with any prolonged road trip comes the expectation one will, at one point or another, see other members of said road trip naked. it's not a big affair — it just happens when boarding arrangements are tight, and a complimentary towel loosens too early here or someone ducks into the tent at the wrong time there, all easily dismissed with a my bad or an ever heard of knocking? but more often than not just brushed under the rug, trivial, because their bodies aren't altogether new to each other. years of physical education with prompto and training with gladio has noctis desensitized to accidental run-ins and the like, so he doesn't flinch too big anymore; he doesn't linger.
but noctis has never gotten a good look at ignis without his glasses, let alone his clothes. his button-up still remains, funny enough, though noctis isn't paying any mind to the off-white of his shirt as it drapes loosely on his torso when ignis is bracketing noctis's legs with his own, long and bare and bent. he's kneeling away from noctis, clad in his top and socks, shoulder blades poised under the cover of cotton as his fingers shine with something pearlescent and wet and hover between the curves of his ass.
noctis catches sight of what's in ignis's other hand. a packet of lubricant, half-emptied. his eyes flicker back to where the bottom of ignis's shirt is rucked up just enough for him to press a slick finger inside himself, slow and methodical, and past that fluid motion, noctis can see the heavy hang of ignis's beading cock twitch between the inverted v of his carved thighs. he feels his pulse plummet low in his belly and beat and swell in fervent sympathy.
the finger slides out, and then it's a pair of them, pushing in knuckle by knuckle as lube drips thick down the back of his generous hand. noctis stares, mouth dry, mind blank, as they begin to crook and ply and stretch the ring of muscle between ignis's legs, and he has to wonder if ignis is breathing manually at this point because his chest expands and shrinks and appears to stall, at times, with forgone shudders.
moments crawl by, quiet save for the damp squelches of ignis's ministrations and the sound of noctis swallowing once or twice, until ignis is twisting to peer over a shoulder, skin dusted with color up to his ears. for a second, noctis dreads ignis will recognize the slipshod mess of guilt and anticipation in his expression, but he doesn't spare a glance at noctis's face at all, merely dispenses the rest of the lube into his tried hand, tosses the packet, and takes noctis into his grasp again.
noctis's adam's apple struggles along his neck, ignis's palm slick and warm through the cool slather of lubricant he runs from the head of noctis's dick down to the base. ignis jerks him in deliberate pulls until noctis is coated and throbbing in his hand. ignis's mouth unseals as he gazes, heavily lidded, at where his fist shines around noctis's length, but it yields nothing aside from a flash of pink as he wets his lips, his silence persistent. his head returns front and center and tilts forward, from what noctis can tell, and then ignis is shifting, lowering himself down.
it's tight, so tight that it sweeps noctis clear off his elbows, his skull thudding gently against the platform as his hands shoot for his hair, fingers tangling themselves in unkempt shocks of black. a silken heat envelops the head of his dick, pressure sweet and steadfast, and noctis has to squeeze his eyes shut, acutely aware of the sweat that's breaking out over his chest, dappling his back. breath sputters and rasps to thinness in his throat, but even so noctis almost chokes on it as he clamps down on an instinctive gust of ignis's name, illusion of intimacy dashed against the lock of his teeth.
the descent is slow and every inch wrenches the gut-deep burn havocking noctis's body hotter and higher, his skin fevered up to his hairline. ignis's hips sway a fraction of a movement as he slides closer still, and noctis all but forgets himself at that, bucking up into the snug fit, friction too good, blazing.
from on top, ignis sucks in a sharp swill of air, and noctis isn't sure whether it's pained or surprised, the beginnings of an apology cutting through the sweltering haze in his lungs. but then ignis is grinding down, the roll of his hips sinuous and heavy, and noctis feels those words disintegrate in the slipstream of the strangled groan tumbling from his lips, quiet but agonizingly palpable between them. again, he rocks upwards, and the feeling which rushes him isn't so much unlike when he weaves fire out of the earth, heady and warm and powerful. ignis flexes taut around him and one of noctis's hands flies for the crest of ignis's hip, button-up crimping under his rigid fingers, and on second thought, noctis decides the sensations are nothing alike at all.
