Prompto turned in his seat, pulling one leg onto the sofa so he could lean in more comfortably. He pressed a palm to Ignis' cheek as he kissed him again. The lulls became a space Ignis didn't know how to fill. Prompto's shin was pressed against the length of his thigh, but Ignis' fist stayed clenched on his own knee, unable to breach the same gap Prompto had. Prompto's hand slid to his neck, calluses scraping over Ignis' jaw.
Ignis was tugged by a gentle hand at his nape as Prompto slouched back against the arm of the sofa and drew his leg up to give Ignis room to kneel between them.
"Have at it, dude. You won't hurt me by accident and I'll stop you if I need to."
Prompto's artless honesty left him little room for fear in the heat of their bodies and the skid of denim. He guided Ignis down, hands drifting to his shoulders as Ignis planted his hands on either side of his stomach. Pressed so close the dimness was no obstacle: Prompto's easy smile nearly glowed.
"You're not going to squish me, either."
"I'll have to take your word on that."
"Hey, I'm tougher than I look!"
Ignis lowered himself to kiss the crooked smile. "Not exactly a difficult prospect."
Prompto didn't falter. "Oh, I see how it is. Y'know—mm—some people are into that kind of thing."
"Some people are attracted to women, too. I don't intend to take it as personal instruction."
Prompto threw his head back laughing. Ignis couldn't rely on Prompto's encouragement forever: he took the chance to kiss over his Adam's apple while his throat was exposed. The skin was rougher, saltier, and Prompto's laughter dipped into something lower and needier as he arched even farther.
Ignis breathed against his neck. There was something in the scent, fresh sweat and a subtle woodsy hint of some product he couldn't name, nothing like his memories of a cocksure teenage boy who'd bathed so heavily in cologne that no quality could have overridden the quantity. The stubble that scraped his cheek was invisible at a distance, previously notable only when Gladio teased Prompto for lacking it. If Ignis had had an opportunity like this in his younger days he would have easily laid to rest every moment of doubting whether he was attracted to men or merely surrounded by them and drawn to the familiar. So long denying himself and in the thick of things it shocked him how easy it was to give in to the familiar heat of arousal instead of trying to manage it.
"Since you're down there," Prompto said. "If you care, biting's good, but not real pinchy."
"You'll have to explain that."
"Here, I can—" Prompto wriggled to hold Ignis' arm in his hands, dragging Ignis away from his exploration to bring the tender underside of Ignis' wrist to his mouth.
"See, you can do it light," Prompto said, and he drew his teeth across Ignis' skin above the hem of his glove, only a gentle tug. "Or pinchy." He nipped just a small line of skin between his incisors, a sharp sting even though he wasn't using much force. "And then you can do," and then Prompto took in a full mouth of Ignis' flesh. His expression was amused over Ignis' arm while he dug in. To call it biting seemed only technically correct. That brought to mind a sudden attack, something savage, not Prompto's teeth working Ignis' arm in an ache that ground deep into the muscle.
Ignis had hurt worse, certainly, even at his own hands, but Prompto released him and it was like a flood of pleasure flowed in to take the place of the fading ache, a dizzying rush now that his attention wasn't occupied. He sagged into the hand he was leaning on and turned his wrist up to look at the pink dents Prompto had left. He had to swallow so his mouth wasn't too dry to speak.
"And the last is preferable?" It certainly had been for him, though he could see the use of the other varieties.
"Mostly."
"How hard is acceptable?" Ignis bent to lightly scrape Prompto's neck, kisses with only a hint of teeth.
"I'll, uh, I'll let you know?"
Ignis tugged a bit. Prompto's breath rasped in his ear.
His shirt pulled tight across his back from Prompto's fists clenching in it, but there was no fear in him as Ignis sank his teeth into Prompto's shoulder. Imagining Prompto at someone else's hands had been a terrible approximation. The sounds were mere shadows of feeling his low groan vibrate against Ignis' chest. The immediate feedback was electric. He kneaded the taut cords of muscle with his teeth and Prompto's moans wound higher like an engine revving. Primal heat surrounded him, trembled under him, and then finally the frantic tapping of Prompto's fingers against his side.
