Work Text:
Ignis did his second-check that everything was in place prior to cooking. A series of bowls varying in size and shape were to his left, a cutting board in front of him, behind that were his ingredients, and to his right were a pair of knives. He had told Aranea to relax in their den with her favorite movie while he intended to prepare dinner for them. It was their first anniversary and he was determined to make it damned special. He knew any attempt at a surprise would be in vain, and thus settled for an upfront approach, and had asked her that morning what she would like for dinner, he would cook her anything she desired. Despite her insistence that he cast his vote as well, she admitted she could never get enough of his spicy seafood soup and biscuits. He assuaged her guilt by agreeing that she got to pick the dinner, and he would pick dessert; coffee tarts.
His process was slow, but it yielded consistent and delicious results. He carefully cut his vegetables and placed them into the various bowls, then next worked with the fish. Prior to telling her to relax Aranea had helped him measure the liquids for the soup, and he had them similarly organized with etched handles he could identify by touch. It had taken years, but he felt confident in his cooking once more. He reached for the first piece of fish, slowly feeling the blade glide through with his fingertips safely tucked.
“Hey sexy glasses,” Ignis managed to control his flinch to avoid knicking his hand, and turned to the source of her voice.
“I thought you were watching a movie while I prepare us a meal?”
“And be away from you today? Hell no!” she answered, hands resting on her hips. She tilted her head at him, “plus figured if we cooked together would be romantic or something. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Like in a bad movie utterly fail at cooking even though even if I tied your hands behind your back you can cook better than anyone in Lucis?”
“Somehow end up with faces coated in flour without ever baking?” he added.
“I thought you were making those tarts? Whenever you bake you end up with flour handprints on your ass. Best part of watching you bake!”
“I--!” he bit down on his bottom lip, turning away from her and picturing a smug smile on her face, arms folded over her chest in triumph. “I suppose even I have my bad habits…” he was loathe to admit that he did, in fact, often wipe excess flour off his hands on the seat of his pants in a habit he could not identify the source of.
“So. What step are you on?” she redirected the subject, quirking her head and pointing at the counter.
“I was about to begin to chop the fish.” He started. He heard her footsteps approaching him and left the knife on the counter as he waited for her to come up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. He could feel her press her ear between his shoulder blades. He knit his brows together and turned his head slightly to better source her breathing, and found it to be even and slow with a slight hum in her voice.
“’Nea?” he inquired, not used to her coming up from behind him.
“A year Ig, never really pictured myself as a little housewife.” She answered the question hidden behind calling her name.
“You are far from some housewife.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, and she rolled her eyes despite the smile on her face from the way his voice reverberated through his chest and tickled her ear.
“You know what I meant. The whole… domestic life. Didn’t think I’d be able to settle down.” She clarified. “You been drugging my food?”
“My cooking is of such caliber that drugging it is unnecessary.” He quipped back, shoulders stiffening. Aranea chuckled lightly, giving him a careful slap on his shoulder. “I don’t hear you denying it.”
“Would there be a point?” she asked.
“Not much of one.” He snickered when he heard the ruffle of her clothes, sure that she was holding up a rude hand gesture in response to his cocky statement, picturing the way she would furrow her brow at him with her nose scrunched. He wanted to reach out and feel those features, and promised himself later he would take a moment to trace her features.
“So, what can I do?” she asked, pulling him from his thoughts before they drifted to less innocent places he would like to trace with his fingers. She side-stepped to take her place beside him. He smiled, reaching for the bowls and felt for the shallow square bowl, holding it out to her. He instructed her to heat up some oil over medium heat in the large pot on the stove, and pour the onions in once the oil appeared to shimmer. Under other circumstances, the idea of someone intruding on his cooking would leave him wanting to climb out of his own skin; but he had to admit he was happy to make their meal together. “What do after the onions look all clear?” she asked. She had been slowly learning how to prepare food through nights like these, where Ignis allowed her to intrude into his sanctuary. She had initially been embarrassed about just how little she knew, a side effect of spending the latter half of her life living off of instant meals and military rations.
“Here,” Ignis answered her, holding out another bowl. He felt her remove it from his grip and heard the sizzle of the extra vegetation hitting the pan. He took a step towards her, and felt her shift when he curled an arm around her waist, the other reaching up to her right shoulder, sliding down her arm to lightly grip her wrist, his lips grazing her neck and feeling the vibration of her moan beneath his lips. “Like this…” he moved his hand to guide her wrist in stirring the vegetation. The smell of the food mingled with the spiced perfume she would wear in the morning and the lingering scent of her vanilla shampoo. It clashed with the distinct aromatics of the cooking food but he loved it. He loved her.
“Ig…” she whispered when his lips lingered on her neck, his thumb brushing the skin of her wrist. He closed his eyes and pictured the way she was probably closing her own, felt the weight of her head as she tilted back against him. He gave a light moan against her neck to encourage her to echo him, smiling at the vibrations beneath his lips. “The… the food…” she mumbled.
