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under the setting sun

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Noctis brings home a bouquet of perfectly beautiful roses. Prompto stares at them for a moment too long, his chest tight with the knowledge that his gift is shabby in comparison.

"I..." Noctis trails off, staring down at the flowers. "I wanted something better, but..."

"Who doesn't like roses?" Prompto gives Noctis a weak smile. "How many are there, anyway? This is more than a dozen." He fingers the rich, heavy petals of the closest flower, feeling a little drunk on the scent.

"Fifteen." Noctis' voice is quiet. "One for every date."

Prompto sucks in a breath. "I didn't know you were counting." He fiddles with the vase, turning it this way and that.

Noctis puts a hand over Prompto's. "Of course I counted."

"Fifteen..." Prompto laces his fingers together with Noctis'.

"Do I have to prove it by rattling them all off?" Noctis tugs Prompto's hand until they're face to face. Noctis' cheeks are pink.

Prompto closes the distance between them. Noctis' eyes flutter shut, his lips parting. Prompto can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he kisses Noctis, unlacing their fingers so he can put his hands to Noctis’ face.

Noctis' hands twine through Prompto's hair, carelessly undoing all of Prompto's careful styling. His lips taste like peppermint, as though he were sucking a mint on his way home. His hips bump Prompto’s back against the table as he pushes his tongue into Prompto’s mouth.

“Noct,” Prompto breathes as Noctis kisses him again. His hands run through Noctis’ hair. It falls away from his touch, silky and soft.

“Mmm?” Noctis overlaps kisses in a line along Prompto’s jaw, tilting his head by tugging at his hair.

“I…” Prompto’s mind spins wildly. His hands are suddenly sweaty, too sweaty for Noctis’ soft hair. He drops them down to Noctis’ shoulders, skimming over his jacket. “I made you something.”

Noctis lifts his head from kissing Prompto’s neck. “Really?” His eyes are shining in the afternoon sunlight pouring through the window. They almost look like they’re glittering, bluer than the sky.

“Y-Yeah.” Prompto nods and swallows nervously. “It’s…” He twists to look back at the roses. “It’s not as nice as…” His cheeks are warm as he shrugs.

Noctis tugs Prompto’s shirt down and kisses his collarbone. “If you made it, it’s nice.”

Prompto lets out a nervous, awkward laugh. “You should see it before you judge it.”

“So show me.” Noctis tugs the collar of Prompto’s shirt down on the other side, kissing across Prompto’s collarbone, his breath hot.

“So get off me,” Prompto teases, tugging gently at the back of Noctis’ jacket.

“Mmm, what?” Noctis’ hands slide down Prompto’s back and then back up, under his shirt. “Get you off?”

“Noct-” Prompto squeaks, but he can’t protest more than that because Noctis is kissing him again. His hands are warm as they roam over Prompto’s skin, pushing his shirt up and out of his way. Prompto twists his fingers through Noctis’ hair, trying not to gasp too much into Noctis’ mouth.

Except Noctis’ hand darts between them and presses against Prompto’s hardening cock, curling his fingers around the fabric of his pants. Prompto’s fingers clench against Noctis’ hair as he lets out a tiny moan.

Noctis pulls away from the kiss and looks at Prompto from behind his messy bangs. Even fully clothed, Prompto feels exposed.

“W-What?” He clears his throat and looks sideways at Noctis’ shoulder.

“Nothing.” Noctis kisses Prompto’s neck, licking and sucking until he runs out of skin. His hand stays exactly where it is, gently stroking.

Prompto’s hands slide down Noctis’ back. He digs his nails into the cloth, trying not to let his knees buckle. “Noct-”

“Mmm?” Noctis lifts his head and kisses the corner of Prompto’s jaw.

“Nothing.” Prompto shakes his head slightly. His face feels as hot as Noctis’ hand. His hips buck away from the table, pressing against Noctis’ hand.

Noctis stares at him with a serious expression for a second before smiling. “Okay, okay.”

Noctis sucks gently on Prompto’s bottom lip as he unbuckles his pants. Unzips them. Prompto’s hands twist harder in Noctis’ silky-soft hair, his breathing hard and his heart pounding in uneven bursts.

