[ There's too much to feel at once. Prompto's orgasm tapers off slowly, so slowly-- less dwindling away and more sinking back to a low simmer, his heartbeat pounding out pulses of heat through his entire body. Gods, or is it Noctis' pulse, the deep throbbing he can still feel in the core of his body where they're tied? Or the aching bruise over one scent gland that Noctis had bitten and sucked into the skin in the throes of his own climax (briefly, Prompto wonders if Noctis had actually marked him, but it doesn't... feel like it)-- or the absolute fullness of the alpha's release still trapped deep inside him? Everything is hot and aching so satisfyingly, his body limp and damp with a fine sheen of sweat, an absolute mess of fluid between his legs and down the insides of his thighs, the stretch of his inner walls around Noctis' swollen knot just bordering on pain, and it's delicious.
His own arousal, too, is less frantic. The burn of desperate need is something deeper now, something liquid, ebbing and flowing with his heavy breath. His heart--
A tiny moan escapes his throat as Noctis tugs his weak body up into his arms again, and he curls in against the man's broad chest, looping his arms around him and pulling as close as possible-- his hips shift, and the tug of the knot makes a little ember pop amongst the glowing coals of his pleasure (for him, for him, Noctis is murmuring against his ear as Prompto softly kisses and bites at a clavicle between soft and needy noises, this is his alpha giving him his knot). This-- oh. Having lost the frantic edge of needing release (for now), the low pulse of lust is more intimately tied through the sensation of being held so close, the feeling of another heartbeat against his own, the meandering lips and heat of skin. He could drown in this feeling, oh so willingly. It's bliss.
Noctis shifts his shoulder a bit, making Prompto lift his heavy head, pulling him in for a kiss-- and that only makes the warmth curling around in the pit of his stomach give a soft tug, a sweet sting of pleasure. Noctis is saying something...? It filters through Prompto's hazy mind without catching at first, leaving him to softly moan and nudge their mouths together again, and again. Did he mean... what? He can't remember. This warm swirl of lust isn't letting him think straight-- one hand slides down between them, gently closing around his already-again-half-hard cock, giving a faint stroke (and oh that feels-- it's not normally like this, pleasure so deep from such a small touch--).
Finally, however, it connects. He plays back over the last few minutes, hears himself crying out the exact three words he should most certainly have not said, not this early on-- a little flare of anxiety churns up in Prompto's heart (he doesn't sound angry or upset, he tells himself a little hectically, he doesn't sound off-put), turning his face red again in embarrassment. Well. It isn't as though Noctis can exactly run at the moment. He tips his head forward again against his alpha's shoulder. ]
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His own arousal, too, is less frantic. The burn of desperate need is something deeper now, something liquid, ebbing and flowing with his heavy breath. His heart--
A tiny moan escapes his throat as Noctis tugs his weak body up into his arms again, and he curls in against the man's broad chest, looping his arms around him and pulling as close as possible-- his hips shift, and the tug of the knot makes a little ember pop amongst the glowing coals of his pleasure (for him, for him, Noctis is murmuring against his ear as Prompto softly kisses and bites at a clavicle between soft and needy noises, this is his alpha giving him his knot). This-- oh. Having lost the frantic edge of needing release (for now), the low pulse of lust is more intimately tied through the sensation of being held so close, the feeling of another heartbeat against his own, the meandering lips and heat of skin. He could drown in this feeling, oh so willingly. It's bliss.
Noctis shifts his shoulder a bit, making Prompto lift his heavy head, pulling him in for a kiss-- and that only makes the warmth curling around in the pit of his stomach give a soft tug, a sweet sting of pleasure. Noctis is saying something...? It filters through Prompto's hazy mind without catching at first, leaving him to softly moan and nudge their mouths together again, and again. Did he mean... what? He can't remember. This warm swirl of lust isn't letting him think straight-- one hand slides down between them, gently closing around his already-again-half-hard cock, giving a faint stroke (and oh that feels-- it's not normally like this, pleasure so deep from such a small touch--).
Finally, however, it connects. He plays back over the last few minutes, hears himself crying out the exact three words he should most certainly have not said, not this early on-- a little flare of anxiety churns up in Prompto's heart (he doesn't sound angry or upset, he tells himself a little hectically, he doesn't sound off-put), turning his face red again in embarrassment. Well. It isn't as though Noctis can exactly run at the moment. He tips his head forward again against his alpha's shoulder. ]
...I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it.
[ No point to lying, right? ]