( There's unspoken agreements between all of them - Prompto, Iris, Ignis and himself - about how this works. About signals and signs - Prompto tends to offer, Iris too, but Gladiolus trusts that Ignis will find him if he needs the assistance. So, when fingers find his elbow and then his jacket, Gladio pauses just long enough to reassure his friend that he won't simply run off, that he's ready and willing whatever, whenever.
(But surely, by now, Ignis knows that. Knows that Gladio is all but putty in his hands if he smiles right or adds the worst pun to a conversation.)
He lets out a soft huff of a chuckle, fingers brushing the hand on his arm before he starts them off towards the Leville, one of the landmarks of Lestallum which has remained mostly untouched by the way this darkness has decayed their lands. The guy at the front desk doesn't even ask what they want, simply holds out a key to Gladiolus which is snatched up quickly. They don't exactly have the luxury of choice when this place has to house every travelling hunter, fighter, even refugee in Eos. )
Here we are.
( Standing outside a door several floors up which sings out a history Gladiolus can't forget. The exact room they had the very first time they came here, when relief flooded his bones that Iris, Talcott and Hester, at least, were safe.
Then the Empire came for the Amicitia's butler, and Talcott become yet another orphan of a war which would grow into this.
But this is what they've been offered, and this is what they'll take. )
[Gladio has always been there as a steady, ever-present rock of reliability in Ignis' life. He has always known that should he ever reach out his hand, fumbling for support, Gladiolus would be right there. The man has never let him down before.
He doesn't need to be led. Ignis knows the way to the hotel from where he was sat like the back of his own hand, but he keeps his fingers curled into the fabric of Gladio's jacket while they walk side by side, making soft and idle small-talk about the current state of the world and what Iris is up to these days. It does Ignis good to hear about her. She always tries to help him just that little bit too much, but he never speaks unkindly to her about it - she's just trying to help.
Their path through the Leville feels strangely familiar, though he can't put his finger on why until they reach the door. His breath in as he realises is short, audible, and he presses his fingertips to the frame as a flood of memories return.
Gods. Why did it have to be this room?]
Here we are. [He echoes, his hand finally relinquishing its grip, sliding lightly down Gladio's arm, and he laces their fingers loosely together to tug the taller man down towards a soft, careful kiss against the corner of his mouth.]
( The small talk is a pleasant comfort, a balm that makes it a little easier to step through the doors of this room. He doesn't need to say where they are, does he? He can tell that in the soft breath and the way Ignis' fingertips grab onto the door frame, the tone that's there when he speaks.
Even the way he pulls Gladiolus in for a kiss. But Gladiolus doesn't resist, doesn't object. Doesn't want to. He never has, rare as Ignis making the first move is, Six knows he's a sucker for those moments. For Ignis himself. Making himself content with the rare moments spent together behind closed doors, with the fleeting hours he gets before Ignis leaves.
His tongue brushes Ignis' lip lightly, hand snaking around his waist and resting at the small of his back, pulling him away from the door, from the wall, as if being in an empty space instead of against parts of this room will make it easier to forget the memories they already have here. )
[Most of the time, it's Gladio pulling him into these moments, stealing a kiss or a touch that stokes the embers under Ignis' desire for him. But sometimes... Sometimes, it's Ignis who reaches out, and right now it's for the sake of forgetting where they are and the memories attached to this space. If they have to be here... then new experiences can override the old ones.
Ignis' feelings for Gladio have always been complicated, in his mind, only made more so by his constant compartmentalising of them. When they're not together, not alone, he tucks them away and shuts them down tight, only letting Gladio see that he means anything to him when there's no one else around.
He knows, in his heart, that it can't be easy. He knows he could make it easier in so many ways, but...
The space around him disappears with only Gladio to hold on to. He leans up, leans into the kiss, grips gently at the other man's shirt and presses in close.]
I want you. [He murmurs. He isn't sure what he wants yet, but gods, he wants something. Something to help him forget the state of the world and how it's crumbling around them. Something to help him forget the fighting, the nightmares, the way the scars on his face still sometimes sting enough to make him wince.
The only thing, the only person he wants to be able to remember is right here.]
( Rarely, but enough that it helps Gladio to forget what goes on after all this is said and done. Gives him a little bit of hope, and right now - in this world that's trapped in sleep, waiting for their king to return - he needs every bit of hope he can find.
(Unfortunately for Gladiolus, it's all trapped in a crystal and a man with a tendency to disappear like the light did from the sky.)
