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( all glory to the cup noodle. ) (

manscaping) wrote in

banebu on July 19th, 2018 at 08:12 pm

( Perhaps, as racked and exhausted by their last session as they are, the lube is unnecessary. The fingers too. But Gladiolus has found a second wind in these confessions, a fire stoked that makes him want to do this entire dance, every step that leads up to it. Hands cling to him and for once he feels them for more than just the need of the physical act or the need to forget. They're warm and solid and as reassuring as the words pressed into his lips, and Gladio exhales as his fingers slide in deep, slow and even thrusts in time with each kiss and nip of teeth.

He has loved this man for longer than he can truly pinpoint, from days in the Citadel pressed against the wall, always holding back for the sake of Ignis' comfort. Always being patient because they'd too many responsibilities as teenagers to get tangled up in feelings the way they are now. He's loved him through days on the road, sleeping in tents surrounded by glowing light that keeps daemons away or in motels they all secretly complained about because they were twenty years old and grew up in the lap of luxury. Loved him through the wreckage of Altissia and the stumbling blindness, right up until this moment.

Perhaps they have more responsibilities than their teenage selves did. Perhaps the tent seems like luxury and the motels even more so. And perhaps Ignis moves as though his sight still exists, flawless and elegant, but Gladiolus is too tired and has aged too much in this world to let the one spark of light in a world of permanent night be extinguished by holding it too tightly in his chest. He loves Ignis, and he always will. That is the one thing the Starscourge cannot change. )

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