[personal profile] chlorhexidine
chlorhexidine: (Iggy)
He couldn't kiss Gladio for too long at a stretch because his stubble scratched at his skin in a way that left its mark the following day. Ignis had made that mistake once, explained the rash away as an allergic reaction to a new shaving cream, and proceeded, since, to keep kisses with Gladio short and meaningful. There was a different sort of pleasure, he'd found, in the rhythm of retreat and surrender it forced him to establish. Gladio's tongue invaded his mouth, passing messages directly to parts of Ignis's body that were never intercepted by his brain until they'd already hit home, and Ignis pulled away even as Gladio chased the sensation of their lips and tongues pressed together to tilt his head and launch his own advance, pushing Gladio's shoulders back against his headboard as he did.

One hand was tucked into the crook of his knee, preventing Ignis's lower body from escaping as his mouth did, and the other roved from the small of his back, down the curve of his buttock, and settling at the back of his thigh for a few moments. Ignis's own hands flitted from Gladio's shoulders, pushing him back when he tried to chase forward, to his waist, and waistband.

“Hey,” Gladio's voice was a rumble, “slow down.”

“Excuse me?” Ignis stopped as Gladio's hand moved away from the back of his knee to take his wrist and pull it away from his belt.

“You heard,” came the reply.

Ignis looked into eyes that were dark and heavy. Gladio's lips were flushed, and his skin was delightfully warm to the touch, warmer, even, than usual. “Sorry,” he said, genuinely, “I hadn't thought--”

“It's not me I want you to slow down for,” Gladio said, cutting him off. He let go of Ignis's wrist and gripped him by the hips with both hands, tugging him forward irresistibly, until Gladio gave a quiet groan.

“I'm fine,” Ignis said, half offended at what the instruction implied Gladio was concerned about.

“I'm your first, aren't I?” It was a reminder, more than a question, but the space Gladio left after speaking invited an answer.

Ignis pursed his lips, his tone clipped. “You know that.” He'd told Gladio, of course. There had been a boy, back at school, but it had never amounted to more than clumsy groping and clumsier kisses in an empty classroom, and Ignis had become too wrapped up in his role as Noct's babysitter to invest time in making it something more. There hadn't been anyone since. The prince and service to him was the lynchpin of Ignis's life, and it didn't afford him much free time. Twice a week he saw Gladio, and even creating the time for that to continue in his schedule had resulted in a reliance on coffee that was bordering on addiction.

“Then slow down,” Gladio said. His tone brooked no argument. “This isn't an assignment,” he added, “there's no deadline.”

“I am aware of that,” Ignis said, curtly.

“Then act like it,” Gladio replied. He reached one hand up, brushing the backs of his fingers over Ignis's cheek in a way that made Ignis turn away. It was achingly tender, and served to douse Ignis's growing ire rather abruptly. “Take the time to figure out what feels good for you.”

Ignis bit down on a scowl, looked Gladio in the eyes, and then looked away again with a huff. Gladio could be exceptionally gentle when the mood took him, and with Ignis, it often did. Ignis wasn't much good at that sort of thing himself, but those gestures always made something in his chest flutter. He could never argue against it; he never wanted to ask Gladio to stop.

“This does,” he said, softly, without turning back to meet Gladio's eyes.

He could see the smile it brought out of the edge of his vision, however. “Good,” came the response, and then a hand came up and lifted his glasses from behind his ear.

“I need those,” he protested.

“How badly?”

Ignis frowned as Gladio's hand came to rest against his cheek, cupping his face so that Gladio's fingers rested in his hair. “I have a clear field of vision of around twenty inches, after that,” he hesitated as Gladio's thumb brushed over his cheek bone, “it gets blurry. I can function, but,” he trailed off.


“It means I can't see how you're looking at me,” he admitted, forcing himself to be honest despite his desire to be evasive.

“You always look away anyway,” Gladio retorted.

“It's difficult to be looked at that way for long,” Ignis said, his voice quiet and his eyes downcast. He put his hand against the back of Gladio's as that thumb tracked over his cheekbone again.

“I know,” Gladio said, and his tone was as gentle as his touch, “but you're gonna have to get used to it.”

Ignis swallowed, closing his eyes as Gladio moved into his clear field of vision again and pressed their lips together softly. His stubble scratched, but not as much as before, and Gladio's tongue, when it came, was tender and insistent. His hand shifted until it had looped under his arm and sunk into Ignis's hair around the back of his head, and Gladio's other hand settled around Ignis's back, tugging and holding him close so that he was enveloped in Gladio's arms.

He had his own hands on Gladio's shoulders, but as Gladio's tongue continued its persistently slow and gentle probing he relaxed towards Gladio, letting the man draw him in and swallow him in his scent and that almost painful tenderness. He clasped his fingers gently behind Gladio, his breath stolen by the sheer intensity of the kiss, if not its ferocity.

When Gladio finally stopped kissing him, Ignis opened his eyes to find burning amber close to his own, close enough to be seen clearly. His breath came in short gasps, and his mouth hung open until he caught himself, and swallowed. He couldn't find anything to say, and Gladio's smile was there, self satisfied and triumphant.

“That's more like it,” Gladio said, and then Ignis felt those arms tightening around him again and he closed his eyes and let himself be drawn into another blissful kiss. His fingers bumped the headboard as Gladio leaned back with him, and instinctively he curled his hand around the slats. It seemed to end more quickly this time, and it was Gladio's turn to groan with quiet pleasure before breaking away from Ignis's mouth.

“That good for you?” Gladio asked, his face inches from Ignis's own, so that Ignis could feel Gladio's own shortened breath against his cheek and neck. Ignis met Gladio's eyes, his own wide, and his pupils blown, but words continued to fail him. Gladio waited, and still Ignis could give no response other than to gently pant and stare into Gladio's eyes. Then Gladio laughed. “That good, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Ignis managed, forcing himself to regain his composure, Gladio's amusement making that easier. Gladio only laughed harder and drew his arms tighter around him. “Comparing you to my past experience doesn't give you a very high bar to meet.” He forced himself to let go of the headboard, shifting his weight slightly, and then Gladio rolled them both over and pinned Ignis into the bed. This time his mouth and tongue worked against Ignis's throat, and Ignis arched his head back to allow him space. That in particular sent messages down Ignis's spine, and he closed his eyes and forced himself to enjoy the sensation, issuing a quiet groan despite himself.

He squirmed a little under Gladio, shifting until he was comfortable, both on his back and with the impressive and strangely comforting weight of the other man pressing him into the covers. He curled the fingers of one hand against Gladio's back, bunching the material of his thin shirt into his fist. His other hand he allowed to track down, finding Gladio's waistband, and then skirting over it to track down further until Ignis could dig his fingers into Gladio's buttock. It was a movement that earned him a pleased murmur from just below his ear, and then Gladio's lips were at his jaw, and the corner of his mouth once more before he said, “This is what I mean about figuring out what feels good for you.”

Ignis looked up into Gladio's eyes. “I suppose,” he said, tugging Gladio's shirt up so he could slide both of his hands in beneath it and over warm flesh and familiarly toned muscle, “it's a hardship I'll have to endure.”

Gladio smiled like a shark as Ignis dug his fingers in to his back. “Don't worry,” he said, “you're learning quick, and I know a few things that'll work.” He bent down again, then, pressing his lips to Ignis's, and then his chin, his adam's apple, the dip at his throat where his collarbones met, and then lower still.
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