He twines his tongue around Noctis’, pushing away from the table, into Noctis’ hand. It feels entirely unfair that he’s the only one getting all hot and bothered. Prompto tugs at Noctis’ hair until his head is tipped back and he’s looking at Prompto through half-lidded eyes.

Prompto licks at Noctis’ neck. He tastes like salt and skin and Noctis. He kisses down Noctis’ neck, and every press of his lips makes Noctis’ breathing hitch. Prompto grins as he pulls Noctis’ collar down and tilts his head slightly. He sucks at the tender skin, and Noctis groans and presses against him. The sound feels like it's reverberating through Prompto’s entire body. Noctis digs his fingers into Prompto’s hips, grinding their hips together as he finds Prompto’s mouth with his own.

Prompto whines as Noctis grinds against him. His fingers scrabble with the metal of Noctis’ belt. Too many clothes. It’s hard to concentrate on things like buckles and zippers when Noctis is pushing against him and kissing him hard enough to make Prompto forget to breathe.

Noctis breaks away from the kiss, panting. His hands tug Prompto’s away and set them against the edge of the table.

“What?” Prompto shakes his head, trying to clear it.

Noctis just grins at him, his cheeks flushed and strands of hair sticking to his face. “This.”

He kneels down before Prompto can gather enough wits to figure out what he’s doing.

Prompto blinks as Noctis looks up at him, and then his eyes slam closed as Noctis’ mouth closes over the head of his achingly hard cock. His groan seems to echo around the apartment, and Prompto wants to cover his face. But he needs his hands on the table to stay upright.

He bites his lip as Noctis’ tongue darts out and presses against him. Noctis’ mouth follows, hot and wet and amazing. Prompto opens an eye and the sight of Noctis on his knees with his mouth around Prompto makes his skin feel hot and tight as though he’s been sunburned.

Noctis looks up and catches Prompto’s gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Prompto’s hips jerk involuntarily, and Noctis lowers his gaze again. One hand curls around the base of Prompto’s cock. The other covers one of his hands on the table. Noctis’ fingers are sweaty as they slide between Prompto’s.

Prompto tilts his head back and tries to remember how to breathe. Noctis’ tongue swirls around him as he sucks, his hand gently squeezing. His head starts to bob, his wet lips sliding back and forth. Prompto’s breathing comes out as moans that sync to Noctis’ movements.

Noctis’ fingers twist around Prompto’s as he starts moving his mouth and his hand in unison. The smell of sweat and sex clogs Prompto’s nose, blocking out the scent of the roses. His free hand moves to Noctis’ hair, gripping it as though he wants to tug Noctis’ head away.

But he doesn’t. Not yet. He moans again as Noctis hums softly, slurping and sucking and making Prompto’s toes curl against the floor with embarrassment. It isn’t fair that Noctis knows exactly what Prompto likes. That his touch can unravel Prompto so easily.

“Noct,” he tries to warn, but his voice sticks in his throat and he has to clear it. “Noct.” He opens his eyes and looks down, tugging at Noctis’ hair.

Noctis just meets his gaze and doesn’t move his head away. Prompto’s hips jerk towards Noctis, and he feels like a jerk for pushing his cock that far into Noctis’ mouth. Except Noctis is still staring at him and moving his head back and forth, and it’s so hot that Prompto’s hips jerk again as his orgasm races through him and spills down the back of Noctis’ throat.

Noctis swallows, his eyes still on Prompto’s. Prompto moans again, his fingers curling in Noctis’ hair, his eyes closing.

“Fuck, Noct,” he mumbles, feeling hot and shy and a little like falling down.

Noctis finally moves his head away and wipes at his mouth, grinning. “What?”

The table scrapes against the floor as Prompto sags against it.

Noctis gets to his feet. “Mind the furniture, Prom.”

“Oh, like it’s my fault,” Prompto mutters, putting his hands to Noctis’ chest and gently shoving him away.

Noctis slides his hands over Prompto’s and laces their fingers together, pressing them against his own chest. “I couldn’t help myself,” he says softly, ducking his head. His cheeks are stained pink in the setting sun. “You just looked so sexy in the sunlight.”

Prompto squirms back against the table and it scrapes again.

