hands. Noctis feels bodies away from the version of himself that cried at his PlayStation when Gladio approached.

How could he be scared now? Knowing they both want the same thing.  

“Sit down,” Noctis tells him, dragging a hand down his bicep while he passes by him. “I’m gonna get dressed.”

Noctis listens to the clumsy sound of a kitchen stool as he disappears into his room. His heart pounds in his chest while he reaches beneath his bed. He’s done this a hundred times in the past week, but his practiced hands shake with the knowledge of his benefactor waiting on the other side of the door.

Watching himself in the mirror, Noctis sheds his uniform, eager eyes taking in his own form as the concealing fabric slips free to reveal the bra and panties he wore to school. All day his half-hard dick pressed up against the bite of lace, excited by the secret he wore beneath his clothes.

It is decidedly more fun to have a secret when you share it with someone else.

He pulls the socks and garters back on before slipping the silk nightgown over his head, loosening the red ribbons at the front so it dips open at his chest. He clasps the choker around his neck and swallows against the soft grip on his throat. Carefully, he slips his feet into the shoes. He practiced walking in them for an hour, listening to the clack of the heels on the hardwood floor. The cut of his calves through the seam up the back of his tights makes Noctis groan in gratitude.

The last thing he does is secure the velvet bow in his hair, pulling his hair behind his right ear and fastening it. The silver skull glints against the lamplight.

He takes one last look at himself in the mirror. Satisfied, he reaches for the door.

As Noctis’ heels tap down the hallway, Noctis hears Gladio’s stand, the kitchen stool knocking backwards in his rush.

Gladio stands unmoving in the center of the kitchen, his hat held in one hand, the other clutching the side of the counter top. He is very obviously aroused, in both the darkness of his eyes and the shape of his sweatpants, but he does not approach, as still as a deer caught in the headlights.

Noctis comes to a stop a few feet from him, he breathes heavily, trying to swallow back the beating of his heart up against the ribbon tied against his throat. His own arousal only concealed by the tight panties that crush his cock and the way he wears his bangs in his eyes.

“You can touch,” Noctis tells him.

Gladio plunges his hand beneath the waistband of his sweats.

Me,” he moans in exasperation.

Gladio is beside him in a moment. His large hand takes one of Noctis’ in his, and Noctis is so used to being manhandled by Gladio that the delicate touch shocks him. Slowly, Gladio lifts Noctis’ arm above his head and turns him in a circle, his critical eyes studying every single inch of him, those clad in black silk, and those not.

“Say it,” Noctis demands.

Princess.

Noctis sighs, leaning towards Gladio and the taller man meets him, broad hand spreading across Noctis’ lower back and pulling him, gently, but inescapably, against his body. Noctis gasps softly as the feeling of Gladio’s arousal nestled against his stomach and he gazes up at him, feeling drunk on the intensity of eye contact, the way Gladio’s hand entirely engulfs his where he still holds it above his head.

“Do I look pretty?” Noctis asks him.

“Always think you’re pretty,” Gladio murmurs. “Ya look gorgeous, Princess.”

Suddenly, Gladio pushes him backwards and Noctis momentarily mourns the loss of contact when Gladio’s hands wrap around his hips and he lifts him easily, setting him on top of the counter. Noctis gasps when the cold granite comes in contact with his bare thighs. He knocks one shoe loose, but Gladio manages to catch it, wrapping his fingers around Noctis’ ankle while he slips the shoe back in place.

“Gladio…” Noctis says in surprise.

Gladio leaves him there, taking a few steps back to study him.

“Just wanna look at you, doll.”

“Haven't you done enough looking?” Noctis asks impatiently.

“Better in person,” he says matter-of-factly.

Gladio is the one who gifted him these treasures, so Noctis has to let him look, but the longer Gladio’s hungry eyes comb over his body, the more restless he becomes. He doesn’t feel foolish exactly, but he’s not sure why he invited Gladio over if he just wants to look at him. He starts to feel small under his scrutinizing gaze and when Gladio’s hand sinks beneath his waistband once more, Noctis begins to writhe on the counter. Gladio pulls his cock out for Noctis to see and pumps it towards him. Noctis has had enough.

“Daddy…” he whines, knocking his heels against the counter, banging against the cabinet doors.