there's something comforting about the fact that ignis's skin is just as hot and flushed as his is. they share a temperature and that seems more personal than the undulations of their slotted bodies, though noctis isn't even sure that he'd want something more visceral or ardent, because he's already having a hard enough time keeping up with ignis's protracted bounces without the added pressure of having to look ignis in the face or watch his neglected cock rebound off noctis's stomach, sloppy and leaking.
noctis considers offering a hand in that regard, but the situation is so delicate that they've eschewed speech itself for fear of compromising it further. his fingers around ignis might not help as much as he'd like, and the touch might not be welcome, besides.
he didn't expect himself to last long — a symptom of being inexperienced; if anything, noctis is just surprised he didn't come sooner, when ignis was swallowing him down, tongue bold and wet and agreeable — but neither did he expect ignis's cadence to pick up, nor for the hasty glide of muscle around him to spur him into a few impulsive, carnal thrusts against the weight bearing upon his hips. noctis's heart is pounding warnings into his neck, short and harsh so that he might understand through the wanting fog in his head, but they don't translate well on his tongue, and all he manages is a ragged gasp of, "'m gonna—" before he spills into ignis's ass, breath punching out of his chest with a heave.
while white is still vignetting the backs of noctis's eyelids, the temple seems to settle, coughing dust from the mortar, and somewhere far away from the sanctum, the entrance unlocks.
outside, the fresh air is spun brisk with early morning dew. prompto comments on how nice it is to see something other than rocks and cobwebs, albeit conversation doesn't take off. the walk back is as muted as dawn.
jacket bundled under his arm, noctis volunteers for the driver's seat once they reach the regalia. it's his car and they're all exhausted, so no one fights him for it.
the engine turns over and they hit the road, and for the rest of the radio-filled drive, noctis doesn't check the rearview mirror as often as he should.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: the best-laid plans., noctis/ignis, [3/3*] Re: Noct/chocobro - Temple requires a virginity
Date: 2017-04-19 04:28 am (UTC)with any prolonged road trip comes the expectation one will, at one point or another, see other members of said road trip naked. it's not a big affair — it just happens when boarding arrangements are tight, and a complimentary towel loosens too early here or someone ducks into the tent at the wrong time there, all easily dismissed with a my bad or an ever heard of knocking? but more often than not just brushed under the rug, trivial, because their bodies aren't altogether new to each other. years of physical education with prompto and training with gladio has noctis desensitized to accidental run-ins and the like, so he doesn't flinch too big anymore; he doesn't linger.
but noctis has never gotten a good look at ignis without his glasses, let alone his clothes. his button-up still remains, funny enough, though noctis isn't paying any mind to the off-white of his shirt as it drapes loosely on his torso when ignis is bracketing noctis's legs with his own, long and bare and bent. he's kneeling away from noctis, clad in his top and socks, shoulder blades poised under the cover of cotton as his fingers shine with something pearlescent and wet and hover between the curves of his ass.
noctis catches sight of what's in ignis's other hand. a packet of lubricant, half-emptied. his eyes flicker back to where the bottom of ignis's shirt is rucked up just enough for him to press a slick finger inside himself, slow and methodical, and past that fluid motion, noctis can see the heavy hang of ignis's beading cock twitch between the inverted v of his carved thighs. he feels his pulse plummet low in his belly and beat and swell in fervent sympathy.
the finger slides out, and then it's a pair of them, pushing in knuckle by knuckle as lube drips thick down the back of his generous hand. noctis stares, mouth dry, mind blank, as they begin to crook and ply and stretch the ring of muscle between ignis's legs, and he has to wonder if ignis is breathing manually at this point because his chest expands and shrinks and appears to stall, at times, with forgone shudders.