And now? Gods only know they both need it. This room can be shouldered, can be endured, but gods it is so much easier when Ignis' lips are distracting him, when his body is a familiar thing to rediscover and he's whispering those words.
Gladiolus grunts, skips the sweet nothings he could murmur in response, and presses another kiss to Ignis' mouth, his fingers finding a way between their bodies to run between buttons and unhook them without the slightest attempts at elegance or patience. Let them forget, let this whole cursed room slip away and become a backdrop for noise and movement, but he does not have the patience to sit and tease right now. )
[If someone stopped him and asked... if someone stopped and asked him 'so, hey, what's with you and Gladio?', Ignis wouldn't know how to answer. He's sure he knew what he wanted out of this at one point, but now? Now it's the closeness and the intimacy that lets him forget everything else that's going on in the world, but he doesn't know what to make of it beyond that.
So, he disappears. He vanishes after each time they meet like this and it's not fair, it isn't right, but after they've cooled off and his mind rights itself, thoughts creeping back in, he brushes his fingers across the back of Gladio's hand before he leaves him. Sometimes he's sleeping, and sometimes he feels those liquid amber eyes burning into his back, but he always leaves.
And yet... Gladio never mentions it. Never argues. It never becomes a fight, and every time they meet again, he's taken back into strong arms and pulled to a warm, broad chest and he can fool himself that he's safe again, while he's there.
Ignis' breath hitches in his chest now, Gladio's fingers trailing fire and his own fingers bumping forearms and wrists and finding buttons to pull open. Sometimes they tease. Sometimes the feelings that he feels towards this man flicker into fire in his chest and swell upwards, almost making it out. Sometimes, like now, they're all hands and heavy breaths and it's different, more primal.
It's what they both need.
He shoves Gladio's jacket off his shoulders, digging his fingernails in. Half of his own clothes have already fallen to Gladio's hands and the flush of arousal rises through him so swiftly that he feels his chest tighten.]
Gods-- [Ignis mutters, half muffled against Gladio's mouth, the line of his jaw, the tensed curve of his throat.
( He hates it, it's true. But everyone has a weakness, and Gladio knows, as sure as he knows how to swing a sword, that Ignis is his. He will always allow Ignis things he would never accept from anyone else. He lets him go with memories of being a teenager too wrapped up in duty and training to find the time for more than messy makeouts in dark corners of the castle, justifies it once again. He can wait, like he waited until Ignis decided he was ready to drop to his knees and take his cock in his mouth.
Like he's waited since.
Until this moment, and those words strike so sharply Gladiolus almost thinks he's misheard it, almost believes his own desires are overriding his perception of reality, the knot of want in his gut so strong from fingers digging into his shoulders and lips against his, trailing down his jaw and neck, that it takes a moment for him to realise that the ghost of the words against his skin really was-
Fuck, he didn't think two simple words could be so hot, but here they are, wrapping around him like a spell and all Gladiolus can think to say is; )
Alright.
( But not here, in the middle of the floor, or against the wall with nothing to make things easier. His fingers curl into the curve of Ignis' ass, a brief squeeze all the forewarning Ignis gets before he finds the right purchase to lift the other man up off the floor and stumble blindly towards the bed, too wrapped up in pressing kisses to Ignis' mouth to check where he's walking and it's only hitting his calf against the foot of the bed that gives him his location. )
[Gladio's patience always pays off, eventually. Building a trust and comfort between them has taken time, and Ignis has always held back just that little bit of himself... perhaps in the hopes that he could avoid being entirely taken in by his feelings for this man.
The wish had come out so naturally, so easily that he doesn't second guess it. No, he wants this, and he wants it now and with this man who has done everything to earn it but has never demanded anything. He shifts under Gladio's hands and then gasps, holding tight to his shoulders as his feet leave the floor. It occurs to Ignis to say Gladio might have warned him, but he's too caught up in the messy kisses pressed to his mouth and returning them just as eagerly.
If they're to make new memories in this room, Ignis could think of worse things to do.
He pushes a hand into the man's hair and holds his head steady against deep, firm kisses, feeling the check of Gladio's leg against the bed and huffing out a soft, breathless laugh.]
Anyone might think I'd kept you waiting... [Ignis whispers against a firm jaw, reaffirming his request in that simple, almost playful taunt. He wants this.]