Ignis carefully unclenched his jaw. When he lifted his head Prompto was panting. He drew his gloved fingers over the stark, red-ringed outline he'd left.
"You must bruise like a peach," Ignis said, caught somewhere between awe and guilt. It was shortsighted for him not to consider it before.
Prompto wriggled his shirt overhead to fling it back over the arm of the sofa. "There. Anyone who's looking under here gets what they see."
All attempts at working to keep him from the grasp of unworthy partners were forgotten. Ignis' only thoughts for having him were selfish. He ran a hand up Prompto's bare ribs. Two together would've spanned the whole of his rib cage. "I assume the same principles apply to hands?"
"Little more to it than that, but it works for now."
"Anything else I ought to know?"
Prompto's chuckle was still a little breathless. "You probably know more about how it's safe to hurt someone than I do."
"The question applies to more than hurting," Ignis said, a fingertip brushing lightly over Prompto's nipple.
"Whatever—ah!—whatever you want to try's good with me. Don't stick your finger up my nose or spit on me or something without asking and you're all good. Just do something."
"Is this not?" Ignis was the picture of innocence while his thumb swept back and forth.
"Not enough," Prompto complained, threaded with desperation so enticing Ignis could never call it a whine.
Ignis squeezed. "Better?"
Prompto bit his lip as they both watched his nipple harden under Ignis' touch. "Getting warmer."
"Ah. Is it warmth you want?" Ignis bent, and took a moment simply to know the feel of new skin against his lips, under his tongue as he kissed at the dip between Prompto's pecs.
He acquainted himself with Prompto's other nipple in patient cat licks, savoring the feel of it crinkling into hardness under his tongue. Ignis was fascinated to think of the blood rushing through Prompto to show off his pleasure, that his body responded so easily to Ignis' touch. When Prompto was rocking under him, making small breathy pleas of come on, Iggy, and pounding in frustration at the sofa, Ignis sank his teeth in there too.
Prompto's moan was high, sharp.
"Too much?"
"Just a lot," Prompto said with a shake of his head.
It was too hard to see Prompto's face and bite at the same. Ignis stretched up to kiss him, squeezed a handful just above Prompto's hip bone. "And this?"
Prompto's eyelashes fluttered and his mouth worked, plush and pink, wordless until he finally gave up on the notion altogether and only laughed. Ignis twisted until the laughter stopped, choked off.
Then he did it again.
They kissed wetly as Ignis worked his hand in the soft flesh of Prompto's side over and over. Like the penetrating bite Prompto preferred Ignis sank his fingers deep: Prompto's skin was only a barrier to impacting the muscle below.
Prompto panted, laughed, moaned into Ignis' open mouth. Heat pooled between them, the friction of moving against each other and the drag of fabric, Ignis rutting against him when it wasn't enough. Prompto rolled up to meet him, hands digging into Ignis' hips. The heat wasn't Ignis alone, and pressed against him was—heavens—Ignis slid his hand down between them, brushed over the bulge and Prompto's breath came in a hiss. It was obvious even through denim, through leather gloves, that Prompto was hard in his jeans because of Ignis hurting him.
Prompto scrambled for his fly, shoving them down as the far as they'd go around his thighs.
"Should we—" Ignis looked toward his bed.
"I'm good here if you are."
"Be a bit messy, won't it?" Ignis said.
"Come all over me, it's okay."
"You might warn me if you're going to say something like that."
"You want me to warn you for dirty talk?" Prompto laughed. "Hey, Iggy, heads up. If your hand's on my dick stuff could get sexy at any time."
"Ugh, just a moment," Ignis said, striding off to the nightstand to fetch the one thing he did have, tugging the strap of one glove with his teeth on his way. They'd kissed for so long evening had folded up around them so he had to turn on the bedside lamp to see in the drawer. He tucked the bottle he found under his arm so he could remove his other glove, and crawled back into the inviting space between Prompto's thighs. Heaven help Ignis' sofa but there was nothing for it. A steam cleaner, maybe.