Noctis lifts his head and catches Prompto’s gaze. His lips are curled in a soft smile, and he looks so happy that Prompto’s heart aches.

Prompto leans forward and kisses him. Noctis flinches back in surprise before kissing him back.

It’s not like Prompto likes tasting himself, salty and weird on Noctis’ tongue. But he wants to kiss Noctis more than he cares about something like that. And it must be kind of sexy, because Noctis pushes himself harder against Prompto’s hips, the cloth of his underwear scraping over Prompto’s skin.

Prompto snakes a hand between them and shoves Noctis’ underwear aside. His cock is hot in Prompto’s hand, like he’s holding fire between his fingers.

“Fuck,” Noctis groans against Prompto’s mouth.

“Not in the living room,” Prompto mumbles back, feeling a little dazed. His hand moves up and down, gently squeezing.

“Why not in the living room?” Noctis says, pushing Prompto back against the table.

It takes Prompto a second to think of a good excuse. “Someone might see?” He nods towards the window. It's glowing orange in the setting sun.

Noctis shrugs. “Don’t care.”

Prompto squirms and tightens his grip. “I care,” he protests, but a thrill snakes through his stomach at the very idea. Noctis bending him over the table, grinding his hips into it…

Noctis is looking at him from under his bangs again. “Really?” he teases, sliding his hands down Prompto’s hips, pushing his pants down even further.

Prompto lifts off the table to help, his fingers still curled around Noctis’ cock. “Mmhm.” He nods, his cheeks feeling redder than the sunset.

Noctis just grins at him. “I don’t think you do." He kisses Prompto, snaking his tongue into Prompto’s mouth.

Prompto forgets to move his hand until Noctis nudges his hips forwards. He runs his thumb over the tip of Noctis’ cock, swirling the pre-come down over his fingers. He pulls away and stares at Noctis’ lower lip. “Maybe I don't care," he mumbles, afraid to look up when his face is so red.

Noctis’ breath hitches. “Then…”

Prompto nods, feeling hot all over.

Noctis presses a kiss to Prompto’s forehead. “Okay.”

He tugs up his pants and practically runs from the room.

Prompto lets out a shaky breath and runs his fingers through his hair. His nerves are bubbling up through his skin like it’s his first time, even though that was months ago and way better than he’d hoped.

Noctis comes back and makes a beeline for Prompto, kissing him as he sets the tube down beside them. “I’ll make it up to you,” Noctis breathes between kisses.

“I know,” Prompto’s cock twitches just thinking about it.

Noctis peels Prompto’s shirt off and flings it somewhere. Pushes his pants down and stands on them so Prompto can step out of them. Prompto pulls Noctis’ shirt over his head and runs his fingers over the warm, damp skin. For a moment, it’s like there’s fire under Noctis’ skin, but the sun dips out of sight and the room is suddenly darker than it was a minute ago.

“See?” Noctis whispers against Prompto’s ear. His breath tickles all the way down Prompto’s spine. “Now no one can see.”

Prompto arches his back and doesn’t answer. One of Noctis’ hands is on his hip, gently kneading the flesh. The other…

Sticky and wet. Prompto shivers as Noctis’ fingers trace circles over him. He parts his legs and puts his arms around Noctis’ shoulders, kissing any scrap of flesh he can find.

A finger slides into him and Prompto stills. Noctis doesn’t move until Prompto nods. Wet and sticky and warm. Prompto shivers, his muscles clenching. He breathes out, and Noctis kisses him again, gentle and sweet and still tasting a little salty.

Noctis’ other hand circles to Prompto’s cock, stroking it gently as his finger moves in and out. Prompto tries to focus on his lips, Noctis’ tongue. His breathing comes in short gasps, his hips bucking.

“Jeez,” Noctis presses their foreheads together, breathing just as hard as Prompto. “How do you always sound so fucking sexy?”

Prompto squirms, his cheeks heating. “N-Noct-”

Noctis kisses him and slides another finger inside. Prompto clutches at Noctis’ hair. His knees are definitely trembling.

“I’m gonna fall,” he mumbles. The table scrapes behind him as if it's agreeing.

“Okay.” Noctis kisses Prompto’s cheeks, his forehead.

