[ There's a moment, just as Noctis crawls into the bed and into his awaiting arms, that Prompto feels truly surrounded by his alpha. Engulfed not only in the thick spice-musk of his scent, but in his warmth, the weight of him. For those brief few seconds, Prompto slides his arms up around the man's shoulders, weakly pulling him closer with a soft sound that's somewhere between relief and a deeper longing than he's allowed himself to express up until this point. (Gods, how he's wanted this.) His fingers drift into Noctis' hair at the same moment that his lips skim over the smooth column of his neck-- and-- oh. There's a jolt that runs through Prompto's entire body, hot and crackling like a strike of lightning, as Noctis' teeth scrape ever so softly over the swollen gland there. Just enough to release another little flare of his scent, cloyingly sweet in the back of his throat, but...
He knows, of course, the basics of how marking works. But the sudden, incredible desire for it takes him by surprise. To be so completely claimed by this man he adores so deeply--
The vague, romantic notions burn off like morning fog as Noctis gently levers up and away from him; it's almost unbearable, the lack of contact where there had been so much, and he nearly arches into the loss-- but is foiled by Noct leaning over him, pushing the t-shirt finally up and over Prompto's head. It gets briefly tangled in his arms before Noctis tosses it aside to lean him back into the pillows again, and... the color in his face burns a hotter scarlet as it slowly catches up to him that he is completely naked underneath this man, offered up for appraisal. Noctis' pupils are wide with lust (and something so close to pride that it sets off a shuddering clench of pleasure between his legs); his gaze is hungry and thorough, and gods Prompto feels devoured in its wake.
He doesn't have the time to get self-conscious before Noctis' hands are on him. (Finally, finally.) Warm fingertips skate down over his collarbones, before honing down to gently surround the soft points of his nipples, brushing softly-- and Prompto's spine finally does arch with a little gasp torn from his throat, pleasure sparking over his nerves, sharp and hot. It's so little, so little, and already he can feel another slow wet spot forming on the bed beneath him.
That tease almost doesn't connect through the static of sensation-- first? There are too many ways to answer that, too many things he wants (everything, please, please, everything). His heart is absolutely thundering in his chest, as turbulent as his mind, his body. This yearning, this unbearable ache-- he whines a little, licking at his dry lips, looking up at the alpha through thick eyelashes, shy and lustful and trusting and longing all at once. ]
Kiss me...?
[ Another first, of course. But maybe a very needed first step. ]
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Date: 2018-03-26 09:39 am (UTC)He knows, of course, the basics of how marking works. But the sudden, incredible desire for it takes him by surprise. To be so completely claimed by this man he adores so deeply--
The vague, romantic notions burn off like morning fog as Noctis gently levers up and away from him; it's almost unbearable, the lack of contact where there had been so much, and he nearly arches into the loss-- but is foiled by Noct leaning over him, pushing the t-shirt finally up and over Prompto's head. It gets briefly tangled in his arms before Noctis tosses it aside to lean him back into the pillows again, and... the color in his face burns a hotter scarlet as it slowly catches up to him that he is completely naked underneath this man, offered up for appraisal. Noctis' pupils are wide with lust (and something so close to pride that it sets off a shuddering clench of pleasure between his legs); his gaze is hungry and thorough, and gods Prompto feels devoured in its wake.
He doesn't have the time to get self-conscious before Noctis' hands are on him. (Finally, finally.) Warm fingertips skate down over his collarbones, before honing down to gently surround the soft points of his nipples, brushing softly-- and Prompto's spine finally does arch with a little gasp torn from his throat, pleasure sparking over his nerves, sharp and hot. It's so little, so little, and already he can feel another slow wet spot forming on the bed beneath him.
That tease almost doesn't connect through the static of sensation-- first? There are too many ways to answer that, too many things he wants (everything, please, please, everything). His heart is absolutely thundering in his chest, as turbulent as his mind, his body. This yearning, this unbearable ache-- he whines a little, licking at his dry lips, looking up at the alpha through thick eyelashes, shy and lustful and trusting and longing all at once. ]
Kiss me...?
[ Another first, of course. But maybe a very needed first step. ]