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Sugar, How You Get So Fly?

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Step One: Get Ready

 

‘There are three stages to every night out,’ Prompto says, knocking each off with his fingers as he lists them, ‘get ready, get wasted, and get wrecked.’

 

‘Is there even a difference in the last two?’

 

‘Oh, trust me dude, there’s a difference.’

 

‘Also, I want you to take this shit off my face.’

 

‘No way. You lost the bet.’ Prompto goes back to gliding the eyeliner pencil underneath Noctis’ eye, smudging very slightly to create a hint of smoky eye. ‘Besides, we need to disguise you. No way can Prince Noctis get caught pulling random chicks in a nightclub, but a handsome dark stranger? He’s easy game.’ Prompto winks as if to make his point.

 

‘That is so not happening.’

 

‘Just you wait.’

 

Noctis releases a possibly premature breath of relief when Prompto drops the pencil onto the table. When the blond turns back around, he is holding two thimble glasses filled with a clear liquid that Noctis eyes warily.

 

‘Now Noct,’ he says, handing them both to Noctis who takes them blindly, ‘I’m going to need you to drink these.’

 

‘Both?’

 

Prompto is already rummaging around in his bag of tricks again, emerging with a spray can this time that he begins to cover over strips of Noctis’ hair. ‘Obviously.’

 

‘But what about you?’

 

‘Frankly, I started before I even arrived.’

 

Noctis can’t help but shoot his friend a look, eyebrows raised, quirking his mouth.

 

‘Don’t judge me. I’ve got a higher tolerance, is all.’

 

‘Of course,’ Noctis mutters, much to Prompto’s amusement.

 

Prompto finally makes his big reveal, backing away so Noctis can see himself in the wall mirror. Noctis blinks a few times, amazed, because it’s him, and yet, it’s also not. The eyeliner emphasizes new lines of his face, the style of his hair casting unusual shadows over his eyes. White streaks of temporary dye cut across the black, a weakened chalk but enough to distract from the usually stark colour. His loose shirt hangs off his neck, top buttons open to tease the edge of collarbones and skin beneath.

 

A slap on the back from Prompto jerks him out of his revere. The blond gestures to the drinks still in his hands. ‘Now sit back, think of Lucis and down ‘em.’ When Noctis does the burning triggers a burst of coughing and spluttering that leaves Prompto in hysterics. ‘You are in for a wild ride.’

 

Step Two: Get Wasted

 

‘What do you want?’

 

Noctis glances over at two men stood just up from them at the bar. ‘Whatever they’re having, I guess.’

 

‘You want a beer?’

 

From the look Prompto is giving him, Noctis feels like this is the wrong answer, but he says, ‘Yes?’ anyway.

 

Prompto concedes and turns to the waiting barmaid. ‘Can I get a Budweiser and a Sex on the Beach.’ Noctis splutters, but both the blond and the barmaid are unflustered so he thinks maybe he misheard. Prompto laughs, throwing an arm over his friend’s shoulders. ‘You have much to learn my young padawan.’

 

Once they are back at a table, having jostled their way through the crowds, Prompto slams a bottle of golden, fizzy liquid down in front of Noctis. He thinks his choice is a fine one until he sees Prompto settle opposite, an entire jug of something orange and icy in his hand, three straws already in his mouth, sucking.

 

Prompto raises his eyebrows and nods towards Noctis’ own drink. He wraps his hand around the glass, condensation cooling on his fingers, and takes a sip. The taste is bitter, nothing like the burning of the shots, but not exactly enjoyable. Except Prompto is watching, and so he drinks on, forcing himself to swallow the foamy liquid.

 

His acting skills must not be quite up to par, because he can tell from the creases at his eyes that Prompto is laughing. Rather than concede, he breaks their silence. ‘So this is a nightclub, huh?’

 

Now Prompto laughs out loud, throwing his head back in a movement that is even more enthusiastic than usual, which is saying a lot. ‘No, Noct. This is a bar. Step two, remember? The nightclub comes in step three.’

 

‘Of course. Silly me for not knowing that piece of valuable information.’

 

‘My, my. You have lived a sheltered life.’

 

‘I’m a fucking prince, remembgrh – ’

 

Shhhhhh,’ Prompto hisses, hand pressing against Noctis’ mouth, glaring. ‘You’re meant to be undercover.’

