[ Prompto's always had a way of second-guessing himself, even as stubbornly he pushes forward into whatever plan he'd laid out. He'd gotten this far-- calling on Noctis to help him, begging him, knowing fully well the man's innate kindness wouldn't allow him to leave Prompto to suffer, knowing what that means for the places their relationship has never gone-- all with the underlying, clawing anxiety that he may very well be ruining everything. Yes, it had been easy enough to get Noctis here, but had he just played on his concern to get what he wants? Is an overly needy, almost-twice-younger virginal omega something that Noctis even wants? Surely it's odd enough for him already to have such a close friendship with a boy so much younger than him, but this--
Noctis wants this too.
It's actually incredible, how much those four simple words completely untangle the snarled pit of anxiety that had scraped and dug itself into his guts even through the molten, churning liquid of his arousal. His breath releases in a small, shivering sigh, his relief maybe a little too noticeable as he faintly nods-- he feels like he's lifting further into Noctis' arms, suddenly absurdly light, freed from whatever forces of gravity had been keeping him on the ground. Noctis wants him. He does.
Which he proves again a moment later, finally letting himself touch the omega in his arms. Noctis starts to pull away slightly, and Prompto starts to make a noise of protest, but-- it's only as far as the alpha needs to go to get a proper look at him, tenderly stroke a bead of sweat off a flushed cheek before moving downward. Prompto's nerves track the warm weight of Noct's hands as they glide slowly down over the t-shirt, just enough to press into the pinched-in curve of his waist, before-- before pushing his fingers up underneath the hem of the shirt, dragging it upward as he flattens his palms against skin.
He'd be embarrassed-- the shirt tugging up obviously leaves him exposed from the waist down, and even if Noctis can't necessarily see it from this angle, being as close together as they still are he may very well feel exactly how hard Prompto's cock is, how hot, leaking in its own right-- but gods, having those warm hands finally, finally on his oversensitive skin (after so many weeks, month, fantasizing about exactly this,) wipes away any other reaction. He arches, gasping; it's like Noctis is lighting a fire inside of him just with the palms of his hands, dragging it through his body, his nerves all igniting and surging to the surface. Fuck, if even just this feels so good...
He hears Noctis gently urging them on. Offering to take care of him. And there is no denying at all the helpless twin surges of adoration and lust at the implication of it.
Prompto nods a little bit, biting his lip slightly, suddenly shy-- it's awful disconnecting, but he gently grabs at one of the hands on his waist and steps back on shaky legs, face flushing a little deeper as he finally gives the older man a light tug in the direction of his room. ]
Here... this way.
[ Moving is a special sort of near-impossible for how weak his arousal has him, but in small steps and little pulls, he finally guides them into his modest but comfortable room, still heavy with the scent of sex from all his agonized attempts at quelling the desperate waves of lust-- and he releases Noctis' hand with a slightly apologetic sound. ]
Sorry, I just-- [ He veritably collapses into the bed, like his legs simply couldn't keep him upright anymore-- but after a moment, he rolls over, holding his arms out for Noctis. For his alpha. ] Come here...?
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Noctis wants this too.
It's actually incredible, how much those four simple words completely untangle the snarled pit of anxiety that had scraped and dug itself into his guts even through the molten, churning liquid of his arousal. His breath releases in a small, shivering sigh, his relief maybe a little too noticeable as he faintly nods-- he feels like he's lifting further into Noctis' arms, suddenly absurdly light, freed from whatever forces of gravity had been keeping him on the ground. Noctis wants him. He does.
Which he proves again a moment later, finally letting himself touch the omega in his arms. Noctis starts to pull away slightly, and Prompto starts to make a noise of protest, but-- it's only as far as the alpha needs to go to get a proper look at him, tenderly stroke a bead of sweat off a flushed cheek before moving downward. Prompto's nerves track the warm weight of Noct's hands as they glide slowly down over the t-shirt, just enough to press into the pinched-in curve of his waist, before-- before pushing his fingers up underneath the hem of the shirt, dragging it upward as he flattens his palms against skin.
He'd be embarrassed-- the shirt tugging up obviously leaves him exposed from the waist down, and even if Noctis can't necessarily see it from this angle, being as close together as they still are he may very well feel exactly how hard Prompto's cock is, how hot, leaking in its own right-- but gods, having those warm hands finally, finally on his oversensitive skin (after so many weeks, month, fantasizing about exactly this,) wipes away any other reaction. He arches, gasping; it's like Noctis is lighting a fire inside of him just with the palms of his hands, dragging it through his body, his nerves all igniting and surging to the surface. Fuck, if even just this feels so good...
He hears Noctis gently urging them on. Offering to take care of him. And there is no denying at all the helpless twin surges of adoration and lust at the implication of it.
Prompto nods a little bit, biting his lip slightly, suddenly shy-- it's awful disconnecting, but he gently grabs at one of the hands on his waist and steps back on shaky legs, face flushing a little deeper as he finally gives the older man a light tug in the direction of his room. ]
Here... this way.
[ Moving is a special sort of near-impossible for how weak his arousal has him, but in small steps and little pulls, he finally guides them into his modest but comfortable room, still heavy with the scent of sex from all his agonized attempts at quelling the desperate waves of lust-- and he releases Noctis' hand with a slightly apologetic sound. ]
Sorry, I just-- [ He veritably collapses into the bed, like his legs simply couldn't keep him upright anymore-- but after a moment, he rolls over, holding his arms out for Noctis. For his alpha. ] Come here...?