[ noctis is getting used to mornings like these. he wakes for the first time as he always does from one of the others' urging, grumbling assurances that he's awake while he squeezes his eyes shut against the light attempting to filter in through the tent's thin walls and open door. ignis's hand or wrist is always close, leaning into noctis's palm or against his fingertips in a subtle, dangerous good morning that never lasts long enough. he slips back into sleep almost immediately, and when he wakes for the second time, the tent is empty, the sheer lack enough to rouse him, encourage him into tugging on his boots and hauling himself outside.
this morning, though, prompto announces he wants photos in the golden hour and volunteers gladio as his model with the shrugged explanation of muscles, dude. noct makes a halfhearted attempt to defend his own tragically underappreciated toning through a yawn, eyes cutting towards ignis where he tends to something on the portable stove and away again, but it's not nearly enough to make prompto reconsider. as planned. the two of them go trotting off through the trees, camera in hand and tripod over shoulder, and it's like they take all the sound in the campsite with them.
which leaves noctis to admire ignis in the rosy light, the soft glow behind his cheek and the glint against the skinny chain at his neck. none of it helps the want that settles heavy in noctis's stomach, a want that threatens to turn itself into a need as the realization that they're alone, however briefly, makes its slow way to clarity.
this careful dancing around the other two, around people milling about the parking lots of every pit stop along the way, around every friendly face that might recognize noctis for who he is back home has become the trend out of necessity, but the temptation to shake himself of the secrecy becomes harder and harder to shove down. oddly enough, the thing that makes him want to abandon responsibility and safety and sense is the one thing keeping all of those things together. ignis, with his calm and clear head, is perhaps too good at this.
they have a moment, though, and so noctis fights through the blur of sleep that hasn't quite cleared and eases himself into ignis's space, eyes trained on the eggs bubbling in the pan as he leans against ignis hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, a question. there is sound here, oil popping and low fire humming and steady breathing, and it's— it's so ignis, noctis aches. ]
Hey. [ comes the loaded greeting, voice deep and crackling this early in the morning. ignis's free hand rests on the table top next to the edge of the stove and noctis's own finds it easily, palm settling over the back of his knuckles and fingers sliding into the spaces between fingers in a less ambiguous question. it's needy and it's childish and he just doesn't have the energy to care. ]
[ A time existed when Ignis would have scoffed at the mere mention of most romantic conventions: butterflies in the stomach, weak knees, endless foolishness. Then before he could even really conceptualize what it was to want with one's whole person, it all made an embarrassing kind of sense; after hiding his feelings for so long the butterflies shrank to a rippling breeze, the weak knees just a tremble--things he could manage. Manageable seems like a distant memory now, wide wing spanned predator birds under his heart, tremors like earthquakes in his traitorous muscles. Probably, a man with more self-preservation would back away, and yet--
And yet, here they are. Self-preservation far below Noctis on his hierarchy of needs, as it's always been. ]
Good morning. [ Nearly overshooting his usual formality and going straight into Stilted, but his fingers link tight with Noct's, gaze warm behind the shield of his glasses. He more takes them off (with the other hand, momentarily ignoring breakfast) because they get in the way of kissing, but the symbolism seems somewhat inescapable. ]
Bear in mind you mustn't allow me to burn these. We both know Prompto to be more than willing to wear a joke to rags. I'd never live it down.
[ His eyebrows are trying for emphatic here, but Noct is warm and close and for a moment there's nothing but him, just the lack of space between their bodies and the improbable blue of the prince's eyes. Ignis can feel his mouth doing something idiotically fond before he leans down to find Noct's a brush of lips that passes, about three seconds, for light.
Again, for about three seconds. Then it's just hungry, hungrier than Ignis knows what to do with. ]
[ perhaps it's because this is still so new or perhaps because he has known ignis for so long, long before the possibility of kissing him had ever dreamt of being entertained, but everything—even this, their fingers fitting together, ignis's attention and the warmth of his gaze—is a tormenting combination of too much and not enough. the smallest of touches make his heart lurch in a way that should tell him to back off, to not let this take hold so easily, but he's also desperate to make up for lost time, make the most of this while it lasts.
there is a voice in the back of his head that says it can't last. but at this point can't feels like nothing more than a concept to test. test or destroy. it depends on the day.
still, no matter how noctis decides to approach it, the great injustice of it all hangs over him, keeps him quiet and secretive even when he's feeling his most defiant.
he's too tired and too distracted by ignis's eyes to feel anything more than affection now. he scoffs, a soft sound, in fact completely unbothered. ]
He's also easily distracted. [ a bored half-shrug, their shoulders rubbing together. ] You'd think of something.
[ the boyish indifference is a front that deflates instantly the moment ignis leans to kiss him. noct turns into the movement, fingers tightening around ignis's just so as his lips part long before is strictly necessary, anticipation leading the charge. and it is light at first, the way kissing ignis is always light at first; he treats noct not like he's fragile but like he knows he could use something tender. noctis has decided he does know, despite the fact that noctis has never and may never say as much.
he has also never said that he's hungry too, but he shouldn't have to after the way he presses up into the kiss for something fueled more by urgency than delicacy, or the way a low sound of encouragement rumbles in the back of his throat. and if that's not enough, ignis has a steadily growing list of similar moments behind gas stations and in motel bathrooms and just outside cramped tents to remind him.
if the injustice dares surface now it's only because he can't think of anything he wants more than this. ]
[ Ignis laughs, one of those low, rich sounds he's not particularly stingy with, yet carry this certain timbre when they're for Noct. Possibly, he imagines, the state of being utterly besotted has a curious effect on the vocal cords. Or Noct, singularly, has a curious effect on him, that's more to the point. Especially when this laugh is effectively into his mouth, Ignis responding to that urgency like someone struck a bell. It never feels like they have enough time, behind gas stations and in motel bathrooms and every other kind of stolen moment, but at the same time, any moment to be with Noct like this seems an embarrassment of riches. Kissing him is finding, in much loved, long familiar territory, a place completely off the map; Ignis wants to make that mystery so well known to him he could draw it in the dark.
So yes, he knows the sharp, starving edge is mutual; it surprises him every time he realizes. He drops his glasses to the tabletop, the fingers of his free hand threading through Noct's hair: this early in the morning it's a less intentionally disheveled mess, soft like cat's fur; in contrast Ignis is of course impeccable, like he sprang from the sleeping bag perfectly groomed. (In a sentiment so treacley it's nearly absurd, Ignis thinks there is nothing up here lovelier than the prince regardless.) ]
I could, [ he manages in a break between kisses ] lay a trail of shiny objects to throw him off the scent, but my dissatisfaction with myself won't be dissipated nearly so easily.
[ Perhaps Noct might think that means they're going to stop kissing; in fact it means nothing of the kind, rather that Ignis gropes somewhat blindly behind him to turn the stove down to less perilous temperature. Where he can ignore it in favor of reeling Noct in closer, kisses traveling from the corner of his mouth to the joint of his jaw. ]
[ noctis breathes ignis's laugh in, knowing it's for him and him only. he can almost convince himself it tastes sweet.
his head tilts a little into ignis's touch, more than pleased to take priority over glasses and spatulas and absolutely everything else that ignis looks after so diligently. but really, he shouldn't be surprised. he has grown up being the one thing ignis keeps and cares for and loves above all other things, so he shouldn't complain either. especially now that that love comes in this form, with ignis touching him with a kind of frightening reverence and a steady concentration that only he could manage even as they bicker about prompto and breakfast continues to cook in the background.
still, there is a prickle of perfectly rational (in his own opinion) annoyance at the assumed threat of stopping this—or, at the very least, briefly pausing it—in favor of avoiding dishing out charcoal once the others return. he bumps his nose against ignis's in a tiny show of frustration that could be easily mistaken for a gesture of messy affection if not for the accompanying grumble. ]
It's just eggs. [ maybe if bacon were on the line, noctis would feel more strongly about the disastrous consequences of kissing ignis too much, but then again, maybe not. imagine his satisfaction when ignis's hand disappears only to be followed up by the soft click of the stove's dial ticking down.
it's funny ignis should think of cats in relation to noctis. funny as in completely understandable, as noctis releases his grip on ignis's hand so he can stretch out his arms behind ignis's head like a feline woken from a warm nap in the sun before letting his elbows bend, draping his arms across ignis's shoulders. encircled like this, ignis doesn't have much chance of going far, but noctis doubts he has interest in being anywhere but here. he sighs when the kisses trail off from his mouth, but it's far from disappointment. ]
Hm. [ he's playing the game, smiling, bemused, against ignis's cheek ] You tell me.