Gladio’s mouth falls open and steps up to him, his hands falling to Noctis’ thighs. He grips him firmly and spreads his legs, stepping up between them. Noctis lets slip a gasp of gratitude, and his arms wrap around Gladio’s shoulders, his ankles locking behind his back. His heels slip off and hit the floor clattering but neither of them react. Gladio supports him behind his back and under one thigh, dragging the prince off of the counter until he’s holding his whole weight in his arms. Noctis can feel his naked cock bumping up against his inner thighs beneath his dress.

“I’ve got you,” Gladio says.

“Kiss me.”

He does. Noctis opens his mouth to Gladio’s eager tongue, his hands coming up to map out his neck and beard and turn his ballcap backwards so the brim of it stops bumping against the ribbon in Noctis’ hair while the kiss.

Noctis is so lost in the kiss and the feeling of Gladio’s hands on his ass through the slippery fabric of his dress that he hardly notices he is being carried until Gladio breaks the kiss and sits them down on the couch. Noctis straddles him and tries to keep his hands to himself while he watches Gladio throws his ballcap to the floor and shrug out of his sweatshirt. Left in just his tank top and sweats, his heavy cock still untucked, he pulls Noctis further onto his lap, the shape of his cock curling up beneath the fabric of his dress and Noctis can feel his hot balls pressed against the few inches of bare thigh he wears between his garters and his panties. Gladio runs a gentle thumb across Noctis’ still wet lips, and then lower, to trace the line of his choker.

“Tell me what you want, Princess.”

But suddenly Noctis cannot speak. He has started to grind up against Gladio’s cock, his impossible hardness pressing back into his own, with nothing but his lace panties between them. He can only pant as he ruts against him and he looks away from the satisfied expression on Gladio’s face.

He doesn't know how to say it aloud.

“Take it slow,” Gladio says, his voice low and husky. “Stop whenever you want.”

Noctis pausing, breathing heavily and stares at Gladio’s face. His eyes are dark, but he looks calm and composed. Gladio must know he's a virgin, must know there's no one Noctis could have gone to. Noctis looks up and down the length of his scar, the physical reminder that Gladio has taken an oath to care for Noctis, to watch out for him, for his entire life. And even now, the care he gives him in the protection of his secret, in the delivery of his gifts, in the way he says princess.

He can feel Gladio’s cock pulsing against his, but his Shield sits still and patient and waits for Noctis to speak, or move, or do anything other than stare dumbly back at him.


Noctis realizes succinctly that it always had to be him .

He reaches down between their bodies and lifts his dress, peering down at the sight of their arousal pressed together. Gladio huffs out a breath, his eyes glued to the sight of Noctis straining against his underwear.

“Take me to bed,” he says.

Gladio stands, effortlessly lifting Noctis and carrying him towards the bedroom. His hands slip on Noctis’ dress and multiple times he has to bounce Noctis in his grip, jostling him like a ragdoll.

“Gonna keep spoiling you,” he says, “if this is my reward.”  

He shoulders open the bedroom door and dips through it so Noctis’ doesn’t have to duck his head.

-

Gladio sets Noctis gently onto the disheveled bed. He cannot help but grin at the comparison of Noctis’ messy room to the utter care he took in getting dressed for Gladio’s viewing. As soon as he sets Noctis down, the prince rolls over and crawls towards his beside table, offering Gladio a full view of the back of his thighs, pale beneath his stockings, and just a peak of his ass from beneath the hem of his dress. Another dizzying wave of arousal crashes over him but he wills himself to stay put, to follow Noctis’ lead.

His eyes practically pop out of his head when Noctis fishes through the drawer and throws not only a bottle of lube, but a six inch long dildo over his shoulder and onto the bed in front of Gladio. Noctis is still rooting around in the drawer and curiosity gets the best of him. Gladio scoots up beside him and peers inside.

“Holy shit, Noct,” Gladio says, immediately overcome with laughter. Noctis glares at him, partially shutting the drawer.

“Don’t--”

“What else you got in there?” Gladio asks, pulling the drawer back open against Noctis’ resistance and reaching inside.

There must be at least ten toys of several different types in the drawer, condoms, bottles of lube. Some of the toys impressively large for a person Noctis’ size an Gladio absent-mindedly compares them to the size of his own cock. An entire drawer of sex toys. The second drawer down on his right hand bedside table. How many years?

“Has Ignis seen this?”


