[ This is Ignis, who knows Noctis better than he knows himself, who loves him so very deeply that he can see through to his soul, to know what he needs before Noctis even realizes it. Ignis is right, on all counts; to give pleasure is to have agency. To be the cause of what's making Ignis feels good makes him feel good, to know that he at least has some measure of control in something, and not left to the grand old fates to decide.
This, here, is so important to him for reasons that Ignis has articulated, and when he yields and allows Noctis the space to do it, the young king is wordlessly grateful and pleased -- they fit together like a hand in a glove, seamlessly coming together without a word, and he can't tear his eyes away from the beauty that is Ignis Scientia, surrendering to what Noctis offers, what he promises.
Noctis loves him, he's always loved him -- ever since they were children and Noctis hadn't been sure what the definition was, when he became a teenager, moody and prickly and more skilled at pushing people away than keeping them close. And here they are, now, like a switch had been flipped between them and everything has come back full circle. Noctis feels deeply, so deeply for him. It's a bond that's deeper than friendship and brotherhood, stronger than love, and he can't help but smile as he hears him say his name.
Gods, but he loves it when Ignis says that, breathy and soft and like he's giving over control to him, and Noctis is caught in that very spell, woven so delicately by Ignis himself. In his eyes, the weariness falls away, becomes something else -- Ignis makes him feel like he's worth something, like he can damn well do anything. ]
Yeah...? Tell me how you think I'm looking at you.
[ He asks softly, breath catching in his throat as he continues, stroking him through his pants, heart pounding at how forward it is, how they've officially gone farther than they've ever had before. ]
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This, here, is so important to him for reasons that Ignis has articulated, and when he yields and allows Noctis the space to do it, the young king is wordlessly grateful and pleased -- they fit together like a hand in a glove, seamlessly coming together without a word, and he can't tear his eyes away from the beauty that is Ignis Scientia, surrendering to what Noctis offers, what he promises.
Noctis loves him, he's always loved him -- ever since they were children and Noctis hadn't been sure what the definition was, when he became a teenager, moody and prickly and more skilled at pushing people away than keeping them close. And here they are, now, like a switch had been flipped between them and everything has come back full circle. Noctis feels deeply, so deeply for him. It's a bond that's deeper than friendship and brotherhood, stronger than love, and he can't help but smile as he hears him say his name.
Gods, but he loves it when Ignis says that, breathy and soft and like he's giving over control to him, and Noctis is caught in that very spell, woven so delicately by Ignis himself. In his eyes, the weariness falls away, becomes something else -- Ignis makes him feel like he's worth something, like he can damn well do anything. ]
Yeah...? Tell me how you think I'm looking at you.
[ He asks softly, breath catching in his throat as he continues, stroking him through his pants, heart pounding at how forward it is, how they've officially gone farther than they've ever had before. ]