This was almost like having a friend. Like camping in the woods with a real, actual friend, the harsh reality of everything softening until it became nothing but the background. They scrolled through the photos in relative silence, Noctis occasionally making an approving sound. Even once (or twice?) a smile threatened to form on his lips. The minutes ticked by and the prince watched the camera while the soldier watched the prince.
"My dad and I used to be close," Noctis said suddenly. "But he was getting old fast and the war was only making it worse." It was strange for Noctis to talk about his father in the past tense, an unfamiliar taste on his tongue. "He just didn't have the time anymore, so... y-you know."
Prompto looked up from the screen once he heard the faltering in Noctis' speech. In the harsh electric glow he saw the beginnings of tears welling up in the corners of those sharp eyes.
"Oh, Noct. I..."
The nickname was an afterthought as Prompto slid from his seat, gently easing the camera from the prince's grip and putting it away. With hardly any measure of grace his knees hit the dirt and Prompto grasped at Noctis' hands, holding and squeezing gently. He didn't know much about comfort, but he had one precious fleeting memory of someone soft and kind. Someone who was there before the tests began, the cold metal slab against his bare skin, the endless networks of tubes and wires, something sick and black pumped into his eternally dying body. Prompto held onto that memory and he gave it to Noctis without much thought. At the time, he didn't know any better. He hummed a quiet song and turned his hand over in his own, pressing a kiss to the back of his wrist to soothe flesh that had just been marred, assuring him that he would live through this, that he would be strong.
But when Prompto pulled away he'd realized what he'd done. Realized that Noctis' wrist bore no mark, that he wasn't anything close to whatever sub-human...thing Prompto actually was-- that this had been a mistake.
"I- I'm so sorry, Noctis. I--"
The prince didn't speak, just eased his hands from Prompto's grip and reached out, fingers tracing along the purples and yellows that still hadn't faded from the boy's throat, blossoming like oil floating along the sea. The prince's eyes were still misty and wet, distorting the campfire's reflection on their surface.
"You what?" He asked, and there was that royal undertone, a selfish part of Noctis stirring, a child of royalty who couldn't stand the thought of something so far out of his reach. Prompto's air of mystery, his questionable presence here and damned tattoo. Noctis wanted it for himself, wanted to take something away from the Empire that had taken everything from him.
He felt the boy tense, the tendons in his neck coiled and relaxed, working nervously beneath Noctis' feather-touches. If he wanted, he could finish what Gladio had started back at the Quay and Prompto probably wouldn't have cared. For Noctis, there was a thrill beneath his hesitation, the sight of Prompto knelt there so innocently, so disheveled and open, making the prince feel much too warm.
Prompto parted his lips to try and reply, but couldn't find the words.
"S'what I thought," Noctis rumbled, thumb swiping across the soldier's bottom lip.
Without a second thought he leaned down, bringing Prompto up to meet him.
The solider rose up on his knees, hands clinging to the soft fabric of Noctis' sleeping shirt. Overcome by the prince's warm lips against his, the feel of defined muscle beneath his shirt. When Noct's tongue pushed past his parted lips he let him in, his teeth catching the prince's bottom lip while Noctis drank of him,
Prompto kissed messy and desperate, starved for unfamiliar affection and craving a taste he hadn't knew existed until just this moment. His hands moved to Noctis' face, touching the wetness of tear-tracks and then finding purchase in his hair, hardly letting go even when the two of them came up for air. The whimper tumbling from his lips as they parted sounding foreign to him-- a soldier didn't make that kind of sound.
This time, it was Noctis who was apologizing, though the words didn't sound all that sincere or sorry at all. His cheeks were rosy in the firelight and his slender fingers carded gently through Prompto's soft hair, reluctant to stop once he realized how responsive the boy was to the touch, his eyelids drooping and mouth still slightly open. His free hand wiped away what was left of his tears, and the other cupped Prompto's cheek, thumb going back to trace the curve of his wet bottom lip, swollen and pink from kissing.
"Sorry," he repeated, but he was smiling on account of Prompto's dreamy expression, smug to have been the who'd caused it.
