Tattoo

Jan. 2nd, 2017 10:06 pm
[personal profile] chlorhexidine
chlorhexidine: (Iggy)
“It's huge.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“No, really, Gladio, it's huge.”

“Is that a problem?” Gladio asked, his expression betraying a new uncertainty.

Ignis looked Gladio over again, and then sighed. “Ordinarily, when someone says 'I'm considering getting a tattoo' they do not in fact mean 'I intend to pay some lunatic to stab ink into fifty percent of my upper torso'.” Gladio continued to look hesitantly expectant until Ignis ran his fingers under his glasses and rubbed at one eye. “It's very you,” he concluded.

“Is that good or bad?” Gladio asked, having been needled about his ego often enough to know that Ignis describing something as very him could go either way for Ignis's general opinion of that thing.

Ignis tapped his glasses up his nose properly again with one finger and then reached out to touch the fine outline that had been marked into Gladio's skin. “I'm sure it'll be stunning once complete,” he said, and Gladio smiled, and seemed to relax. “Does it hurt?” Ignis asked, running his fingertips tenderly over the lines. The skin around them was raised and red, and the lines themselves were discernible under his fingertips. If Ignis closed his eyes, he fancied he could trace the design's outline on Gladio's skin by touch alone.

“Nah,” Gladio answered, “I'm made of tougher stuff.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow very slightly, and then pressed one finger onto the raised line of fresh tattoo. The result was an instantaneous hiss as Gladio pulled away, looking horror stricken. “Liar,” he said, flatly.

“It's just sensitive,” Gladio defended, rubbing his hand very gently over the spot Ignis had poked.

“How long for?” Ignis asked. Right now it looked sore, red, and raised, and weeping. Ignis had no experience with tattoos, but he could see it was going to require some care to prevent it growing infected while it healed.

Gladio shrugged, “A couple of weeks,” he said. “Then all the shading has to be done.”

“Why do I get the feeling that's going to take a long time?” Ignis asked. It had, by all accounts, taken a sizeable chunk of today just to get the outline, and with the scale of the thing, it seemed unlikely that the detail involved would be minimal. The bird clung to Gladio's back, wings and feathers extending down the back of both arms, and its head tucked around his neck and draped across his chest. “You don't do anything by halves, do you?”

“Not if I can help it,” Gladio answered. “Definitely gonna have to pass on the massages for a while, though.”

Ignis murmured his unhappy agreement. “I'd realised that. You may have to pass on sparring with his highness for a while, too.” One successfully landed blow from Noct, in the region of that tattoo, was going to prove incapacitatingly painful, at least until it was healed.

“I figured I could return the favour,” Gladio offered, with a cocky smirk that would have, once, sent Ignis's throat dry, and now drew a knowing look from him instead. Gladio was, Ignis had discovered, if not insatiable then very enthusiastic.

“Did you now,” he replied, coolly, and looked at Gladio over the top of his glasses. It was a trick he'd found to work at distracting Gladio when Ignis wanted his attention from across the table, or bed, or wherever they happened to be, although it often meant he couldn't make out Gladio's actual expression from that distance. “Has it occurred to you that I like getting my hands on you?”

“Yeah,” Gladio answered, “I figured that was why you did it at all.”

Ignis considered his options for a retort. A verbal one would lack the punch he required, so he opted, instead, to poke Gladio on the tattoo again, earning himself another unhappy hiss, and an unhappier look from Gladio. “Difficult as working around that is going to be, I could get used to it,” he said.

“You are a cruel man,” Gladio said.

“And yet,” Ignis replied. He didn't explain the 'yet' in question. He didn't need to, when his fingers in Gladio's belt were able to tug him closer, and rising up onto his toes was enough to cue Gladio to meet him halfway. Gladio stood a good six inches above Ignis, but Ignis was finding Gladio's size to be one of the appealing things about him. Though Ignis was as happy to press Gladio into the bed and take his pleasure, there was, he found, a particular release in being consumed by Gladio's arms and scent and mouth.

