Holidays and flu season and food poisoning, oh my. I'd been hoping to keep up with an update a week but that's probably going to stay a little dicey until at least the new year. ________
"Nice stuff. So do you only use it for this or for, uh, other stuff too?"
Ignis paused. Their arrangement would likely cause many words to cross his lips for the first time, and if he couldn't say them he shouldn't have been laying on a shirtless man holding a bottle of lube. "If you're trying to ask if I've ever fingered myself, the answer is yes." It was more than worth Prompto's expression.
"If you want more than fingers sometime we can definitely do that. I'm really good at it." Prompto said it as matter of factly as he had everything else, and so Ignis was tempted to believe him. Without a gun or a camera in his hand Prompto was inclined to err on the side of too little confidence more than too much.
"And yourself?"
Prompto went wide-eyed. "We can try it!"
"Have you ever?" Ignis said, suspicious.
"Oh, yeah. Been a while, that's all."
It was like hearing a tinny recording of Prompto's usual enthusiasm. He wouldn't flat-out lie; it was something else hitting a sour note in his voice. His chest moved slow and even under Ignis, like prey who'd just come face to face with a threat and thought it safer not to make any sudden moves. He'd been less scared with teeth around his carotid.
"You don't actually like it, do you?"
"It's not a big deal. I know it usually comes with the territory, so if you want to we definitely can."
"That won't be necessary," Ignis said as he leaned in.
"Mm. You're sure? It wasn't like I hated it. I'm sure it would be better with you anyway."
"You're already accommodating me beyond all reason," Ignis said against Prompto's jaw. "I won't repay you by taking advantage of your generosity."
"Oh good," Prompto breathed as he rebounded. "I'm not really a 'rail me on the first date' kind of guy and I've been too busy with training and work for a while for anything else, so it's just—really been a while. And sort of, been there, done that, more trouble than it's worth. This, uh, this back door is locked from the inside these days. Exit only."
With the power of knowledge back where it belonged it was as though Ignis' feet were on solid ground after he'd had them swept from under him. It was easy to occupy himself with Prompto's throat while he let Prompto dispel his nerves; he was feeling very magnanimous.
"You've obviously stopped doing other things," Ignis murmured against his Adam's apple. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"When I'm bottoming? Ha. Only when someone makes me. You can do that if you want, too, sometime. Make me."
"I'll keep it in mind," Ignis said, and slid his hand over the front of Prompto's underwear again. "I thought I might make you do something else at the moment."
"You too, right?" Prompto said, oddly fearful again, though not enough to dissuade him too much judging by the firm outline against Ignis' palm.
"Unless you know of some reason I shouldn't?"
"Just checking," Prompto said, placating, like Ignis was the one who'd hesitated. "Always good to be sure of these things."
Prompto was even hotter, harder with only the thin cotton of his boxer briefs between them. Ignis brushed his bare fingertips over the trail of hair between Prompto's navel and groin for the first time while he watched Prompto ruck up Ignis' shirt only to fumble with the hook and eye of his trousers. Their hands jumbled as Ignis went to help, both of them laughing at the pile-up and settling for managing their own.
Prompto went digging for the lube beside his hip where Ignis had left it. "Hey, hey, here," he said, and flipped the cap open with his teeth. "Hey, Iggy," he said, grinning up at Ignis through cornsilk lashes as he drizzled lube over Ignis' palm. He folded his hand over Ignis' to wrap it around—oh, heavens, around both of them together. "Just so you know, if our dicks are touching things could definitely get sexy."
Ignis forgave himself for allowing Prompto the last word.
With Prompto's encouragement he gave a slow twist to smear the slickness around and between them, shuddering at the feel of it. The heat of Prompto through his underwear was nothing compared to feeling it bare in his hand, sliding thick and hard against his own. It took a few fits and starts of friction before they smoothed into a rhythm of the two of them thrusting against Ignis' hand and each other, fucking.
Prompto shoved one hand down the back of Ignis' trousers to pull him in tighter, pressing the back of the other to his own mouth. Ignis knew it wouldn't take long, couldn't imagine how it could have after so much wanting, but it was Prompto who came first, spurting across Ignis' palm and over his own chest.
"Don't stop, don't stop," Prompto panted, even as he jerked, spent, in Ignis' hand. His sounds went muffled, as though he was biting his own hand to stifle them.
Ignis tightened his grip and pumped his hips into the slick clench of his hand and Prompto against him. Prompto tossed his head, abandoned staying quiet to claw tight into the cushion beside him as his thighs clamped around Ignis' hips. The overstimulation must have been unbearable, but Ignis wouldn't have stopped himself even if he could have. Prompto's face was creased with something too complicated to be pure pleasure: the tremor of working to exhaustion, the ecstasy of a martyr. He writhed as though he never wanted to stop. Ignis never wanted to stop watching.