“Definitely,” Noctis groans, pulling his hand away from the drawer and folding in on himself on the bed, knees tucked up against his chest. Gladio is still trying to rein in his laughter. “After one lecture on safety he never brought it up again.”  

“Shiva’s tits,” Gladio chuckles. “You must’ve been lonely.”

“Look,” he says sharply, “It’s not like I can trust--” and then a pause and he says, “don’t make fun of me.”

Gladio looks at him, instantly sober. He takes Noctis in on the bed, small and fidgety, tugging at the hem of his dress and pouting to himself and immediately Gladio reaches for him. He lays a hand on his thigh, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of his dress and petting him there gently. Noctis turns to face him. Gladio tugs on his leg and Noctis lets himself be manipulated. Gladio draws his body out on the bed where Noctis had curled in on himself. Noctis body unfurls even further as Gladio settles over him.

“M’not making fun of you, princess,” he says apologetically, digging his cock up between Noctis’ thighs. “Now that Daddy knows you can take it, Daddy’s gonna give you want you want.”

He gasps. Noctis’ small hands snake around the bed, seeking out the toy and the bottle of lube. He presses them against where Gladio’s hands sprawl on the mattress on either side of his head. 

“Let me take my time,” Gladio requests, trying not to sound too amused by Noctis’ urgency.

“First, this, then you take your time. I need to be stretched so I can take your cock.”

The bluntness of his speech hit Gladio right in the hot pool of arousal coursing in his gut. He groans. He hadn't realized Noctis had wanted to take things that far tonight and he is skeptical about Noctis’ ability to receive him.

Gladio keeps Noctis pinned beneath him, but he reaches for the toy Noctis holds and takes it in his hand. It’s smaller than his cock, but Gladio wouldn’t call it small. It’s probably six inches long, a black silicone plug, wide at the base and flared at the end so it can sit neatly inside the cheeks of Noctis’ ass. Gladio studies it for a moment, before snapping open the bottle of lube.

“Skip the fingers.”

“Six,” Gladio says. “Are you sure?”

Noctis nods up at him.

“I usually do.”  

Gladio stares down at his prince, flushed and gorgeous and decorated in his gifts. He watches his throat bob against his necklace when he swallows.

Gladio slicks the toy one handed and nudges Noctis’ legs apart with his knees. Noctis turns his face to press into the palm of Gladio’s other hand, where it had been cradling his head. Gladio pushes Noctis’ dress up his flat stomach, revealing his panties. Gladio’s cock lay over his abdomen, looking startlingly large where it rests over Noctis’ narrow hips. It throbs at the sight of Noctis’ dick and balls squeezed into his lingerie and he finds himself dragging his cock up and down his abdomen, smearing pre-cum over Noctis’ underwear as he does. Noctis peers at Gladio out the corner of his eyes, speaking into the palm of his hand.

“Hurry up,” he says, and his suddenly chipped black fingernails are tugging his underwear to the side. Without any more hesitation, Gladio brings the toy to the dark space there and Noctis’ fingers guide the plug inside. 

Noctis sighs in satisfaction as the toy slips from Gladio’s slippery fingers and settles hidden beneath his panties. Gladio groans at the loss of it, his cock aching with the desire to take its place.

“Okay,” Noctis murmurs. “Now you can do what you want.”

Gladio sits back on his haunches, dragging Noctis’ by the hips into his lap. His nightgown slips easily up to his chin and Gladio’s mouth waters at the sight of Noctis’ pale chest bound in black lace. His lifts in his hands beneath Noctis and elevates him, eliciting a gasp from Noctis and then later a ragged moan, when Gladio presses his face against Noctis’ bulge. Gladio mouths at him, and his thumbs press against the rigid base of the toy tucked inside of him. Noctis quakes in his grip.

“My princess,” he coos, sniffing deeply to memorize Noctis’ scent. “Beautiful just for me.”

“Just for you,” Noctis repeats back to him, his voice thin.

“Gonna dress you up everyday, babydoll.”

Noctis laughs weakly, throwing his head back on the pillows. Gladio wraps an arm beneath his lower back to free one hand. He pulls down the front of Noctis’ panties, revealing a short hard dick, patterned by dark pink imprints of the lace it was straining against. Noctis is perfectly small, and Gladio can take his entire cock in his mouth. He soothes his sensitive skin with his tongue and already, Noctis is gasping. Gladio presses his thumbs against his cleft once more to wiggle the toy in Noctis’ ass and his fingers break through the lace, coming roughly in contact with the toy and Noctis’ slick ass.