Gladio was finding unfair advantage in it too, Ignis had noticed. If Ignis was busy, Gladio would distract him by wrapping his arms around him and pressing his mouth to Ignis's throat. He retreated when instructed, of course, but then Ignis always found it difficult to continue concentrating on his work because the sensation of Gladio's trimmed facial hair scratching at his neck, and the warm, soft, gentle suck of lips felt as if it was still present. Eventually it became maddening, and after sending Gladio away, Ignis would be forced to accept that he'd get no more work done tonight and would, inevitably, follow him.

Ignis had his own ways, however. The look over the top of his glasses was one which had spurred Gladio to draw a training session with Noct to an early close in favour of a stolen five minutes against a wall with Ignis, which had served as an aperitif to the evening that had followed.

The other was the one Ignis employed now. Fingers firmly in Gladio's belt he pulled back from their kiss to lead Gladio to the bed. Ignis sat when the backs of his legs hit the bed, and he unfastened Gladio's belt and trousers to expose the bottom of his abdominal muscles. The shirt had been removed already to display the lines of a blossoming tattoo, which was a pity really, because Ignis liked to take a slow pleasure in pushing Gladio's shirt up to reveal his impressive physique like he was unwrapping a gift to himself.

Gladio liked things slow and intense, although he wasn't beyond fast and so intense it stole your breath away. Ignis, for his part, had found he enjoyed being enjoyed, but he also got a unique thrill from the act of issuing pleasure. Gladio enjoyed inflicting pleasure as if it was a form of worship, or at least like Ignis's breathless stares and helpless gasps were food for the healthy appetite of his ego, but sometimes Ignis liked to turn the tables and demonstrate that he wasn't the only one enthralled enough to lose his senses.

And he was enthralled. Enamoured. His happiness was hopelessly entwined with Gladio's welfare, and his presence in Ignis's life, and it was in so many ways, terrifying beyond words. The heat of skin and muscle beneath his lips was ample distraction from the thought of how much he didn't just want this man, but required him to continue to function as he was. Gladio unfastened Ignis's shirt for him, and pushed the material down his arms, pinning them by Ignis's sides before he pushed him irresistibly back against the bed. His fingers found their way to Ignis's cheek, and his lips found their way to Ignis's own, and Ignis fought to remove his shirt properly before Gladio overtook his senses again and Ignis simply surrendered to being thoroughly....

… loved.

It was too scary a word to consider. Ravished. Enjoyed. They were safer.

Ignis freed his arms, tossing his shirt to the side as he reached his hands up and took the back of Gladio's head in one hand. His other tracked around Gladio's waist, tugging Gladio to press down over him at last, and then slipped beneath the open waistband of his trousers, and in between flesh and underwear to give a firm squeeze. Every muscle of Gladio's body was deliciously firm, but this was another of those things Ignis had found to work quite well on Gladio. He rumbled now, like a happy king coeurl, and bore down a little harder, his hips pressing into Ignis's in request, and promise.

Ignis lifted his own hips a little in answer, pressing back. He released his fingers from Gladio's hair and curled his hand around Gladio's upper arm, as he often did to help adjust his position below him, but this time, unlike every other, Gladio pulled back sharply and hissed. “Careful.”

The tattoo. Of course. Ignis frowned for a moment. “I'm going to have to see if there's something I can do about that,” he said, quietly. If Gladio wished to endure the delights of a healing flesh wound for the next several weeks in the name of ink, that was Gladio's decision. Ignis, however, was not prepared to abide it affecting his sex life.

It was a wound, after all, perhaps....

His mouth found Gladio's again, and he shuffled himself up the bed on his elbows before he returned his hands to Gladio's trousers, and pushed them out of his way. He dug his fingertips into Gladio's buttocks as he drew them back, raking them along the muscle there to another pleased rumble from Gladio that came against Ignis's throat.

His own trousers followed shortly afterwards, aided in part by Gladio as he eagerly tossed their remaining clothing aside and ground himself against Ignis's groin, to murmurs from them both. “Pity you won't tolerate being on your back,” Ignis said, quietly.

Gladio murmured his own regret at that. It had proven to be a good position for them both, not least because Gladio got a very nice view, but also because it allowed Ignis to control the depth and pace and intensity of what he took. It had also allowed Ignis to thoroughly torment Gladio that one time that he'd pinned his hands by his shoulders and ridden him slowly. That was one that still came up in Gladio's personal shower time, all puns intended.