Prompto squirms and moves, feeling exposed and a little afraid. The table is cool under Prompto’s bare chest. He turns his head and lets his cheek rest against the polished wood, closing his eyes.

Noctis still has his fingers inside of him, moving in and out and stretching. Prompto’s muscles clench around them every time he thinks about it.

Noctis leans over Prompto and kisses a line down his spine. It makes his skin burst with goose bumps.

The roses are right beside him. Prompto is struck with a sudden, ridiculous urge to move his hand and knock them away. But fifteen is so specific. He takes a deep breath.

Noctis curls his fingers around Prompto’s cock. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Prompto croaks. Clears his throat. “Yeah.”

The fingers twist around inside of him, out of rhythm with the hand around his cock. His hips twitch against the hard wood of the table. It’s not as comfortable as he thought it would be, but any second now…

Noctis’ hand drops away. Prompto feels a shiver of anticipation run through him.

The fingers slide away for a moment before returning, all wet and a little cold. Prompto turns his head and presses his forehead into the table, swallowing the moan building in his throat.

Noctis’ fingers move away and the tip of his cock presses against Prompto.

“Okay?” Noctis asks, leaning over and kissing between Prompto’s shoulders.

“Uh-huh.” Prompto nods.

Noctis pushes into him, all sticky and hot. Prompto’s breath catches in his throat and comes out as a whimper.

Fingers curl around Prompto’s cock again, sliding wetly up and down. Noctis eases himself further inside, and Prompto’s groan fogs the table up in front of him, warm and damp.

Noctis jerks, pushing harder inside of him. “Shit-”

Prompto’s fingers press into the table as he moans again. “Noct.”

Noctis’ hand tightens around Prompto’s cock. He pushes the last inch into Prompto and bends over him again, kissing over his shoulders.

Prompto’s muscles clench and unclench around Noctis. He wants him to move, to fuck him into the table, but there’s no way he’s going to admit that aloud.

“Are you okay?” Noctis asks in a ragged voice.

“I’m fine,” Prompto insists. He swallows, licks his lips. “Stop… worrying so much.” He turns slightly to look at Noctis over his shoulder.

Noctis’ face is a pale streak in the dimness of the room. “Are you sure?”

Prompto wonders if Noctis will be able to see the flush spreading over his cheeks, as red as the roses in the corner of his vision. “Uh-huh.” He nods.

Noctis exhales sharply. “Okay.”

His fingers slide up and down Prompto’s cock as he pulls out and then thrusts back in.

Prompto’s breath feels like it’s knocked out of him. His fingernails dig into the wood.

Noctis moves slowly for a minute, sliding in and out, his thrusts in sync with his hand. Prompto’s voice spills out in quiet moans as he presses his forehead to the table. It’s gotten warm to the touch.

“Fuck,” Noctis mutters, and the hand drops away. His fingers press into Prompto’s hips.

Prompto bites his lip and takes a sharp breath.

Noctis slides back in, angling himself just so, and Prompto’s breath comes out in a moan that feels as though it came all the way from his toes.

“Fuck,” Noctis repeats, sliding out and pushing back into him, striking the same spot.

“Noct-” Prompto moans, arching his back and pushing his hips back against Noctis.

Noctis groans and digs his fingers into Prompto’s hips. He’s thrusting back and forth, a sloppy rhythm undercut with gripping fingers and moans. The movements are driving Prompto’s hips into the table, and if it didn’t feel so good to have Noctis fucking him, it would almost hurt.

“Prom-” Noctis’ voice cracks as he moans. It’s the only sound in the apartment aside from the steady slap of flesh against flesh. “Prom, Prom-”

Noct.” Prompto’s voice stretches out of him in a wail. His hand slips under his body and curls around his throbbing cock. Every thrust is pushing him closer and closer.

The table edge cuts against his wrist, and there’s not enough room, but Prompto doesn’t care. Noctis’ fingers curl into Prompto’s hips, the nails digging into his skin. His breaths are coming as hard and as fast as Prompto’s. Prompto twists his hand around himself, his hand slick with the remnants of lube. He likes it when Noctis makes him come, but he likes it even more than Noctis is too distracted to think about it.

