[ It's ridiculous. He's ridiculous. Even through the ever-present churn of arousal, Prompto can't help but snort a little bit at the response, the entirely-too-stodgy agreement and the gap of silence that follows where he can almost hear Noctis' dismay. It's adorable, frankly, and the grin on his lips is tugging wider, a little ember in his heart fanning warmer. (Oh, this really is no simple crush, is it.)
Still... there is the unspoken implication that even though he's not going to be on the phone, Noct is going to be plenty distracted on the way over. Prompto's thoughts are spinning out, eyes closing as he imagines Noctis in the driver's seat of his (ridiculously expensive) car, having to shift his legs apart for the heavy press of his thick cock against the seam of his pants, hard and twitching its interest. There's a certain sort of pride in knowing he'd turned Noctis on, even if he hadn't necessarily intended it (and what, exactly, had he thought he was doing continuing to fuck himself on his fingers while on the phone with him if not exactly that?). It's a border they've never crossed. One they've flirted with before, more than once. And now... ]
I'll live a bit longer. [ The words catch on another little gasp as his fingers crook inward slightly, just barely brushing up against that particularly sensitive spot, just enough to send a helpless shudder through his body. Gods, he can't get the angle right at all. He bites his lip to hold back the noise of frustration. When he speaks again, his voice is a little less teasing, a little more honest. ] Seriously though, hurry.
[ They end the call at that point, and the loss of even that mild distraction makes the desperate need all the more unbearable. Now that he knows Noctis is actually on his way here, to hold him, to fuck him-- his thoughts are a mess of filthy fantasies, blurring through his mind at a breakneck pace, leaving only flashes of detail. Noct's tongue laving a long stripe up his neck. A hand squeezing hard around the (embarrassingly) soft flesh of his chest, nipple pinched between two knuckles. Fingertips trailing up through the rivulets of wet cascading down his thighs. The weight of Noctis' body as he pushes in, stretching Prompto's entrance even further around his engorged cock--
Fuck. Prompto curls into himself again, shuddering through another small and completely unsatisfying orgasm, a distinct wet spot forming on the bedspread underneath it. This is hell, but... soon. Soon. He won't have to suffer it alone anymore.
That's really the crux of it, his heart helpfully informs him. He won't have to suffer alone. Noctis is... he doesn't have to do this. He could have anyone, omega or otherwise, and he's coming here to be by Prompto's side. (Of course, there's a little niggle of self-doubt he can never quite get rid of, that not-so-helpfully floats the idea that he's only doing it because he's not an asshole and he wouldn't turn Prompto away, rather than anything deeper than that, but... Prompto swallows it down, trying to land somewhere in between his soaring heart and his disagreeable anxiety. At the least-- he knows Noct cares about him. And that's why he's coming here. Because they have a connection-- they have a way of simply being with each other. Something intrinsic.)
He half-considers putting on a pair of pants before Noct shows up, some instinct to try and make himself and his space presentable, but once he manages to get himself to his feet-- well. There hardly seems to be a point, going by the veritable streams of slick fluid leaking down the insides of his thighs. So he sticks to the slightly-too-large t-shirt, which is long enough to make him (slightly) decent, despite starting to hang off one shoulder. Gods, Noctis has to be close by now, doesn't he? Maybe that's the sound of his car pulling up against the side-street?
Walking is entirely more effort than it's worth; he keeps twitching and doubling over slightly as sharp spikes of lust keep hammering into his guts, but finally, finally he manages to make it to the front door, and... fuck it, he'll just wait here. Who cares if he seems over-eager. He is.
His muddled senses, however, thankfully prove right. Prompto hears an engine cut, and the faint sound of footsteps. (He can almost imagine he can catch the faintest notes of Noctis' scent as he approaches, somewhere through the thick layers of his own.) And finally: a knock on the door. Almost before the light rapping had finished it's rhythm, Prompto is pulling the door open, peeking around the corner just to be sure-- and he's never in his life felt so relieved to see someone as he is to see Noctis now. The door opsns fully. ]
...Hey. [ Now that he's here... he's shy. A blush has taken over his cheeks, and his lips are turned up a little bit in a slightly sheepish smile, his fingers wringing together just for want of something to do. Should he reach out? Should he-- ] Ah, sorry-- here, come on in.
