Chapter Text
Ignis is two fingers deep into Prompto, purposefully teasing satisfying little squeaks and moans out of him one by one as if he were plucking the strings on a guitar, when his work phone begins to ring. It’s the ringtone Ignis set for Noctis years ago.
He automatically freezes mid-stroke.
“ Don’t ,” Prompto breathes, barely audible over the sound of the cell phone ringing, “ stop .”
His eyes, half-lidded and pleading, meet Ignis’s in the dark of the bedroom; light from the phone screen catches in his irises, a thin light rim around his pupils, blown wide with need and desperation.
“ Please. ”
Ignis wants nothing more than to stay right where he is, with Prompto tight and warm around his fingers, on the verge of an orgasm he more than deserves after how long Ignis has been edging him. He can see that Prompto wants it, too; it’s obvious, even without the soft whine that escapes the blond’s mouth as Ignis sighs and slides his fingers out of Prompto. Ignis catches his eye deliberately as he brings his fingers to his lips and puts them, slick and warm, into his mouth. He rises from the bed slowly, not breaking eye contact, as he tastes Prompto on his tongue.
Prompto’s eyes flutter shut and, biting his lip to suppress another moan, he shakes his head.
“Not fair,” he murmurs, his legs still spread open, stretched wide across his twin mattress. The sheet is dark and damp beneath him. “I was so close, too.”
“Apologies,” Ignis says gently, softly, “but I have to take this.”
And he really is sorry; he hadn’t had time to take to see Prompto in a while, and they had both been looking forward to it. Ignis doesn’t think about just how much he had been looking forward to it, and if he does, he tells himself it’s because he’s never had sex as good as it is with Prompto. There just aren’t that many opportunities to get laid when you’re the prince’s retainer, after all. Trying not to be prematurely irritable, he crosses the room swiftly, wipes his hands off with his handkerchief, and answers the phone, careful not to use the fingers that were very recently buried up to the knuckle in Prompto’s pussy.
“Yes? I am rather busy at the moment.”
“Can you come get me?”
Ignis’s eyes flick over at Prompto for a second; he is no longer splayed out on the bed, but propped up on his elbows, clearly trying not to pout at Ignis but not completely succeeding. From where he stands by the door, Ignis can see that Prompto is freezing from the gooseflesh on his skin (not to mention how hard his nipples are, but then, they had been hard before). Stepping quietly, he crosses the room again to pull the comforter over his naked lover, and is given a wide grin in return.
Thanks, babe, Prompto mouths, trying to mask the question that is nevertheless painted across his face by being cute.
Though he is endeared by Prompto, Ignis forces his focus back onto the phone call.
“I’m afraid I am in a meeting just now; I thought you were with — “
“Come get me,” Noctis repeats harshly. “ Now .”
Alarm bells go off in Ignis’s head immediately, and he is already working on redressing, pressing the phone between his ear and his shoulder. Noctis, ever-conscious of the difference between his status and that of his friends, always avoided phrasing things like a demand when he could. That he is demanding things now is a clear sign to Ignis that something is very wrong.
“I’m on my way. Are you still at —”
“I’ll text you the location,” Noctis interrupts, voice thick in a way Ignis recognizes as on the verge of tears, and hangs up.
Ignoring Prompto for a brief moment, he slips into the bathroom to properly wash Prompto off of his hands, thinking quickly. Noctis is supposed to be with Gladio, training, and Ignis had confirmed with Gladio the details before he had even considered seeing if Prompto was available. Of course, he had known that it was a cover for Noctis just wanting to see Gladio; even if Gladio hadn’t already admitted it to Ignis in private, Ignis had known the day the two of them had started sleeping together. He had interrogated Gladio about it, knowing Noctis would more than likely end up hurt, and now he had been.
It is always hard to feel vindication at being right when Noctis is the victim.
Noct is an adult capable of making his own decisions, Ignis. You should let him. He might learn something for once.
Ignis tries not to let the ire show on his face as he recounts the conversation he had had with Gladio about the affair, but he has, by deliberate choice, never let himself be completely put together around Prompto, and now is no different.
“Everything okay, Iggy?”
Prompto, blanket wrapped around him like a robe, has gotten out of bed and stands beside it now, bare toes wiggling anxiously on the hardwood floor and concern wrinkling his brow.
“Work,” Ignis replies, his tone cool and clipped. He realizes a moment later how it sounds, and he turns to Prompto, softening his gaze and with it, his voice.
“Something has happened to my client,” he explains, coming over to Prompto despite the urgency in his chest to run to Noctis’s aid. “I have to take care of this.”
He cups Prompto’s cheek in his hand, thumb stroking softly across the spread of freckles. Prompto’s eyes flutter shut in anticipation as Ignis leans in to press a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and turns to continue gathering his things. He grabs the groceries he had brought out of the fridge, regretful that he wasn’t able to cook for Prompto this time.
“You’ll just have to make it up to me next time,” his lover says from behind him, voice playful through the disappointment.
“I will,” Ignis promises.
Things gathered, he stands by the door to Prompto’s studio apartment, hesitant, thoughtful. After a moment, he turns back to Prompto, an idea cementing itself in his head.
“Dinner at my place next time, perhaps?”
Prompto has never been to Ignis’s apartment, for good reason, but neither has Noctis. He doesn’t live that close to the prince’s residence, and there is nothing in his residence to suggest that he works for the Lucian royal family. Even the Regalia is parked in a private garage on the property, and Ignis has always driven his personal car to see Prompto. He has done everything he can up to this point to keep his life with Prompto separate from the rest of it, as separate from his external day-to-day life as possible.
If Ignis is uncertain whether or not Prompto understands the significance of this invitation into his personal space, that uncertainty fades as soon as he meets the blond’s gaze.
Prompto’s eyes are wide, his lips parted in a way that makes Ignis wish desperately that he could stay here a little longer. His cheeks are pink, and he whispers, “Really? Are you sure?”
Ignis offers Prompto a true smile as he opens the door to leave him.
“It’s a promise.”