Noctis thrusts somehow deeper and Prompto’s hand jerks with bruising force against the edge of the table as he moans, his toes curling. Noctis leans forward and tugs Prompto up by the hair. It’s awkward and a little painful to twist so much just for a kiss, but feeling Noctis’ hot breaths spilling into his mouth makes up for it.

It’s too dark to make out much more than the whites of Noctis’ eyes as he pulls back with a shuddering groan. Prompto leans back over the table, his legs shaking as he inches them a little more apart.

“Fuck me, Noct,” he whispers against the table, his cheeks hotter than Noctis’ cock inside him.

Noctis’ fingers curl around Prompto’s hips again, and for a second he doesn’t move. Prompto presses his forehead against the table and squeezes his hand around his cock, feeling hot and cold all over.

Noctis takes a deep breath and moves his hips, his fingernails scraping against Prompto’s skin as he repositions his hands. Then he starts to move, plunging deep inside Prompto with every thrust. Prompto doesn’t even have to move his hand, just tighten his grip. He leans back into Noctis’ thrusts. Each of them makes Prompto’s voice spill out in moans that get louder and louder.

Noctis groans and fucks him harder.

“Prom-” Noctis digs his fingers into Prompto’s hips, his fingernails cutting into his skin. “Prom-

Prompto’s vision flares with white as his orgasm races through his veins like lightning. His voice spills out in a cry that was supposed to be Noctis’ name.

Noctis slams into him, his body draping across Prompto’s as he shudders. His moan is as wordless as Prompto’s was.

Their panting breaths seem to echo around the room. Prompto can feel sweat sticking their skin together, but it’s kind of nice to be trapped under Noctis’ weight.

Except his hips are really sore. He wriggles slightly and Noctis pulls away.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice is quiet and a little rough.

“No?” Prompto’s voice squeaks. “I don’t know. I don’t care.”

Noctis huffs and carefully slides out of Prompto. “I can’t even see.”

“Who needs to see?” Prompto slides shakily off the table and turns around. He blinks at the window. It seems a little further away. “Did we, uh, move the table?”

“Probably.” Noctis shrugs. “At least we didn’t lose the vase.” He holds his hand out to Prompto.

Prompto slides his sweaty fingers between Noctis’. “I’m going to hold you to counting out those dates, you know.”

“In the shower?” Noctis kisses the side of Prompto’s mouth, gentle and sweet.

Prompto’s face feels hot. “If… Okay.”


It isn’t until after they’re (mostly) dried and lying in Noctis’ bed that he remembers.

“Hey, what did you get me?” Noctis says, tilting his head closer to Prompto’s.

“It’s…” Prompto looks away. “I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Just give it to me.” Noctis grins.

Prompto slides out of bed and pads down the hallway. He left it in his room, and he has to flick the lights on to find it. The searing pain behind his eyes makes him immediately flick them off again.

Noctis is sitting on the edge of the bed, his skin faintly yellow under the dim lamp.

“Here.” Prompto passes the present over and sits beside Noctis.

He didn’t wrap it. Didn’t have time to wrap it. The printing shop was too busy, and Prompto was an idiot that forgot what day it was, and-

Noctis runs his fingers over the glass. “You made me feel like I was the only one counting.”

“Mm-mm.” Prompto shakes his head and slides a little closer. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“What?” Noctis lifts his head like Prompto shocked him. “No, it’s…” He looks back down to the photographs reflecting glossily in the light. “I love it, Prom.”

Prompto’s heart skips a beat. “Really?”

Noctis nods. “I…” He looks back down and carefully sets the frame down before turning back to Prompto. “Yeah.” He cups Prompto’s face between his hands.

Noctis’ eyes look black in the dim light. “Really?” Prompto’s heart feels like it’s trying to crawl through his throat.

“Yeah.” Noctis swallows and licks his lips. “I love you.” Noctis’ face is tinged pink, warm against Prompto’s.

“I…” Prompto squeezes his eyes shut. He totally misheard, right? Except when he opens his eyes again Noctis is looking at him with a worried expression. “I love you too,” Prompto says, even though his heart in his throat makes him feel like he’s choking.

Noctis smiles. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Prom.”

“Happy Valentine’s, Noct.”