----------------
Hope you're enjoying it, anon. I'm sorry for the true slow burn!!!
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Re: Fill: Imperial!Prompto/Noctis "Come Around Sundown" 4/?
Date: 2017-02-11 03:25 pm (UTC)"My dad and I used to be close," Noctis said suddenly. "But he was getting old fast and the war was only making it worse." It was strange for Noctis to talk about his father in the past tense, an unfamiliar taste on his tongue. "He just didn't have the time anymore, so... y-you know."
Prompto looked up from the screen once he heard the faltering in Noctis' speech. In the harsh electric glow he saw the beginnings of tears welling up in the corners of those sharp eyes.
"Oh, Noct. I..."
The nickname was an afterthought as Prompto slid from his seat, gently easing the camera from the prince's grip and putting it away. With hardly any measure of grace his knees hit the dirt and Prompto grasped at Noctis' hands, holding and squeezing gently. He didn't know much about comfort, but he had one precious fleeting memory of someone soft and kind. Someone who was there before the tests began, the cold metal slab against his bare skin, the endless networks of tubes and wires, something sick and black pumped into his eternally dying body. Prompto held onto that memory and he gave it to Noctis without much thought. At the time, he didn't know any better. He hummed a quiet song and turned his hand over in his own, pressing a kiss to the back of his wrist to soothe flesh that had just been marred, assuring him that he would live through this, that he would be strong.
But when Prompto pulled away he'd realized what he'd done. Realized that Noctis' wrist bore no mark, that he wasn't anything close to whatever sub-human...thing Prompto actually was-- that this had been a mistake.
"I- I'm so sorry, Noctis. I--"
The prince didn't speak, just eased his hands from Prompto's grip and reached out, fingers tracing along the purples and yellows that still hadn't faded from the boy's throat, blossoming like oil floating along the sea. The prince's eyes were still misty and wet, distorting the campfire's reflection on their surface.
"You what?" He asked, and there was that royal undertone, a selfish part of Noctis stirring, a child of royalty who couldn't stand the thought of something so far out of his reach. Prompto's air of mystery, his questionable presence here and damned tattoo. Noctis wanted it for himself, wanted to take something away from the Empire that had taken everything from him.
He felt the boy tense, the tendons in his neck coiled and relaxed, working nervously beneath Noctis' feather-touches. If he wanted, he could finish what Gladio had started back at the Quay and Prompto probably wouldn't have cared. For Noctis, there was a thrill beneath his hesitation, the sight of Prompto knelt there so innocently, so disheveled and open, making the prince feel much too warm.
Prompto parted his lips to try and reply, but couldn't find the words.
"S'what I thought," Noctis rumbled, thumb swiping across the soldier's bottom lip.
Without a second thought he leaned down, bringing Prompto up to meet him.
The solider rose up on his knees, hands clinging to the soft fabric of Noctis' sleeping shirt. Overcome by the prince's warm lips against his, the feel of defined muscle beneath his shirt. When Noct's tongue pushed past his parted lips he let him in, his teeth catching the prince's bottom lip while Noctis drank of him,
Prompto kissed messy and desperate, starved for unfamiliar affection and craving a taste he hadn't knew existed until just this moment. His hands moved to Noctis' face, touching the wetness of tear-tracks and then finding purchase in his hair, hardly letting go even when the two of them came up for air. The whimper tumbling from his lips as they parted sounding foreign to him-- a soldier didn't make that kind of sound.
This time, it was Noctis who was apologizing, though the words didn't sound all that sincere or sorry at all. His cheeks were rosy in the firelight and his slender fingers carded gently through Prompto's soft hair, reluctant to stop once he realized how responsive the boy was to the touch, his eyelids drooping and mouth still slightly open. His free hand wiped away what was left of his tears, and the other cupped Prompto's cheek, thumb going back to trace the curve of his wet bottom lip, swollen and pink from kissing.
"Sorry," he repeated, but he was smiling on account of Prompto's dreamy expression, smug to have been the who'd caused it.
----------------
Hope you're enjoying it, anon. I'm sorry for the true slow burn!!!