[ he lets one of his hands slide down ignis's back so he might scratch idly at a shoulder blade while he wonders whether or not the fold-out table would support his weight if ignis were to lift him up and let him make a seat of it. shortly after he wonders how many photos prompto will actually want to take, but he waves that thought away; it's far less interesting than the first. ]
[ Ignis has had time to retroactively pour over all the things he fell in love with before he knew what to call that warm swoop in the pit of his stomach; game playing is close to the top of the list. He's so serious and determined and focused all the time probably only the kingsguard and their prince even know he's capable of playfulness, but games of strategy have long been valued by those who are trained to see the whole field of combat and how best to move on it, so maybe it ought not to be such a surprise. What was surprising was to learn, slowly and with great awkwardness, that he didn't always have to be such a peerless example for the prince; they'd grown up together and it was all right to be imperfect. After that he let himself unfurl more of what eventually blossomed into a spectacularly corny sense of humor; the fact that Noctis not only appreciated, but enjoyed, a volley of terrible puns-- he remembers the clutch of a fist around his heart, not quite as sharp and vivid as the first time Ignis cooked for him, but close. It will always be important to him that whatever else they are they're friends.
Friends who are, in this case, perhaps a little ...overly friendly. Ignis has had long enough to learn how Noct telegraphs intention to gauge what he wants, often (not that he'd ever expected to apply it to this), so backing him up against the edge of the table and looping one arm around his waist to do exactly that, make a seat out of it, is this brilliant collusion of instinct and desire, percolating light up his spine like firecrackers. ]
About here, if I'm any judge.
[ Since their faces are more like level now he leans in to rest his forehead against Noct's; he can, it has been noted, still see passably without his glasses, but at this distance the prince is more or less a blur of everything that makes him himself, messy haired and sleepy eyed, more demanding than anyone else Ignis knows. Something uncontainable has been happening in his chest since this started, keeps happening, enough that alongside their comfortable banter he has to close his eyes just to hold it in. ]
But perhaps his majesty has his own opinions?
[ This at more like reasonable speaking distance, Ignis bracing both hands on the edge of the table to either side of Noct's hips, so reasonable roughly translates to extremely close quarters. Which is fine, since it's a 'distance' Ignis eradicates when it becomes imperative to nuzzle underneath Noct's ear. There is, in the back of his head, a long and winding list of all the little things he's ever wanted to do, with Noct; now that he can do them they seem to be trying to happen all at once. ]
[ and they always will be friends. there's no question in that, no question in the fact that ignis will always, always be there for noct, nevermind that ignis has sworn himself to this. even if he hadn't, it seems unthinkable that he would ever stray. no, there will always be a noctis and ignis, whether it's in friendship or companionship or whatever it is they have now, a feeling so large and all-encompassing that words like partners or boyfriends seem disappointingly mundane. but he supposes that is what they are, not that they've really had time to discuss it in detail, and he can't help the flutter in his stomach or the burn of embarrassing fondness across his cheeks at the realization. he's not a lovestruck teenager, he swears.
but forgive him if he wishes he had been. he can't help but think of long days at the palace and late nights in his school apartment that could have been filled with this feeling, this warmth, if only he'd realized a little sooner what he could have had. of course this yearning waited to seep into the light only after they'd left the comforts of home and stepped out into a world that seems intent on making this impossible. perhaps that isn't fair to his younger self, though. he's not sure when these feelings really began for his bespeckled advisor, a young man built on strict principles and duty when they'd first met; he only knows with brilliant clarity the moment it all came to a head, his fingers curling around ignis's upper arm and his mouth seeking ignis's mouth in what could have been an irreversible mistake.
it has proven to be irreversible, but it's far from a mistake.
he clutches at ignis a little tighter as he's lifted into the air, a breath of satisfied laughter escaping him at the wonder of ignis's instincts, at his immediate decision to give noct exactly what he wants. he'll spoil him, for sure. atop the table, noctis settles his knees on either side of ignis's hips, encouraging him to press close. and close ignis comes, their foreheads falling gently together. there is a moment in which noctis can only listen to the sounds of their breath mingling before ignis pulls back enough to speak. ]
Please. [ his mouth pulls into a smirk for a moment. ] His majesty will take whatever he can get.
[ and he means that. ignis's nose and lips brushing the tender skin of noctis's neck would be enough if that's all they had the opportunity for. he'd been afraid to even dream about such small things just a few short weeks ago. it's enough.
until, of course, it's not. ]
Or... maybe something like this.
[ noctis draws back and lets his hands slide forward to frame ignis's neck, his thumbs brushing along the underside of his jaw. he leans to kiss him again, head tilting as he licks his way into the heat of ignis's mouth. ]
[ Perhaps it's just as well the time for discussion has yet to present itself; Ignis has no idea how to recount the fumbling of his clumsy heart, growing in fits and starts across years as ungainly as their side-by-side progression through adolescence. He's only not a lovestruck teenager because he's not a teenager anymore.
So when his mouth slants open for Noct's there's an almost arch cast to it, another of those low laughs caught in the back of his throat. It's Gladio's job to crack the whip, as it were, meaning Ignis can afford a little indulgence, even if that's a very recent thing in this particular area. Noct isn't wrong that the way Ignis touches him owes a great deal to the awareness that not much else in his life is gentle, but underneath that, stronger, the determination that if he tries hard enough he can earn this. The two of them, whatever that as of yet unnamed thing can be called.
In little moments like this he feels as if he's at least getting close, if he can tug out sounds like that satisfied laugh, if Noct--wants him back. The idea still seems like madness. Not because it's so unlikely, Ignis certainly wouldn't do his hair the way he does if he thought he was some kind of terrible physical monstrosity, but because the world does seem so intent on impossibility.
Then again, the world can go hang itself, for the time being; its pressures and obstacles seem entirely outside the slow rise of the sun warming his back, where Noct's hands feel like each fingerprint will leave marks when they pull apart. ]
His majesty can "get" whatever he wants. As he well knows.
[ Speaking of indulgence. And speaking of pulling apart, Ignis like, doesn't actually do that at all, just murmurs this right up against Noct's lips as he links arms around slender waist, tracing down from the top vertebrae like following beads on a string, leaving the meandering stream of banter behind in favor of the wet electricity ramping up between their mouths, current snaking through his bloodstream. Something that was probably the spatula falls off the table and clatters to the ground; Ignis registers it dimly and then proceeds to ignore it, pressing in closer like there's much 'closer' left, teeth just grazing the curve of Noct's lower lip, tacitly experimental. ]
[ noctis does want him, and it's a want so large and startling that he barely knows how to keep it check. it's a visceral thing in that it prickles his skin, squeezes around his throat, presses with wind-knocking force against his chest, within and without. but it's there in his head, too, a nonsensical jumble of feelings that add up to what is indisputably love. and he doesn't claim to know what that is exactly, but if he's sure of anything in the mess of confusions and blunders that is his life, it's this.
if he knew ignis felt he had to earn it—the right or the honor or whatever to be with him—he'd tell him he already has. months, years ago. long before noct really understood how much of ignis's life he was giving up in exchange for being a part of noctis's, to be a protector and a guide and a friend. he might also laugh, soft in it's mocking, because how incredibly ignis to approach this like he has to work for it, like he has to find himself worthy.
he doesn't have to do anything, in noctis's opinion. just make him feel like he does now. ]
Anything? [ a whisper against ignis's mouth before noctis's tongue returns to the more pressing task of sliding slick against ignis's, kisses slow and seeking but hanging onto that feeling of desperation. because he knows this will have to end before it can go too far.
he wishes that this were how it could always be. he wishes the others could return and gladio would make some long-suffering crack about how they're ruining the scenery and prompto would take an embarrassing photo and that would be it. they'd return to the folding chairs and breakfast serving but it wouldn't be so unthinkable that noct might squeeze ignis's fingers before stepping into the chill of a royal tomb or rest his head on ignis's shoulder in the back of the car. it would be normal.
he wishes without quite wishing, because no, he's not really interested in prompto and gladio's return as he shivers under ignis's touch, letting his own hands slide down over his chest and stomach, fingers tugging the bottom of ignis's shirt free from where it's been neatly tucked into his waistband. he'd like it very much if he could convince ignis to shed the shirt completely, but that might be harder to recover from than the fallen spatula or noctis's lightly mused hair. he settles for sliding his hands just underneath the fabric, thumbing over the curves of hipbones before migrating to the small of ignis's back where his skin is hot from the sun and hot from— well. this.
it should be pretty much impossible for ignis to miss the low ah that escapes him under ignis's teeth, proving the experiment overwhelmingly positive. ]
... i don't have a remotely appropriate icon for this tag
[ Anything. Just like always; Noct must know by now when Ignis uses absolutes he means them. If he pushed hard enough - or at all - he'd probably have Ignis concocting some insane excuse for the others about how he had to take his shirt off so as not to stain it with grease. Thankfully Noct seems to be content with totally undoing his very tidy appearance, for the moment; it's not as if Ignis is actually moved to complain at all about this, fingertips tracing heat shimmers across his skin. To be so moved by so small a thing is patently absurd, and yet he feels it all the way down, reciprocal shivers spreading out from everywhere Noct puts his hands.