( That jibe is another layer which takes him away from the memories of this room, and Gladio exhales a laugh against the very edge of Ignis' cheek, more air than noise before ever so carefully depositing him on the mattress, pressing kisses to the edge of Ignis' mouth, his lower lip, his jaw, as he pushes him onto his back.
He has definitely waited. Pushed the thoughts aside again and again and accepted what he was given, but gods he has wished for this day. Not here, and not now, but - like the room itself - in an Eos covered in darkness, he knows better than to keep waiting for the right moment.
How many men and women have gone to their deaths - to something worse than their deaths - saying they're waiting for "the right time" to make something happen? So many that Gladiolus has lost count, and whatever he may say about having to stay alive until Noctis returns, he knows in the deepest parts of him, down in his bones, that every trip out carries the risk he won't return.
So it's here, in this room, on this night, after some questionable alcohol, that it happens. That his hands trip a path down to Ignis' trousers, his lips following, teeth nipping at bare skin, over scars old and new, before he pushes yet more useless fabric out of the way and wraps his hand around the length of Ignis' cock, tongue and lips a slow, teasing dance that contrasts starkly with every movement up to now. )
[It was the intention of it, and more of a segue into the easy way that they always seem to fall together. Maybe it's the alcohol, and maybe Gladio should think twice about this but Ignis is not - he's made his choice, and he's never wanted anything as badly as he wants this. There's only so long that you can wait for just the right moment.
Ignis sighs out a breath, slow and steady as hands wander down his body, as fabric is pushed aside and he groans softly when his cock is touched. Gladio knows just the right ways to make him squirm, just as he does in turn, talents earned through years of slowly learning one another's bodies.]
Mm... [He murmurs, his eyes fluttering closed and lips parting in another sigh wrapped around a satisfied-sounding hum of pleasure.] Six, I missed you...
[It isn't often he lets his emotions slip, not even for something so simple, but it feels like it matters right now and it comes out easily as his fingertips find Gladio's hair and work their way into it.]
( Murmured with amusement before he takes Ignis into his mouth, the words a far better choice than the bitter echo in the back of his mind - Me? Or this? It's a problem he wants to ignore for the time being in favour of the present. In favour of something that has been wanted but suppressed for so goddamn long. He wants this - no, he wants Ignis - more than he wants to argue or confront, for years upon years now. He waits, and cites duty as much as Ignis does, but gods, the constant leaving of things behind closed doors, the pretending he doesn't want to grab and kiss the man, it all makes facing the Blademaster seem like a fond memory. A picnic, really.
So for now, he silences his heart and mouth with action, with a writhing tongue and the bobbing of his head as his fingers trace across warm skin and muscle, teasing the inside of Ignis' thighs and further up, gently stroking the pads of his fingertips against his entrance. )
H--ah... [The soft sound of amusement he might have made is cut off by a quiet gasp of pleasure, a jolt of electric sensation up his spine. Does he miss this, or Gladio..? It wouldn't be an easy question to answer, but he would venture to say that it was both... or that he misses both things for their own reasons.
Ignis' arches slightly back, his fingers curling tight into the bedsheets as his breathing catches in his throat and hitches into unsteady panting. Is it the alcohol? Gods-- Is it? His head rolls to one side and he groans, twitching against the touch of fingers between his thighs.]
Fuck that's a good point. He doesn't exactly walk around with any on him, considering how unlikely this entire situation was. There's a hum around Ignis' cock in response, a grunt as he pushes himself up and glances towards the bedside table.
Okay, so it ain't exactly the most romantic thing in the world to check the hotel's bedside table for convenient lube, but they're not exactly in the sort of situation that afford them the luxury of true romance. )
Hold on--
( There's the definite sound of him leaning over, opening the drawer and rifling around before Gladiolus lets out a soft huff of victory. They're certainly not going to be the first people to use this place for hooking up, it's just fortunate that the people running this hotel figured that out. )
Gotcha covered.
( And thank the Six, because he is not losing this chance. Not if he can help it.
Quickly, Gladiolus slicks his fingers with the substance, sliding back into place and teasing one finger inside slowly as his tongue traces the length of Ignis' cock, slow and steady despite everything. )
[Well thank the Six for Gladio's ingenuity, because the last thing Ignis needs right now is enough time to overthink what they're about to do. To most, this would be the least romantic setting imaginable, but... Ignis doesn't think he minds it all that much.
Besides, your standards for romantic settings drop considerably when you can no longer see them.