Gilded in lamplight Prompto's pink flushed cheeks and acres of skin were an invitation of their own.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: Prompto/any bro, new dom/experienced sub (5/?)
Date: 2018-11-13 02:28 am (UTC)Ignis was tugged by a gentle hand at his nape as Prompto slouched back against the arm of the sofa and drew his leg up to give Ignis room to kneel between them.
"Have at it, dude. You won't hurt me by accident and I'll stop you if I need to."
Prompto's artless honesty left him little room for fear in the heat of their bodies and the skid of denim. He guided Ignis down, hands drifting to his shoulders as Ignis planted his hands on either side of his stomach. Pressed so close the dimness was no obstacle: Prompto's easy smile nearly glowed.
"You're not going to squish me, either."
"I'll have to take your word on that."
"Hey, I'm tougher than I look!"
Ignis lowered himself to kiss the crooked smile. "Not exactly a difficult prospect."
Prompto didn't falter. "Oh, I see how it is. Y'know—mm—some people are into that kind of thing."
"Some people are attracted to women, too. I don't intend to take it as personal instruction."
Prompto threw his head back laughing. Ignis couldn't rely on Prompto's encouragement forever: he took the chance to kiss over his Adam's apple while his throat was exposed. The skin was rougher, saltier, and Prompto's laughter dipped into something lower and needier as he arched even farther.
Ignis breathed against his neck. There was something in the scent, fresh sweat and a subtle woodsy hint of some product he couldn't name, nothing like his memories of a cocksure teenage boy who'd bathed so heavily in cologne that no quality could have overridden the quantity. The stubble that scraped his cheek was invisible at a distance, previously notable only when Gladio teased Prompto for lacking it. If Ignis had had an opportunity like this in his younger days he would have easily laid to rest every moment of doubting whether he was attracted to men or merely surrounded by them and drawn to the familiar. So long denying himself and in the thick of things it shocked him how easy it was to give in to the familiar heat of arousal instead of trying to manage it.
"Since you're down there," Prompto said. "If you care, biting's good, but not real pinchy."
"You'll have to explain that."
"Here, I can—" Prompto wriggled to hold Ignis' arm in his hands, dragging Ignis away from his exploration to bring the tender underside of Ignis' wrist to his mouth.
"See, you can do it light," Prompto said, and he drew his teeth across Ignis' skin above the hem of his glove, only a gentle tug. "Or pinchy." He nipped just a small line of skin between his incisors, a sharp sting even though he wasn't using much force. "And then you can do," and then Prompto took in a full mouth of Ignis' flesh. His expression was amused over Ignis' arm while he dug in. To call it biting seemed only technically correct. That brought to mind a sudden attack, something savage, not Prompto's teeth working Ignis' arm in an ache that ground deep into the muscle.
Ignis had hurt worse, certainly, even at his own hands, but Prompto released him and it was like a flood of pleasure flowed in to take the place of the fading ache, a dizzying rush now that his attention wasn't occupied. He sagged into the hand he was leaning on and turned his wrist up to look at the pink dents Prompto had left. He had to swallow so his mouth wasn't too dry to speak.
"And the last is preferable?" It certainly had been for him, though he could see the use of the other varieties.
"Mostly."
"How hard is acceptable?" Ignis bent to lightly scrape Prompto's neck, kisses with only a hint of teeth.
"I'll, uh, I'll let you know?"
Ignis tugged a bit. Prompto's breath rasped in his ear.
His shirt pulled tight across his back from Prompto's fists clenching in it, but there was no fear in him as Ignis sank his teeth into Prompto's shoulder. Imagining Prompto at someone else's hands had been a terrible approximation. The sounds were mere shadows of feeling his low groan vibrate against Ignis' chest. The immediate feedback was electric. He kneaded the taut cords of muscle with his teeth and Prompto's moans wound higher like an engine revving. Primal heat surrounded him, trembled under him, and then finally the frantic tapping of Prompto's fingers against his side.
