His antsiness hadn't fared any better on his drive to the modest studio apartment he kept, modest being relative in a neighborhood like Noct's. It was little more than a place to lay his head outside the Citadel while affording him convenient access to Noct's building. Its sole extravagance was the kitchen, which had been fitted with an industrial range, an oven, and a plumbed in professional-grade espresso machine.
Ignis slipped his shoes off by the door and heaped his things on the single end table. He stripped to his undershirt and slacks then and there, throwing his coat and shirt over the arm of the small sofa. He only sometimes bothered to change into more appropriate clothing anyway. It was more wear and tear, but afforded the assurance that he could move and fight with equal comfort in his official attire as in his gym clothes. The austerity allowed ample room to pull down the folded blue tumbling mats that dominated the open wall, the mobile version of the heavy padded flooring in the Crownsguard training rooms. It was difficult to push himself as hard as he would sometimes prefer, but the mats still proved helpful for allowing him to relax and refocus physically without needing to return to the Citadel.
Slipping on the wrist wraps he kept in the desk drawer put him in mind of other ways of binding them, as it hadn't in years. Despite the flush of warmth at the thought it felt so much like being naked that even his own mind's eye refused to see him that way. It slid instead to the satisfaction of service, the home those desires had rested in since before he knew them for what they were. Short of driving himself to illness—and he'd sorted that when he was nineteen—training harder would never go amiss.
Both the limited space and consideration for his neighbors prevented any aerial maneuvers and the noise they would bring. He segued from simple stretching to handstands and walkovers to more complicated inversions, movements that required both physical exertion and mental focus. He laid in full splits until he ached, held an L-sit until his arms shook. When he was sweating enough his singlet stuck to his skin and his thighs trembled, Ignis collected his clothes, replaced the mats against the wall. Even physical exhaustion could only dispel so much. He had attended to every other potential need and distractor, and still heat throbbed.
In the shower he was tempted to crank the cold water, though it wouldn't help for long. His bed beckoned, and there would be no distraction there. He left his head under the spray as heat beat down around him, poured over his face. The phrases were worn like creased scraps of paper he'd repeated them so many times over the years: he'd done nothing wrong, and had no reason to be embarrassed.
The tile slashed a cold line on his forearm when he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes as he took himself in hand. After a long evening of supressing the urge, the growing heat swept over him shockingly fast. He didn't insert himself into the image—not out of shame, it simply wasn't the way his libido tended to operate—and so it was Prompto in unknown hands that filled his senses, stitched together from different scenarios Ignis had seen him in: sweating and flushed from his run, moaning in pleasure as he might from Ignis' cooking.
It was the intangible moment of weightlessness before freefall, the hot throb as his skin grew tight.
He didn't need any other sensation or more intensity to push himself the way he sometimes did. He envisioned tears streaming down Prompto's face as they had after a film they'd all seen when he'd shamelessly sobbed along with the bereaved characters. The whine that sometimes set Ignis' teeth on edge emerged out of desperation to please his anonymous partners, much more gratifying than its usual cause. The phantom Prompto's climax was more than Ignis had imagination for, but it was enough to know he had the means to see it in person. It couldn't be wrong to entertain the fantasy of something that had been offered in reality.
The power of that choice thrilled through him and that more than anything was enough to push him over the edge, and then Ignis was sagging against the wall on unsteady legs in the aftermath, catching his breath while the spray washed away all evidence of his moment of weakness.
Mechanically, Ignis turned off the shower and toweled off, brushed his teeth; his usual routine. He didn't bother putting on even a pair of shorts before he slipped into bed. He was finally, truly exhausted.
Laying between the cool sheets, a balm on his shower-warmed skin, he considered his situation. With all possible distractions settled he could finally think objectively.
He again had no reason to be ashamed. Prompto's points concerning his regard for Noct were more than fair. As Ignis didn't hold any position of authority in the Crownsguard there should be no questions of impropriety. Their proximity through Noct easily explained their acquaintance should it become necessary; their other mutual interest had no reason to come into question.
With Prompto's offer filling his thoughts, Ignis slept.
#
Though one might expect the reverse, what had seemed perfectly clear in the middle of the night was much less so in the light of day, and the days that followed.
Ignis was ashamed that he hadn't fully considered the ramifications of accepting, so distracted was he by other facets of the proposition. In truth he hadn't entertained it as a real possibility, so he hadn't paid a whit of attention to the consequences, as Prompto had in considering what he would tell Noct.
The possibility of any public narrative was enough to give Ignis pause. Any intimate relationship, however casual, would always be a security risk. Certainly most people felt the risk was worth it. Life and families and children carried on in the highest echelons of the Citadel staff and always would, human nature and inheritance being what they were.