His breathing shudders audibly, the sensation of Gladio's fingers pushing into him not an unusual one at this stage, but tinged with the unfamiliar promise of more. He brushes his fingers against the back of his bedmate's head, tangling them loosely in his hair and not holding him there as much as lightly encouraging everything he does.
Ignis' hips shift restlessly against every press inside, against every twitch of pleasure that Gladio's tongue provokes down the length of his cock, and he grips the sheets hard with his free hand, twisting them up slightly between his fingers. It adds to the fuzzy warmth of the alcohol already buzzing through his system to create a heady mixture of intoxication and arousal, and a simple, honest desire for the other man.
( 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. )
[Ignis hisses out something that sounds oh so very much like 'fuck' but could well have been an entirely incoherent sound of pleasure at that second finger, tensing against it only briefly before he relaxes to all-too-willingly allow the intrusion. Everything between his hips throbs steadily with pleasure, tinged only slightly with the faint sting of being stretched but gods, he can cope with that for the sake of the rest of it.
His jaw clenches, a subtle resistance to the sensations threatening to overwhelm him entirely. It's no further than they've been before, not yet - how many times could Ignis say he'd been brought to the brink of pleasure and beyond by Gladiolus' deft hands and clever mouth - but it's the knowledge of something more to come that pushes him higher.]
Gladio-- [The name comes gasped out, a light tug against the back of his head almost like a warning. He isn't so inexperienced now as to climax after a few minutes of this, but he knows that if it lasts much longer...]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
manscaping) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
banebu2018-06-18 11:00 pm
no subject
( There's unspoken agreements between all of them - Prompto, Iris, Ignis and himself - about how this works. About signals and signs - Prompto tends to offer, Iris too, but Gladiolus trusts that Ignis will find him if he needs the assistance. So, when fingers find his elbow and then his jacket, Gladio pauses just long enough to reassure his friend that he won't simply run off, that he's ready and willing whatever, whenever.
(But surely, by now, Ignis knows that. Knows that Gladio is all but putty in his hands if he smiles right or adds the worst pun to a conversation.)
He lets out a soft huff of a chuckle, fingers brushing the hand on his arm before he starts them off towards the Leville, one of the landmarks of Lestallum which has remained mostly untouched by the way this darkness has decayed their lands. The guy at the front desk doesn't even ask what they want, simply holds out a key to Gladiolus which is snatched up quickly. They don't exactly have the luxury of choice when this place has to house every travelling hunter, fighter, even refugee in Eos. )
Here we are.
( Standing outside a door several floors up which sings out a history Gladiolus can't forget. The exact room they had the very first time they came here, when relief flooded his bones that Iris, Talcott and Hester, at least, were safe.
Then the Empire came for the Amicitia's butler, and Talcott become yet another orphan of a war which would grow into this.
But this is what they've been offered, and this is what they'll take. )
no subject
He doesn't need to be led. Ignis knows the way to the hotel from where he was sat like the back of his own hand, but he keeps his fingers curled into the fabric of Gladio's jacket while they walk side by side, making soft and idle small-talk about the current state of the world and what Iris is up to these days. It does Ignis good to hear about her. She always tries to help him just that little bit too much, but he never speaks unkindly to her about it - she's just trying to help.
Their path through the Leville feels strangely familiar, though he can't put his finger on why until they reach the door. His breath in as he realises is short, audible, and he presses his fingertips to the frame as a flood of memories return.
Gods. Why did it have to be this room?]
Here we are. [He echoes, his hand finally relinquishing its grip, sliding lightly down Gladio's arm, and he laces their fingers loosely together to tug the taller man down towards a soft, careful kiss against the corner of his mouth.]
no subject
Even the way he pulls Gladiolus in for a kiss. But Gladiolus doesn't resist, doesn't object. Doesn't want to. He never has, rare as Ignis making the first move is, Six knows he's a sucker for those moments. For Ignis himself. Making himself content with the rare moments spent together behind closed doors, with the fleeting hours he gets before Ignis leaves.
His tongue brushes Ignis' lip lightly, hand snaking around his waist and resting at the small of his back, pulling him away from the door, from the wall, as if being in an empty space instead of against parts of this room will make it easier to forget the memories they already have here. )
no subject
Ignis' feelings for Gladio have always been complicated, in his mind, only made more so by his constant compartmentalising of them. When they're not together, not alone, he tucks them away and shuts them down tight, only letting Gladio see that he means anything to him when there's no one else around.
