"Dawn of the final day," Prompto sang as he passed Ignis his coffee across the table. Ignis accepted it with both hands and a word of thanks.
Prompto did his best to shovel an entire platter of eggs into his mouth in one bite. The corner of Ignis's mouth tightened in disapproval out of reflex. Prompto ignored it, using his fork to push a strip of bacon on top as he chewed.
His friend said nothing. Prompto had been trying all morning to lighten the mood, ask questions, and needle Ignis into a proper conversation. Every time he cracked a joke, Ignis's eyes betrayed an ugly pity that was driving Prompto crazy.
He knew he was fucked up! Hell, so was Ignis. He'd be okay. They had seen some pretty rough shit in the recent past. And if Iggy could handle seeing this to the end, so could he.
He wasn't going to drag the team down even further by taking time out for pointless angst.
Ignis looked steadily at him over the lip of his coffee cup, probably thinking, There you go, repressing your feelings. Prompto stuffed a french toast stick into his mouth out of spite.
After their much-needed breakfast, Ignis finally deigned to cooperate with Prompto's avoidance tactics. In some semblance of normalcy, they put their heads together to review and revise today's plan for the last time.
--
Prompto sweated where he stood under the humid weight of the Altissian sun, jaw aching around the gag in his mouth. His hand sweated around the grip of a brightly-decorated parasol. Just in front of him, Ignis sat at a circular table of men and their attendant slaves, all similarly arranged.
He'd been stupid, out of it; he hadn't dropped anything this time, at least. They'd made it smoothly through tea time and ridden with the others to an outdoor course that one of Ignis's new buddies had invited them to. But, once they were there, Ignis had made a remark. Like an idiot, not paying attention, Prompto had responded out loud without thinking.
Prompto had frozen in terror the instant the words left his mouth, remembering the discipline Ignis had subjected him to the day before, but Ignis salvaged the moment by calling for a gag, to silence his "heat-addled" slave.
Prompto had parted his mouth and allowed Ignis to secure the thing firmly around his head in pliant cooperation, letting himself calm down. Ignis hadn't broken his word. He hadn't ruined Ignis's reputation with disobedience. The thing in his mouth stretched his lips wide and left a tiny, constant stream of drool from one corner of his mouth. It was humiliating, but it beat the alternative.
He just had to behave until their game began, so he focused on watching the back of Ignis's head, ignoring the sun that beat down against his neck and made his collar itch. The rest of him was sticky and sweaty beneath the tight new outfit he'd been put in for this last day.
In no time, a soft fanfare sounded from the patio speakers, and guests began standing and checking their equipment. Ignis disappeared alone with the party, leaving Prompto tied to an ornamental iron fence alongside a few of the others. Like at the Totomostro game, the other people kneeling beside Prompto didn't appear to be looking at their surroundings or each another.
At first, Prompto took the opportunity to mentally review their plan for the night. They'd be here a little longer, then Iggy planned for them to make an appearance at a rooftop event before dinner. After that, there was only the last party with the creepy sadist gentlemen's club, which was to be held somewhere offsite, and the best event of them all, according to Ignis's questionable new friends.
The original plan had involved Prompto luring Besithia away at the party and slipping him something debilitative. They'd revised it so that he would be staying behind and getting into the man's room under the same pretenses as the night before, searching the safe in his absence. Ignis would occupy his attention at the party and make sure the drive wasn't being carried on Besithia's person, and Prompto wouldn't have to worry about suffering unexpected public abuse.
Or getting anywhere near the man.
For now, all he had to do was endure the heat and boredom, and try not to fall too deep into his own head.
He yawned and started to doze off against the metal.
Prompto jolted upright at a tug against his leash. He'd fallen asleep. He frowned and looked to where Ignis had secured it to the bars.
To his shock, Verstael Besithia's personal slave held the end, standing beside the man himself.
"Where are we going? You don't have permission to do this," Prompto tried to say as he dragged his feet at the end of the lead. Before he could think, he was being led across the green towards the valet parking circle.
All the carefully-suffocated images, sounds, smells of the previous night filled his head against his will. Through the gag stuffed between his lips, the boy's protests only emerged as so many distorted grunts.
Besithia continued to walk forward, carelessly, the blond slave dragging Prompto forward by the neck whether or not he kept up himself.
They led him to a massive parked car, not unlike the Regalia but larger and fancier, like the one Noct and the King took to state functions.
Both the boy holding his leash and the old man didn't bother acknowledging his protests. Besithia held out a palm for Prompto's leash, which the slave handed to him before turning to open the door.
The spacious interior of the car reminded Prompto of some of the shots he'd taken at his high school prom. Noct'd skipped, and Prompto didn't have a date, so he'd made a few bucks doing photography. The rental limousines a few classmates had pulled up in were sort of like this car. But, like, only in the way a fast food burger could be sort of like one Ignis had made from scratch. Dark leather seating, lights lining the ceiling, the whole look.
Against the spacious interior a man in a white uniform sat, legs out carelessly, talking on the phone. When Besithia's slave opened the door, the man glanced at them, said something into the device, and ended the call, resting in hand on his lap.
Prompto, nose flaring and contracting, felt the broad, flat, hand of the man behind him pushing against his back.
He stumbled forward, coming face to face with the gnarled, drooping face...
