[ Prompto's eyes widen a little, his lower lip pulling in between his teeth (there's a thin sting; it's exactly the same spot that Noctis had bitten, it's tender now and he can almost imagine he can taste his alpha on it) as Noct ruts forward into his hand. It's a small loss of control, but oh the blur of fantasies it triggers, rushing through his mind at a breakneck pace-- after all, omegas aren't the only ones that end up in states like this, alphas have their ruts, and fuck the very thought of Noctis coming to him like that, just a hair away from grabbing his omega and doing exactly as he pleases with him--
But then, Noctis' composure returns slightly, enough that he regains some authority over his own actions. Enough that his eyes narrow slightly in a self-satisfied, dirty little smirk that Prompto loves entirely too much, covering his hand with his own to coax him into stroking that heavy cock a little more firmly. God. He's so hard. The little throbs, like it's connected to Noctis' pounding heartbeat. The wet spot in the cotton, spreading and clinging to the blunt head, just enough that he can make out the faintest hint of deep red through it. And he's... this is... because of him...?
Prompto does, however, pout slightly at the tease. ]
I've been waiting--
[ He doesn't really get the rest of the thought out. (Just as well, he's not entirely sure where it had been going, but it had likely been into territories far too intimate and close to his heart. Damn, he's got to be more careful. If he scares Noct off...) It's cut off by Noctis suddenly shifting, and gravity seems to shift with him; with a surprised little yelp, Prompto finds himself being hauled up by strong arms, and he throws his legs out to either side in a desperate bid to stabilize himself-- and when everything stops moving, he's neatly straddled over Noctis' hips, with that swollen bulge tucked up directly underneath him, and oh, oh feeling him throbbing like this, that faint pulse beat pressed up against his balls, the base of his cock-- Prompto shudders, whining, shifting his hips in some aching need to feel more. The soft cotton feels nice rubbing up against him, and oh, he's making such a mess-- more so yet when Noctis grinds up into him. A flare of pleasure runs through him, even from such a differed touch. Fuck, fuck. How is this so good?
Prompto's hands shakily slide up onto Noctis' abdomen, just for something to lean part of his weight on, something to keep him upright. Panting softly, he gives an experimental grind down of his own hips-- rubbing Noctis' bulge up against his ass, slipping it entirely too easily inward, enough to brush the blunt heat up against his entrance. A bolt shoots up his spine and crashes against the base of his skull; a brand new surge of wetness leaks down to absolutely coat the cotton of Noct's underwear (and probably not exactly missing his pants, either), and it's all he can do not to ride against it right here and now. He's shivering all over, choking out little, needy moans--
Which become a full-fledged cry as Noctis' hands find his chest again, enfolding the softness in his palms, scraping the points of his thumbs over the pink, pointed nubs. Even just normally he's so, so sensitive here, but now-- now-- it's like embers flaring and popping to life, dragging through his body, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach and radiating white-hot. Maybe it's because he's been so pent-up, so incapable of giving himself any release, but even this little touch-- the small squeeze of the fullness of his tits, the hard bulge grinding slowly into him, the soft scrape of sensitive skin over fabric and wet-- fuck. The needle-thin jolt of heat from the pinch around his swollen nipples triggers something, a hot, liquid shudder that pours down his spine, making him arch sharply into Noctis' hands with a bitten sob as all of this tension finally gives out, just a little. A small snap, a shuddery little orgasm that makes his untouched cock twitch and spill onto Noctis' stomach, makes another thick surge of slick flood against him, thick with his scent.
Prompto pants heavily, face more deeply flushed than ever before-- oh, what must Noct think of him now? This desperate little thing, coming from so little-- but even though that had been so much better than anything he'd been able to do for himself, he's still so hard, and the ache to be filled is so much worse, his body absolutely burning for it. It's as delicious as it is torturous. ]
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But then, Noctis' composure returns slightly, enough that he regains some authority over his own actions. Enough that his eyes narrow slightly in a self-satisfied, dirty little smirk that Prompto loves entirely too much, covering his hand with his own to coax him into stroking that heavy cock a little more firmly. God. He's so hard. The little throbs, like it's connected to Noctis' pounding heartbeat. The wet spot in the cotton, spreading and clinging to the blunt head, just enough that he can make out the faintest hint of deep red through it. And he's... this is... because of him...?
Prompto does, however, pout slightly at the tease. ]
I've been waiting--
[ He doesn't really get the rest of the thought out. (Just as well, he's not entirely sure where it had been going, but it had likely been into territories far too intimate and close to his heart. Damn, he's got to be more careful. If he scares Noct off...) It's cut off by Noctis suddenly shifting, and gravity seems to shift with him; with a surprised little yelp, Prompto finds himself being hauled up by strong arms, and he throws his legs out to either side in a desperate bid to stabilize himself-- and when everything stops moving, he's neatly straddled over Noctis' hips, with that swollen bulge tucked up directly underneath him, and oh, oh feeling him throbbing like this, that faint pulse beat pressed up against his balls, the base of his cock-- Prompto shudders, whining, shifting his hips in some aching need to feel more. The soft cotton feels nice rubbing up against him, and oh, he's making such a mess-- more so yet when Noctis grinds up into him. A flare of pleasure runs through him, even from such a differed touch. Fuck, fuck. How is this so good?
Prompto's hands shakily slide up onto Noctis' abdomen, just for something to lean part of his weight on, something to keep him upright. Panting softly, he gives an experimental grind down of his own hips-- rubbing Noctis' bulge up against his ass, slipping it entirely too easily inward, enough to brush the blunt heat up against his entrance. A bolt shoots up his spine and crashes against the base of his skull; a brand new surge of wetness leaks down to absolutely coat the cotton of Noct's underwear (and probably not exactly missing his pants, either), and it's all he can do not to ride against it right here and now. He's shivering all over, choking out little, needy moans--
Which become a full-fledged cry as Noctis' hands find his chest again, enfolding the softness in his palms, scraping the points of his thumbs over the pink, pointed nubs. Even just normally he's so, so sensitive here, but now-- now-- it's like embers flaring and popping to life, dragging through his body, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach and radiating white-hot. Maybe it's because he's been so pent-up, so incapable of giving himself any release, but even this little touch-- the small squeeze of the fullness of his tits, the hard bulge grinding slowly into him, the soft scrape of sensitive skin over fabric and wet-- fuck. The needle-thin jolt of heat from the pinch around his swollen nipples triggers something, a hot, liquid shudder that pours down his spine, making him arch sharply into Noctis' hands with a bitten sob as all of this tension finally gives out, just a little. A small snap, a shuddery little orgasm that makes his untouched cock twitch and spill onto Noctis' stomach, makes another thick surge of slick flood against him, thick with his scent.
Prompto pants heavily, face more deeply flushed than ever before-- oh, what must Noct think of him now? This desperate little thing, coming from so little-- but even though that had been so much better than anything he'd been able to do for himself, he's still so hard, and the ache to be filled is so much worse, his body absolutely burning for it. It's as delicious as it is torturous. ]
F-fuck, Noct. Do anything to me.