Ignis is, perhaps, a little more cautious than he needs to be when it comes to Noct; part of that is ingrained, a reflection of their entire lives together, but the rest ...when would he have had the time, let alone the desire, to seek out this kind of intimacy anywhere else? It's a strange, floaty feeling not to be the guiding hand here when so much is so new, as if a dam is broken by that encouraging sound; he definitely can't miss it, considering amidst the rush of kissing he can as much feel as hear it, low murmur reverberating over his own lips and tongue. ]
Anything. [ the conformation scrapes sandpapery with fractured breathing and just a gloss of rueful humor, at least he recognizes how hopeless he is.
He seems to lose a little of the constant control he keeps on himself at that, like saying it makes it true; Noctis' hair is going to be more than a little mussed now, with both of Ignis's hands curling through it, winding soft black between his fingers. Not quite tugging, but close, like the explorative brush of his teeth earlier. Reverence and roughness measured alongside one another, soft bites sharper now. Let it never be said he's anything but stellar at taking cues, please. ]
[ noctis does not have much in the way of experience either besides the kind of fumbling that tends to occur in campus closets with fellow students that don't count on a future with a prince, just hunting for a few heavy kisses and wandering hands that they might recount later to make their friends swoon. the few times it happened had been enough for noctis, just enough to satiate bothersome desires that got in the way of remaining more or less detached from the social conventions of public schools.
this is not that. he doesn't feel like he's trying to live up to an expectation and he doesn't feel like they're only trying to build up to a specified end. the emphasis here is on touch, on knowing one another, on trying to put into action what they can't quite manage in words yet. he moves on instinct rather than reasoning, and that's a shocking concept compared to what he'd had before. not quite so shocking as the way the word anything slips through ignis's lips, like he's shattered glass held together by noctis's hands, each kiss another hairline fracture. he doesn't seem scared to break, though. it seems to noctis that ignis feels as safe with him as he does with ignis, and that alone is enough to send another skittering cascade of shivers up his spine.
yes, he knows ignis will do anything. he hopes he will not have to ask so much.
it's all he can do to answer with a hum of approval as breath catches in his throat, words lost with the stomach flip that follows the drag of ignis's fingers in his hair and the tender marring to his bottom lip that grows more focused, more ardent as ignis sets his mind to it. his ability to take cues is impressive, and noct is unlikely to forget it. his hands slide up ignis's sides in a featherlight reward, hiking his shirt higher as noctis's legs curve to rub against the back of ignis's thighs, dispelling all space between their hips if there was any left to spare.
he almost wants to say anything might be a little too much this early in the morning, but the thought required for structuring coherent sentences is becoming less and less important. it's much easier to say ignis's name, and so he does, the delicate break in his voice on the first syllable alluding to a measure of difficulty he hadn't foreseen. ]
[ Something on the stove pops; Ignis barely hears it, but the only thing as well-honed in him besides Noct's general state of being is cooking sounds (probably more to the point burning sounds, by now) and so he stills for a moment, though--given the way he pulls back to look at Noct, pupils drowning the ambiguous sea-sky color of his eyes, maybe it's as much to let himself absorb and process how his name sounds on Noct's tongue like this, take it in without boiling over.
Much like the eggs are trying to do. Ignis manages a shaky sound like fond exasperation, though where it's directed is--all directions, really. Noct, himself, them, less fond exasperation that this is bloody necessary in the first place--he sighs and kisses Noct swiftly on the corner of the mouth, turning the exact minimum number of degrees required to get to the stove without actually detaching himself at all. ]
A moment, if you please.
[ This is the point where he discovers the spatula has rolled off into the dirt, and for a moment the temptation to just abandon all of this to kiss Noct silly is clear on his face; if the table would support more or less tackling Noct, there's a real chance that would have happened. As things are of course he has a passel of spare utensils around; he manages to rescue the eggs in a probably still edible state, pulls the skillet off the stove and...proceeds to muffle the welling of helpless laughter in Noct's shoulder, silent little shimmers rocking his back.
He's not quite moved to put his glasses back on, in fact he stays exactly where he is, just for a moment longer. Since he might have gone all of about six inches away in the first place. ]
My desire for you will be the death of us all, I fear. Or at the very least the malnutrition.
[ This isn't really an exaggeration, the others would resort to endless Cup Noodles, and man can only live on so much sodium alone. Still, given that Ignis is still taking advantage of every last possible second they have for more closeness, he can't actually mind too much. Or at all. ]
[ noct does not hear anything on the stove, which should probably tell him something about his level of focus and ability to remain aware of his surroundings even when he's got something to distract him, the kind of things that ignis might feel the need to lecture about in different circumstances. the truth of the matter is ignis has to do very little to capture the prince's attention, even, as has become apparent, during the dreaded mornings when noct's every impulse tells him to lie about uselessly and pretend the world in its entirety doesn't exist. or the world in its entirety besides ignis. and if that makes him vulnerable, well shit, he accepts. he'll be vulnerable in ignis's arms at any opportunity.
long story short, he's caught unawares in the moment when ignis pulls away to contemplate what he's just heard—his name or breakfast burning or both—and so he just stares at the face before his, thoughts a singing parade of you love him. the imaginary pageant of hearts doesn't silence even when ignis sighs like that, only quiets enough to make room in his brain for recognizing the situation here: the eggs turning black at the edges, the spatula missing from the table, ignis obviously torn between breakfast and noctis. the corner of his mouth curves upwards into a smile under ignis's kiss, his hold loosening all over so ignis can maneuver enough to stop the eggs from alerting the others with smoke signals.
he is caught between trying to catch his breath and laughing lightly by the time has ignis sorted out the spare utensils, and he reaches to pluck at ignis's shirt and tug it down again, fingers skimming over his skin in a way that is definitely not distracting, not at all.
his laughter graduates to full-fledged once ignis tries to bury his own utterly charming giggles in noct's shoulder. there is something about the sound that makes noctis warm all over, and he should really stop feeling surprised by the effect these small, gentle things have on him. this is a laugh that only noctis bears witness to, after all. ignis's breath tickles his neck and he feels so goddamn lucky. ]
Wow. You really know how to flatter a guy. [ sarcastic and teasing, an attempt to cover for the flush in his face at the word desire. the electricity that buzzed under his skin while they kissed is settling some, but it'll remain for as long as they stay close or for as long as they continue to touch. it spikes whenever some small movement makes him aware once again of all the places of contact. ] Never thought malnutrition could be so romantic.
[ his hand moves to cover ignis's again wherever it lies. ]
[ Ignis has one hand on the edge of the table (his knees are supporting most of his weight, so they're not going to collapse it .....yet, at least) and the other loosely settled around one of Noct's hips; he is, unsurprisingly, amenable to Noct doing whatever he wants with them, curls his palm idly upwards to skim the inside of slim wrist with one thumb. In an absurd flight of philosophical fancy it strikes him that what he's really feeling, in the rush of blue veins, is Noct being alive; as a conceit it's spectacularly beyond malnutrition in terms of romance. Ignis elects not to give voice to it, because then he'd probably have to fling himself into the ocean or similar. Instead he picks up Noct's hand and brushes his mouth across the same little lines; it's nearly as ridiculous, just not verbally so. ]
Poetics are apparently not my strongest suit.
[ A little self-deprecating, but comfortably. Ignis is aware of the things he does well and cultivates those, rather than insecurity regarding the things he doesn't. In this case he's managed to rescue breakfast and make Noct laugh in the same minute; if that's not a win he doesn't know what is. Anyway, at least he won't be attempting to write sonnets, since ultimately the prince could expect more of the same. Eyes as blue as this one set of dishes Ignis liked in a store once, et cetera et cetera.
If he notices the flush he doesn't comment on it, considering the heat bubbling merrily away under his own skin it would hardly be fair. On which note his eyes drop shut a moment, then open to seek Noct's gaze in some easy marriage of intent and wry. ]
While I have you, on the topic of romance--
[ emphasis on the second syllable, because that's how Ignis' accent goes ]
Much as I enjoy our forays into, ah, carpe noctem*, as it were, perhaps we might try for avenues less capricious. I'm certain I could concoct Official Sounding reasons to steal you away.