moments crawl by, quiet save for the damp squelches of ignis's ministrations and the sound of noctis swallowing once or twice, until ignis is twisting to peer over a shoulder, skin dusted with color up to his ears. for a second, noctis dreads ignis will recognize the slipshod mess of guilt and anticipation in his expression, but he doesn't spare a glance at noctis's face at all, merely dispenses the rest of the lube into his tried hand, tosses the packet, and takes noctis into his grasp again.
noctis's adam's apple struggles along his neck, ignis's palm slick and warm through the cool slather of lubricant he runs from the head of noctis's dick down to the base. ignis jerks him in deliberate pulls until noctis is coated and throbbing in his hand. ignis's mouth unseals as he gazes, heavily lidded, at where his fist shines around noctis's length, but it yields nothing aside from a flash of pink as he wets his lips, his silence persistent. his head returns front and center and tilts forward, from what noctis can tell, and then ignis is shifting, lowering himself down.
it's tight, so tight that it sweeps noctis clear off his elbows, his skull thudding gently against the platform as his hands shoot for his hair, fingers tangling themselves in unkempt shocks of black. a silken heat envelops the head of his dick, pressure sweet and steadfast, and noctis has to squeeze his eyes shut, acutely aware of the sweat that's breaking out over his chest, dappling his back. breath sputters and rasps to thinness in his throat, but even so noctis almost chokes on it as he clamps down on an instinctive gust of ignis's name, illusion of intimacy dashed against the lock of his teeth.
the descent is slow and every inch wrenches the gut-deep burn havocking noctis's body hotter and higher, his skin fevered up to his hairline. ignis's hips sway a fraction of a movement as he slides closer still, and noctis all but forgets himself at that, bucking up into the snug fit, friction too good, blazing.
from on top, ignis sucks in a sharp swill of air, and noctis isn't sure whether it's pained or surprised, the beginnings of an apology cutting through the sweltering haze in his lungs. but then ignis is grinding down, the roll of his hips sinuous and heavy, and noctis feels those words disintegrate in the slipstream of the strangled groan tumbling from his lips, quiet but agonizingly palpable between them. again, he rocks upwards, and the feeling which rushes him isn't so much unlike when he weaves fire out of the earth, heady and warm and powerful. ignis flexes taut around him and one of noctis's hands flies for the crest of ignis's hip, button-up crimping under his rigid fingers, and on second thought, noctis decides the sensations are nothing alike at all.
there's something comforting about the fact that ignis's skin is just as hot and flushed as his is. they share a temperature and that seems more personal than the undulations of their slotted bodies, though noctis isn't even sure that he'd want something more visceral or ardent, because he's already having a hard enough time keeping up with ignis's protracted bounces without the added pressure of having to look ignis in the face or watch his neglected cock rebound off noctis's stomach, sloppy and leaking.
noctis considers offering a hand in that regard, but the situation is so delicate that they've eschewed speech itself for fear of compromising it further. his fingers around ignis might not help as much as he'd like, and the touch might not be welcome, besides.
he didn't expect himself to last long — a symptom of being inexperienced; if anything, noctis is just surprised he didn't come sooner, when ignis was swallowing him down, tongue bold and wet and agreeable — but neither did he expect ignis's cadence to pick up, nor for the hasty glide of muscle around him to spur him into a few impulsive, carnal thrusts against the weight bearing upon his hips. noctis's heart is pounding warnings into his neck, short and harsh so that he might understand through the wanting fog in his head, but they don't translate well on his tongue, and all he manages is a ragged gasp of, "'m gonna—" before he spills into ignis's ass, breath punching out of his chest with a heave.
while white is still vignetting the backs of noctis's eyelids, the temple seems to settle, coughing dust from the mortar, and somewhere far away from the sanctum, the entrance unlocks.
outside, the fresh air is spun brisk with early morning dew. prompto comments on how nice it is to see something other than rocks and cobwebs, albeit conversation doesn't take off. the walk back is as muted as dawn.
jacket bundled under his arm, noctis volunteers for the driver's seat once they reach the regalia. it's his car and they're all exhausted, so no one fights him for it.
the engine turns over and they hit the road, and for the rest of the radio-filled drive, noctis doesn't check the rearview mirror as often as he should.