“The vegetables need a moment, I assure you they will not burn. I merely wish to… occupy the time while they sweat.”
“Speaking of sweating…” she mumbled,
“Soon.” He replied, earning a whimper. “It shall be worth the wait my darling.”
“Wouldn’t want to burn the food.” He hummed his agreement, unable to suppress the urge to wrinkle his nose at the thought of ruining a meal. He nipped at her neck and kept his hands on her, one arm either wrapped around her waist or guiding her motions as he walked her through the steps to adding the remaining ingredients to their soup. The kitchen filled with the aroma of spices, vegetables, and seafood.
“Smells amazing. I mean, I know I say that every damn time you cook. But seriously!” she commented as she leaned against the counter after she stepped away from the stove.
“Not half as good as you.”
“Why, are you flirting with me?” she clucked her tongue, “A Lucian flirting with a Nif?” she admonished, slapping a palm over her heart. “Think of the headlines!”
“Has the King’s Hand lost his other senses as well as his sight? Perhaps that is the explanation for how he’s become so enamored with a former Imperial. Admittedly the most striking Nifleheimer this reporter has ever laid eyes on. Perhaps he’s onto something….” He replied, miming writing on a notepad.
“Traitor Nif seen in cahoots with hottest damn Lucian to ever walk the surface of Eos. No one can blame her. He’s just too fuckin’ sexy.” Aranea replied, also miming writing in the air.
“It appears that Lucian reports are more… careful, with their terminology. Nif newspapers have lower standards?”
“You mean newspapers are supposed to have standards? I thought they just wrote whatever shit comes to their minds?” she quipped back, getting a laugh from Ignis.
“I do believe that is the new standard… it appears that the art of journalism has… diminished. In recent years. Though there are still reputable journals out there, and I assure you the only things they would publish about my dearest wife would be how wonderful a companion she is to her bespeckled husband.” He reached out to tap her on the nose, using her voice as guide. His first attempt tapped the corner of her eye, but she figured out his intention and shifted so his second reach for her nose was more successful.
“How long do we have until the soup is ready?” She whispered, stepping forward and nudging his palm with her face until he took the hint and cupped her cheek, stepping closer to her to lean down, arching his back to press his forehead against hers.
“Long enough that we should find a way to occupy ourselves while we endure this wait.”
“Pants should be optional”
“I would also vote that this restrictive top of yours be optional. Is this fabric fire resistant? I do believe you would be quite a bit safer should you remove it, as it seems to be an environmental hazard.”
“Can’t fail to follow the safety rules of your kitchen.” She admitted, leaning back far enough to tap her index finger against her chin. “Maybe you should help me, just so you know I’m following all your strict kitchen rules.”
“Most prudent. What have you done with my impulsive ‘Nea?”
“I think you’re rubbing off on her.” She gasped when he stepped closer to her, pressing her against the counter, a knee pushing her legs apart as he began to brush his leg against hers. “A bit literally too.” She added with a smirk, tilting her head back as his lips found their way back to her neck.
“I think this is a good time to give you your gift.” He stated, the husky tone to his voice gone and her skin felt suddenly cold with the evacuation of his hands.
“Iggy!” she complained immediately, shifting uncomfortably with how worked up he had gotten her only to stop.
“It shall be worth it.” He replied, failing to hide a smile. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out an envelope neatly folded in half with a grip edge. She cocked a brow and reached out for it, unfolding and opening it, pulling out a small business card.
Your task this evening
My beautiful bounty hunter, my mystifying mercenary
Is to track down your gift
To unlock your first clue, you must give the King’s Hand a kiss
“Are you for real?” Aranea giggled, flushing, feeling like a kid. She stepped forward, standing on her toes with her hands linked beneath his neck to beckon him to bend down, tilting her head to meet his lips. He pulled back from her before she could taste his tongue, and she failed to suppress the disappointed whine. “So what’s my first hint?” she asked. She watched him reach into his other pocket, pulling out another business card.
In the pages of your favorite book
She read the words aloud and clicked her tongue,
“Did you really get a bunch of business cards to send me on a scavenger hunt?” she inquired.
“A scavenger hunt would be if I gave you a list of objects to find. I do believe that a wild goose chase would be more accurate a term.”
“So I’ll be fruitlessly searching the house like a madwoman to find something that doesn’t exist?” she asked, hands on her hips.
“It does exist, I assure you my darling.”
“So in the pages of my favorite book. Well I re-read the thing pretty recently so I think it’s still in our room?” She looked up at him and he shrugged,
“Follow your hint.” He grinned at her, and pictured her once again rolling her eyes at him. He heard her footsteps begin to retreat from the kitchen, placing a palm against the counter using the moment he felt it vanish beneath his palm to gain his bearings. She led the way to the bedroom, footsteps changing as they left the tile of the kitchen to the hardwood of the hallway, and eventually the carpeting of their bedroom.
