Jan. 26th, 2017 09:15 pm
[personal profile] chlorhexidine
chlorhexidine: (Iggy)
The shirt came down to her knees, and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows because when they weren't, they hung down past her hands. The top button undone was enough to leave an enticing V of pale skin and a flash of silver around her throat. Bare feet led to bare legs, and Gladio's shirt was made to give way to the shape underneath it with the application of Ignis's belt around her waist.

Except it was his waist. Ignis's waist. His hair was long, and his height had evaporated, but those green eyes were the same, the mouth was the same. There was no way to mistake this for anyone but Ignis. Even if there was, Gladio wouldn't have been able to, because that feather tattooed on the back of her shoulder was all the proof he might ever need.

Three days this had lasted. They didn't think it would last much longer, and Gladio was almost sorry about that. Ignis made for a hot girl, and there was a definite appeal to having the man be so slight, and so short that Gladio could get away with things he'd normally get glowered at for trying.

Like on the second day, where he'd tugged Ignis against himself at the breakfast table, only for Ignis to perch on his thigh without so much as a grumble. He'd ended up sat on Gladio's lap, Gladio's hand around his tiny waist, bare toes on the tiled floor and his back pressed to Gladio's chest looking for all the world as content and comfortable as Gladio had ever seen him, sipping his coffee.

Then he'd done something Ignis would never have done if he wasn't also having fun like this. He'd leaned back a little further, turned his head to whisper into Gladio's ear, and said five magical little words that Gladio had needed to use every ounce of his self control to resist groaning at. “I'm not wearing any underwear.”

The first day, the body had been new to them both, but Gladio wasn't inexperienced with girls and he'd used the opportunity to show Ignis the joys of female orgasm, and a refractory period of nothing. He'd touched, licked, kissed, and touched some more until Ignis had been too exhausted to keep lifting off the bed with the force of his pleasure, his voice quiet from use. It was Ignis that had asked him to take his own pleasure, Ignis that had guided him inside, and then whimpered. Gladio had stopped, instantly, the tight, incredibly tight, press of Ignis around him not being worth causing Ignis discomfort let alone pain, and Ignis had refused, pleaded with him to continue, please, because he wanted it. He promised it wasn't too much, that he would let Gladio stop if it was, asked him to just take it slowly, and Gladio had continued, and later pretended he hadn't caught Ignis using a curative spell on himself, and the thought didn't make him sick.

The second time had been easier, better, and the flex and squeeze of muscle around Gladio as Ignis's fingernails raked into his back, and Ignis arched under him had been heavenly. Knowing he didn't have to stop, then, too, had been just as delightful, although that had paled in comparison to Ignis tucking his face into Gladio's neck and gasping with quiet, high pitched pleasure against his skin as he'd come a second time with Gladio inside him.

There were definite benefits to the whole ordeal, for them both, but it should, by morning, be over. Ignis had used his present feminine shape to lead Gladio around by his metaphorical tongue almost expertly, and Gladio had enjoyed watching Ignis have fun with it. He'd enjoyed that almost more than he'd enjoyed the fact that Ignis was now tiny compared to his usual six feet and broad shoulders, which made him a lot easier to hold up in one hand, and even easier to pin against himself while they slept so Ignis couldn't escape in the morning. Ignis had worn Gladio's clothes, vastly oversized on such a small frame, and delighted in Gladio's complaint that Ignis walking around as a hot girl, in Gladio's shirt, with nothing but a necklace on underneath it, was seriously unfair. Gladio had sported a semi stiffie most of the day, and the way Ignis had made sure to brush against him at every opportunity hadn't helped.

And now it was almost over, and Ignis hadn't insinuated his way onto Gladio's lap so much as claimed it, like a cat. He'd caught Gladio in the library, at one of the out of the way tables, and brazenly straddled him, shirt riding up bare thighs tantalisingly, and stolen a kiss. Gladio was happy to indulge, but the look Ignis wore when he pulled away was strangely sad. “What's wrong?” He asked.