 

There is a moment of stagnant glaring, neither willing to give in, and then deep inside the slowly hazing mind of prince Noctis, the sensible thing to do is suddenly to bite Prompto’s hand. Not hard, just… teasingly. A nip, really. And if he is honest with himself, Prompto doesn’t jerk his hand away like he should, like Noctis is probably intending, but holds Noctis’ gaze, something warm shooting down through his body. And then Noctis licks, and his hand darts away, because if he lets it go much further there is no knowing where he’ll want it to end up.

 

He expects Noctis to cringe away, retrospectively awkward and embarrassed, but instead the fucker smirks, taking a suave sip of his beer. The whole image is ruined when he winces at the taste and Prompto, finally, is free enough from his distraction to laugh.

 

‘You wanna try sex on the beach, Noct?’

 

And now Noctis splutters, awkward, replying with, ‘the drink. I want to try the drink.’

 

Only three jugs each later, and when Prompto asks the very same question, Noctis leans closer to him, still sucking at the icy remnants of his last jug, and mouths, ‘I want it bad.’ They laugh for a solid two minutes before Prompto is capable of standing up to go to the bar.

 

This time when Prompto returns, he punctuates his arrival with a calling of, ‘DOWN IT.’

 

Noctis looks between the jug of very alcoholic juice and Prompto’s grinning face. But then an idea occurs to him, thinking anything is better than having to watch the insane way Prompto mouths at his straw, tongue darting out occasionally, for another whole drink. ‘Fine. But you too.’

 

‘Challenge. Accepted.’

 

Ignoring the streams that spill out and down their chin, dribbling onto the dark fabrics of their clothing, the two men gulp down their entire drinks. While Noctis takes a few attempts, he can’t help but be amazed by Prompto’s skill, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows the whole in one. In doing so, he finishes first and watches his friend struggle with the last remnants. He still cheers when Noctis finishes, slapping his hands on the table.

 

‘Alright. Get up!’

 

Noctis stands immediately, only stumbling a little. A very, very little he swears to the post behind him that he now leans upon. Which definitely wasn’t there before. Honestly, it wasn’t.

 

‘Why am I standing up?’ he whispers.

 

‘It is time,’ Prompto says, swiping a thumb at the juice still on his chin, ‘for step three.’

 

As the two walk out Noctis definitely does not watch Prompto suck said thumb into his mouth, tongue swiping off the juice. And he definitely, definitely doesn’t replay the whole moment three times in his head. Honestly, he doesn’t.

 

Step Three: Get Wrecked

 

There are a lot of lights. And it’s really, really loud.

 

Noctis knows that Prompto is somewhere in this mess of people, but if someone walked up to him right now, took his shoulders and demanded to know where the blond was, he honestly couldn’t say. There are a lot of people, all swaying and grinding, grinning and smirking. Noctis’ main fear had been the dancing – he was awkward at the best of times, let alone in front of so many people – but here, now, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even need to think, he just moves.

 

He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – and sees blond hair, his blond boy, right beside him, of course because in what world would he ever willingly leave Prompto’s side? Only Prompto is sparing no attention for him, body wrapped around that of a petite brunette, her back to his front, eyes watching his hands slide over her hips. They’re dancing in time with the music, pressed close with hips together.

 

Noctis feels like he should look away and give them some semblance of privacy, but he can’t. He’s captivated, and there’s the surface level of his mind, desperately trying to cling on to sense in the wake of alcohol, defending himself with the excuse that the girl is really hot. But every other part of him is caught on Prompto: the sweat shining on his skin, the fall of his hair over his lidded eyes, the space where his top has ridden up on his hips, the girl’s hand reaching behind to run down the skin and further, teasing the waistband of his jeans. And then his breath catches because Prompto leans down and presses his mouth to her exposed neck, tongue flashing in the laser lights as it runs up to her jaw.

 

Noctis’ brain must short circuit, because the next sight he registers is Prompto looking up, meeting his eyes, one eyebrow raised. At some point Noctis has stopped dancing. He doesn’t remember this decision. Prompto doesn’t seem concerned, only the corner of his mouth quirking revealing any kind of emotion beyond ecstasy, and he nods to the space beside Noctis. It takes the prince a couple of times to register he’s nodding to the girl at Noctis’ side, her back to him but her head turned. When Noctis looks so does she, and then before he knows it, they’re dancing together.

 

She’s soft and responsive under his hands, pressing her front against his and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her dancing is slightly out of time, but she takes the lead and Noctis could praise the gods for that because he’s got more important things to worry about.