(as opposed to diem, because seize the noct, get it; ignis is so very very clever)
Edited (edits to change literally one word i'm so sorry) 2017-03-31 04:55 (UTC)
[ noctis blinks and lets his gaze wander to their hands as ignis's thumb brushes over his wrist. he imagines his pulse jumps at the contact, heart doing all it can to make itself known, to ensure ignis knows how much it wants his attention. noctis is almost sure he already does. maybe that's why he takes noct's hand and presses mouth to wrist; an attempt to reassure noctis's heart that ignis knows it, feels it, wants to protect it. or maybe that's a gross exaggeration on noctis's part, one that he should be embarrassed by as he watches with intense focus the meeting of lips and skin. with his hand now so close to ignis's face, he lets his fingertips touch his cheek, idle and curious. ]
Still, not your weakest. [ this a soft, skeptical mumble, not a comment on whatever ignis's weakest suit is—noctis has no idea what that would be and doesn't care to consider—but rather an appreciation for the poetics ignis puts into action. noct isn't in need of calligraphy confessions when ignis does this just as well, perhaps better. words have been in short supply lately but ignis has made do. ]
Oh yeah? [ his smile goes lopsided in his amusement, taken by the terrible joke and, more importantly, the suggestion. he doesn't tend to expect mischief from ignis, even if it's in small doses. that isn't to say he doesn't believe ignis would and could invent an important prince and advisor errand for them to attend to. in fact, he'd do so like an expert. he's who noct turns to when he needs a false name to offer or if they find themselves having to spin a story about why they're seeking a night's rest in each new town they happen on.
noctis's eyes seem to brighten a little as he considers. ]
Where are you planning on taking me? [ there's something in his voice that dares to be a little wistful. he has spent some amount of time daydreaming on four or five of their longer car drives, tentatively entertaining the thought of what they might do if they were given the time and the space alone that they're both in such desperate need of, but never with the hope that it would actually happen. everything else has always come first. ]
IT'S STILL ME ...wouldn't it be so weird if another ignis just charged in here
[ Ignis snorts, because he has been listening to Prompto and Noct complain about the thread count on their sleeping bags or whatever for so long it's just pleasant white noise at this point. Not that he doesn't also enjoy their rare appearances in actual buildings, he too likes a bed and plumbing, for instance, but it is part of the ritual of what they're made of to sigh and tut; Noct would think he'd taken a blow to the head otherwise. ]
Somewhere modest, I should think. The mere idea of privacy shames us more with decadence than silk sheets and marble floors could ever hope to manage.
[ Ever so deadpan, ever so dry, both affects seriously undercut by his eyelids slipping half closed to turn one sharp cheekbone into Noct's hand. After a second of what is clearly pure indulgence - which is probably as rare for Ignis as mischief - he rightens himself, one corner of his mouth tipping up into a lopsided half-smile. A caravan, or even a separate tent, would do just as well; anything to be alone without the deafening of seconds ticking by, rhythm merciless in his head. He lets the commentary on his abilities go by without comment, but his smile stretches over the rest of his mouth; if Noct feels like the brightest thing on Ignis' entire horizon, then he's made his point as it was meant, bare minimum eloquence at his disposal or not.
Speaking of bare minimum eloquence. ]
Now I've made the prospect of skiving off with me sound as romantic as malnutrition, goodness.
[ Ah-ha, so two can play at this "teasing" game. With "carpe noctem" in the mix already, may as well go on as he began, which is to say with mild absurdity. The idea of putting aside their respective duties for just as long as it takes to catch their breath decided, or at least put out into the atmosphere, Ignis captures Noct's hand back from his cheek to kiss the backs of his knuckles. He's been storing up these little gestures for years: Noct's hands rough on a practice sword making him want to trace each line and whorl, the exposed nape of his neck--Ignis thought of closing his mouth over the top vertebrae, precise and gentle. They've been side by side long enough for glimpses of every plane of skin, meaning: there's not one Ignis hasn't thought about. Sketching Noct's outlines with his hands and mouth, filling in all the edges he's imagined.
So. Talking may not be the only use this proposed privacy sees. For now, Ignis judges they have a few more minutes to spare; he eyes Noct, considering and sly. ]
Hmm. What are the odds you'll hear our fellows return before they're upon us?
[ It probably helps that while Gladio could glide smoothly and unnoticed through the trees, Prompto might as well bring a herd of elephants behind him. ]
[ noct doesn't think it's such a crime to crave a motel room from time to time after so many nights spent huddled in tents on the hard ground, and he knows ignis doesn't either. but yes, he does expect the gentle mockery of actual disapproval. it's become something of a staple of living life out of the car and the complaining about living life out of the car. ]
Can I cast my vote for an actual bed? [ his brow quirks, asking a less than innocent question with a surprisingly innocent tilt to his mouth. he doesn't need silk sheets or marble floors; a mattress and blankets and pillows in a roadside motel are all he's asking for here. those and ignis, obviously, ignis being the most important part.
seeing ignis looking so— he's not sure of the word, sensitive? helpless? caught? whatever it is, it makes something light and airy blossom in noctis's chest even if ignis's cheek settles against his palm for only a moment. he's not entirely used to ignis slipping from his calm and collected exterior, and so it continues to catch him off guard even when they are so intimate, the feeling increasing tenfold by the fact that it's noctis that does this to him. it's noctis that coaxes this indulgence from him. add that to the list of things noct has to be proud of, proud and grateful. ]
I kind of like the idea of skiving. [ he says on a contented sigh. ] And you're only gonna have yourself to blame for that. [ he looks at ignis pointedly, like ignis should feel guilty for putting the idea of shirking responsibilities in noct's head. it's too late to take it back now, though.
any hint of smugness that shows on his face smooths out when ignis's lips graze his knuckles, and the relief that washes over him at the suggestion that maybe they have just a little more time is enough to pull a somewhat shaking breath from him, trying and perhaps failing to hide how deeply he's effected by the tenderness with a laugh. he hadn't picked up on the threat of eggs going to waste and so he's not positive he'll be any better at sensing the approach of gladio and prompto, even if prompto doesn't seem to know the meaning of the word stealth. if it's the difference between whether or not he can pull ignis close again though, then: ]
There's a chance.
[ noctis's hair has become properly disheveled; it only seems fair that noctis curl his fingers into the hair at the base of ignis's skull and lean into him again, deciding before their mouths can collide to tilt his head and kiss ignis's jaw instead, both returning the favor and testing whether or not this is actually a good idea. it's far too easy to lose himself in this. ]
[ A thought bubble despairing for his hair blips briefly overhead for about half a second, then pops into nothingness as Ignis reasons it's not that noticeable, not like the spiky part at the front, and Noct's fingers feel good enough to override the rest of his better judgment. He used the last of that rescuing the eggs.
Though he is still keeping an ear out for their friends himself, so between the two of them--surely it will work out all right, even as his muscles are turning to water under Noct's curious mouth. Ignis makes a subvocal noise of approval, presses him closer with a hand flat at the back of his head. They both know they're at the end of the hourglass, though, so instead of letting himself drown totally Ignis picks up the thread of their conversation, hand in Noct's hair unabashedly like scritching a cat now. It continues to be apt that Ignis is thinking in cat metaphors since he's played by who he is, cats also being hellishly selective in what they're willing to care about. And terribly picky eaters, and--Ignis will share this later, probably. ]
Perhaps we'll be truly daring and spring for running water, as well.
[ That could also be perfectly innocent, real bathing being a nicety as well, but much like a bed in this case definitely isn't. Especially not uttered as it is, Ignis tipping his chin up to let Noct go wandering to his heart's content in the vicinity of his jaw and throat. So if nothing else Noctis will probably never have to guess what he wants; he believes in direct communication. Possibly because it's the best way to meet Noct head-on, he'd just never really let himself imagine it would be to convey how many sensitive places there are on the underside of his jaw. Noct has probably found most of them by the time Ignis clutches one of his upper arms out of reflex, looking around in his peripheral vision. ]
I think we're about to be encroached upon. Unless I miss my guess, and I don't mind saying I hope I do.
[ noctis has no intentions of wasting the last of their time; he mouths along the line of ignis's jaw, grip tightening just so in his hair, nails gently grazing skin. it's also quite obvious from the muffled mmm's that he's enjoying the scritching, even if it means he's unknowingly feeding into those cat metaphors.
ignis might feel him smile at the suggestion of a shower, in part because yes, one does not become truly aware of just how much dirt can find its way caked under fingernails or smudged on cheeks until the convenience of washrooms is in the rearview mirror, but mostly for other reasons. seeing as ignis barely ever seems to look anything less than immaculate probably attests to noct's theory that he has some other things in mind when it comes to hot water and porcelain tubs. a combination of anticipation and nerves sends a shiver through him despite the growing warmth of the rising sun. ]
Now you're talking. [ said against ignis's neck as noct works his way down a little, spurred on by the tilt of ignis's chin. his kisses are slow and lingering as he tests the waters, daring to nip when he's reached a spot that seems exceptionally tender. his teeth might have made more of an impression if it weren't for the knowledge that leaving marks would undoubtedly spark questions, and noct isn't sure even ignis could whip up an excuse for small and precise bruises on the swell of his throat.
he grumbles at the warning, managing to be lazy even in his irritation. he decides not to push their luck, though, catching the light sound of prompto's laughter not far off. ]
Too bad you're always right.