Ignis looked up at him, with green eyes Gladio knew well in a face that was his and yet not. “It's nothing,” he answered, quietly, his voice sounding higher and softer, but Gladio had grown used to that now. “Sentimental nonsense,” he added.

Gladio tucked one hand at Ignis's rear, holding him steady and stable on his perch across Gladio's thighs, and stroked his cheek with the fingers of his other hand. The freckles were the same, too. “I'm full of sentimental nonsense,” he said, reassuringly, “I can handle a little more.”

Ignis looked torn. He never was much good at putting words around his emotions, defaulting to an air of brisk, practical efficiency instead, but this wasn't something he could be briskly efficient about. His lips parted and wavered with words he struggled to find before he closed his mouth and shook his head.

Gladio frowned. “Ignis,” he didn't need to add the instruction to tell him. That message passed unspoken when Ignis's eyes met Gladio's, and Ignis sighed, looking away again.

“I was thinking how much easier life would be, if things could be this way.” Gladio's frown didn't lift; he had only suspicions of which direction Ignis had pulled those thoughts from, and he allowed him time to elaborate. Eventually, eyes cast towards the tattoo across Gladio's shoulders, Ignis continued, “It's not that I wish to stay this way, it's simply that if I were to return to Lucis this way, you and I,” he trailed off again.

Gladio tucked his free hand around Ignis's waist too, feeling his throat ache with the realisation of what Ignis was talking about, of what he'd been thinking about. “I hadn't realised you were concerned about that.” Ignis had shown no signs of caring what anyone else thought of their relationship. They were the subject of court whispers, naturally; the prince's shield has a dalliance with the prince's hand. Those rumours had reached his father's ears, not that Gladio had told Ignis as much, but his father knowing about a dalliance with Ignis had still been preferable to Gladio having to explain to him why continuing the Amicitia line was going to fall to Iris.

Ignis, he knew, had faced similar conversations with his family. They'd tried to arrange a betrothal, once, which Ignis had deftly sidestepped by pointing out that being Noct's caretaker, advisor, confidante, and right hand was multiple full time jobs in and of itself. Ignis's sexuality had never been discussed, but Gladio at least had a track record with girls before he'd met Ignis. Ignis had no such evidence to quell rumours, and his family seemed keen to quell them before they took root.

If he'd been a woman they could marry each other, and have that nonsense finished once and for all in a way that left them both happy. If he returned as one, strange and controversial as it may be, it would be difficult for their families to object to a union, at least in principle.

“I'm not,” Ignis answered, “it would simply be easier.” He allowed a small, sad smile to flash across his lips before he met Gladio's eyes, shyly, and said, “It's easy here, no one cares, and the way things have been for the last couple of days are the only way we could have that in Lucis. It just made me think of all the things I cannot have.”

“You will always have me,” Gladio said, softly but firmly. “I love you more than Lucis.”

Ignis met his eyes, his cheeks colouring faintly, before he replied, “I love you more than Noctis.”

Gladio grinned, broadly. That, he recognised, was Ignis trying to take the tension out of a situation with a touch of humour. “I think that's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me,” he replied, responding in kind.

The response was worth it, because Ignis laughed. It was a small laugh, but it was genuine, and warm, and it brought a smile to his eyes as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Gladio's. “I know,” he responded. His smile stayed as he admitted, “I don't say it often enough, but I do love you. I used to be scared of that, and then by the time I'd accepted it, it had taken me so long to say it that the words themselves seemed insufficient. They still do.”

Gladio felt himself melting inside. Ignis used words like 'I love you' so sparingly, it was as if he expected Gladio to just know. Gladio did, he knew with every touch, every time he woke up with his hand clasped in Ignis's own, but hearing it said, hearing why he said it so little, that the words just didn't seem to be enough, was more than Gladio could have asked for. “Anything you want,” he said, aware of the intensity of the moment, “anything I can give you, you're welcome to take.” He tilted his head, brushing his lips over Ignis's in silent request before he pressed in for a kiss.