But for such a shallow, selfish dalliance, little more than a favor? Ignis could never justify it.
So he didn't. He didn't speak of it at all. Shockingly, neither did Prompto. In fact, Ignis made it through the week having scarcely seen him, no more than a few cheerful waves in the halls and once through the windshield of a Crownsguard car as Ignis picked Noct up from the arcade. He was even absent from Noct's apartment Friday evening.
"No Prompto this weekend?"
"Nah, he had, uh, plans tonight."
"Out entertaining Rhasa of the overbearing parents and car-alarm voice, or some other future security breach?"
Noct hesitated, then said, "Just out, I guess," and Ignis remembered his silence when they'd first asked Prompto about the club. No doubt he'd been sworn to secrecy over Prompto's social activity. "We're supposed to hang out tomorrow though if you want to come," Noct added more cheerfully, "maybe go see a movie."
"Oh, I don't think so," Ignis said. "I really ought to spend tomorrow catching up on my expense accounts." There was always work to catch up on, the perpetual excuse. He didn't relish the thought of facing Prompto again at the moment when he was only delaying the inevitable of properly rejecting his offer.
Ignis worked his way through dinner more from habit than desire as he and Noct chatted. Knowing Prompto was likely entertaining himself with another questionable partner had done no favors for his appetite. It might have been the saving grace of Prompto's proposal: kept busy through other means Prompto would have less time to scoop up novice clubgoers like stray pets in need of a good home.
The thought, at first only a moment of private humor, gave him pause.
What hypothetical pleasure it might have brought Ignis was irrelevant, not worth considering. Years of solitude had been perfectly manageable. Only a few weeks of knowing Prompto had been leaving himself and Noct so vulnerable had driven him to distraction. Quite the opposite of Prompto's intent to provide Ignis a means of exploration, if Ignis occupied enough of Prompto's attention he may rein in the single biggest influence in Noct's life outside the Citadel, and save himself from forever wondering if Prompto had spent his weekend coddling a new potential threat.
"You know," Ignis said, "on second thought I think I will join you tomorrow."
#
"Prompto, a moment of your time, please," Ignis said while they stood back from Gladio and Noct in line for concessions.
"What's up?"
"Not much just now," Ignis said, "but I'd hoped for a chance to speak with you before you go home this evening." Standing behind Gladio as he deliberated between a vat of popcorn larger than his head and one only half the size didn't afford the most privacy to discuss a very private matter.
Prompto's pink mouth wrapped around his straw as he sipped. "Yeah, that's totally cool."
"You want anything, Specs?" Noct said.
Ignis refused. Much like Prompto, who'd gotten only a soda, Ignis would be satisfied stealing a few handfuls of the others'.
He didn't pay much attention to the film, scintillating though Biohazard 7 might have been. Guards and Glaives and diplomats had been rebuffed, and he was about to agree to a proposition from someone who unironically used the phrase totally cool. The impulse to give Prompto a polite refusal and wash his hands of the whole thing lingered. He knew only that Ignis wanted to speak with him, it wasn't too late.
He'd endured worse for Noct's sake.
As the screen went black and the credits began to scroll, Prompto tapped his arm and nodded his head toward the exit.
"The credits!" Noct said.
"I know, buddy, but I've got to pee like a racehorse and if I wait there's gonna be a massive line," Prompto said, very convincingly when Ignis knew he was usually as much of a completist as Noct was when it came to movie viewing.
"Suit yourself," Noct said, and pointedly settled into his seat. Gladio had stayed quiet through the exchange, and Ignis avoided catching his eye as he stood to follow Prompto out.
As they walked Prompto drummed his hands on his thighs. "So, what did you want to talk about?"
"I presume you haven't forgotten the proposal you made a few weeks ago."
"You could say that," Prompto laughed.
"I was hoping we could establish a time to discuss what that might entail in private."
Prompto laughed again, like he was waiting for Ignis to get in on the joke. They took the ramp up in silence. His hands went still. "Seriously?" He came to a stop in front of the doors as people started to filter out of the theatre.
"If the offer's no longer good—"
"No, no the offer's good, the offer's great," Prompto said with disproportionate enthusiasm. He'd gone very still, a stone in the river of moviegoers that had begun to flow around them. "So do you want to—"
"Have a discussion better held in private in private?" Ignis said as he pulled him by the arm towards the side of the hall. "Yes. I only wanted to inform of you of my decision."
"Right, sorry. I can text later to figure out when to meet up if you want?"
Ignis had considered offering Prompto another ride, though going out of his way to drop Noct off and then doubling back would likely be too conspicuous to avoid an explanation. Simply arranging a time and place wouldn't incriminate him in anything but meeting Prompto, and he had resigned himself to Noct and most likely Gladio becoming privy to at least that much.