 

Prompto has returned his focus to his own partner, eyes roaming along her body, until he must feel someone watching him and his gaze flickers up to meet that of Noctis. This time he full on smirks, obviously tightening his grip on the girl and pulling her closer to his body. She throws her head back into his neck in response. At the same time, Noctis feels the girl he is dancing with press her lips to his neck. Somehow in time with one another, Prompto drags his girl around into a sloppy open mouthed kiss, eyes still open on Noctis, as the girl on his neck bites, just a little, and Noctis loses it, mouth falling open with a gasp.

 

With his hands wandering and mouth still moving against the girl’s, Prompto keeps his eyes trained on Noctis, a cheeky tilt to them, daring and demanding him to watch. Not that it matters because Noctis couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

 

The girl on his neck takes his reaction as a positive and sucks lightly at the skin. Instinctively, Noctis tightens his hands on her waist, pulling their hips together. At this Prompto releases from his kiss and grins. His eyes glance between the pair, tongue darting out to run along his upper lip in some sort of hint. Rather than have the desired reaction of convincing Noctis to press his mouth to hers, the encouragement shocks Noctis’ mind into a different image, one where he catches that tongue in his mouth and runs his hand down that very flat chest.

 

He runs.

 

By the time Prompto catches up to him he is at the bar and has another drink arriving in his hand. ‘What the hell, man?’

 

‘Oh, hey, you…’ Noctis thinks his voice sounds strange, too drawn out. He flexes his jaw a few times to try and fix it. Conveniently, this issue also distracts him from looking at a very disheveled blond beside him.

 

‘She was right there. I was showing you what to do and everything!’

 

‘Ah, so that’s what you were doing.’

 

Prompto frowns, crease falling between his eyebrows. ‘Well, yeah.’

 

‘So getting wrecked is getting laid?’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Step three: get wrecked. It’s getting laid?’

 

Prompto opens his mouth to answer, one finger in the air, but pauses, faltering. ‘Well, no. Getting wrecked is just, you know, tipping over the edge.’ Noctis eyes Prompto’s hands that are desperately trying to demonstrate his words. ‘Getting to a point past wasted where the world is totally whatever, y’know? It’s just like, yeah, I’ll tap that. Whatever.’ He pokes a finger into Noctis’ chest and the other moves with the weak force of it. ‘Whatever.’

 

‘So there really isn’t much difference between step two and three?’

 

‘In my head I was speaking of step three and four together, okay.’

 

‘Step four?’

 

‘Okay, so, don’t hate me for not saying. There’s a step four.’

 

Noctis just… waits.

 

‘Step three is sort of, uh, a gateway step. Not everyone makes it past it, y’know. And there is nothing wrong with that! Except for you. You’re the exception. Don’t give me that face; because I say so dammit. Step four must be obvious? Get ready, get wasted, get wrecked, get fucked. Y’know, get balls deep in the hottest thing you can find on two legs. And do not quote me on that in the morning. I like to think I am a very respectable gentleman.’

 

‘I can’t just fuck some random person, Prom.’

 

‘Okay… fair. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun.’

 

‘So that’s all this is? Fun?’

 

‘Damn right, panda eyes.’

 

‘The eyeliner is totally your fault.’

 

‘It’s fucking hot, man. I’ll take all responsibility for that. Now let’s go.’

 

Prompto grabs Noctis’ wrist and is already turning back towards the dance floor when he gets yanked back. Suddenly, Noctis is very close, head ducking to the shorter boy’s level. ‘The hottest thing on two legs, right?’

 

‘Now you’re getting the hang of it.’

 

And then they’re back in the thick of it. Either the girls are gone or they’re in a different place entirely, but neither boy is particularly bothered. Prompto throws himself back into the rhythm, catching up with the beat of the song even though they have missed the first half. He glances around at the crowd, watching out for another pull. Distantly, Noctis wonders how he become so good at it, so natural, but the thought sends a stab of jealousy through him that he’d rather not think too much about. The idea of it is different when Noctis isn’t there to watch.

 

Prompto is still looking, with more intention now having given Noctis the little pep talk. He is so distracted that it comes as a surprise, the feeling of hands slipping around his hips, gripping them with an unfamiliar amount of strength. When he looks up, it’s to find Noctis, smirking, eyes lidded.

 

Noctis pulls their hips together and Prompto instinctively brings his arms up around Noctis’ neck. He lowers his mouth to Prompto’s ear, letting his lips brush against skin, and says, again, ‘the hottest thing on two legs, right?’