“Sure you aren’t just leading me to the bedroom to continue our little adventure from the kitchen?” she asked, clucking her tongue. He made a go on gesture with his hand and she threw her own up in the air. Their bedroom was small, adorned only with a bed, two end tables, a bookshelf, and a television on a small shelving system that also housed a gaming system and their small collection of movies. Aranea walked up to her end table with her book on top, and flipped the pages until she found the small business card wedged between.
Under the ____ in your sanctuary
A kiss is required to unlock the word
“You won’t give me the full hint without a kiss?” she asked,
“Part of the puzzle.”
“Naw, part of the gift. You’re sexy as hell I’ll take any excuse to kiss you.” She shot back, closing the space between them to link her arms behind his neck and meet his lips. She closed her eyes when she tilted her head, relishing the soft brush of their lips. He drew back from her when she prodded him with her tongue, causing her to pout.
“Under the bed in your sanctuary” he simply stated. He drew his arms away from her slowly and heard her turn and begin to walk back towards the doorway.
“My sanctuary? Must be the gaming room.” She mused. They had a spare bedroom that housed the majority of their video games, except for the one console in their bedroom that was primarily used to play movies at night. Much of her free time was spent in that room whenever Ignis was at the Citadel performing his duties as Hand of the King. He followed her to the room at the other end of the hall. She scanned the room, trying to think of what he could mean by bed. But then she saw their pet carbuncle curled up on his end of the couch where he had made a nest out of a pillow and blankets.
“Bramble, gonna hate me buddy gotta reach under your bed.” She commented, walking up and scratching the long-eared animal. Bramble chirped, ears standing up and turning slightly, tip of his tail flicking before his entire tail wagged. Aranea scratched his side, and he rolled over to beg for belly-scratches and she was more than happy to oblige. They had adopted the animal a few months after moving in together; Aranea had been surprised he agreed so readily to obtaining a pet. She had never pictured him as the type to tolerate a creature leaving a coating of fur everywhere. After paying the belly-rub toll Aranea slipped her hand under the mound of blankets and felt the edge of the next envelop.
Behind the _____
For the rest of the sentence the toll is your shirt
“You want me to take off my shirt?” Aranea asked, seeing the cocky grin overtake Ignis’s face. “Also a little straightforward for you, I feel like brain-killing riddles are more your style.”
“You aren’t quite fond of riddles, I figured that you would find this more fun.” He answered her.
“You certainly aren’t wrong. So this toll is my shirt? Hmm I’m wearing a snug tank today, why don’t you come over here and give me a hand?” she asked. His grin grew wider, “oh don’t give me that look!”
“What look?” he asked her, tilting his head with furrowed brows. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, but couldn’t restrain a light giggle.
“Just get over here and get me out of this shirt.” She asked.
“Happy to oblige.” He flourished a bow to her, and she giggled again. He reached out towards her and she stepped into his touch, letting him stroke her cheek before both hands rested on her shoulder, sliding down her back while his lips came down to her neck again. His found the hem of her shirt, wiggling his fingers to tickle the skin on her lower back causing her to yelp and try to wiggle from his grip but he tightened his arms, laughing against her ear as he pulled her flush against his chest.
“Ig! Put me down! Stop!” she shouted between mad giggles. He taunted her for a moment more before setting her down and hooked his fingers around the hem of her shirt slowly lifting it. He slid his palms flush against her skin sending goosebumps rushing down her arms. “You’re torturing me.” She complained, having the feeling that once free of her shirt he would pull back like he did from the kiss and urge her onward to the next clue. She lavished in his palms against her back, tracing the outline of her spine. His fingertips found some scars, lightly tracing them as he inched her shirt upwards.
“I assure you-“
“It will be worth it.” She interrupted him with the best impression she could muster. He chuckled, teasing her by hooking his thumbs under the edge of her sports bra; which she greatly preferred to a regular bra, and then finished pulling her shirt over her head. He rested his forehead against hers, taking a moment to stroke her sides and her stomach. “I do think it prudent to find the next clue.” He offered.
“What if I say my toll is you gotta take your shirt off? Create a black hole of sexy.”
“That does seem to be a fair bargain, I have no argument against.” He began to work the buttons of his shirt, but Aranea reached for him to maker quicker work of freeing him from the garment. With it pushed away she ran her hands over his chest, completely hairless to mirror his inability to grow an adequate beard.
“I’m not sure who has less hair on that chest, you or me.” She teased. “Do you secretly wax when I’m not home?”
“I assure you that it was merely my chest becoming jealous of the sexiness of yours and all hair evacuated the premises”
“So you actually had hair on your chest at one point in your life?” she replied with a laugh, lifting a brow as her fingers skimmed over his smooth skin.
“I believe I may have counted a total of three hairs across my lifetime.” He answered with a nod, holding his fingers up in the air as if counting, “yes. Three.”
“Well I can certainly say I do think your chest is sexier.” She assured him, tapping a hand against him, her mind beginning to wander to the things she hoped were on the next set of clues and that he would be so amenable to mirroring their requested action. “So. Behind the what?” she asked, her thumb teasing around his nipple and she bit down on her lip as it perked up.
