( It was a question asked for the sake of asking, something to punctuate the silence when Ignis drops to his knees and Gladiolus' brain stutters to a halt. It's probably a good thing that it does too, because it means Gladiolus' hands, his entire being, is too still to interfere. There's no attempt to pull his own trousers off, no hands clashing in an attempt to do the same thing as his trousers give way to cotton briefs stretched around muscle and flesh.
He groans, shifting and resting more of his weight against the wall, as lips find his cock through the fabric and then there are hands, warm and firm and teasing at bare skin while Gladio tries to even out suddenly very airy breaths, tries and fails not to make noise at the first touch of lips as they wrap around the head. This is everything his imagination has conjured up and more, more electric, more intoxicating and enticing.
It's effort to still his hips, to keep himself from twitching and bucking just yet, but he's been patient for so long already that he manages it. )
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He groans, shifting and resting more of his weight against the wall, as lips find his cock through the fabric and then there are hands, warm and firm and teasing at bare skin while Gladio tries to even out suddenly very airy breaths, tries and fails not to make noise at the first touch of lips as they wrap around the head. This is everything his imagination has conjured up and more, more electric, more intoxicating and enticing.
It's effort to still his hips, to keep himself from twitching and bucking just yet, but he's been patient for so long already that he manages it. )