[ with this, he draws back, hands sliding away from where they touch, settling, almost sadly, in his lap as his legs free ignis from the temporary enclosure. he wets his lips, smiling carefully, eyes lidded in disappointment. ]
Edited (nothing to see here) 2017-04-02 18:02 (UTC)
[ Noct's expression makes Ignis somewhat abruptly and crashingly aware he is, if possible, now even more attuned to the prince's little hurts and disappointments; it won't do at all to dwell now, there's nothing to be done, but he chances a quick, hard squeeze of hands before they're out of reach, passable vision owlish as he fixes it on midnight blue. ]
You would say such things when I can hardly relish hearing them.
[ A little teasing, fond and wry, but--Ignis' gaze turns intent as he reaches up to put Noct's hair to rights as best it can be; that's probably a thing no one would bat an eye at coming upon, given the constant fuss over the entire group's tendency to become disheveled just by standing downwind of dirt. The focus on Ignis' face owes less to fastidiousness than it does to laser-focused affection, of course, but that's probably a mutable conceit at the best of times. He brushes a mostly imaginary smudge from Noct's cheekbone and steps back himself, puts palpable distance between them with a little sigh. ]
Soon, I promise. As soon as we can manage.
[ Actually verbalizing I promise is fairly extraneous, Noctis knows what it sounds like when he makes those, formally or not. He leans with excessive nonchalance by one hip next to the stove, fiddling with his own hair unconsciously before his expression goes all wide and quasi-alarmed, since. You know, his glasses are still sitting over there on the folding table. A quick, sharp gesture for them - thank you, Noct, you're a gentleman and a scholar - and he looks relatively himself, if not a little less terminally even-keeled than usual. Color slightly high, eyes a little brighter; he can only attest to either of these because he can see them on Noctis, a fact he will take no small satisfaction in for how well-concealed any smugness on his part might be. ]
[ no, there's nothing to be done. they've used up their too small allotment of time for the morning, and noct will have to live with it. not without vast leagues of exasperation and gloom, mind, perhaps for the better part of the day ahead of them, but he'll do it. it doesn't seem fair to ignis to burden him with this too, noct's unhappiness at being forced apart, but he has to know it's for good reasons. there is nothing comparable to the calm and the quiet that the simple action of being alone with ignis can create in the staggering noise of noctis's waking mind. ]
Yeah. I would. [ perhaps ignis will see that it is not entirely genuine, but his mouth tugs upward into a smile that borders on smug as ignis attempts to neaten his hair, a gesture that is far from unfamiliar but still new to these particular circumstances. ignis has been fussing about the unkempt appearance of the prince for as long as they have known each other, and it's this thought that turns noct's smile into something recognizably real. he reaches to brush his fingers through his own bangs, adjusting their sweep across his forehead to his liking before his hand drops unceremoniously to his thigh again, mildly defeated in the same way ignis's sigh is mildly defeated. ]
Hope it's worth the wait. [ he says lightly, hoping to keep up the trend of teasing. that seems to make things slightly easier, falling into the natural rhythm of things. though that isn't to say that kissing ignis feels any less natural than pestering him, and perhaps that's one of the reasons keeping this secret is so hard. at least there is no doubt that this will absolutely be worth the wait.
he watches ignis lean against the stove, the image of his usual grace until he realizes the lack of glasses on his face. noct manages not to snort at the wave of his hand, hopping off of the table before collecting up specs' specs. rather than place them in open palm, he unfolds the glasses and leans to slide them into place on ignis's face, slow enough to really take in the fading red of his cheeks.
it's a good look on him. ]
There.
[ noctis steps back again, putting regrettable distance between them so finally, it's safe for gladio and prompto to return. he reminds himself the distance can only last so long. ]
[ Ignis holds very still for this lightly ceremonious glasses replacement, rather like he'd do for some kind of official inspection. Especially since he can tell Noct is inspecting him to some degree, though since exactly what that might before remains a mystery, he just hikes an inquisitive brow, the sort of non-verbal "hm?" that's just as content without a real response. Either way the gesture is sweet and, if he's honest, a little arousing; there's little point in remarking upon, yet another time, how undone he is by the simplest of Noct's touches. Or not touches, or generally ...doing anything in his vicinity at all.
Utterly hopeless. ]
Ah. [ A small, self-contained smile: ] There you are.
[ Features crystal-clear once again, though Ignis can't spend as long as he would like studying them. Instead he laughs one of his husky, lower-register laughs, tilting his head to one side in an angle that just skirts flirtatious because he can hear Prompto's delighted crowing drawing closer with a swiftness. ]
I shall endeavor not to disappoint [ pause for effect ], your highness.
[ Then he goes to dispense breakfast and simply dare anyone to complain about the quality of the eggs. Go on, do it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
—igster
this morning, though, prompto announces he wants photos in the golden hour and volunteers gladio as his model with the shrugged explanation of muscles, dude. noct makes a halfhearted attempt to defend his own tragically underappreciated toning through a yawn, eyes cutting towards ignis where he tends to something on the portable stove and away again, but it's not nearly enough to make prompto reconsider. as planned. the two of them go trotting off through the trees, camera in hand and tripod over shoulder, and it's like they take all the sound in the campsite with them.
which leaves noctis to admire ignis in the rosy light, the soft glow behind his cheek and the glint against the skinny chain at his neck. none of it helps the want that settles heavy in noctis's stomach, a want that threatens to turn itself into a need as the realization that they're alone, however briefly, makes its slow way to clarity.
this careful dancing around the other two, around people milling about the parking lots of every pit stop along the way, around every friendly face that might recognize noctis for who he is back home has become the trend out of necessity, but the temptation to shake himself of the secrecy becomes harder and harder to shove down. oddly enough, the thing that makes him want to abandon responsibility and safety and sense is the one thing keeping all of those things together. ignis, with his calm and clear head, is perhaps too good at this.
they have a moment, though, and so noctis fights through the blur of sleep that hasn't quite cleared and eases himself into ignis's space, eyes trained on the eggs bubbling in the pan as he leans against ignis hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, a question. there is sound here, oil popping and low fire humming and steady breathing, and it's— it's so ignis, noctis aches. ]
Hey. [ comes the loaded greeting, voice deep and crackling this early in the morning. ignis's free hand rests on the table top next to the edge of the stove and noctis's own finds it easily, palm settling over the back of his knuckles and fingers sliding into the spaces between fingers in a less ambiguous question. it's needy and it's childish and he just doesn't have the energy to care. ]
no subject
And yet, here they are. Self-preservation far below Noctis on his hierarchy of needs, as it's always been. ]
Good morning. [ Nearly overshooting his usual formality and going straight into Stilted, but his fingers link tight with Noct's, gaze warm behind the shield of his glasses. He more takes them off (with the other hand, momentarily ignoring breakfast) because they get in the way of kissing, but the symbolism seems somewhat inescapable. ]
Bear in mind you mustn't allow me to burn these. We both know Prompto to be more than willing to wear a joke to rags. I'd never live it down.
[ His eyebrows are trying for emphatic here, but Noct is warm and close and for a moment there's nothing but him, just the lack of space between their bodies and the improbable blue of the prince's eyes. Ignis can feel his mouth doing something idiotically fond before he leans down to find Noct's a brush of lips that passes, about three seconds, for light.
Again, for about three seconds. Then it's just hungry, hungrier than Ignis knows what to do with. ]
no subject
there is a voice in the back of his head that says it can't last. but at this point can't feels like nothing more than a concept to test. test or destroy. it depends on the day.
still, no matter how noctis decides to approach it, the great injustice of it all hangs over him, keeps him quiet and secretive even when he's feeling his most defiant.
he's too tired and too distracted by ignis's eyes to feel anything more than affection now. he scoffs, a soft sound, in fact completely unbothered. ]
He's also easily distracted. [ a bored half-shrug, their shoulders rubbing together. ] You'd think of something.
[ the boyish indifference is a front that deflates instantly the moment ignis leans to kiss him. noct turns into the movement, fingers tightening around ignis's just so as his lips part long before is strictly necessary, anticipation leading the charge. and it is light at first, the way kissing ignis is always light at first; he treats noct not like he's fragile but like he knows he could use something tender. noctis has decided he does know, despite the fact that noctis has never and may never say as much.
he has also never said that he's hungry too, but he shouldn't have to after the way he presses up into the kiss for something fueled more by urgency than delicacy, or the way a low sound of encouragement rumbles in the back of his throat. and if that's not enough, ignis has a steadily growing list of similar moments behind gas stations and in motel bathrooms and just outside cramped tents to remind him.
if the injustice dares surface now it's only because he can't think of anything he wants more than this. ]
no subject
So yes, he knows the sharp, starving edge is mutual; it surprises him every time he realizes. He drops his glasses to the tabletop, the fingers of his free hand threading through Noct's hair: this early in the morning it's a less intentionally disheveled mess, soft like cat's fur; in contrast Ignis is of course impeccable, like he sprang from the sleeping bag perfectly groomed. (In a sentiment so treacley it's nearly absurd, Ignis thinks there is nothing up here lovelier than the prince regardless.) ]
I could, [ he manages in a break between kisses ] lay a trail of shiny objects to throw him off the scent, but my dissatisfaction with myself won't be dissipated nearly so easily.