Ignis wound his fingers into Gladio's hair again, finding it mildly infuriating that he couldn't drag his fingers all along Gladio's back, and warned him, “You're going to have to make that up to me.”

Gladio growled happily at that instruction, and shifted to retrieve the lubricant and a rubber. Before he could open it, however, Ignis wrapped his fingers around it. “Would you be willing to do without?” He asked, in tones of genuine uncertainty.

Gladio looked down at the wrapper, and then at Ignis. “If you want,” he answered. They'd always used one, partially for ease of clean up, and partially because it was the done thing. Gladio knew full well he was Ignis's first, but Ignis had no such certainty of where he lay in regards to notches on Gladio's bedpost. Gladio knew, of course, but he'd never bothered Ignis with such details.

“I do,” Ignis answered.

That seemed to be enough for Gladio, and he put the condom wrapper down. “If you change your mind,” he said, looking Ignis in the eyes – he was still wearing his glasses, that was a problem they had to work on - “just say so.”

For a split second, Ignis wore a warm and genuine little smile. He raked his fingers up Gladio's side, shifting to bring one knee up so they were better positioned, and then made an indignant noise as Gladio swept his glasses from his face.

“I've told you about those,” Gladio said, folding them with one hand and putting them on the night stand.

“Honestly,” Ignis grumbled, but his complaint was cut off when Gladio bore down on him and kissed his complaint away. It was the work of a few minutes from there to position themselves, and Gladio to apply the lubricant before finally, blissfully, he began to enter.

It was hotter, Ignis thought. Somehow, without that last little barrier of protective rubber it was a thousand times more intimate to have their bodies pressed this close. He knew that was probably entirely in his head, of course, but it was there, and that was enough. Gladio groaned as he entered, too, his fingers curling tight against Ignis's leg and shoulder before the groan became a hiss, became a whisper, became a, “... fuck.”

That was a good response, Ignis decided, and he tucked his arm around Gladio's head and pulled him as close as he possibly could, inside himself as far as he possibly could, giving a small murmur as he shifted, and then pressed his mouth and tongue to Gladio's.

The pace they set was slow and intense, which was all Gladio could handle without losing it. Ignis too felt lost in the haze that was Gladio, his scent, his warmth, the feel of him inside and out, consuming him. It was his own hand he wrapped around himself to stroke, Gladio's fingers too busy clinging to Ignis like letting go would mean losing all of this heady sensation.

He knew when Gladio was about to come, because he placed feverish kisses on Ignis's chin and throat before he gripped a little tighter, and moved a little harder. The harder movements made Ignis groan, head back and eyes closed, until Gladio gave a final couple of thrusts, and stilled deep inside him. The noise Gladio made as he came was lewd, and once his orgasm had abated, he placed another longing kiss against Ignis's throat.

Ignis ached for his own release by then, but Gladio didn't keep him waiting long. His mouth travelled down, over the familiar planes of chest and stomach as he pulled out, and shifted lower to take Ignis into his mouth and suck. Ignis curled his fingers into Gladio's hair, groaning with his own relief as Gladio made short work of finishing him off.

When Gladio resettled onto the bed, half on top of Ignis, half at his side, he tugged Ignis in against his arm like a favoured toy and cuddled him there. “Definitely going to have to do that again,” he said.

Ignis shuffled, trying to find a position in which he was comfortable despite his urgent need for a shower. Not that standing was ever an option immediately after Gladio was done with him anyway. “That was rather interesting.” He hadn't expected Gladio to have lost himself in the sensation as well as he had, but it had been a definite upside for Ignis. The sounds Gladio had made, and the press of his fingers had been particularly pleasant.

“Good interesting?”

Ignis considered that for a moment and settled on, “Very good.”

There was silence for a moment as Gladio shifted so his tattoo wasn't pressing against anything before he asked, “Can I ask why?”

Ignis chewed his lip for a moment before he answered, carefully, “I trust you. I trust you enough to get that close.”

There was more silence for a moment, and Ignis could almost feel Gladio looking at the back of his head before he said, simply, “I trust you, too.”
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