Prompto opens the doors to the king’s private entertaining chambers and ignores Ravus’s hard glare as he walks in. Ravus is always there, guarding the king, silently assessing everybody who dares step close. He doesn’t look happy to be there, but Prompto doesn’t know the guy well enough to ask him why he doesn’t get a new job if he hates it so much.
Honestly, sometimes Prompto thinks he should be looking for a new job too. Being the king’s private photographer is rewarding, but it leaves him feeling dirty and sick inside too, and sometimes when he’s editing the photos he wants to, he wants to…
“Prompto! How nice of you to be so prompt.” The king laughs, as if he hasn’t made that joke a million times before. “Just the man I was looking for. I was thinking, I don’t have any photos of my dear Noctis’s tears.”
The king is seated on his sofa, and his… his lover—his lover, that’s his lover, Prompto’s had it explained a million times—is naked on his lap, bouncing up and down along King Ardyn’s cock. He’s facing Prompto, and every time he moves his erection bounces, occasionally slapping against his own stomach.
Prompto sometimes feels an overwhelming sense of jealousy, watching Noctis getting fucked by the king. Something about the way Noctis just takes it makes Prompto want to pull him away from the king and yell about… about something. That he doesn’t deserve the king. That he shouldn’t touch the king. That this is wrong, because… because.
Noctis moans loudly, his sounds completely shameless. Not that he could swallow them, with the ring gag holding his mouth open. Drool slips down along his jaw, intermingling with sweat and tears.
“His tears, your majesty?” Prompto readies his camera and snaps a few experimental pics. He catches a full-body shot of the two of them, and his finger hovers over the delete button. He doesn’t know why he wants to delete it, but King Ardyn would notice the missing photo, so he reluctantly moves his finger away.
“Right here,” Ardyn says, clutching Noctis’s jaw and pushing two fingers inside his open mouth. “Get a nice, detailed photo. I think I want to hang it on my wall.”
At first Prompto uses the zoom to get the close-up, but Ardyn tuts and says, “Come closer, don’t be shy,” and so Prompto finds himself only a foot away from Noctis, seeing those tears up close. Getting to hear the much softer sobs, and smelling the sweat and the sex.
Prompto gets a good photo of Noctis’s tear-blurred eyes, and then his whole face. The new camera Ardyn gave him is very good, and the detail shots of Ardyn’s fingers stroking the insides of Noctis’s mouth are incredible.
It’s a bit gross, too, if Prompto thinks about it. Ardyn’s fingers shouldn’t be touching Noctis’s spit, but he isn’t one to voice his opinions unasked. There’s no room for judgment in Ardyn’s court. Any judgmental people get cast out; Prompto has never asked what happens to them, but fact of the matter is that he never sees them again. That’s fine with Prompto. It’s easier not having to see the angry faces.
Noctis makes a pained sound, startling Prompto into looking him in the eyes, red from tears. It hurts to look at him, so Prompto averts his gaze. He takes more photos, even gets on his knees to get a good shot of Noctis’s leaking erection. Noctis's skin is red and flushed all over, proof of how into it he is despite the tears and the sobs. He doesn’t know what made Noctis so sick in the head, that he craves pain and humiliation, but it works out well for him and Ardyn.
Ardyn’s hand snakes down and grips Noctis’s erection. Noctis makes another noise, and the next shot that Prompto takes ends up blurred due to the sudden snap of Noctis’s hips. Ardyn groans too, and the fucking picks up the pace. In the camera lens, Noctis’s skin shines with sweat.
It isn’t right. It isn’t right. Prompto knows that it isn’t right, and he has the urge to throw his camera across the room and rip Noctis away.
But he doesn’t know why he feels so strongly about this, and he tells himself it’s because of all his other issues. He’s just jealous. He wants this for himself.
He tilts the camera up again and gets a shot of Noctis’s eyebrows drawn together in—in pleasure, it has to be pleasure—and Ardyn kissing the side of Noctis’s jaw. Then Ardyn grips Noctis’s hips and urges him to move faster, and Prompto captures the moment when Ardyn comes, his lips parted, Noctis sobbing loudly.
It’s—it’s beautiful, not hideous. Prompto looks away from his king and stares down at the camera, flipping through the photos from today’s session. He wants this. He wants this. He wants this.
“Oh, that was lovely,” Ardyn says. “Off now, Noctis. Show Prompto your hole, so he can get some nice pictures of that.”
Prompto blinks and scoots away far enough that Noctis can descend to the floor without bumping into him.
“Om-ho,” Noctis says. If it’s a word, Prompto doesn’t recognize it. He waits while Noctis positions himself as directed, his still erect cock heavy between his legs, his shaved hole puffy and red and leaking cum.
Prompto takes a few pictures, and when Ardyn urges, “Go on, open him up. I want a record of everything,” Prompto uses two fingers to stretch the hole wide. More cum dribbles out, and Prompto awkwardly takes a photo of that one-handed.
“Wonderful. Noctis, go sit in the corner quietly. I’m going to review these photos with Prompto. If you cause trouble, I’ll have to send you away. I might even replace you.”
For a moment Prompto is afraid that Noctis is going to protest. Sometimes Noctis gets bratty, in order to get Ardyn to spank him or punish him in other ways. Prompto wishes Noctis would just—not. Not protest, not fight, not draw Ardyn’s attention to himself when it should be on Prompto instead. He remembers the time when Ardyn kissed him, and it was lovely, except Noctis had chosen that moment to bite Ardyn and then Ardyn completely forgot about Prompto in favor of catering to Noctis’s public humiliation kink.
This time, Noctis quietly goes to sit in his designated corner. It’s where he sleeps most days, on cushions with a few fluffy blankets, like a treasured pet. Sometimes Noctis even wears a collar and leash, and demands that Ardyn treat him like a dog.
Prompto doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t need to.
Besides, with Noctis temporarily out of the picture, Prompto finally has Ardyn to himself. Ardyn wipes his cock off with a tissue and spreads his legs. “Give me the camera, dear boy, and let’s see what art you’ve created for me.”
Prompto hands him the camera and then gets on his knees in front of Ardyn. He waits only until Ardyn’s hands run through his hair before taking Ardyn’s cock into his mouth. The salty bitterness of Ardyn’s spend fills his senses, and that’s enough to ease some of the tension he’s been feeling. He doesn’t suck or lick, he just holds Ardyn’s cock in his mouth.
It’s a ritual they have. While Ardyn reviews the photos, Prompto gets to do this for his king. That’s why it’s better to take more pictures—it makes these sessions last longer. It means Ardyn’s hands stay on his head, stroking him, petting him, warming all the corners of his mind and erasing any doubts and worries he has.
If only Ardyn would choose him instead of Noctis. He would be so much better for Ardyn.
Prompto really wants Noctis to not be here. It should be Prompto instead.
He closes his eyes and lets his mind fall even deeper into this bliss.