His princess moans indignantly beneath him. Gladio spits out his cock and shushes him, “I'll buy you more tomorrow.”

Noctis looks at him and Gladio cannot help but smile fondly at the glassy expression on his slack face. Gladio shifts the toy around, helping to loosen him, and Noctis mouth falls open, his half-lidded eyes still locked on Gladio. He looks nearly blissful. 

“I bet you'll be nice and soft for Daddy’s cock if you cum first.”

“Yeah,” Noctis says the word drawn out lazily in his leisure.

Gladio kisses his cock and Noctis’ hand wraps around his where Gladio cannot see. He groans around a mouthful of Noctis’ arousal when he feels his small hand struggle to wrap about the girth at the base. It feels so good to be touched. He's been hard since Noctis walked into the gym an hour ago, sucking on a lollipop. 

Noctis is too far gone for any artistry so Gladio fucks himself into Noctis’ tight little grip and he sucks his fat little dick until Noctis is spilling salty release onto his tongue and it tastes sharp and sweet, just like he expected it to. He sucks him until Noctis stops moaning and starts writhing in his grip. Gladio sets him down gently, but Noctis grips hard at his dick, working Gladio’s cock with fast, short tugs that make Gladio grunt in appreciation.


“Fuck me.”

“Noct…” Gladio says, driving his hips forward into Noctis’ touch. He lay back on the bed, his hips still in Gladio’s lap, legs spread to reveal his spent cock tucked back inside his panties.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” he pleads, squeezing Gladio hard enough to make the larger man lean into the sensation.

“I’m ready. I can take it,” Noctis says determinedly, reaching beneath himself to easily pull the plug from his loosened ass. “Want Daddy to pop my cherry.”

Gladio groans, hauling Noctis into his lap. He sits up on his knees, letting Noctis straddle his thighs. He holds Noctis at the hips and his princess wraps his arms around Gladio’s neck and shoulders, his expression blown out and open, his blue eyes flashing as he looks back at him. Noctis looks right at him, and with half of his hair pinned back, Gladio can see more of his face than he ever has.

“So fucking pretty,” he growls.

Noctis blushes, his eyes dropping to the side. Gladio kisses the corner of his upturned lips. He lifts his hips and despite Noctis’ dress blocking his sight, Gladio’s cock reaches right up through the hole he tore in his panties, the thick head easily finding Noctis’ slick crack. Noctis gasps and he spreads his legs further, rolling down onto Gladio’s length, dragging his slick entrance back and forth across Gladio’s cockhead. Noctis reaches a small hand beneath them and positions Gladio to enter him, he lifts his dress with his other hand and drops his head so he can watch.

Gladio stills him with a gentle pat on thigh, and Noctis complies when Gladio gently pulls the gown over his head. Gladio appreciates Noctis head to toe. His shoes were abandoned in the kitchen, his is dress on the floor and he looks beautiful and vulnerable in just bra and panties. His stockings slide smoothly against Gladio’s sweatpants where Noctis brushes against his thighs. Gladio presses his a kiss just above the soft black choker Noctis fastened snug around his neck. Everything is so much better than he imagined it could be when he snuck away from the Glaive to shower Noctis in gifts.

“Damn,” he says.

He tugs his own tank top over his head and tosses it to the floor. Noctis’ hands immediately fall to his chest and shoulders, petting over his tattooed skin.

“Now,” he breathes.


Gladio holds his narrow hips in his hands and guides Noctis to sit down on his painfully hard cock.

“Fuck, princess,” he chokes out, the tight ring of muscle resisting him. Noctis groans and presses down against him and suddenly Gladio breaches him quickly, and he lets out a strangled moan as Noctis’ tight walls swallow him. Shuddering, Noctis collapses forward onto Gladio’s chest and he tries to hold him still.

“Slow down, baby,” he gasps.

Noctis shakes his head, crying out as he continues to lower himself onto Gladio’s waiting flesh. All of Gladio’s attention is focused on keeping his hips still. His core burns with the instinct to fuck up into Noctis’ velvet grip but he can tell Noctis is hurting. He wraps his arms around Noctis and just holds onto him, breathing heavily against the effort. He feels like he’s been on his edge all week, never truly satisfied by his own hand, and now he’s here, buried deep inside of his princess and just the tremors that course through his body are enough to send Gladio spiraling towards the precipice.  