[ Perhaps Noct might think that means they're going to stop kissing; in fact it means nothing of the kind, rather that Ignis gropes somewhat blindly behind him to turn the stove down to less perilous temperature. Where he can ignore it in favor of reeling Noct in closer, kisses traveling from the corner of his mouth to the joint of his jaw. ]
Now then. Where were we?
no subject
his head tilts a little into ignis's touch, more than pleased to take priority over glasses and spatulas and absolutely everything else that ignis looks after so diligently. but really, he shouldn't be surprised. he has grown up being the one thing ignis keeps and cares for and loves above all other things, so he shouldn't complain either. especially now that that love comes in this form, with ignis touching him with a kind of frightening reverence and a steady concentration that only he could manage even as they bicker about prompto and breakfast continues to cook in the background.
still, there is a prickle of perfectly rational (in his own opinion) annoyance at the assumed threat of stopping this—or, at the very least, briefly pausing it—in favor of avoiding dishing out charcoal once the others return. he bumps his nose against ignis's in a tiny show of frustration that could be easily mistaken for a gesture of messy affection if not for the accompanying grumble. ]
It's just eggs. [ maybe if bacon were on the line, noctis would feel more strongly about the disastrous consequences of kissing ignis too much, but then again, maybe not. imagine his satisfaction when ignis's hand disappears only to be followed up by the soft click of the stove's dial ticking down.
it's funny ignis should think of cats in relation to noctis. funny as in completely understandable, as noctis releases his grip on ignis's hand so he can stretch out his arms behind ignis's head like a feline woken from a warm nap in the sun before letting his elbows bend, draping his arms across ignis's shoulders. encircled like this, ignis doesn't have much chance of going far, but noctis doubts he has interest in being anywhere but here. he sighs when the kisses trail off from his mouth, but it's far from disappointment. ]
Hm. [ he's playing the game, smiling, bemused, against ignis's cheek ] You tell me.
[ he lets one of his hands slide down ignis's back so he might scratch idly at a shoulder blade while he wonders whether or not the fold-out table would support his weight if ignis were to lift him up and let him make a seat of it. shortly after he wonders how many photos prompto will actually want to take, but he waves that thought away; it's far less interesting than the first. ]
no subject
Friends who are, in this case, perhaps a little ...overly friendly. Ignis has had long enough to learn how Noct telegraphs intention to gauge what he wants, often (not that he'd ever expected to apply it to this), so backing him up against the edge of the table and looping one arm around his waist to do exactly that, make a seat out of it, is this brilliant collusion of instinct and desire, percolating light up his spine like firecrackers. ]
About here, if I'm any judge.
[ Since their faces are more like level now he leans in to rest his forehead against Noct's; he can, it has been noted, still see passably without his glasses, but at this distance the prince is more or less a blur of everything that makes him himself, messy haired and sleepy eyed, more demanding than anyone else Ignis knows. Something uncontainable has been happening in his chest since this started, keeps happening, enough that alongside their comfortable banter he has to close his eyes just to hold it in. ]
But perhaps his majesty has his own opinions?
[ This at more like reasonable speaking distance, Ignis bracing both hands on the edge of the table to either side of Noct's hips, so reasonable roughly translates to extremely close quarters. Which is fine, since it's a 'distance' Ignis eradicates when it becomes imperative to nuzzle underneath Noct's ear. There is, in the back of his head, a long and winding list of all the little things he's ever wanted to do, with Noct; now that he can do them they seem to be trying to happen all at once. ]
no subject
but forgive him if he wishes he had been. he can't help but think of long days at the palace and late nights in his school apartment that could have been filled with this feeling, this warmth, if only he'd realized a little sooner what he could have had. of course this yearning waited to seep into the light only after they'd left the comforts of home and stepped out into a world that seems intent on making this impossible. perhaps that isn't fair to his younger self, though. he's not sure when these feelings really began for his bespeckled advisor, a young man built on strict principles and duty when they'd first met; he only knows with brilliant clarity the moment it all came to a head, his fingers curling around ignis's upper arm and his mouth seeking ignis's mouth in what could have been an irreversible mistake.
it has proven to be irreversible, but it's far from a mistake.
he clutches at ignis a little tighter as he's lifted into the air, a breath of satisfied laughter escaping him at the wonder of ignis's instincts, at his immediate decision to give noct exactly what he wants. he'll spoil him, for sure. atop the table, noctis settles his knees on either side of ignis's hips, encouraging him to press close. and close ignis comes, their foreheads falling gently together. there is a moment in which noctis can only listen to the sounds of their breath mingling before ignis pulls back enough to speak. ]
Please. [ his mouth pulls into a smirk for a moment. ] His majesty will take whatever he can get.
[ and he means that. ignis's nose and lips brushing the tender skin of noctis's neck would be enough if that's all they had the opportunity for. he'd been afraid to even dream about such small things just a few short weeks ago. it's enough.
until, of course, it's not. ]
Or... maybe something like this.
[ noctis draws back and lets his hands slide forward to frame ignis's neck, his thumbs brushing along the underside of his jaw. he leans to kiss him again, head tilting as he licks his way into the heat of ignis's mouth. ]
no subject
So when his mouth slants open for Noct's there's an almost arch cast to it, another of those low laughs caught in the back of his throat. It's Gladio's job to crack the whip, as it were, meaning Ignis can afford a little indulgence, even if that's a very recent thing in this particular area. Noct isn't wrong that the way Ignis touches him owes a great deal to the awareness that not much else in his life is gentle, but underneath that, stronger, the determination that if he tries hard enough he can earn this. The two of them, whatever that as of yet unnamed thing can be called.
In little moments like this he feels as if he's at least getting close, if he can tug out sounds like that satisfied laugh, if Noct--wants him back. The idea still seems like madness. Not because it's so unlikely, Ignis certainly wouldn't do his hair the way he does if he thought he was some kind of terrible physical monstrosity, but because the world does seem so intent on impossibility.
Then again, the world can go hang itself, for the time being; its pressures and obstacles seem entirely outside the slow rise of the sun warming his back, where Noct's hands feel like each fingerprint will leave marks when they pull apart. ]
His majesty can "get" whatever he wants. As he well knows.
[ Speaking of indulgence. And speaking of pulling apart, Ignis like, doesn't actually do that at all, just murmurs this right up against Noct's lips as he links arms around slender waist, tracing down from the top vertebrae like following beads on a string, leaving the meandering stream of banter behind in favor of the wet electricity ramping up between their mouths, current snaking through his bloodstream. Something that was probably the spatula falls off the table and clatters to the ground; Ignis registers it dimly and then proceeds to ignore it, pressing in closer like there's much 'closer' left, teeth just grazing the curve of Noct's lower lip, tacitly experimental. ]
no subject
if he knew ignis felt he had to earn it—the right or the honor or whatever to be with him—he'd tell him he already has. months, years ago. long before noct really understood how much of ignis's life he was giving up in exchange for being a part of noctis's, to be a protector and a guide and a friend. he might also laugh, soft in it's mocking, because how incredibly ignis to approach this like he has to work for it, like he has to find himself worthy.
he doesn't have to do anything, in noctis's opinion. just make him feel like he does now. ]
Anything? [ a whisper against ignis's mouth before noctis's tongue returns to the more pressing task of sliding slick against ignis's, kisses slow and seeking but hanging onto that feeling of desperation. because he knows this will have to end before it can go too far.
he wishes that this were how it could always be. he wishes the others could return and gladio would make some long-suffering crack about how they're ruining the scenery and prompto would take an embarrassing photo and that would be it. they'd return to the folding chairs and breakfast serving but it wouldn't be so unthinkable that noct might squeeze ignis's fingers before stepping into the chill of a royal tomb or rest his head on ignis's shoulder in the back of the car. it would be normal.
he wishes without quite wishing, because no, he's not really interested in prompto and gladio's return as he shivers under ignis's touch, letting his own hands slide down over his chest and stomach, fingers tugging the bottom of ignis's shirt free from where it's been neatly tucked into his waistband. he'd like it very much if he could convince ignis to shed the shirt completely, but that might be harder to recover from than the fallen spatula or noctis's lightly mused hair. he settles for sliding his hands just underneath the fabric, thumbing over the curves of hipbones before migrating to the small of ignis's back where his skin is hot from the sun and hot from— well. this.
it should be pretty much impossible for ignis to miss the low ah that escapes him under ignis's teeth, proving the experiment overwhelmingly positive. ]
... i don't have a remotely appropriate icon for this tag
Ignis is, perhaps, a little more cautious than he needs to be when it comes to Noct; part of that is ingrained, a reflection of their entire lives together, but the rest ...when would he have had the time, let alone the desire, to seek out this kind of intimacy anywhere else? It's a strange, floaty feeling not to be the guiding hand here when so much is so new, as if a dam is broken by that encouraging sound; he definitely can't miss it, considering amidst the rush of kissing he can as much feel as hear it, low murmur reverberating over his own lips and tongue. ]
Anything. [ the conformation scrapes sandpapery with fractured breathing and just a gloss of rueful humor, at least he recognizes how hopeless he is.