It couldn't last. Even then the tension was building inexorably from the perfect glide, Ignis in complete control, this brief, shining moment when he could be thoroughly, gloriously selfish.
Ignis watched Prompto suffer and came all over him.
In increments: Ignis pushed himself up on his shaking arm, sat back on his heels, shifted a leg under him. They were shaking too. He was still catching his breath when Prompto swallowed hard and patted his knee, unfairly clear-eyed.
"Like I said. You're a natural." Prompto groped blindly down against the sofa for his bag. Ignis heard the sound of a zipper. A pack of disposable wet wipes materialized in Prompto's hand. "Can't fix me, but I can fix this. All the boys and girls love a well-stocked toybag," he said as handed one over. Ignis took it out of engrained politeness. Prompto looked down at himself again. While Ignis had escaped unscathed, he was a mess of streaks and puddles up to his collarbones. "I'm. . .gonna take more than a wet wipe. Any chance you have something I can clean up with?"
In Ignis' opinion nothing needed fixing at all, but demanding Prompto stay would've been a betrayal of himself.
"Flannels in the closet," he admitted. He focused on quickly wiping down—at least his body was in no position to betray him as quickly as his thoughts had. He'd scarcely finished zipping his trousers before Prompto had whisked away the cloth in his hand.
Prompto kissed him on the cheek, tugged the pleats of his trousers smooth, and finished with a friendly little pat over the placket as he slipped off the sofa.
Listening to his socked feet pat down the hall, Ignis sagged with the lassitude of what was, if he were honest, the best orgasm he'd had in months. Longer. His fitful experimentation had petered out years before. Since then he'd retracted his focus to his work, his service. Fulfilling his needs in the most perfunctory way possible.
All of it, unraveled.
Ignis didn't look up from scrutinizing the very faint teethmarks in his wrist when Prompto returned.
Instead of sitting beside him Prompto folded cross-legged to the floor in his line of sight. "You okay, dude?"
Though he'd hiked them up as he strolled away Prompto had left his jeans unfastened. The soft swell beneath his navel taunted Ignis with the scattering of fine, light hairs—clean and dry, no evidence.
"I'm perfectly fine, Prompto."
"I don't want to leave you hanging, but I also don't want to, like, step on your me-time, so just let me know if you want me to leave."
"No," Ignis said, surprised at his own vehemence. "No, that's not necessary in the slightest."
Prompto had drawn his knees up, hands clasped loosely around them, and was toying with his wristband. "So it was okay?"
"It was—" Ignis found himself reduced to brutal honesty, robbed of his usual restraint by the arc of his own teeth in Prompto's pale shoulder, the reddened starbursts of pinchmarks down his side, "—a revelation."
"Well, whatever you want to try, I'm there," Prompto said. "Mostly."
Ignis looked at him archly.
"Don't worry about it. Nothing you're probably going to get into without some fancy gear, and like I said, if it's real new or weird, just ask first. And no needles." Prompto was rubbing the inside of his wrists along his knees nervously. "But there's still lots to do. Lots to try."
"Quite," Ignis said, and impulsively pulled Prompto in to kiss him. Prompto made a sweet noise of surprise as he rolled up to his knees, planting his hands on Ignis' thighs.
"There's lots of time too," Prompto said as he pulled away. "No reason to rush into stuff. Not saying you need to stop. Just—there's only one first time for everything, right? You've got to remember the moments when you have them, not just race to the next one." For a moment Ignis could see the glimmer of him on the other side of things as well, walking some doe-eyed naif through their own myriad of first times, as he had with Ignis' wrist in his mouth.
"Let's stick to territory we've covered previously then, shall we?" Ignis said, then caught Prompto by the ribs to push him to the floor and follow him down.
There was wisdom in what Prompto said. Every act should be explored and catalogued as thoroughly as possible, not hamfistedly rushed through. He'd demonstrated an array of sensations with his teeth in only a few moments. With the urgency leached out of them even kissing became an end in itself, immeasurable refinements and gradations.
Ignis wouldn't leap into preparing a six-course meal when he'd barely handled a knife, and just as in cooking or driving or any other discipline a solid grounding in basic techniques would provide the necessary foundation for real mastery of the skill.
He always had been a determined pupil.
By the time Ignis walked Prompto out to the waiting car that night—as late as he'd kept him paying for a taxi was the least he could do—he'd easily agreed to Prompto's proposal of a second meeting. As long as Prompto was satisfied enough to continue his reasoning held. He was particularly pleased that Prompto had suggested the following Friday evening; another weekend with Ignis was another weekend he wouldn't be at The Silver Circle.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: Prompto/any bro, new dom/experienced sub (6/?)