“Behind the cookies.” He provided her answer. She hesitated for a moment with her brows furrowed. They never purchased cookies, and it was a few more seconds before she realized that he had made her favorite mint chocolate chip cookies the previous night, of which she had devoured a half dozen before he had put the rest into the ceramic jar.
“To the kitchen then.” She stood on her toes as if to kiss him, sure to give a sigh to clue him in, but promptly drew back, leaving him flushed and flustered following behind. She led him to the kitchen where she found the envelop carefully folded behind the ceramic jar in the shape of a sitting carbuncle. Ignis often complained about how tacky it was, which only seemed to make Aranea even more fond of the object.
You are nearing the end my darling
This next clue is hidden in _______
To get your missing word I do believe that pants would get in the way, perhaps remove them
“Well this one is much more polite.” Aranea nodded. “But first… since you led me here you have no one to blame but yourself.” She pointed at him before reaching to the jar to remove the lid and pull out a pair of cookies. “If you keep making these cookies you won’t have to worry about requesting I take my pants off, they won’t fit to put them on in the first place.” She took a large bite, humming slightly at how damned good he was at baking, despite his admonitions that baking sweets was not his favorite variety of cooking.
“While my primary concern would be your health, I do believe I would fail to come up with a complaint should you spend your days in this house without pants.” He teased her, and she couldn’t help but blush even as she rolled her eyes. “You’ll always be my darling, and sexy, ‘Nea.” She tried to come up with a self-derisive retort but her mouth was full of cookie and her cheeks were burning and decided to merely accept his compliment instead.
“And you’ll always be my sexy glasses.” She answered back once she had swallowed her bite. “Speakin’ of sexy, show me how its done. Taking pants off I mean. That was the price of the missing word, right?” she inquired, tapping on her chin. Ignis chuckled,
“I could use some assistance. I fear I may be suffering from an acute episode of confusion where removing my own pants is beyond my cognitive abilities.”
“My poor poor Iggy, it appears your pants are so tight that they’re cutting off circulation to your brain, probably the problem. Let me fix it.” She cooed, stepping towards him and reaching for his belt. She moved with purposeful lag, sure to draw out each step of freeing his belt and unfastening the button of his black pants, clicking her tongue at her work, “I do believe I may have remedied your problem.” She stated, doing her best to mimic Ignis’s pontificating speech.
“I feel my cognition returning to my normal”
“So smart enough to calculate how many blue bugs are currently crawling on leaves, but only green leaves on maple trees exactly seventy-eight years old?”
“Two million six-hundred thousand three hundred and fifty eight.” He answered quickly, holding up a finger, having only given a slight delay between her absurd scenario and his cheeky reply. She slapped at his chest, both of them chuckling. “Now-“ he paused, taking a careful step forward after Aranea had pushed his pants past his hips, her thumbs grazing his skin in such a way that any blood flow interruptions to his brain would be due to rerouting.
“Math isn’t sexy so shush.” She insisted, standing on her toes to kiss him as he stepped towards her, her hands on his hips to assure herself he wouldn’t lose his balance as he kicked the garment away, his hands quickly coming to her own waist. “Should I show you how it’s done or you think you can handle pants removal now?” she asked, “I’m a pretty good teacher so I hope my lesson sunk in.”
“Indeed it did my darling.” He whispered. Almost slower than her he reached for the front of her pants to fumble with the button, glad for the lack of a belt to struggle with. He fought his own urge to find skin, wanting to tease and taunt with gentle touches and careful grazing of fingers on flesh until her mind was ablaze. He pushed the pants past her hips, and hugged her against him to lift her out of them, which was not as successful or hot as he had first imagined. She gave a startled yelp when he lifted her which immediately changed to a giggle as she struggled to kick out of her pants, now caught around her ankles, without throwing him completely off balance.
“This is ridiculous!” she complained, one pant leg inside-out as the ankle hem clung stubbornly to her and Ignis felt for the counter with one hand, straining to hold her up with the other, before sitting her atop it to help her remove them completely and cast them aside. He moved as if he were going to step back to allow her to leap off the counter, but it was rare that she was at eye-level with him and she grabbed his shoulders. “What’s the rush?” she asked. Her eyes ran over his nearly naked form, taking in the pale trail of hair from his navel down to his boxers. Her mind wandered to what other tasks would be printed onto the business cards tucked into a series of envelopes, and the requests she hoped would unlock their missing words. She gave a wiggle with her hips, motions exaggerated so he could better feel her hips beneath his palms. She hoped he would drift those skilled fingers, but instead merely tugged her forward until she was forced to leap off the counter. “Hey!” she complained, “that hip wiggle usually works!”
“Patience.” He whispered.
“Better be worth it.” She whispered back, licking her bottom lip before shaking her head to gather her senses back.
“Always is. So. I do believe you must now look for something inside a lockbox.” Ignis supplied. Aranea blew out a razzberry exhale and shrugged, trying to think of what lockbox he was thinking of, since she had little of importance and felt no need for such an object. But after a few more seconds of tapping her finger against her chin she recalled Ignis buying a small safe in which to store important documents for the King.
