( Your standards for romantic settings also drop considerably when the world is plunged into constant darkness and monsters destroy most everything they can lay their demonic little paws on.
But we digress, because this is hardly a romance, is it?
Soft noises and a restless, squirming body under him drown out anything else, any doubts, any lingering issues, in favour of the use of tongue and hands and—
Gods. He's simply too much like this, too hot, too beautiful, each breath and groaned word wraps around Gladiolus and refuses to let him go, pulling him deeper into the abyss of his feelings for this man. Noises leave Gladiolus as that gentle hand encourages each movement down, moans rolling against the back of his throat when the head of Ignis' cock meets it. He holds himself there, working his tongue slowly against the underside of Ignis' cock, eyes casting a glance upwards as another finger slides inside.
Don't stop — as though he ever could, as though he isn't addicted to each soft noise Ignis makes, or each twitch of his muscles. )
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