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Still... there is the unspoken implication that even though he's not going to be on the phone, Noct is going to be plenty distracted on the way over. Prompto's thoughts are spinning out, eyes closing as he imagines Noctis in the driver's seat of his (ridiculously expensive) car, having to shift his legs apart for the heavy press of his thick cock against the seam of his pants, hard and twitching its interest. There's a certain sort of pride in knowing he'd turned Noctis on, even if he hadn't necessarily intended it (and what, exactly, had he thought he was doing continuing to fuck himself on his fingers while on the phone with him if not exactly that?). It's a border they've never crossed. One they've flirted with before, more than once. And now... ]
I'll live a bit longer. [ The words catch on another little gasp as his fingers crook inward slightly, just barely brushing up against that particularly sensitive spot, just enough to send a helpless shudder through his body. Gods, he can't get the angle right at all. He bites his lip to hold back the noise of frustration. When he speaks again, his voice is a little less teasing, a little more honest. ] Seriously though, hurry.
[ They end the call at that point, and the loss of even that mild distraction makes the desperate need all the more unbearable. Now that he knows Noctis is actually on his way here, to hold him, to fuck him-- his thoughts are a mess of filthy fantasies, blurring through his mind at a breakneck pace, leaving only flashes of detail. Noct's tongue laving a long stripe up his neck. A hand squeezing hard around the (embarrassingly) soft flesh of his chest, nipple pinched between two knuckles. Fingertips trailing up through the rivulets of wet cascading down his thighs. The weight of Noctis' body as he pushes in, stretching Prompto's entrance even further around his engorged cock--
Fuck. Prompto curls into himself again, shuddering through another small and completely unsatisfying orgasm, a distinct wet spot forming on the bedspread underneath it. This is hell, but... soon. Soon. He won't have to suffer it alone anymore.
That's really the crux of it, his heart helpfully informs him. He won't have to suffer alone. Noctis is... he doesn't have to do this. He could have anyone, omega or otherwise, and he's coming here to be by Prompto's side. (Of course, there's a little niggle of self-doubt he can never quite get rid of, that not-so-helpfully floats the idea that he's only doing it because he's not an asshole and he wouldn't turn Prompto away, rather than anything deeper than that, but... Prompto swallows it down, trying to land somewhere in between his soaring heart and his disagreeable anxiety. At the least-- he knows Noct cares about him. And that's why he's coming here. Because they have a connection-- they have a way of simply being with each other. Something intrinsic.)
He half-considers putting on a pair of pants before Noct shows up, some instinct to try and make himself and his space presentable, but once he manages to get himself to his feet-- well. There hardly seems to be a point, going by the veritable streams of slick fluid leaking down the insides of his thighs. So he sticks to the slightly-too-large t-shirt, which is long enough to make him (slightly) decent, despite starting to hang off one shoulder. Gods, Noctis has to be close by now, doesn't he? Maybe that's the sound of his car pulling up against the side-street?
Walking is entirely more effort than it's worth; he keeps twitching and doubling over slightly as sharp spikes of lust keep hammering into his guts, but finally, finally he manages to make it to the front door, and... fuck it, he'll just wait here. Who cares if he seems over-eager. He is.
His muddled senses, however, thankfully prove right. Prompto hears an engine cut, and the faint sound of footsteps. (He can almost imagine he can catch the faintest notes of Noctis' scent as he approaches, somewhere through the thick layers of his own.) And finally: a knock on the door. Almost before the light rapping had finished it's rhythm, Prompto is pulling the door open, peeking around the corner just to be sure-- and he's never in his life felt so relieved to see someone as he is to see Noctis now. The door opsns fully. ]
...Hey. [ Now that he's here... he's shy. A blush has taken over his cheeks, and his lips are turned up a little bit in a slightly sheepish smile, his fingers wringing together just for want of something to do. Should he reach out? Should he-- ] Ah, sorry-- here, come on in.