“So back up to the gaming room.” She commented. While it was her sanctuary for playing games, Ignis often used it as his office since he needed Aranea to read paper documents to him that his scanner and reading programs struggled with. He followed her up the hall, allowing himself a regretful moment of wishing he could see the way her bare skin looked from behind, and tried instead to focus on the feel of it beneath his palms, beneath his tongue. The way her breathing, her whines, her moans sounded in his ear. Her breath on his neck. Oh damn. He was letting his imagination get ahead of him and as a result felt the tightness in his boxers and tried to calm himself with the promise of almost there.
Once in the aforementioned room Ignis leaned against the doorway, listening to Aranea’s footsteps walk deeper into the room, and her light groan as she crouched down in spite of the light ache in her legs to spin the dial on the safe. He listened to the groan of the metal joints and the rustle of paper, his love’s ah ha! as she pulled something out and the tearing of paper as she opened the envelope.
To the ______ my darling
“What’s the price for the word on this one?” Aranea asked, her voice low and sultry, and he chuckled, having a feeling she may have taken notice of his earlier state despite him willing it calm. “I’ve given you a kiss… my shirt, my pants…”
“Another kiss.” He answered simply. She hummed a bit at him, expecting him to elaborate but he merely stood there, leaning against the doorway, with that smug grin on her face that should enrage her but damn it. It only succeeded in drawing her in. She walked up to him,
“You’re lucky that grin is sexier than it is annoying.” She gave his nose a flick, chuckling at the way it made him flinch his head back and silenced any retort he would have with her lips, not settling for a merely peck on the lips. She dove him, tongue tasting him, glad for their lack of clothing as she stood on her toes to reach him, his skin warm against hers. Her hands linked behind his head and she tilted hers for a better angle, and hummed another chuckle as his hands slid behind her, gripping her tight and a thumb tracing under her bra.
“Perhaps I misspoke earlier. I do believe the cost of the word will require a bit more cloth…” he broke away from her kiss and tilted his head, lips seeking the softness against her neck, tongue wanting to taste her pulse and the vibration of a moan against his kiss. He felt her tilt her hips against him, giving a grind that did not help ease the tension he was fighting against his words having a clear effect on her.
“Then you should come take that toll.” She replied, “my hands are a little occupied.” To accent her point she released the grip behind his neck, nails grazing pleasantly over his shoulder and down his chest, giving his nipple a brief pinch before wandering lower to tease the edge of his boxers again, cursing their height difference since wiggling her hips did little more than rub against his thigh. He obliged her, slowly prying the garment off her and struggling against the tight fabric. She let go of him long enough for him to cast her bra aside, and managed to keep his senses enough to press his palms against her shoulders, “gotta wait for my next step?”
“To the bedroom my darling.” He whispered.
“Get your ass in there.” She shot back, patience worn thin at his constant halting.
“As you command.” She gave him a light slap for his choice of words and then tugged on his shoulder to turn him, pushing on his mid-back,
“Oh just go you sarcastic ass.” She gave him a harder push when he laughed, but began to walk the short distance down the hall to their bedroom, bowing with a flourish to invite her inside, she lifted a brow as she walked past him, half-expecting some sarcastic quip to match the sass stuck in her head. “So… in the bedroom. Any more detail to that hint or should I tear the bedroom apart?” she asked.
“The pillow.” She shrugged at the vagueness of the hint and lifted each of their pillows and found another envelop tucked under hers. She eyed him with a quirked brow, her mind ablaze with various requests she hoped were hidden within, a thumb clumsily sliding under the corner to tear it open, crossing her legs to try and retain her senses with the shiver coursing through her and settling between her legs.
Lie with me my darling, and allow me to show you what this year has meant to me.
Aranea flushed, looking up at Ignis and was surprised that the simple words left her eyes burning and a witty retort locked away somewhere in her mind by the sentimentality. Her first instinct was to mock the words and tease him for being so damned mushy. But she read over the small white business card with its unremarkable black font.
“I love you ‘Nea.” His voice broke her from her thoughts, causing her to look up as he approached her. She realized then when she had him take his pants off earlier to match her, they had both neglected to remove his socks and the image of him walking towards her with his boxers and socks made her smile, and she managed not to burst out laughing for fear he would think it was his words.
“Love you too sexy glasses. Though you’d be a bit sexier if you took those socks off.” She couldn’t help but comment.
“I must look quite comical.” He admitted. He walked up to the bed, sitting on the end and reaching down to pull off his socks. He had hardly sat back up when he felt Aranea’s chest press against his back, arms winding under his and clasping in front, tugging him back until he followed her pulling arms and shimmied himself back onto the bed, turning so he was lying back against the pillows and Aranea wasted no time climbing atop him, straddling his hips and sitting back on his thighs.
