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The Rest Of Our Lives Will Do

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Ignis somehow managed to fumble the hotel room door open one handed and all but dragged Gladio through it. Closing it again was something he left to Gladio, clearly deciding his hands were much better employed unfastening Gladio's waistcoat and untucking the shirt from his trousers.

Gladio couldn't help his grin, taking care of the door and watching Ignis work at his clothes with enthusiasm. Ignis had been drinking. Gladio hadn't realised just how much Ignis had been drinking until he'd done what he'd done, and by then it was a bit too late to stop him. Not that Gladio would have.

“Hey,” Gladio said, running his fingers into Ignis's hair, “how does Ignis Amicitia sound?”

Ignis found bare skin and ran his hands under Gladio's shirt, fingers raking across flesh possessively. “Like your father having an aneurysm,” he replied.

Gladio caught sight of pale green eyes flicking all over his form as if Ignis couldn't get a good enough look at the whole of him at once and had to take him in piece by piece. Gladio had been forced to get dressed twice today because Ignis had taken one look at him in his formal suit and promptly divested him of half of it. He was almost certainly planning the second act to that performance now. “Nah,” Gladio said, tucking his fingers under Ignis's chin and making him look up, “that sounded like this.”

He leaned in, and kissed Ignis in perfect recreation of how Ignis had kissed him earlier on the dancefloor, in front of Noct, in front of the guests, and King Regis, and in front of Clarus Amicitia. The kiss was sweet, and deep, and possessive. His tongue didn't invade Ignis's mouth, it requested entry, licking at his lips softly. Ignis met Gladio's tongue with his own in soft, slow presses that built up the fire Ignis had lit earlier until Ignis's fingers were digging into the backs of Gladio's shoulderblades and Gladio's fingers were growing tight in Ignis's hair.

Ignis parted first, his breath heavy and pupils blown. His eyes were just a little unfocussed, despite the fact he was wearing his glasses. “Gladio,” he said, “I am really very drunk.”

“I can tell,” Gladio replied, unable and unwilling to help the grin that crossed his face.

“You should fuck me while I'm still conscious,” Ignis said, and Gladio felt the ripple down his spine at hearing Ignis swear, “you can propose in the morning.”

Gladio laughed. “When I propose, you'll know it,” he said. “It won't be like this.”

“I wouldn't mind if it was,” Ignis murmured, and then leaned up to take Gladio's mouth again.

Gladio smiled into it, putting his hands on Ignis's shoulders and guiding him back towards the bed. “You're drunk right now,” Gladio murmured, pushing Ignis's jacket off his shoulders. It forced Ignis to draw his hands back out from under Gladio's shirt, and he dug his fingertips in against Gladio's skin, raking over the flesh as he did. “Your judgement's impaired.”

Ignis dropped his jacket on the floor and tugged at Gladio's belt, pulling the leather free of the buckle swiftly. “Not impaired,” he retorted, “just dis-inhibited.”

“Yeah,” Gladio conceded, his fingers working at Ignis's own waistcoat and the shirt underneath it, “if you managed to say that, you can't be that drunk.”

Ignis moved, pressing forward and up until his mouth was against Gladio's again. “Less talking, more undressing,” he purred, his teeth catching against Gladio's bottom lip.

“Yes, captain,” Gladio replied, with a predatory grin. He caught Ignis's wrists in his hands and pushed him back and down against the bed. Ignis sat down heavily, and unsteadily, and Gladio knelt down over him. Ignis caught Gladio's shirt in his fingers and tugged him down until their lips met again, and Gladio pushed him back against the bed as he kissed him with deep fervour. When Ignis pulled his mouth away to catch his breath Gladio moved his attention to Ignis's jaw, and throat. The memory of Ignis's hands in his hair, his words, 'We'll pay for this tomorrow, so let's make it worth it,' as he'd pulled Gladio down in front of everyone, a declaration of love, of defiance, burned in Gladio's heart. He'd never loved Ignis more than in that moment.

He returned that sentiment, of love, and possession, and defiance with a sucking kiss to Ignis's throat, his teeth grazing over skin. Ignis gasped, his head arching back, exposing more of his neck, and Gladio took advantage, moving down to repeat the motion at Ignis's collarbone, where the mark would peek out through his shirt unless Ignis buttoned it all the way up. There would be no hiding the mark on his neck, however, and after tonight everyone would know who had left it there.

He stripped Ignis of his shirt, leaving that and the waistcoat ignored on the bed as he began to kiss his way down Ignis's chest and stomach. Fingers worked their way into his hair as Gladio unfastened Ignis's belt and tugged his trousers down too. “I knew this suit would look better on the floor,” he murmured, as Ignis toed his shoes off and rolled his hips to let Gladio peel the last of his clothes away. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Ignis's thigh, spreading his legs to kneel between his knees. He didn't bother to tease, taking Ignis's cock in hand, and then into his mouth.

