Prompto holds very, very still as the soap drags up the inside of his thigh. So far, Ardyn hasn’t made any move to touch his cock or his ass, and his own cock is still just pressed against the base of Prompto’s spine, a constant reminder of how this could go if Ardyn wanted it to. He’s hard, and so is Prompto, but he’s trying not to read too much into that—being terrified and touched all over really gently at the same time does weird things to a guy’s body, it seems.
Ardyn pushes Prompto forward to soap up his back and pours cupped handfuls of water over his skin, then guides him back to lean against his chest. He holds him tenderly, like a lover.
“Why are you doing this?” Prompto asks softly, and Ardyn skims his hands up and down his arms for a moment before answering.
“Call it a temporary reprieve. You’ve been through so much already—“ he says it with all the sympathy in the world, like he had nothing to do with any of it, “—and I’m afraid that what awaits you while you await your friends is going to be...less than pleasant.”
It’s not like Prompto couldn’t have guessed that there’s something more unpleasant than a hot bath in store for him. He still can’t hold back a little whimper at the confirmation.
Ardyn croons soothingly and strokes his hair. “Oh, I know, poor thing, but there’s nothing for it. We all have our roles to play. So, were I you, I’d make the most of this little break.”
Prompto’s more confused than ever. Ardyn’s talking like this is all some unavoidable tragedy, like he has no more choice in letting it play out than Prompto does, and he wants to ask why.
Instead, he lets Ardyn push him forward again to wash his hair, lets himself be moved around and handled like a doll. He lets himself sink into the feeling of strong fingers massaging his scalp, closes his eyes as water sluices over his head.
After that, Ardyn holds him again for a while, running his fingers through Prompto’s wet hair. He seems to enjoy this part, cradling Prompto against his chest with his arms wrapped around him, and Prompto has the dizzy thought that maybe he’s not the only one this is meant as a reprieve for.
The water’s starting to go cold and Prompto’s sunk into a half-doze by the time Ardyn shifts him to the side so he can stand. Ardyn gets out first—Prompto can hear the water running off of him and the sound of wet feet on tile—and a few moments later he’s back to help Prompto out, hands cupping his elbow and waist as he guides him to stand on shaky legs. Prompto’s toes sink into a thick rug and his shoulders are draped with a towel big enough to wrap himself up in like a blanket, which he does eagerly. Ardyn rubs his hair with a second towel and pulls him close again, and at this point it doesn’t seem all that strange when Prompto feels a soft kiss on the top of his head.
“Time to get dressed,” Ardyn says, rubbing his arms through the towel. “I’m afraid there’s not much time left before we have to get ready.”
Prompto closes his eyes and lets his head tip forward onto Ardyn’s chest. “Please,” he says quietly, without any real hope that pleading’s going to get him anything.
Ardyn curls a hand around the back of his neck, squeezing gently. “That’s good,” he says in that soft, caressing voice. “You already know your lines.”
Re: Fill: Ardyn/Any, Non-Consensual Bathing (Ardyn/Prompto, 3/3)
Ardyn pushes Prompto forward to soap up his back and pours cupped handfuls of water over his skin, then guides him back to lean against his chest. He holds him tenderly, like a lover.
“Why are you doing this?” Prompto asks softly, and Ardyn skims his hands up and down his arms for a moment before answering.
“Call it a temporary reprieve. You’ve been through so much already—“ he says it with all the sympathy in the world, like he had nothing to do with any of it, “—and I’m afraid that what awaits you while you await your friends is going to be...less than pleasant.”
It’s not like Prompto couldn’t have guessed that there’s something more unpleasant than a hot bath in store for him. He still can’t hold back a little whimper at the confirmation.
Ardyn croons soothingly and strokes his hair. “Oh, I know, poor thing, but there’s nothing for it. We all have our roles to play. So, were I you, I’d make the most of this little break.”
Prompto’s more confused than ever. Ardyn’s talking like this is all some unavoidable tragedy, like he has no more choice in letting it play out than Prompto does, and he wants to ask why.
Instead, he lets Ardyn push him forward again to wash his hair, lets himself be moved around and handled like a doll. He lets himself sink into the feeling of strong fingers massaging his scalp, closes his eyes as water sluices over his head.
After that, Ardyn holds him again for a while, running his fingers through Prompto’s wet hair. He seems to enjoy this part, cradling Prompto against his chest with his arms wrapped around him, and Prompto has the dizzy thought that maybe he’s not the only one this is meant as a reprieve for.
The water’s starting to go cold and Prompto’s sunk into a half-doze by the time Ardyn shifts him to the side so he can stand. Ardyn gets out first—Prompto can hear the water running off of him and the sound of wet feet on tile—and a few moments later he’s back to help Prompto out, hands cupping his elbow and waist as he guides him to stand on shaky legs. Prompto’s toes sink into a thick rug and his shoulders are draped with a towel big enough to wrap himself up in like a blanket, which he does eagerly. Ardyn rubs his hair with a second towel and pulls him close again, and at this point it doesn’t seem all that strange when Prompto feels a soft kiss on the top of his head.
“Time to get dressed,” Ardyn says, rubbing his arms through the towel. “I’m afraid there’s not much time left before we have to get ready.”
Prompto closes his eyes and lets his head tip forward onto Ardyn’s chest. “Please,” he says quietly, without any real hope that pleading’s going to get him anything.
Ardyn curls a hand around the back of his neck, squeezing gently. “That’s good,” he says in that soft, caressing voice. “You already know your lines.”