[ Hearing Noctis' voice does two things all at once: first, the relief is so palpable it makes something lurch in Prompto's chest, makes his breath stagger in an entirely different way. There's that faint concern, the gentle nudging in the older man's tone to seek out what exactly is going on that made Prompto actually call him, and it... he almost doesn't know how to respond to it. It's foreign, in a way; so few people had ever shown him any sort of consideration in the first place, fewer yet very much cared to know if anything was going on with him. Over time, he'd stopped even trying to seek it. But Noctis... Noctis sees him somehow. Considers him. Cares. And gods if that doesn't make his heart trip all over itself, in some combination of gratitude and something closer to love than he's at all willing to admit. (Yet.)
Second, however: that low, sonorous voice sends a rush down Prompto's spine, hot and fast and slamming into the dense pit of need between his legs, and he only just bites back a moan. Even through the shitty earpiece, the faint crackle of a not-totally-sturdy connection, Noctis' voice seems to resonate at exactly the right frequency to edge under his skin and shiver along his nerves-- and it's just making everything worse.
He gives another helpless grind into his hand underneath him, squeezing around his aching cock, rubbing his palm into the wet head-- and that. That does tear that moan from his throat, quiet and bitten as it is.
Fuck, right, he's supposed to say something, rather than just drag on what must sound like a dirty prank call. ]
'M here. Noct... Noct, are you busy? Tell me you're not busy. [ It's hard to speak coherently. It's hard to do anything that isn't trying to take the desperate edge off these relentless waves of arousal. ] I need help. [ Not enough, not enough-- a frustrated little gasp, and Prompto pushes himself up onto his knees, leaning his weight on the arm holding his phone to his ear, while the other shoves under to curl up past his cock, behind his balls, sinking two fingers effortlessly inside of himself again. He scissors them apart, crooks them inward until his wrist hurts, still all to very little avail. Another little noise escapes him, a near sob of frustration. ] I need your help, Noct.
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Date: 2018-03-19 07:01 am (UTC)Second, however: that low, sonorous voice sends a rush down Prompto's spine, hot and fast and slamming into the dense pit of need between his legs, and he only just bites back a moan. Even through the shitty earpiece, the faint crackle of a not-totally-sturdy connection, Noctis' voice seems to resonate at exactly the right frequency to edge under his skin and shiver along his nerves-- and it's just making everything worse.
He gives another helpless grind into his hand underneath him, squeezing around his aching cock, rubbing his palm into the wet head-- and that. That does tear that moan from his throat, quiet and bitten as it is.
Fuck, right, he's supposed to say something, rather than just drag on what must sound like a dirty prank call. ]
'M here. Noct... Noct, are you busy? Tell me you're not busy. [ It's hard to speak coherently. It's hard to do anything that isn't trying to take the desperate edge off these relentless waves of arousal. ] I need help. [ Not enough, not enough-- a frustrated little gasp, and Prompto pushes himself up onto his knees, leaning his weight on the arm holding his phone to his ear, while the other shoves under to curl up past his cock, behind his balls, sinking two fingers effortlessly inside of himself again. He scissors them apart, crooks them inward until his wrist hurts, still all to very little avail. Another little noise escapes him, a near sob of frustration. ] I need your help, Noct.