He knows, in his heart, that it can't be easy. He knows he could make it easier in so many ways, but...
The space around him disappears with only Gladio to hold on to. He leans up, leans into the kiss, grips gently at the other man's shirt and presses in close.]
I want you. [He murmurs. He isn't sure what he wants yet, but gods, he wants something. Something to help him forget the state of the world and how it's crumbling around them. Something to help him forget the fighting, the nightmares, the way the scars on his face still sometimes sting enough to make him wince.
The only thing, the only person he wants to be able to remember is right here.]
no subject
(Unfortunately for Gladiolus, it's all trapped in a crystal and a man with a tendency to disappear like the light did from the sky.)
And now? Gods only know they both need it. This room can be shouldered, can be endured, but gods it is so much easier when Ignis' lips are distracting him, when his body is a familiar thing to rediscover and he's whispering those words.
Gladiolus grunts, skips the sweet nothings he could murmur in response, and presses another kiss to Ignis' mouth, his fingers finding a way between their bodies to run between buttons and unhook them without the slightest attempts at elegance or patience. Let them forget, let this whole cursed room slip away and become a backdrop for noise and movement, but he does not have the patience to sit and tease right now. )
no subject
So, he disappears. He vanishes after each time they meet like this and it's not fair, it isn't right, but after they've cooled off and his mind rights itself, thoughts creeping back in, he brushes his fingers across the back of Gladio's hand before he leaves him. Sometimes he's sleeping, and sometimes he feels those liquid amber eyes burning into his back, but he always leaves.
And yet... Gladio never mentions it. Never argues. It never becomes a fight, and every time they meet again, he's taken back into strong arms and pulled to a warm, broad chest and he can fool himself that he's safe again, while he's there.
Ignis' breath hitches in his chest now, Gladio's fingers trailing fire and his own fingers bumping forearms and wrists and finding buttons to pull open. Sometimes they tease. Sometimes the feelings that he feels towards this man flicker into fire in his chest and swell upwards, almost making it out. Sometimes, like now, they're all hands and heavy breaths and it's different, more primal.
It's what they both need.
He shoves Gladio's jacket off his shoulders, digging his fingernails in. Half of his own clothes have already fallen to Gladio's hands and the flush of arousal rises through him so swiftly that he feels his chest tighten.]
Gods-- [Ignis mutters, half muffled against Gladio's mouth, the line of his jaw, the tensed curve of his throat.
Gods...]
-- Fuck me.
no subject
Like he's waited since.
Until this moment, and those words strike so sharply Gladiolus almost thinks he's misheard it, almost believes his own desires are overriding his perception of reality, the knot of want in his gut so strong from fingers digging into his shoulders and lips against his, trailing down his jaw and neck, that it takes a moment for him to realise that the ghost of the words against his skin really was-
Fuck, he didn't think two simple words could be so hot, but here they are, wrapping around him like a spell and all Gladiolus can think to say is; )
Alright.
( But not here, in the middle of the floor, or against the wall with nothing to make things easier. His fingers curl into the curve of Ignis' ass, a brief squeeze all the forewarning Ignis gets before he finds the right purchase to lift the other man up off the floor and stumble blindly towards the bed, too wrapped up in pressing kisses to Ignis' mouth to check where he's walking and it's only hitting his calf against the foot of the bed that gives him his location. )
no subject
The wish had come out so naturally, so easily that he doesn't second guess it. No, he wants this, and he wants it now and with this man who has done everything to earn it but has never demanded anything. He shifts under Gladio's hands and then gasps, holding tight to his shoulders as his feet leave the floor. It occurs to Ignis to say Gladio might have warned him, but he's too caught up in the messy kisses pressed to his mouth and returning them just as eagerly.
If they're to make new memories in this room, Ignis could think of worse things to do.
He pushes a hand into the man's hair and holds his head steady against deep, firm kisses, feeling the check of Gladio's leg against the bed and huffing out a soft, breathless laugh.]
Anyone might think I'd kept you waiting... [Ignis whispers against a firm jaw, reaffirming his request in that simple, almost playful taunt. He wants this.]
no subject
He has definitely waited. Pushed the thoughts aside again and again and accepted what he was given, but gods he has wished for this day. Not here, and not now, but - like the room itself - in an Eos covered in darkness, he knows better than to keep waiting for the right moment.
How many men and women have gone to their deaths - to something worse than their deaths - saying they're waiting for "the right time" to make something happen? So many that Gladiolus has lost count, and whatever he may say about having to stay alive until Noctis returns, he knows in the deepest parts of him, down in his bones, that every trip out carries the risk he won't return.