Still, Ignis was not above delaying the inevitable.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: Prompto/any bro, new dom/experienced sub (3/?)
Date: 2018-10-24 01:40 am (UTC)Ignis slipped his shoes off by the door and heaped his things on the single end table. He stripped to his undershirt and slacks then and there, throwing his coat and shirt over the arm of the small sofa. He only sometimes bothered to change into more appropriate clothing anyway. It was more wear and tear, but afforded the assurance that he could move and fight with equal comfort in his official attire as in his gym clothes. The austerity allowed ample room to pull down the folded blue tumbling mats that dominated the open wall, the mobile version of the heavy padded flooring in the Crownsguard training rooms. It was difficult to push himself as hard as he would sometimes prefer, but the mats still proved helpful for allowing him to relax and refocus physically without needing to return to the Citadel.
Slipping on the wrist wraps he kept in the desk drawer put him in mind of other ways of binding them, as it hadn't in years. Despite the flush of warmth at the thought it felt so much like being naked that even his own mind's eye refused to see him that way. It slid instead to the satisfaction of service, the home those desires had rested in since before he knew them for what they were. Short of driving himself to illness—and he'd sorted that when he was nineteen—training harder would never go amiss.
Both the limited space and consideration for his neighbors prevented any aerial maneuvers and the noise they would bring. He segued from simple stretching to handstands and walkovers to more complicated inversions, movements that required both physical exertion and mental focus. He laid in full splits until he ached, held an L-sit until his arms shook. When he was sweating enough his singlet stuck to his skin and his thighs trembled, Ignis collected his clothes, replaced the mats against the wall. Even physical exhaustion could only dispel so much. He had attended to every other potential need and distractor, and still heat throbbed.
In the shower he was tempted to crank the cold water, though it wouldn't help for long. His bed beckoned, and there would be no distraction there. He left his head under the spray as heat beat down around him, poured over his face. The phrases were worn like creased scraps of paper he'd repeated them so many times over the years: he'd done nothing wrong, and had no reason to be embarrassed.
The tile slashed a cold line on his forearm when he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes as he took himself in hand. After a long evening of supressing the urge, the growing heat swept over him shockingly fast. He didn't insert himself into the image—not out of shame, it simply wasn't the way his libido tended to operate—and so it was Prompto in unknown hands that filled his senses, stitched together from different scenarios Ignis had seen him in: sweating and flushed from his run, moaning in pleasure as he might from Ignis' cooking.
It was the intangible moment of weightlessness before freefall, the hot throb as his skin grew tight.
He didn't need any other sensation or more intensity to push himself the way he sometimes did. He envisioned tears streaming down Prompto's face as they had after a film they'd all seen when he'd shamelessly sobbed along with the bereaved characters. The whine that sometimes set Ignis' teeth on edge emerged out of desperation to please his anonymous partners, much more gratifying than its usual cause. The phantom Prompto's climax was more than Ignis had imagination for, but it was enough to know he had the means to see it in person. It couldn't be wrong to entertain the fantasy of something that had been offered in reality.
The power of that choice thrilled through him and that more than anything was enough to push him over the edge, and then Ignis was sagging against the wall on unsteady legs in the aftermath, catching his breath while the spray washed away all evidence of his moment of weakness.
Mechanically, Ignis turned off the shower and toweled off, brushed his teeth; his usual routine. He didn't bother putting on even a pair of shorts before he slipped into bed. He was finally, truly exhausted.
Laying between the cool sheets, a balm on his shower-warmed skin, he considered his situation. With all possible distractions settled he could finally think objectively.
He again had no reason to be ashamed. Prompto's points concerning his regard for Noct were more than fair. As Ignis didn't hold any position of authority in the Crownsguard there should be no questions of impropriety. Their proximity through Noct easily explained their acquaintance should it become necessary; their other mutual interest had no reason to come into question.
With Prompto's offer filling his thoughts, Ignis slept.
#
Though one might expect the reverse, what had seemed perfectly clear in the middle of the night was much less so in the light of day, and the days that followed.
Ignis was ashamed that he hadn't fully considered the ramifications of accepting, so distracted was he by other facets of the proposition. In truth he hadn't entertained it as a real possibility, so he hadn't paid a whit of attention to the consequences, as Prompto had in considering what he would tell Noct.
The possibility of any public narrative was enough to give Ignis pause. Any intimate relationship, however casual, would always be a security risk. Certainly most people felt the risk was worth it. Life and families and children carried on in the highest echelons of the Citadel staff and always would, human nature and inheritance being what they were.
But for such a shallow, selfish dalliance, little more than a favor? Ignis could never justify it.