“Gladio,” Ignis groaned, fingers growing tight in Gladio's hair as Gladio sucked, and then pressed forward and swallowed, taking Ignis in to the hilt. Ignis's hips rolled, and he groaned again. Dis-inhibited was definitely the word, Gladio thought, swallowing around Ignis's cock again and drawing that noise from him once more. Ignis usually tried to hold his noises back, it took work to make him drop his guard enough to make him let them go.

Gladio loved when Ignis was noisy. He sounded beautiful coming undone under Gladio's hands and mouth. He sounded divine crying Gladio's name as Gladio fucked him into the bed, decorum discarded on the floor with his clothes. The only thing better than the sound of Ignis crying his name was the feel of Ignis's fingers pulling at his hair, clawing at his back.

He sucked until Ignis's noises took on a note of urgency, and then he pulled away and kissed upwards along his stomach. Ignis's fingers released in his hair and Gladio lifted himself up on his hands over Ignis to look down at him.

By the Goddess he looked beautiful. Hair mussed, skin flushed, glasses askew. Ignis's breath was short, his lips parted with his soft panting as he looked up at Gladio. Gladio examined him, memorised him, this scene, from Ignis's freckles to the colour of his lips and the flash of white teeth behind them, and the wide blackness of his pupils darkening his pretty green eyes. He leaned down again, and pressed a deep, bruising kiss to Ignis's mouth, refusing to let him recover his breath, pressing him back into the bed with the force of it. Then he peeled himself away, unbuttoning the rest of his clothes and stripping them off. He let them join Ignis's on the floor, and then crawled onto the bed, over him.

“Glasses,” he scolded, tugging them off Ignis's face and reaching to drop them on the bedside cabinet.

“Pardon me for wanting to admire the view with crystal clarity,” Ignis replied, putting his hands to Gladio's hips.

Gladio grinned broadly. “You'd be pissed if we broke them,” he pointed out.

“I have spares,” Ignis replied, as Gladio pressed his mouth in to Ignis's throat once more. The mark he'd left was darkening already, tiny blood vessels ruptured under the skin, and Gladio kissed it tenderly.

He hissed when he felt Ignis's hand on his cock, stroking him as if Ignis was familiarising himself with the length and weight of it after too long away. As if he hadn't sunk to his knees and sucked Gladio off against the hotel room door a few hours ago. “Eager,” Gladio teased.

“Very,” Ignis agreed. He sank the fingers of his free hand into Gladio's hair and tugged him down for another kiss. “Don't bother with a condom,” he murmured, his lips against Gladio's mouth.

“You sure?” Gladio asked, even though the words alone had sent their message directly to Gladio's cock. He loved taking Ignis without a condom. His heat was more present, the softness of his flesh, the slickness of the movement was so much harder to resist. Ignis got a kick out of it too, he knew, out of the way it reduced Gladio to an incoherent, affectionate mess, swallowed by the feeling of Ignis's body under and around him.

“It's not my bed,” Ignis answered, with a smirk that went straight to Gladio's groin.

Gladio pressed in to take another kiss, and then moved up the bed as Ignis did so he could reach into the bedside drawer and retrieve the lubricant. Ignis was nothing if not prepared, and it was rare they had a night they didn't sleep together, so even if Gladio hadn't seen him put it there this afternoon, he'd have expected to find lubricant waiting for them both anyway.

Ignis took it from him and uncapped the tube, squirting a generous amount into the palm of his hand before he dropped the tube on the pillow next to him, flicking the cap back in place with his thumb as an afterthought. Gladio kissed Ignis again as a warm hand, slick with lubricant, wrapped around his cock and stroked. He hooked one of Ignis's knees up by his hip, and felt Ignis hook his heel around the back of his thigh.

Ignis's hand fell away from his cock when Gladio growled into his mouth. Gladio was hard, and he ached, but the moment was too good to let it slip away in haste. He took Ignis's hand in his own, still slick with lubricant, and guided it between Ignis's own legs, and down.

Ignis got the idea quickly, and he let Gladio guide him to play his fingers over himself. He gave a small gasp against Gladio's mouth as Gladio pressed his fingers against Ignis's own, urging Ignis in his turn to press his fingers inside himself. Gladio shifted his grip, curling his fingers around Ignis's palm as he began to guide the movement of Ignis's hand so that he thrusted his fingers gently in and out of himself with the same careful pace and intensity of Gladio's mouth against his own.

Ignis murmured against the kiss, soft and urgent little noises of pleasure in time with the press and push of fingers. He pulled away from Gladio's mouth a moment later, turning his head to utter a soft, needy groan against Gladio's ear, “Gladio.” It was both a statement, and a request. He needed more. Gladio nipped at his jaw and tugged his hand away, settling Ignis's hand around Ignis's own cock instead, and then turned his own fingers to the work of thrusting carefully inside him. Ignis stroked himself, groaning at the sensation, and Gladio allowed himself to enjoy the look on Ignis's face.