“I’m not the only impatient one I guess.” She lifted a hand from where she had been tracing scars and the outline of muscle on his abdomen, and drifted to stroke him through his boxers, biting down on her bottom lip as her pride painted her features as she felt him grow beneath her touch. He tilted his head back against the pillows, a low sigh escaping his lips as he relished her touch. He reached up to touch the skin he wished he could see, but quickly forced those desires back and refocused on the things he could enjoy about her. Her voice, her warmth, her touch. He wanted to study her with his remaining four senses rendering the desire for his sight back null.
Ignis cupped a breast with his hand, the other on her waist to follow the rocking motion she was making with her hips. His thumb teased her nipple before moving on, tracing along her side. His fingers brushed along a mole that she always reassured him was still the same round shape it had always been. He found scars that broke the pattern of her flawless skin, and wondered if he had ever noticed before if she had tan lines or was remarkably pale from head to toe. He reached up to run a hand through her hair, happy to find she had pulled it from the low ponytail it had been in earlier in the day. He had always loved the silver color, and now focused on how soft it felt between his fingers, neither thick nor thin. There were no snags as he ran his fingers through again, her straight hair parting gracefully around his fingers. She always complained about split ends, but as he rubbed a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger he wasn’t sure he could even tell the difference between splint ends or not, simply enjoying the feel of it between his fingers.
She leaned down to kiss him, her breasts felt wonderful against his chest, her teeth biting gently at his bottom lip and he welcomed her tongue demanding to taste his kiss. His hands moved to her back, feeling along her spine tracing the outline of anything he could find. He slipped his hands to her bottom and tugged her towards him, breaking their kiss to find her neck with his lips. His first try was clumsy and found the side of her ear, the act tickling her and causing her to scrunch up with Ignis! coming between the giggles. By the gods he loved her laugh. He repeated the action to get her to laugh again, feeling the way her chest bounced against him with the laughter. He moved on to his original target, finding her neck and her laughter shifted to a moan, the vibrations he could feel beneath his lips. His tongue tapped against her skin, and she tilted her head away and arched her neck into him to encourage him. The familiar taste of her skin mingled with a slight sheen of salt, and his tongue lapped at her again.
He inhaled, breathing in her scent. Most of the smell of her shampoo had faded, but a trace of it lingered adding the slightest hint of mint from the tea-tree oils she preferred. He wondered if her clothes had still smelled of laundry detergent, since the smell still lingered on their pillows with the linens he had washed just that morning for their bed to be absolutely heavenly for what he hoped would be a night of sheer bliss. Her deodorant she had used that morning had faded, but he didn’t mind. She smelled like her and that was all that mattered. A scent he could recognize anywhere. On the rare night he retired before she came home he often found himself seeking her pillow to fall asleep with her familiar scent.
Touch again drew him from his thoughts, the next roll of Aranea’s hips more on target after the way he had tugged her higher onto his waist. He moaned at the way she rocked against him, the heavenly friction taunting him with their clothes proving to be a torturous barrier and he regretted not adding just one more step in this breadcrumb trail. He whispered her name, and she whispered his in return. His fingers hooked her undergarment and tugged, and she lifted herself off him to make the task easier. She reached for his boxers, her own movements to remove them far less graceful than he had been but within moments they were both free of any clothing and Aranea couldn’t help but allow her eyes to wander. Ignis had expected to feel Aranea’s weight as she straddled him again, to follow her usual teasing patterns where she would leave him all but begging for him. What he hadn’t expected was for her to place a kiss where she knew it would make him curse, both hands quickly reaching out to her,
“Oh Gods…” he groaned, head tilting back as he languished in the feel of her placing another kiss before taking the length of him into her mouth. She worked wonders on him, eliciting an undignified moan. She let out a muffled giggle, which encouraged him to continue giving in to desire and not silencing his moans. There was no need to guard his pride around her. After a short time he fought against every urge he had to allow her to drive him into a world of madness and pushed her back, replying to her confused humm, “what about you my darling?” he whispered.
Aranea felt her cheeks heat up, biting down on her bottom lip and shifting to lie next to him, toes pointing to the end of the bed to stretch her legs which had begun to feel cramped in their previous position. She watched him sit up and crawl towards her, her arms reaching to link behind his neck once he was in reach, sighing and closing her eyes when his lips clashed with hers, urgent with passion his tongue clashing with hers, hands gripping her hips. He broke the kiss, placing one on her chin and going to her neck again. She moaned, tilting her head away from him the heat rising in her cheeks and spreading to her ears and she wondered for a moment if he could drive her to the edge with his tongue against her neck alone. He sucked at her skin, and she moaned as she thought about him doing that other places, hips rolling since she knew that was his goal.
“I love you ‘Nea…” he whispered against her, his kiss now trailing to her collar bone, and the side of her shoulder where the skin was taught with a pink scar.