So he didn't. He didn't speak of it at all. Shockingly, neither did Prompto. In fact, Ignis made it through the week having scarcely seen him, no more than a few cheerful waves in the halls and once through the windshield of a Crownsguard car as Ignis picked Noct up from the arcade. He was even absent from Noct's apartment Friday evening.
"No Prompto this weekend?"
"Nah, he had, uh, plans tonight."
"Out entertaining Rhasa of the overbearing parents and car-alarm voice, or some other future security breach?"
Noct hesitated, then said, "Just out, I guess," and Ignis remembered his silence when they'd first asked Prompto about the club. No doubt he'd been sworn to secrecy over Prompto's social activity. "We're supposed to hang out tomorrow though if you want to come," Noct added more cheerfully, "maybe go see a movie."
"Oh, I don't think so," Ignis said. "I really ought to spend tomorrow catching up on my expense accounts." There was always work to catch up on, the perpetual excuse. He didn't relish the thought of facing Prompto again at the moment when he was only delaying the inevitable of properly rejecting his offer.
Ignis worked his way through dinner more from habit than desire as he and Noct chatted. Knowing Prompto was likely entertaining himself with another questionable partner had done no favors for his appetite. It might have been the saving grace of Prompto's proposal: kept busy through other means Prompto would have less time to scoop up novice clubgoers like stray pets in need of a good home.
The thought, at first only a moment of private humor, gave him pause.
What hypothetical pleasure it might have brought Ignis was irrelevant, not worth considering. Years of solitude had been perfectly manageable. Only a few weeks of knowing Prompto had been leaving himself and Noct so vulnerable had driven him to distraction. Quite the opposite of Prompto's intent to provide Ignis a means of exploration, if Ignis occupied enough of Prompto's attention he may rein in the single biggest influence in Noct's life outside the Citadel, and save himself from forever wondering if Prompto had spent his weekend coddling a new potential threat.
"You know," Ignis said, "on second thought I think I will join you tomorrow."
#
"Prompto, a moment of your time, please," Ignis said while they stood back from Gladio and Noct in line for concessions.
"What's up?"
"Not much just now," Ignis said, "but I'd hoped for a chance to speak with you before you go home this evening." Standing behind Gladio as he deliberated between a vat of popcorn larger than his head and one only half the size didn't afford the most privacy to discuss a very private matter.
Prompto's pink mouth wrapped around his straw as he sipped. "Yeah, that's totally cool."
"You want anything, Specs?" Noct said.
Ignis refused. Much like Prompto, who'd gotten only a soda, Ignis would be satisfied stealing a few handfuls of the others'.
He didn't pay much attention to the film, scintillating though Biohazard 7 might have been. Guards and Glaives and diplomats had been rebuffed, and he was about to agree to a proposition from someone who unironically used the phrase totally cool. The impulse to give Prompto a polite refusal and wash his hands of the whole thing lingered. He knew only that Ignis wanted to speak with him, it wasn't too late.
He'd endured worse for Noct's sake.
As the screen went black and the credits began to scroll, Prompto tapped his arm and nodded his head toward the exit.
"The credits!" Noct said.
"I know, buddy, but I've got to pee like a racehorse and if I wait there's gonna be a massive line," Prompto said, very convincingly when Ignis knew he was usually as much of a completist as Noct was when it came to movie viewing.
"Suit yourself," Noct said, and pointedly settled into his seat. Gladio had stayed quiet through the exchange, and Ignis avoided catching his eye as he stood to follow Prompto out.
As they walked Prompto drummed his hands on his thighs. "So, what did you want to talk about?"
"I presume you haven't forgotten the proposal you made a few weeks ago."
"You could say that," Prompto laughed.
"I was hoping we could establish a time to discuss what that might entail in private."
Prompto laughed again, like he was waiting for Ignis to get in on the joke. They took the ramp up in silence. His hands went still. "Seriously?" He came to a stop in front of the doors as people started to filter out of the theatre.
"If the offer's no longer good—"
"No, no the offer's good, the offer's great," Prompto said with disproportionate enthusiasm. He'd gone very still, a stone in the river of moviegoers that had begun to flow around them. "So do you want to—"
"Have a discussion better held in private in private?" Ignis said as he pulled him by the arm towards the side of the hall. "Yes. I only wanted to inform of you of my decision."
"Right, sorry. I can text later to figure out when to meet up if you want?"
Ignis had considered offering Prompto another ride, though going out of his way to drop Noct off and then doubling back would likely be too conspicuous to avoid an explanation. Simply arranging a time and place wouldn't incriminate him in anything but meeting Prompto, and he had resigned himself to Noct and most likely Gladio becoming privy to at least that much.
Still, Ignis was not above delaying the inevitable.
"Yes," he said. "That will be fine."