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( He could count the number of times they'd almost gone further but never made it. Every time they fall into this leaves its mark on Gladio, has him retreating to his room and locking the door because not even a cold shower can properly extinguish the flames Ignis' mouth sparks within him.
But he's patient nonetheless, never pushing. They have duties to fulfil and these sorts of pleasures will always have to take a backseat to training, to serving the crown and their prince. That's what he tells himself each time Ignis pulls away and shakes his head: it's fine, because they have work to be doing. They can't afford distractions.
Sometimes, though, when it gets to be too much to walk through corridors with the casual acknowledgement of coworkers and friends, when his eyes have wandered again and again to soft lips and a bare throat, this happens. His hands find hair and fabric, his lips find Ignis', find his jaw and throat with gentle nips of teeth as they stumble into the bedroom. Right now, he isn't even thinking of further, only of the taste of Ignis' mouth each time their lips crash together, the noises he makes when Gladio's teeth tease the hollows of his neck.
He doesn't get much chance to think of further either, because it comes to him in the slam of his back against the door, the groans of pleasure which leave his lips as Ignis trails kisses and fingers down his chest and--
Oh.
Gods-
Eyes widen and blink, mouth caught slightly open as his brain catches up with processing just what he's seeing, and gods that is an image he's dreamt up a million times already but in real life... it's something else. )
You sure?
( It's a daft question and he knows it the second it falls from his mouth. Ignis never does anything if he's not sure. )
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