So it's here, in this room, on this night, after some questionable alcohol, that it happens. That his hands trip a path down to Ignis' trousers, his lips following, teeth nipping at bare skin, over scars old and new, before he pushes yet more useless fabric out of the way and wraps his hand around the length of Ignis' cock, tongue and lips a slow, teasing dance that contrasts starkly with every movement up to now. )
no subject
Ignis sighs out a breath, slow and steady as hands wander down his body, as fabric is pushed aside and he groans softly when his cock is touched. Gladio knows just the right ways to make him squirm, just as he does in turn, talents earned through years of slowly learning one another's bodies.]
Mm... [He murmurs, his eyes fluttering closed and lips parting in another sigh wrapped around a satisfied-sounding hum of pleasure.] Six, I missed you...
[It isn't often he lets his emotions slip, not even for something so simple, but it feels like it matters right now and it comes out easily as his fingertips find Gladio's hair and work their way into it.]
no subject
( Murmured with amusement before he takes Ignis into his mouth, the words a far better choice than the bitter echo in the back of his mind - Me? Or this? It's a problem he wants to ignore for the time being in favour of the present. In favour of something that has been wanted but suppressed for so goddamn long. He wants this - no, he wants Ignis - more than he wants to argue or confront, for years upon years now. He waits, and cites duty as much as Ignis does, but gods, the constant leaving of things behind closed doors, the pretending he doesn't want to grab and kiss the man, it all makes facing the Blademaster seem like a fond memory. A picnic, really.
So for now, he silences his heart and mouth with action, with a writhing tongue and the bobbing of his head as his fingers trace across warm skin and muscle, teasing the inside of Ignis' thighs and further up, gently stroking the pads of his fingertips against his entrance. )
no subject
Ignis' arches slightly back, his fingers curling tight into the bedsheets as his breathing catches in his throat and hitches into unsteady panting. Is it the alcohol? Gods-- Is it? His head rolls to one side and he groans, twitching against the touch of fingers between his thighs.]
I want--
[He wants. Six, he wants it.]
Gladio, tell me you h... have something with you.
no subject
Fuck that's a good point. He doesn't exactly walk around with any on him, considering how unlikely this entire situation was. There's a hum around Ignis' cock in response, a grunt as he pushes himself up and glances towards the bedside table.
Okay, so it ain't exactly the most romantic thing in the world to check the hotel's bedside table for convenient lube, but they're not exactly in the sort of situation that afford them the luxury of true romance. )
Hold on--
( There's the definite sound of him leaning over, opening the drawer and rifling around before Gladiolus lets out a soft huff of victory. They're certainly not going to be the first people to use this place for hooking up, it's just fortunate that the people running this hotel figured that out. )
Gotcha covered.
( And thank the Six, because he is not losing this chance. Not if he can help it.
Quickly, Gladiolus slicks his fingers with the substance, sliding back into place and teasing one finger inside slowly as his tongue traces the length of Ignis' cock, slow and steady despite everything. )
no subject
Besides, your standards for romantic settings drop considerably when you can no longer see them.
His breathing shudders audibly, the sensation of Gladio's fingers pushing into him not an unusual one at this stage, but tinged with the unfamiliar promise of more. He brushes his fingers against the back of his bedmate's head, tangling them loosely in his hair and not holding him there as much as lightly encouraging everything he does.
Ignis' hips shift restlessly against every press inside, against every twitch of pleasure that Gladio's tongue provokes down the length of his cock, and he grips the sheets hard with his free hand, twisting them up slightly between his fingers. It adds to the fuzzy warmth of the alcohol already buzzing through his system to create a heady mixture of intoxication and arousal, and a simple, honest desire for the other man.
As if he could ever deny the reality of that.]
Ah-mm... Don't stop...
no subject
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. )
no subject
His jaw clenches, a subtle resistance to the sensations threatening to overwhelm him entirely. It's no further than they've been before, not yet - how many times could Ignis say he'd been brought to the brink of pleasure and beyond by Gladiolus' deft hands and clever mouth - but it's the knowledge of something more to come that pushes him higher.]
Gladio-- [The name comes gasped out, a light tug against the back of his head almost like a warning. He isn't so inexperienced now as to climax after a few minutes of this, but he knows that if it lasts much longer...]
Not like this. Kiss me.