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: Ignis/Prompto, undercover as owner/slave, 10/?
Date: 2018-01-17 09:23 pm (UTC)Prompto did his best to shovel an entire platter of eggs into his mouth in one bite. The corner of Ignis's mouth tightened in disapproval out of reflex. Prompto ignored it, using his fork to push a strip of bacon on top as he chewed.
His friend said nothing. Prompto had been trying all morning to lighten the mood, ask questions, and needle Ignis into a proper conversation. Every time he cracked a joke, Ignis's eyes betrayed an ugly pity that was driving Prompto crazy.
He knew he was fucked up! Hell, so was Ignis. He'd be okay. They had seen some pretty rough shit in the recent past. And if Iggy could handle seeing this to the end, so could he.
He wasn't going to drag the team down even further by taking time out for pointless angst.
Ignis looked steadily at him over the lip of his coffee cup, probably thinking, There you go, repressing your feelings. Prompto stuffed a french toast stick into his mouth out of spite.
After their much-needed breakfast, Ignis finally deigned to cooperate with Prompto's avoidance tactics. In some semblance of normalcy, they put their heads together to review and revise today's plan for the last time.
--
Prompto sweated where he stood under the humid weight of the Altissian sun, jaw aching around the gag in his mouth. His hand sweated around the grip of a brightly-decorated parasol. Just in front of him, Ignis sat at a circular table of men and their attendant slaves, all similarly arranged.
He'd been stupid, out of it; he hadn't dropped anything this time, at least. They'd made it smoothly through tea time and ridden with the others to an outdoor course that one of Ignis's new buddies had invited them to. But, once they were there, Ignis had made a remark. Like an idiot, not paying attention, Prompto had responded out loud without thinking.
Prompto had frozen in terror the instant the words left his mouth, remembering the discipline Ignis had subjected him to the day before, but Ignis salvaged the moment by calling for a gag, to silence his "heat-addled" slave.
Prompto had parted his mouth and allowed Ignis to secure the thing firmly around his head in pliant cooperation, letting himself calm down. Ignis hadn't broken his word. He hadn't ruined Ignis's reputation with disobedience. The thing in his mouth stretched his lips wide and left a tiny, constant stream of drool from one corner of his mouth. It was humiliating, but it beat the alternative.
He just had to behave until their game began, so he focused on watching the back of Ignis's head, ignoring the sun that beat down against his neck and made his collar itch. The rest of him was sticky and sweaty beneath the tight new outfit he'd been put in for this last day.
In no time, a soft fanfare sounded from the patio speakers, and guests began standing and checking their equipment. Ignis disappeared alone with the party, leaving Prompto tied to an ornamental iron fence alongside a few of the others. Like at the Totomostro game, the other people kneeling beside Prompto didn't appear to be looking at their surroundings or each another.
At first, Prompto took the opportunity to mentally review their plan for the night. They'd be here a little longer, then Iggy planned for them to make an appearance at a rooftop event before dinner. After that, there was only the last party with the creepy sadist gentlemen's club, which was to be held somewhere offsite, and the best event of them all, according to Ignis's questionable new friends.
The original plan had involved Prompto luring Besithia away at the party and slipping him something debilitative. They'd revised it so that he would be staying behind and getting into the man's room under the same pretenses as the night before, searching the safe in his absence. Ignis would occupy his attention at the party and make sure the drive wasn't being carried on Besithia's person, and Prompto wouldn't have to worry about suffering unexpected public abuse.
Or getting anywhere near the man.
For now, all he had to do was endure the heat and boredom, and try not to fall too deep into his own head.
He yawned and started to doze off against the metal.
Prompto jolted upright at a tug against his leash. He'd fallen asleep. He frowned and looked to where Ignis had secured it to the bars.
To his shock, Verstael Besithia's personal slave held the end, standing beside the man himself.
"Where are we going? You don't have permission to do this," Prompto tried to say as he dragged his feet at the end of the lead. Before he could think, he was being led across the green towards the valet parking circle.
All the carefully-suffocated images, sounds, smells of the previous night filled his head against his will. Through the gag stuffed between his lips, the boy's protests only emerged as so many distorted grunts.
Besithia continued to walk forward, carelessly, the blond slave dragging Prompto forward by the neck whether or not he kept up himself.
They led him to a massive parked car, not unlike the Regalia but larger and fancier, like the one Noct and the King took to state functions.
Both the boy holding his leash and the old man didn't bother acknowledging his protests. Besithia held out a palm for Prompto's leash, which the slave handed to him before turning to open the door.
The spacious interior of the car reminded Prompto of some of the shots he'd taken at his high school prom. Noct'd skipped, and Prompto didn't have a date, so he'd made a few bucks doing photography. The rental limousines a few classmates had pulled up in were sort of like this car. But, like, only in the way a fast food burger could be sort of like one Ignis had made from scratch. Dark leather seating, lights lining the ceiling, the whole look.
Against the spacious interior a man in a white uniform sat, legs out carelessly, talking on the phone. When Besithia's slave opened the door, the man glanced at them, said something into the device, and ended the call, resting in hand on his lap.
Prompto, nose flaring and contracting, felt the broad, flat, hand of the man behind him pushing against his back.
He stumbled forward, coming face to face with the gnarled, drooping face...
...of Research Chief Verstael Besithia.