“Love you too…” her voice trailed off before she could think of which nickname to call him, leaving her words hanging in the air before she repeated them again, “I love you…” By the six was he an attentive lover, trailing kisses down her body pausing to languish her in affection in the places he knew she liked best. The mark that her neck would surely bear to show her greatest weakness, his lips lingering again beside her navel. She parted her knees for him, gasping when his fingers ghosted the trail for his lips to follow. When they did, she moaned, hands snaking through his short hair, toes curling and her heels digging into the bed. She gasped and moaned his name, colors blossoming when she closed her eyes as her climax sparked through her like an electric shock.
“Gods damn Ig…” she panted, an arm over her eyes as she fought for breath. She felt the mattress shift and Ignis lay beside her. He reached a hand over to feel the way her chest heaved beneath his palm, satisfying his wish to see the way she panted for breath and came down from one hell of an orgasm. “Remind me again why the hell I ever get out of this bed?” she asked, turning her head to look at him. He chuckled, leaning forward for a quick kiss. His hip brushed against her stomach, “Hmm… well I’m sure not going anywhere until you’re left as dazed as me.” She stated when a hand slipped between them. One arm reached around his hip, tugging him as she rolled onto her back, smirking as he was all too happy to follow her guidance.
“I’m afraid I have no answer to that question, as I don’t know why I leave this bed either.” He offered back. He leaned in for another intoxicating kiss, never getting enough of her tongue with his, her lips dancing with his own and her nails tracing lines into his back as they made love. Her moans against his ear were like a drug, driving him even deeper into this world of pleasure. She was all around him. Her touch, her scent, her voice, the taste of her beneath his tongue. If I could see her too perhaps I would go mad and my sight was stolen as a gift to drown in her without the distraction of my eyes. He pondered. He rolled from her and pulled her close, the pair left panting. Skin stuck to skin, her breath was hot against his bare chest. But he tightened his grip on her as he thought about just how damned much she meant to him.
“I could lie like this forever” Aranea eventually broke the silence of their afterglow, her voice enough to pry Ignis from the edge of drifting to sleep.
“If only dinner were not on the stove.” He replied, remembering why sleeping would not be an intelligent choice.
“Oh can’t have that ruined! The gods might strike us all down and burn Eos to the ground for such blasphemy!.... Oh don’t give me that look, I’m not kidding. Your food is so damned good, hell, amazing that it’s an insult to Bahamut himself to let it burn on the stove!”
“You flatter me.” He replied with a smile.
“How’d you think you won me over?” she asked. “Shit, I’m not sure before that campfire meal you fed me I had ever eaten something so good in my life! Even the restaurants I would get the chance to visit once in a while couldn’t hold a torch to it!”
“It was merely a stew, and if I recall correctly contained few fresh ingredients.” Ignis counted, but blushed in spite of his humble words. They laid in bed for a few more moments before Ignis sighed, reluctantly disentangling himself from the warmth of his wife’s embrace, sitting up on the edge of the bed for a couple seconds to stretch before standing, feeling the floor with his feet before finding his pants and moving back to the edge of the bed to put them back on.
“Y’know, those are pretty optional.” Aranea commented.
“I have learned the hard way not to fall for you when you encourage me to remain without clothing prior to cooking.” He answered, and swore he could hear the pout on her face, refusing to give in. He found his shirt easily enough and pulled it on, standing and stretching again, feeling a soothing pop in his lower back and rolling his shoulder with another loud cracking sound. “Care to join me in the kitchen?” he asked, holding out a hand.
“You’re lucky you’re irresistible.” She answered with a sigh. “Give me a sec.” she gathered her own clothes, the rustling of fabric telling Ignis that she had put on her undergarments and shirt, “screw pants. Overrated.” She stated. Ignis chuckled again and stood, again reaching his hand out to Aranea who took it and walked with him to the kitchen.
“Oh!” Ignis shouted, halting at the doorway. “How foolish of me…” he paused. He walked over to their closet, feeling around inside until he found a small box, pulling out an old dirty boot and reached inside, pulling out a small box. “Your gift…”
“Here I thought the gift was the best lay of my life!” Aranea laughed, “you spoil me Ig…” her voice trailed off, teeth worrying her lip as he walked up to her with a small box in his hands. He held it out to her,
“Aranea…” he paused, unsure if her statement was a joke or her habit of falling into self-depreciating humor. “You mean the world to me. You’re my guiding light in this world of darkness.” He whispered, reaching out with a palm against her cheek. He wanted to feel her expression as well as hear her reaction when she opened the small box. He heard the click of the lid, and her subsequent gasp. Her cheeks pulled back, breath beginning to hitch. He reached out with his other palm, feeling the smile pulling on her lips when the first sob broke her throat,
“Ig…” She looked at the small ring contained inside. A garnet set into a silver band flanked by a pair of small onyx stones.
“I was never able to buy you a proper engagement ring for when you agreed to marry me.” He explained, unable to restrain the guilt tainting his tone. His proposal had been a rare time in his life he didn’t calculate every angle. He had asked for her hand, wanting her to stand beside him and not wanting to allow something as petty as lacking the gil for a ring to keep him from asking for that honor. They had fought and bled together to find the scourge, protected their future King and Queen, she never strayed from his side when his sight left him. It was always her, holding him up when he wanted to crumble and guiding him through his dark world and he began to once again see a future.