 

Step Four: Get Fucked

 

Prompto swears this was not his intention upon planning this night. But, well, he wouldn’t say he was disappointed with the turn of events. Noctis really had been paying attention during Prompto’s earlier lesson, and at least this way those lessons weren’t going to go to waste. He thinks that, in fact, perhaps this is the most effective use for them.

 

It’s the bite moment from the bar all over again. It’s Noctis saying I want it bad. It’s the gasp, the flush of skin, as he got Noctis off with his eyes and his imagination earlier. Because, really, lessons? Absolute bullshit.

 

There’s the bass of the music and the flashing of the lights and Noctis’ tongue inside his mouth, teeth nipping at his lips. There are his hands in Noctis’ hair, and Noctis’ hands underneath his shirt, nudging at his waistband. There’s nothing but this, and heat, and desperate breaths between kisses. Noctis presses his mouth at Prompto’s neck this time, and Prompto is the one throwing his head back, hands clenching as Noctis bites and sucks without warning. And then Prompto tugs Noctis back up, bringing their mouths together in a distracted brushing of lips, and without thinking about it too much he says, ‘your place.’

 

Noctis can’t answer, all air sucked from his lungs at the sudden image of this – them – somewhere private, and, in his head, wearing a lot less clothing. So he doesn’t answer, just grabs Prompto’s hand and drags him towards the exit.

 

They’re still dressed in the taxi, they’re still dressed when they get in the elevator of the apartment building… they’re a lot less dressed when they get out. With the ding of the bell announcing their arrival at the fifth floor, Noctis jumps back from Prompto, but the other stays pressed against the mirror of the elevator’s back wall, bare chest reflected in the other mirrored walls around them. Noctis makes to start picking up their discarded jackets and Prompto’s top, but Prompto yanks him back by the lapels of his open shirt, one hand holding him closer as the other runs down the exposed skin. He thinks Noctis is the one who goes back in for the kiss, but he couldn’t say for sure, they’re just there again, his legs wrapped around Noctis’ waist as the other holds him up by the thighs.

 

The ding sounds again and the doors begin to shut. Noctis has the presence of mind to reach one hand over and slap randomly at the buttons until he hits the one to open the doors again. He stumbles out of the doors with Prompto still latched around his waist, damn the clothes. They can buy new ones.

 

He makes it to the door of his apartment and decides that’s far enough, pressing Prompto against the wood, hips jerking forward. Prompto can’t help but throw his head back then, releasing the kiss, because the friction is amazing. Noctis brings his hands up to Prompto’s ass, pulling his body into a grinding rhythm and latching his mouth onto the blond’s neck.

 

Clutching at the fabric of Noctis’ shirt, Prompto gasps, ‘inside.’

 

Noctis releases Prompto’s legs and the other climbs down. He doesn’t waste time bemoaning Prompto’s order but focuses on getting the keys out of his pocket and shoving them into the lock. Prompto mouths at Noctis jaw in the meanwhile, skin catching on the lightest, almost invisible roughness of stubble.

 

Finally, Noctis throws the door open and Prompto falls through, hands still latched onto the other. They stumble as Noctis kicks the door closed behind them, dropping the keys onto the wooden floor with a clatter.

 

Noctis presses Prompto up against the far wall, their bodies flush together as he pulls the other into heady kisses, hands cupping the blond's face. Prompto fumbles with his shirt and has it off in record time, mouth sliding down his throat to latch onto the slightest bruise left by the girl from the club. He makes serious work of it, biting hard enough to make Noctis wince yet still Noctis drags him closer, the shock sending jolts right to his groin.

 

The clatter of a belt buckle opening is lost to Prompto until he feels Noctis’ hand inside his jeans, pressing against his crotch through the fabric of his underwear. Prompto gasps against Noctis’ skin. Although his movements are fumbling and disjointed, with the blond’s help Noctis manages to pull Prompto’s clothes down to his thighs, taking his cock in his hand with a solid stroke. Prompto clenches his hands on Noctis’ shoulders, hips twitching forward.

 

‘I want to see you,’ whispers Noctis, nudging Prompto’s head back so it falls against the wall. The blond can just about drag his eyes open to meet Noctis’ smirk, a gasp stuttering from his throat as Noctis drags his hand along Prompto’s dick. Noctis takes the opportunity to capture the mouth in a kiss, tongue slipping inside and curling lazily against Prompto’s.

 

After a few torturous strokes Prompto pushes Noctis away. The other is confused for the shortest moment, and then Prompto is dropping to his knees and he can’t believe the sight.