Date: 2018-11-30 11:17 pm (UTC)________
"Nice stuff. So do you only use it for this or for, uh, other stuff too?"
Ignis paused. Their arrangement would likely cause many words to cross his lips for the first time, and if he couldn't say them he shouldn't have been laying on a shirtless man holding a bottle of lube. "If you're trying to ask if I've ever fingered myself, the answer is yes." It was more than worth Prompto's expression.
"If you want more than fingers sometime we can definitely do that. I'm really good at it." Prompto said it as matter of factly as he had everything else, and so Ignis was tempted to believe him. Without a gun or a camera in his hand Prompto was inclined to err on the side of too little confidence more than too much.
"And yourself?"
Prompto went wide-eyed. "We can try it!"
"Have you ever?" Ignis said, suspicious.
"Oh, yeah. Been a while, that's all."
It was like hearing a tinny recording of Prompto's usual enthusiasm. He wouldn't flat-out lie; it was something else hitting a sour note in his voice. His chest moved slow and even under Ignis, like prey who'd just come face to face with a threat and thought it safer not to make any sudden moves. He'd been less scared with teeth around his carotid.
"You don't actually like it, do you?"
"It's not a big deal. I know it usually comes with the territory, so if you want to we definitely can."
"That won't be necessary," Ignis said as he leaned in.
"Mm. You're sure? It wasn't like I hated it. I'm sure it would be better with you anyway."
"You're already accommodating me beyond all reason," Ignis said against Prompto's jaw. "I won't repay you by taking advantage of your generosity."
"Oh good," Prompto breathed as he rebounded. "I'm not really a 'rail me on the first date' kind of guy and I've been too busy with training and work for a while for anything else, so it's just—really been a while. And sort of, been there, done that, more trouble than it's worth. This, uh, this back door is locked from the inside these days. Exit only."
With the power of knowledge back where it belonged it was as though Ignis' feet were on solid ground after he'd had them swept from under him. It was easy to occupy himself with Prompto's throat while he let Prompto dispel his nerves; he was feeling very magnanimous.
"You've obviously stopped doing other things," Ignis murmured against his Adam's apple. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"When I'm bottoming? Ha. Only when someone makes me. You can do that if you want, too, sometime. Make me."
"I'll keep it in mind," Ignis said, and slid his hand over the front of Prompto's underwear again. "I thought I might make you do something else at the moment."
"You too, right?" Prompto said, oddly fearful again, though not enough to dissuade him too much judging by the firm outline against Ignis' palm.
"Unless you know of some reason I shouldn't?"
"Just checking," Prompto said, placating, like Ignis was the one who'd hesitated. "Always good to be sure of these things."
Prompto was even hotter, harder with only the thin cotton of his boxer briefs between them. Ignis brushed his bare fingertips over the trail of hair between Prompto's navel and groin for the first time while he watched Prompto ruck up Ignis' shirt only to fumble with the hook and eye of his trousers. Their hands jumbled as Ignis went to help, both of them laughing at the pile-up and settling for managing their own.
Prompto went digging for the lube beside his hip where Ignis had left it. "Hey, hey, here," he said, and flipped the cap open with his teeth. "Hey, Iggy," he said, grinning up at Ignis through cornsilk lashes as he drizzled lube over Ignis' palm. He folded his hand over Ignis' to wrap it around—oh, heavens, around both of them together. "Just so you know, if our dicks are touching things could definitely get sexy."
Ignis forgave himself for allowing Prompto the last word.
With Prompto's encouragement he gave a slow twist to smear the slickness around and between them, shuddering at the feel of it. The heat of Prompto through his underwear was nothing compared to feeling it bare in his hand, sliding thick and hard against his own. It took a few fits and starts of friction before they smoothed into a rhythm of the two of them thrusting against Ignis' hand and each other, fucking.
Prompto shoved one hand down the back of Ignis' trousers to pull him in tighter, pressing the back of the other to his own mouth. Ignis knew it wouldn't take long, couldn't imagine how it could have after so much wanting, but it was Prompto who came first, spurting across Ignis' palm and over his own chest.
"Don't stop, don't stop," Prompto panted, even as he jerked, spent, in Ignis' hand. His sounds went muffled, as though he was biting his own hand to stifle them.
Ignis tightened his grip and pumped his hips into the slick clench of his hand and Prompto against him. Prompto tossed his head, abandoned staying quiet to claw tight into the cushion beside him as his thighs clamped around Ignis' hips. The overstimulation must have been unbearable, but Ignis wouldn't have stopped himself even if he could have. Prompto's face was creased with something too complicated to be pure pleasure: the tremor of working to exhaustion, the ecstasy of a martyr. He writhed as though he never wanted to stop. Ignis never wanted to stop watching.