“It’s beautiful.” She remarked. She slid off her wedding ring, placing the new one on her finger and replacing the band and smiled at how well they complimented each other, as if the rings had been made together as a set. “I love it Ig…” she sniffled when she felt her nose threatening to run, the back of her hand pressed against it. Ignis could feel her squint, the scar tissue around his own eyes pulled tight as he blinked away the tears threatening his intact eye.
“I love you my darling Aranea…” he whispered to her. He groaned from the sudden impact of her against his chest, arms winding around him face pressed against his shirt.
“Love you too sexy glasses.” She fell back upon her preferred nickname for him, her sobs shifting into a laugh, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. She couldn’t pinpoint why the ring had turned her into an emotional mess. She had never been overly fond of jewelry, and wore none outside of the ring placed upon her finger when they exchanged their vows. “Well…” she cleared her throat to try and regain her countenance, face flushing as she thought about the gift she had hidden away for him. “I guess it’s only fair I give you your gift.” She sniffled again, standing on her toes and using her hands to guide his face into a kiss, fighting against the urge to deepen things and languish in the blissful distraction that was her beloved Ignis. She drew back, straightening her shirt to occupy had hands, eyes trained down on the new ring adorning her finger and wanted to punch herself for the ridiculous grin that was surely painting her face like a giddy schoolgirl who just got asked out by her crush.
She walked over to the same closet where Ignis had hidden her gift, opening a notebook and pulling out an unsealed envelope. She walked up to Ignis and handed it to him. He felt the envelope and noticed there was a small plastic case inside.
“An SD card.” She explained, and felt her cheeks beginning to warm up as she explained what exactly was on it. “Prompto’s been working with me and Cindy for ages to program the damn thing. It’s an app for your phone so your texts can be ready in my sexy-ass voice instead of that monotonous robot that reads everything for you.” She explained. “Put it in… we pre-recorded the first message for you to test it out.” She shifted on her feet, fingers drumming against her thigh.
“Nea… That’s a wonderful gift.” He smiled at her, hoping he was looking at her as if he were making eye contact, a smile pulling his features despite the pain around his eye. He had always hated the default voice of his reading-application for his phone, and the thought that he could hear his beloved Aranea’s voice whenever he had to check his phone rather than that robot made him smile. Work often left him separated from her for hours, leaving him pining for the company of his wife and it was not a rare event he would be so occupied with work he would arrive home to her fast asleep and her voice a mere memory until the following morn.
“Here, let me help you get it in your phone. Prompto explained how to do it without making your phone explode.” She offered. “guess his constant fiddling with a camera had a good side effect he figured out how to install shit off an SD card.” She explained. She worked with his phone for several minutes, and hesitated when she looked at the screen and the red 1 in a circle appearing over the voicemail icon, the phone making an occasional chirp to alert Ignis to the unopened message. She handed him the phone, teeth biting down on her lip again as she wondered how he would react to the message.
“Noisy,” he started. It was the phone’s nickname Aranea had cheekily programmed, and Ignis had never bothered to correct embarrassed to admit he enjoyed the immaturity of the phone’s name. “Open voicemail.” It spoke back to him, alerting him to the unread message and he directed it to play.
Ignis, my love. I’m not good at this sappy thing. But I’ll try, because it’s you. And you’re worth fancier words than me saying hey sexy glasses, you rock. This year has been… the most amazing time of my life. Still look around sometimes wondering when I’ll wake up. Why this proper Lucian man would look twice at this short defected Commodore from Nifleheim. But you gave me a chance. And a hell of a lot more. We’ve been through so much together. But I have another journey for us to take. Something that is frankly terrifying, but I’m excited to undertake it hand-in-hand with you. Ignis… I’m pregnant.
Ignis held the phone, fingers gripping it and pulling it closer to him as if he were holding a glass object. His breath began to hitch, intact eye burning and his throat felt constricted.
“’Nea… you’re?”
“Pregnant.” She whispered, a fragile smile on her face.
“We’re… we’re going to be parents.” He whispered, the tightness breaking as a sob broke through, he placed the phone in his pocket, palm resting over it to guarantee there was no risk of it falling from his grip. He stepped closer to Aranea, hands reaching for her and pulling her close, bending over so he could bury his face against her shoulder and openly wept.
“This is the greatest gift I could have ever received.” He mumbled between sobs, clutching her close to his chest, fingers curling around the fabric of her shirt.
“You’re happy?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Happy?” he parroted, “I could not be more ecstatic! By the Six ‘Nea I love you… and to know we’re going to have a family… I thought my life was perfect, a damned fairy tale. And now it somehow got even better.” His voice lacked its usual steady tone, shoulders trembling and he pressed Aranea against him almost painfully hard. He nuzzled her neck, tugging her tight against him, weeping against her. “I love you my darling.”
“And I love you.”