 

Prompto is focused on Noctis’ jeans, undoing the button and yanking the zipper open, pulling the underwear down enough to release Noctis’ hard cock. And Noctis’ brain short circuits again because the sight is obscene, Prompto stretching his mouth around the head, sliding down the tiniest bit and sucking. Noctis gasps, one hand reaching out for balance against the wall while the other slides into Prompto’s hair, grasping for some sort of hold.

 

Prompto, the tease that he is, lets Noctis’ dick slide from his lips and starts to mouth at his length, tongue running along the side. Noctis lets forth an unintentional whine and Prompto glances up, grinning wickedly. This time Prompto takes him deep, humming, choking slightly when Noctis jerks forward. He wraps his hands around Noctis’ hips and encourages the slightest rhythm, working with his mouth while Noctis grinds his hips forward, gasping and moaning with every drag.

 

Somewhere along the way, Noctis losing himself in sensation, he notices one of Prompto’s hands down at his own dick, jerking himself off to the rhythm of Noctis fucking into his mouth – at least, matching as much as he can with Noctis’ movement growing erratic as he gets closer. A noise, half moan half laugh, from Noctis and then him gasping, ‘you’re fucking loving this, aren’t you.’

 

As an answer Prompto breaks the rhythm, humming as he takes Noctis as deep as he can. The vibrations send shocks through every nerve ending, stripping his lungs of breath. It’s all Noctis can do not to yell out, hand clutching at Prompto’s hair as he comes, Prompto carrying him through his orgasm and swallowing.

 

There’s a beat of frozen bliss, Noctis surrounded by a buzzing haze as his hand goes limp in Prompto’s hair. He opens his eyes to see Prompto still on the floor, leaning back against the wall, mouth hanging open and hand still working at his cock.

 

Nocits tugs at his hair, demanding Prompto to look up at him. ‘Let me watch.’

 

Prompto grins, pausing his movements as he pulls himself to his feet, collapsing back against the wall as early as he can. Noctis presses his hands either side of Prompto’s head, eyes caught between the movements at his dick where he jerks himself off and the heavy lidded ecstasy on his face, teeth biting at his bottom lip. He allows the struggling battle of his attention for only a few moments before he slaps Prompto’s hand to the side, taking the blond’s cock in his hand and tugging hard and fast, squeezing at the head, leaving Prompto a gasping mess.

 

Prompto’s hands hold on to Noctis’ shoulders, fingernails digging into skin with his desperate grip. Noctis’ eyes are trained on Prompto’s expression, registering every gasp and unstoppable moan, so he can see when the is edge coming. When it does he drags Prompto into a heady, open-mouthed kiss, swallowing the moan that follows the release of come into his hand. Noctis works him through, their kiss settling into something slow and lazy as Prompto goes limp against him.

 

Noctis wipes the mess against his jeans, mindless, caring only for their hazy buzz, foreheads pressed together and lips still brushing. He tries to speak but it comes out as nothing but a croak, so he clears his throat, and tries again. His voice is still rough, but sort of soft, and it takes Prompto a moment to really register what he says. ‘At what step do I get to sleep?’

 

Prompto just laughs.

 

Step Five: Get Meds

 

Despite collapsing into the same bed, wrapping up in the same sheets, skin to skin, lazy smiles and lazy kisses punctuating their drift into dizzy, alcohol induced sleep, neither think to close the curtains.

 

And in the morning, when Noctis opens his eyes to literal pain, he moans, loudly, and not in a good way. His head kills, his mouth feels like a desert, and every movement shifts his stomach in such a way that he is certain he could throw up at any moment.

 

‘I hate you,’ Noctis mutters.

 

Prompto grunts.

 

‘This is all your fault.’

 

Again, just a grunt.

 

‘Close the curtains.’

 

‘Go fuck yourself,’ the blond mumbles into the pillow covering his face.

 

‘Don’t have to if you’re here.’

 

There’s a pause, then Prompto shifts, sliding the pillow down and squinting at Noctis through the brightness. ‘Yeah, alright.’

 

They both move in synchronization, first leaning towards one another, as eager as they can be in their sleepy minds, and then they seem to hit the same wall, collapsing down into groans. ‘How about,’ Prompto says through gasps, ‘we wait until we aren’t dying.’

 

‘Genius,’ Noctis mutters, burying himself back beneath quilts and pillows, clenching his eyes shut to try and stop the world from spinning around him.