He seems to lose a little of the constant control he keeps on himself at that, like saying it makes it true; Noctis' hair is going to be more than a little mussed now, with both of Ignis's hands curling through it, winding soft black between his fingers. Not quite tugging, but close, like the explorative brush of his teeth earlier. Reverence and roughness measured alongside one another, soft bites sharper now. Let it never be said he's anything but stellar at taking cues, please. ]
honestly where are the kissing icons
this is not that. he doesn't feel like he's trying to live up to an expectation and he doesn't feel like they're only trying to build up to a specified end. the emphasis here is on touch, on knowing one another, on trying to put into action what they can't quite manage in words yet. he moves on instinct rather than reasoning, and that's a shocking concept compared to what he'd had before. not quite so shocking as the way the word anything slips through ignis's lips, like he's shattered glass held together by noctis's hands, each kiss another hairline fracture. he doesn't seem scared to break, though. it seems to noctis that ignis feels as safe with him as he does with ignis, and that alone is enough to send another skittering cascade of shivers up his spine.
yes, he knows ignis will do anything. he hopes he will not have to ask so much.
it's all he can do to answer with a hum of approval as breath catches in his throat, words lost with the stomach flip that follows the drag of ignis's fingers in his hair and the tender marring to his bottom lip that grows more focused, more ardent as ignis sets his mind to it. his ability to take cues is impressive, and noct is unlikely to forget it. his hands slide up ignis's sides in a featherlight reward, hiking his shirt higher as noctis's legs curve to rub against the back of ignis's thighs, dispelling all space between their hips if there was any left to spare.
he almost wants to say anything might be a little too much this early in the morning, but the thought required for structuring coherent sentences is becoming less and less important. it's much easier to say ignis's name, and so he does, the delicate break in his voice on the first syllable alluding to a measure of difficulty he hadn't foreseen. ]
CLOSE ENOUGH
Much like the eggs are trying to do. Ignis manages a shaky sound like fond exasperation, though where it's directed is--all directions, really. Noct, himself, them, less fond exasperation that this is bloody necessary in the first place--he sighs and kisses Noct swiftly on the corner of the mouth, turning the exact minimum number of degrees required to get to the stove without actually detaching himself at all. ]
A moment, if you please.
[ This is the point where he discovers the spatula has rolled off into the dirt, and for a moment the temptation to just abandon all of this to kiss Noct silly is clear on his face; if the table would support more or less tackling Noct, there's a real chance that would have happened. As things are of course he has a passel of spare utensils around; he manages to rescue the eggs in a probably still edible state, pulls the skillet off the stove and...proceeds to muffle the welling of helpless laughter in Noct's shoulder, silent little shimmers rocking his back.
He's not quite moved to put his glasses back on, in fact he stays exactly where he is, just for a moment longer. Since he might have gone all of about six inches away in the first place. ]
My desire for you will be the death of us all, I fear. Or at the very least the malnutrition.
[ This isn't really an exaggeration, the others would resort to endless Cup Noodles, and man can only live on so much sodium alone. Still, given that Ignis is still taking advantage of every last possible second they have for more closeness, he can't actually mind too much. Or at all. ]
I'LL TAKE IT
long story short, he's caught unawares in the moment when ignis pulls away to contemplate what he's just heard—his name or breakfast burning or both—and so he just stares at the face before his, thoughts a singing parade of you love him. the imaginary pageant of hearts doesn't silence even when ignis sighs like that, only quiets enough to make room in his brain for recognizing the situation here: the eggs turning black at the edges, the spatula missing from the table, ignis obviously torn between breakfast and noctis. the corner of his mouth curves upwards into a smile under ignis's kiss, his hold loosening all over so ignis can maneuver enough to stop the eggs from alerting the others with smoke signals.
he is caught between trying to catch his breath and laughing lightly by the time has ignis sorted out the spare utensils, and he reaches to pluck at ignis's shirt and tug it down again, fingers skimming over his skin in a way that is definitely not distracting, not at all.
his laughter graduates to full-fledged once ignis tries to bury his own utterly charming giggles in noct's shoulder. there is something about the sound that makes noctis warm all over, and he should really stop feeling surprised by the effect these small, gentle things have on him. this is a laugh that only noctis bears witness to, after all. ignis's breath tickles his neck and he feels so goddamn lucky. ]
Wow. You really know how to flatter a guy. [ sarcastic and teasing, an attempt to cover for the flush in his face at the word desire. the electricity that buzzed under his skin while they kissed is settling some, but it'll remain for as long as they stay close or for as long as they continue to touch. it spikes whenever some small movement makes him aware once again of all the places of contact. ] Never thought malnutrition could be so romantic.
[ his hand moves to cover ignis's again wherever it lies. ]
no subject
Poetics are apparently not my strongest suit.
[ A little self-deprecating, but comfortably. Ignis is aware of the things he does well and cultivates those, rather than insecurity regarding the things he doesn't. In this case he's managed to rescue breakfast and make Noct laugh in the same minute; if that's not a win he doesn't know what is. Anyway, at least he won't be attempting to write sonnets, since ultimately the prince could expect more of the same. Eyes as blue as this one set of dishes Ignis liked in a store once, et cetera et cetera.
If he notices the flush he doesn't comment on it, considering the heat bubbling merrily away under his own skin it would hardly be fair. On which note his eyes drop shut a moment, then open to seek Noct's gaze in some easy marriage of intent and wry. ]
While I have you, on the topic of romance--
[ emphasis on the second syllable, because that's how Ignis' accent goes ]
Much as I enjoy our forays into, ah, carpe noctem*, as it were, perhaps we might try for avenues less capricious. I'm certain I could concoct Official Sounding reasons to steal you away.
(as opposed to diem, because seize the noct, get it; ignis is so very very clever)
no subject
Still, not your weakest. [ this a soft, skeptical mumble, not a comment on whatever ignis's weakest suit is—noctis has no idea what that would be and doesn't care to consider—but rather an appreciation for the poetics ignis puts into action. noct isn't in need of calligraphy confessions when ignis does this just as well, perhaps better. words have been in short supply lately but ignis has made do. ]
Oh yeah? [ his smile goes lopsided in his amusement, taken by the terrible joke and, more importantly, the suggestion. he doesn't tend to expect mischief from ignis, even if it's in small doses. that isn't to say he doesn't believe ignis would and could invent an important prince and advisor errand for them to attend to. in fact, he'd do so like an expert. he's who noct turns to when he needs a false name to offer or if they find themselves having to spin a story about why they're seeking a night's rest in each new town they happen on.
noctis's eyes seem to brighten a little as he considers. ]
Where are you planning on taking me? [ there's something in his voice that dares to be a little wistful. he has spent some amount of time daydreaming on four or five of their longer car drives, tentatively entertaining the thought of what they might do if they were given the time and the space alone that they're both in such desperate need of, but never with the hope that it would actually happen. everything else has always come first. ]
IT'S STILL ME ...wouldn't it be so weird if another ignis just charged in here
Somewhere modest, I should think. The mere idea of privacy shames us more with decadence than silk sheets and marble floors could ever hope to manage.
[ Ever so deadpan, ever so dry, both affects seriously undercut by his eyelids slipping half closed to turn one sharp cheekbone into Noct's hand. After a second of what is clearly pure indulgence - which is probably as rare for Ignis as mischief - he rightens himself, one corner of his mouth tipping up into a lopsided half-smile. A caravan, or even a separate tent, would do just as well; anything to be alone without the deafening of seconds ticking by, rhythm merciless in his head. He lets the commentary on his abilities go by without comment, but his smile stretches over the rest of his mouth; if Noct feels like the brightest thing on Ignis' entire horizon, then he's made his point as it was meant, bare minimum eloquence at his disposal or not.
Speaking of bare minimum eloquence. ]
Now I've made the prospect of skiving off with me sound as romantic as malnutrition, goodness.