Ignis carefully unclenched his jaw. When he lifted his head Prompto was panting. He drew his gloved fingers over the stark, red-ringed outline he'd left.
"You must bruise like a peach," Ignis said, caught somewhere between awe and guilt. It was shortsighted for him not to consider it before.
Prompto wriggled his shirt overhead to fling it back over the arm of the sofa. "There. Anyone who's looking under here gets what they see."
All attempts at working to keep him from the grasp of unworthy partners were forgotten. Ignis' only thoughts for having him were selfish. He ran a hand up Prompto's bare ribs. Two together would've spanned the whole of his rib cage. "I assume the same principles apply to hands?"
"Little more to it than that, but it works for now."
"Anything else I ought to know?"
Prompto's chuckle was still a little breathless. "You probably know more about how it's safe to hurt someone than I do."
"The question applies to more than hurting," Ignis said, a fingertip brushing lightly over Prompto's nipple.
"Whatever—ah!—whatever you want to try's good with me. Don't stick your finger up my nose or spit on me or something without asking and you're all good. Just do something."
"Is this not?" Ignis was the picture of innocence while his thumb swept back and forth.
"Not enough," Prompto complained, threaded with desperation so enticing Ignis could never call it a whine.
Ignis squeezed. "Better?"
Prompto bit his lip as they both watched his nipple harden under Ignis' touch. "Getting warmer."
"Ah. Is it warmth you want?" Ignis bent, and took a moment simply to know the feel of new skin against his lips, under his tongue as he kissed at the dip between Prompto's pecs.
He acquainted himself with Prompto's other nipple in patient cat licks, savoring the feel of it crinkling into hardness under his tongue. Ignis was fascinated to think of the blood rushing through Prompto to show off his pleasure, that his body responded so easily to Ignis' touch. When Prompto was rocking under him, making small breathy pleas of come on, Iggy, and pounding in frustration at the sofa, Ignis sank his teeth in there too.
Prompto's moan was high, sharp.
"Too much?"
"Just a lot," Prompto said with a shake of his head.
It was too hard to see Prompto's face and bite at the same. Ignis stretched up to kiss him, squeezed a handful just above Prompto's hip bone. "And this?"
Prompto's eyelashes fluttered and his mouth worked, plush and pink, wordless until he finally gave up on the notion altogether and only laughed. Ignis twisted until the laughter stopped, choked off.
Then he did it again.
They kissed wetly as Ignis worked his hand in the soft flesh of Prompto's side over and over. Like the penetrating bite Prompto preferred Ignis sank his fingers deep: Prompto's skin was only a barrier to impacting the muscle below.
Prompto panted, laughed, moaned into Ignis' open mouth. Heat pooled between them, the friction of moving against each other and the drag of fabric, Ignis rutting against him when it wasn't enough. Prompto rolled up to meet him, hands digging into Ignis' hips. The heat wasn't Ignis alone, and pressed against him was—heavens—Ignis slid his hand down between them, brushed over the bulge and Prompto's breath came in a hiss. It was obvious even through denim, through leather gloves, that Prompto was hard in his jeans because of Ignis hurting him.
Prompto scrambled for his fly, shoving them down as the far as they'd go around his thighs.
"Should we—" Ignis looked toward his bed.
"I'm good here if you are."
"Be a bit messy, won't it?" Ignis said.
"Come all over me, it's okay."
"You might warn me if you're going to say something like that."
"You want me to warn you for dirty talk?" Prompto laughed. "Hey, Iggy, heads up. If your hand's on my dick stuff could get sexy at any time."
"Ugh, just a moment," Ignis said, striding off to the nightstand to fetch the one thing he did have, tugging the strap of one glove with his teeth on his way. They'd kissed for so long evening had folded up around them so he had to turn on the bedside lamp to see in the drawer. He tucked the bottle he found under his arm so he could remove his other glove, and crawled back into the inviting space between Prompto's thighs. Heaven help Ignis' sofa but there was nothing for it. A steam cleaner, maybe.
Gilded in lamplight Prompto's pink flushed cheeks and acres of skin were an invitation of their own.