“Do you want me?” He asked, pressing his fingers hard inside Ignis, and then drawing back out tortuously slow.

“Yes,” Ignis's voice had a bite of pleasure to it, a rise in pitch that was unmistakeable.

“Forever?” Gladio whispered, pressing in hard again so that Ignis jolted and gasped.

“I already have that,” Ignis replied, finding Gladio's eyes with his own. “Would you give me longer?”

He must be really drunk, Gladio thought, deep under the lust, and love, and nearly painful need to be as close to this man as it was possible to get. “I will give you every second,” he drove his fingers in again so that Ignis arched under him, “every minute,” he drew his fingers back and pressed his lips to Ignis's jaw, “every hour,” he shifted slightly so he could catch Ignis's eyes again, and the haze of love and lust that clouded his expression, “every day of the rest of eternity, and it won't be enough for me to love you as much as I want to.”

Ignis smiled at him, a soft, unguarded look on his face. “Just the rest of our lives will do,” he said, softly.

Gladio stared at him, while stars died and gods were born, and then pressed forward in an urgent kiss. His tongue found Ignis's and he lost himself to it for a while, just the press and slide of lips and tongue, Ignis letting him in and then taking in his own turn so it was like a dance, like a duet, like their whole relationship.

Then Ignis tugged his hips in with his legs and Gladio pulled his fingers free to grasp his cock and guide himself inside Ignis. Ignis growled with satisfaction against his mouth, and Gladio had to take a moment to break the kiss and gasp as the heat of Ignis's body enveloped and overwhelmed him.

Ignis twisted his fingers into Gladio's hair, tightened his legs around his hips, and tugged him in until there was nowhere they could possibly be touching that they weren't. “When you're ready,” he said, his voice deepened with lust.

Gladio looked down at him, and used one hand to tug Ignis's hips into the best possible position. Then he dragged Ignis's hand away from his cock and pinned it to the bed by his wrist before he began to fuck him.

Ignis's reaction was instant, the strike of Gladio's cock against his prostate making him yelp. His wrist twisted in Gladio's hand but didn't pull free, and his fingers tightened in Gladio's hair. His hips rolled, and his legs pulled Gladio in again on every thrust.

“I could watch you like this forever,” Gladio growled, as Ignis arched under him beautifully and cried his name. Ignis was past the point of coherent reply, but his hand dropped from Gladio's hair to his shoulder, and his fingers dug in against Gladio's skin.

Gladio thrust harder when he felt himself struggling to hold on, and he wrapped his hand around Ignis's cock and stroked him with the same urgent intensity as the movement of his hips. Ignis cried out, swore, and then cried Gladio's name as he came in Gladio's hand. He arched under Gladio and tightened around him as he came, and then Gladio came too, deep inside Ignis, tucking his face against Ignis's throat.

They stilled as their orgasm ebbed away, and Gladio took a moment to scrape his mind back together from the far corners of the room before he pulled out of Ignis, and then cuddled him against himself. Ignis wrapped his arms around Gladio's waist and tucked his face in against his shoulder with a sigh.

“You want a shower?” Gladio asked. Ignis nearly always did after sex, especially after they'd foregone a condom.

Ignis murmured, thoughtfully, but sleepily. “In the morning,” he decided. “Don't you dare move.”

Gladio chuckled, and cuddled him closer. He pressed a kiss to Ignis's hair before he replied, “Yes sir.”


Ignis's head pounded. The world seemed painful, and the sound of Gladio softly snoring down his ear wasn't helping. His mouth felt drier than the Dalmascan Estersands. He moved, and then groaned because his body protested against the idea.

Gladio's snoring stopped, and arms tightened around him. “Nope.”

“I need a drink.”

It took a second, but the arms retreated from around him, and Ignis slid from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. He desperately needed a shower, but he also couldn't face the idea of having water pounding down on his head, and face. Instead, he used the toilet, and then went back into the room to retrieve a bottle of water from the mini-fridge.

Ignis drained half of it before he got back into bed, ignoring the state of it, and found himself dragged in against Gladio's welcoming heat once more. Gladio murmured happily, and nuzzled his nose into Ignis's hair.

“Gladio?” A grunt was the only response Ignis got, but it was enough. “Did I really make a point of kissing you in front of your father last night?”



“And his Majesty,” Gladio added, cheerful despite his obvious grogginess, “and his Highness, and the Marshal--”

“Yes, I get the idea.”

“Regretting it?”

Ignis thought about that, and then shifted, tucking himself in as close as he could get to Gladio. He covered Gladio's hand with his own, and pulled it up over his chest, so their twined fingers rested near Ignis's heart. “No.”


Ignis smiled, and relaxed. “We should make the most of the peace while it lasts, however.”

Gladio murmured agreement. “I'll help you shower later.”