[ Ah-ha, so two can play at this "teasing" game. With "carpe noctem" in the mix already, may as well go on as he began, which is to say with mild absurdity. The idea of putting aside their respective duties for just as long as it takes to catch their breath decided, or at least put out into the atmosphere, Ignis captures Noct's hand back from his cheek to kiss the backs of his knuckles. He's been storing up these little gestures for years: Noct's hands rough on a practice sword making him want to trace each line and whorl, the exposed nape of his neck--Ignis thought of closing his mouth over the top vertebrae, precise and gentle. They've been side by side long enough for glimpses of every plane of skin, meaning: there's not one Ignis hasn't thought about. Sketching Noct's outlines with his hands and mouth, filling in all the edges he's imagined.
So. Talking may not be the only use this proposed privacy sees. For now, Ignis judges they have a few more minutes to spare; he eyes Noct, considering and sly. ]
Hmm. What are the odds you'll hear our fellows return before they're upon us?
[ It probably helps that while Gladio could glide smoothly and unnoticed through the trees, Prompto might as well bring a herd of elephants behind him. ]
HAHAH well i can see why they'd want to
Can I cast my vote for an actual bed? [ his brow quirks, asking a less than innocent question with a surprisingly innocent tilt to his mouth. he doesn't need silk sheets or marble floors; a mattress and blankets and pillows in a roadside motel are all he's asking for here. those and ignis, obviously, ignis being the most important part.
seeing ignis looking so— he's not sure of the word, sensitive? helpless? caught? whatever it is, it makes something light and airy blossom in noctis's chest even if ignis's cheek settles against his palm for only a moment. he's not entirely used to ignis slipping from his calm and collected exterior, and so it continues to catch him off guard even when they are so intimate, the feeling increasing tenfold by the fact that it's noctis that does this to him. it's noctis that coaxes this indulgence from him. add that to the list of things noct has to be proud of, proud and grateful. ]
I kind of like the idea of skiving. [ he says on a contented sigh. ] And you're only gonna have yourself to blame for that. [ he looks at ignis pointedly, like ignis should feel guilty for putting the idea of shirking responsibilities in noct's head. it's too late to take it back now, though.
any hint of smugness that shows on his face smooths out when ignis's lips graze his knuckles, and the relief that washes over him at the suggestion that maybe they have just a little more time is enough to pull a somewhat shaking breath from him, trying and perhaps failing to hide how deeply he's effected by the tenderness with a laugh. he hadn't picked up on the threat of eggs going to waste and so he's not positive he'll be any better at sensing the approach of gladio and prompto, even if prompto doesn't seem to know the meaning of the word stealth. if it's the difference between whether or not he can pull ignis close again though, then: ]
There's a chance.
[ noctis's hair has become properly disheveled; it only seems fair that noctis curl his fingers into the hair at the base of ignis's skull and lean into him again, deciding before their mouths can collide to tilt his head and kiss ignis's jaw instead, both returning the favor and testing whether or not this is actually a good idea. it's far too easy to lose himself in this. ]
plants flag they're not allowed :E
Though he is still keeping an ear out for their friends himself, so between the two of them--surely it will work out all right, even as his muscles are turning to water under Noct's curious mouth. Ignis makes a subvocal noise of approval, presses him closer with a hand flat at the back of his head. They both know they're at the end of the hourglass, though, so instead of letting himself drown totally Ignis picks up the thread of their conversation, hand in Noct's hair unabashedly like scritching a cat now. It continues to be apt that Ignis is thinking in cat metaphors
since he's played by who he is, cats also being hellishly selective in what they're willing to care about. And terribly picky eaters, and--Ignis will share this later, probably. ]Perhaps we'll be truly daring and spring for running water, as well.
[ That could also be perfectly innocent, real bathing being a nicety as well, but much like a bed in this case definitely isn't. Especially not uttered as it is, Ignis tipping his chin up to let Noct go wandering to his heart's content in the vicinity of his jaw and throat. So if nothing else Noctis will probably never have to guess what he wants; he believes in direct communication. Possibly because it's the best way to meet Noct head-on, he'd just never really let himself imagine it would be to convey how many sensitive places there are on the underside of his jaw. Noct has probably found most of them by the time Ignis clutches one of his upper arms out of reflex, looking around in his peripheral vision. ]
I think we're about to be encroached upon. Unless I miss my guess, and I don't mind saying I hope I do.
(˵¯͒⌄¯͒˵)
ignis might feel him smile at the suggestion of a shower, in part because yes, one does not become truly aware of just how much dirt can find its way caked under fingernails or smudged on cheeks until the convenience of washrooms is in the rearview mirror, but mostly for other reasons. seeing as ignis barely ever seems to look anything less than immaculate probably attests to noct's theory that he has some other things in mind when it comes to hot water and porcelain tubs. a combination of anticipation and nerves sends a shiver through him despite the growing warmth of the rising sun. ]
Now you're talking. [ said against ignis's neck as noct works his way down a little, spurred on by the tilt of ignis's chin. his kisses are slow and lingering as he tests the waters, daring to nip when he's reached a spot that seems exceptionally tender. his teeth might have made more of an impression if it weren't for the knowledge that leaving marks would undoubtedly spark questions, and noct isn't sure even ignis could whip up an excuse for small and precise bruises on the swell of his throat.
he grumbles at the warning, managing to be lazy even in his irritation. he decides not to push their luck, though, catching the light sound of prompto's laughter not far off. ]
Too bad you're always right.
[ with this, he draws back, hands sliding away from where they touch, settling, almost sadly, in his lap as his legs free ignis from the temporary enclosure. he wets his lips, smiling carefully, eyes lidded in disappointment. ]
no subject
You would say such things when I can hardly relish hearing them.
[ A little teasing, fond and wry, but--Ignis' gaze turns intent as he reaches up to put Noct's hair to rights as best it can be; that's probably a thing no one would bat an eye at coming upon, given the constant fuss over the entire group's tendency to become disheveled just by standing downwind of dirt. The focus on Ignis' face owes less to fastidiousness than it does to laser-focused affection, of course, but that's probably a mutable conceit at the best of times. He brushes a mostly imaginary smudge from Noct's cheekbone and steps back himself, puts palpable distance between them with a little sigh. ]
Soon, I promise. As soon as we can manage.
[ Actually verbalizing I promise is fairly extraneous, Noctis knows what it sounds like when he makes those, formally or not. He leans with excessive nonchalance by one hip next to the stove, fiddling with his own hair unconsciously before his expression goes all wide and quasi-alarmed, since. You know, his glasses are still sitting over there on the folding table. A quick, sharp gesture for them - thank you, Noct, you're a gentleman and a scholar - and he looks relatively himself, if not a little less terminally even-keeled than usual. Color slightly high, eyes a little brighter; he can only attest to either of these because he can see them on Noctis, a fact he will take no small satisfaction in for how well-concealed any smugness on his part might be. ]
no subject
Yeah. I would. [ perhaps ignis will see that it is not entirely genuine, but his mouth tugs upward into a smile that borders on smug as ignis attempts to neaten his hair, a gesture that is far from unfamiliar but still new to these particular circumstances. ignis has been fussing about the unkempt appearance of the prince for as long as they have known each other, and it's this thought that turns noct's smile into something recognizably real. he reaches to brush his fingers through his own bangs, adjusting their sweep across his forehead to his liking before his hand drops unceremoniously to his thigh again, mildly defeated in the same way ignis's sigh is mildly defeated. ]
Hope it's worth the wait. [ he says lightly, hoping to keep up the trend of teasing. that seems to make things slightly easier, falling into the natural rhythm of things. though that isn't to say that kissing ignis feels any less natural than pestering him, and perhaps that's one of the reasons keeping this secret is so hard. at least there is no doubt that this will absolutely be worth the wait.
he watches ignis lean against the stove, the image of his usual grace until he realizes the lack of glasses on his face. noct manages not to snort at the wave of his hand, hopping off of the table before collecting up specs' specs. rather than place them in open palm, he unfolds the glasses and leans to slide them into place on ignis's face, slow enough to really take in the fading red of his cheeks.
it's a good look on him. ]
There.
[ noctis steps back again, putting regrettable distance between them so finally, it's safe for gladio and prompto to return. he reminds himself the distance can only last so long. ]
no subject
Utterly hopeless. ]
Ah. [ A small, self-contained smile: ] There you are.
[ Features crystal-clear once again, though Ignis can't spend as long as he would like studying them. Instead he laughs one of his husky, lower-register laughs, tilting his head to one side in an angle that just skirts flirtatious because he can hear Prompto's delighted crowing drawing closer with a swiftness. ]
I shall endeavor not to disappoint [ pause for effect ], your highness.
[ Then he goes to dispense breakfast and simply dare anyone to complain about the quality of the eggs. Go on, do it. ]