“Noctis,” he pants.

 “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me.”

Slowly, with great control, Gladio slowly strokes up inside of Noctis. Noctis whines against his chest and Gladio claws at the straps of his lingerie like he’s clawing at their composure. His entire body burns, and need clenches in Gladio’s loins. He grunts, fucking up into him faster, unable to help it, unable to stop now that he’s begun, and he recognizes distantly that he was already off the rails a week ago, eyes low beneath the brim of his hat, sliding two hundred gil across the counter in a boutique downtown and walking into Noctis’ apartment unannounced.  

Noctis arches his back out of Gladio’s grip, his caged chest heaving as he cries out. He lays back in the bed and Gladio grunts, rolling his hips slowly in and out of him where he lay in his lap, biting his lip against the effort of not exploding right now, the sight of Noctis on display and impaled on his cock making Gladio’s heart clench in his chest. His small body rocks with the motion of Gladio’s thrusts and he moan softly every time Gladio presses back inside of him. Noctis’ eyes fall shut.

“Daddy, daddy,” he murmurs. “Fuck me.”

Gladio keeps Noctis’ hips snug to his with one hand while he repositions them and he settles on top of Noctis, in the bed. Noctis hooks his stockinged feet behind Gladio’s lower back and Gladio rolls down into him. Noctis immediately sobs into Gladio’s chest and Gladio thinks with satisfaction that from here on out, this is the only way he’ll see Noctis cry. Noctis clutches Gladio close to him, his hands buried in Gladio’s hair, his face pressed babbling into the side of his neck. The state of him, unraveled and ragged, is too much for Gladio, and Gladio fucks into his trembling body in earnest.

“Baby, I’m--” Gladio grinds out.

“--inside.” Noctis gasps desperately. 

And as soon as he has the permission, Gladio is emptying himself inside of Noctis, groaning long and low and pressing him hard down into the bed. Noctis is gasping for air when Gladio resurfaces and Gladio rushes to get off of him, but Noctis locks his legs around Gladio and keeps their hips glued together. Noctis reaches beneath his ruined panties and rubs himself with a flat hand, coming weakly only seconds later. His walls clench around Gladio’s sensitive flesh and the Shield lets out a dry sob at the feeling.

Eventually, they do separate, and Gladio helps Noctis out of his panties when he struggles with them. Sweating and still trying to catch his breath, Gladio falls into the bed beside him and Noctis crawls over to him in just his bra and stockings. 

“Princess,” Gladio breathes.

Laying his head on his chest, Noctis quickly falls asleep.

Noctis wakes up the next day in a panic. Disoriented, he looks around the room. The sun is rising on a new day. He can hear Ignis in the kitchen. He runs his hands over his body in the bed. He’s wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. His secret tucked neatly away beneath his bed. There is no sign anywhere in his room of Gladio’s presence. He must have fallen asleep afterwards and slept all the way through the night. At some point before he left, Gladio had thoroughly cleaned.  

It wasn’t a dream, at least. He knows that much when he climbs to his feet.


School passes slowly. He chews at his painted nails and listens to Prompto ramble, counting down the minutes until he sees Gladio again, but as soon as the final bell rings, his excitement is replaced with dread. Gladio hasn’t tried to contact him in anyway and for the first time, Noctis worries that maybe he regrets their secret.


He’s standing outside of the room to the training center and he can’t bring himself to push open the door. He stares at it blankly for several minutes and only because he’s certain Gladio is going to come looking for him, he reaches forward and grabs the handle.

It’s locked.

“Sorry I’m late.”


Spinning around, Noctis sees Gladio walking down the hall to the training room. The sight of him makes Noctis pause, chills shooting up his spine. Noctis watches Gladio’s hand fish in the pocket of his joggers for the key to the training room and then his eyes jump over to his other hand, where his Shield holds a shiny black box, wrapped in a single ribbon. He tracks it as Gladio approaches.

“You aren’t getting out of practice today,” Gladio tells him, leaning over Noctis and unlocking the door around him. Noctis reaches for the package, for the proof that Gladio stills wants it, but the towering man holds the gift box up above Noctis’ head where he cannot reach it.


“Practice first,” he smirks, throwing the door open and bodily pushing Noctis inside. “Then presents, Princess.”