It couldn't last. Even then the tension was building inexorably from the perfect glide, Ignis in complete control, this brief, shining moment when he could be thoroughly, gloriously selfish.
Ignis watched Prompto suffer and came all over him.
In increments: Ignis pushed himself up on his shaking arm, sat back on his heels, shifted a leg under him. They were shaking too. He was still catching his breath when Prompto swallowed hard and patted his knee, unfairly clear-eyed.
"Like I said. You're a natural." Prompto groped blindly down against the sofa for his bag. Ignis heard the sound of a zipper. A pack of disposable wet wipes materialized in Prompto's hand. "Can't fix me, but I can fix this. All the boys and girls love a well-stocked toybag," he said as handed one over. Ignis took it out of engrained politeness. Prompto looked down at himself again. While Ignis had escaped unscathed, he was a mess of streaks and puddles up to his collarbones. "I'm. . .gonna take more than a wet wipe. Any chance you have something I can clean up with?"
In Ignis' opinion nothing needed fixing at all, but demanding Prompto stay would've been a betrayal of himself.
"Flannels in the closet," he admitted. He focused on quickly wiping down—at least his body was in no position to betray him as quickly as his thoughts had. He'd scarcely finished zipping his trousers before Prompto had whisked away the cloth in his hand.
Prompto kissed him on the cheek, tugged the pleats of his trousers smooth, and finished with a friendly little pat over the placket as he slipped off the sofa.
Listening to his socked feet pat down the hall, Ignis sagged with the lassitude of what was, if he were honest, the best orgasm he'd had in months. Longer. His fitful experimentation had petered out years before. Since then he'd retracted his focus to his work, his service. Fulfilling his needs in the most perfunctory way possible.
All of it, unraveled.
Ignis didn't look up from scrutinizing the very faint teethmarks in his wrist when Prompto returned.
Instead of sitting beside him Prompto folded cross-legged to the floor in his line of sight. "You okay, dude?"
Though he'd hiked them up as he strolled away Prompto had left his jeans unfastened. The soft swell beneath his navel taunted Ignis with the scattering of fine, light hairs—clean and dry, no evidence.
"I'm perfectly fine, Prompto."
"I don't want to leave you hanging, but I also don't want to, like, step on your me-time, so just let me know if you want me to leave."
"No," Ignis said, surprised at his own vehemence. "No, that's not necessary in the slightest."
Prompto had drawn his knees up, hands clasped loosely around them, and was toying with his wristband. "So it was okay?"
"It was—" Ignis found himself reduced to brutal honesty, robbed of his usual restraint by the arc of his own teeth in Prompto's pale shoulder, the reddened starbursts of pinchmarks down his side, "—a revelation."
"Well, whatever you want to try, I'm there," Prompto said. "Mostly."
Ignis looked at him archly.
"Don't worry about it. Nothing you're probably going to get into without some fancy gear, and like I said, if it's real new or weird, just ask first. And no needles." Prompto was rubbing the inside of his wrists along his knees nervously. "But there's still lots to do. Lots to try."
"Quite," Ignis said, and impulsively pulled Prompto in to kiss him. Prompto made a sweet noise of surprise as he rolled up to his knees, planting his hands on Ignis' thighs.
"There's lots of time too," Prompto said as he pulled away. "No reason to rush into stuff. Not saying you need to stop. Just—there's only one first time for everything, right? You've got to remember the moments when you have them, not just race to the next one." For a moment Ignis could see the glimmer of him on the other side of things as well, walking some doe-eyed naif through their own myriad of first times, as he had with Ignis' wrist in his mouth.
"Let's stick to territory we've covered previously then, shall we?" Ignis said, then caught Prompto by the ribs to push him to the floor and follow him down.
There was wisdom in what Prompto said. Every act should be explored and catalogued as thoroughly as possible, not hamfistedly rushed through. He'd demonstrated an array of sensations with his teeth in only a few moments. With the urgency leached out of them even kissing became an end in itself, immeasurable refinements and gradations.
Ignis wouldn't leap into preparing a six-course meal when he'd barely handled a knife, and just as in cooking or driving or any other discipline a solid grounding in basic techniques would provide the necessary foundation for real mastery of the skill.
He always had been a determined pupil.
By the time Ignis walked Prompto out to the waiting car that night—as late as he'd kept him paying for a taxi was the least he could do—he'd easily agreed to Prompto's proposal of a second meeting. As long as Prompto was satisfied enough to continue his reasoning held. He was particularly pleased that Prompto had suggested the following Friday evening; another weekend with Ignis was another weekend he wouldn't be at The Silver Circle.