It went on for longer than a chaste press of lips. Ignis's tongue ran in to meet his own, pressing into and tasting his mouth with a slow heat that travelled through Gladio's core and down. He shifted his position slightly, his hands both cupping Ignis's rear as Ignis gave a roll of his hips and pressed forward so close it was practically indecent. It was indecent anyway, Gladio realised, when he felt the only thing between his hands and Ignis's skin was the borrowed shirt. Ignis was straddling him, and the only thing between himself and the heat of Ignis's body was Gladio's clothing.

Then there wasn't even that. Ignis's hands ran down over Gladio's top and to his belt as Ignis kissed him with a gentle persistence. Nimble fingers released his belt, and found his zip, and Gladio inhaled deeply through his nose as warm hands found his cock and pulled him free. Ignis was already so close to him that he could feel the brush of bare, soft, slick flesh against his skin.

Ignis's hands were soft, and he wore gloves to keep them that way. He gave Gladio a couple of firm but loving strokes before he brought one hand up to loop around Gladio's neck.

“Here?” Gladio asked, aware that the chair he was sat on was hardly a bed. “You sure?”

Ignis shushed him, and then kissed him, and held his cock in one hand. Gladio could feel Ignis position himself to take Gladio in with a roll of his hips, and Ignis paused to say, “You said anything I want,” he reminded Gladio, “and this is the last chance I may get for this,” in a slightly breathless voice before he did just that.

Gladio tipped his head back as Ignis slid onto him. It was similar and yet different to taking Ignis any other way. His flesh was hot and soft and yielding, and Gladio realised, somewhere between the soft slide and flex of Ignis's hips and the press of his mouth, that Ignis was taking him in without a condom and fuck if that wasn't a beautiful feeling. Just himself, and Ignis, nothing between them, just the press and slide of bodies.

Ignis's pace was desperately slow, and Gladio didn't want to hurry him for more. It felt wonderful, and intensely intimate to have Ignis slowly ride him, with the speed and intensity of someone making love, rather than racing to orgasm. Ignis was luxuriating in the feeling of Gladio pressed as physically close to him, and in him, as Gladio could possibly be. He looped both arms around Gladio's neck, pulling himself close in an embrace that made Ignis gasp down Gladio's ear, and it was just about the hottest thing Gladio had ever heard him do.

He kept one hand on Ignis's rear, feeling and supporting that rolling motion of his hips. His other hand crossed up Ignis's back, holding him dear as Ignis uttered another quiet gasp. He leaned back against the chair just enough to look Ignis in the eyes, not even caring that Ignis was still wearing his glasses, which were too big on his face right now anyway. He stole another kiss, letting it linger, matching the languid intensity of Ignis's hips with his tongue.

Ignis was slowly unravelling in his arms, he realised. His movements didn't become faster, or more urgent, but he pressed his forehead to Gladio's, breaking their kiss to look into his eyes. Pretty pale green filled the world for Gladio, blinking occasionally in time with the gentle pleasured gasps. Ignis's fingers curled into his shirt for a moment, and Gladio just watched as Ignis's pleasure built with every slide of his hips.

Ignis never had a bad face during sex anyway; he was too damn pretty, and hearing and seeing him lose his composure even for the brief seconds of orgasm was a delight, but this was something else entirely. Ignis looked positively stunning as he fought to swallow against his own gently panted breath. He closed his eyes with each crest of the building wave of pleasure, but opened them again to let Gladio look into an expression of steadily building ecstasy, pupils blown and lips parted with small gasps that never threatened to become cries but were infinitely more erotic for it.

He was watching Ignis bring himself to orgasm. He'd watched it dozens of times before, from a position where he couldn't touch, and could only observe, or where Ignis remained far enough away that it was easy to miss details. Details like how his lips flushed, how the green of his irises was flecked with tiny specks of brown, and that yielded to the expanding blackness of his pupils. His cheeks flushed, his eyelids grew heavy lidded. Gladio had never witnessed Ignis orgasm from this close before, and it was making it hard to hold on to his own while he watched Ignis, utterly rapt and utterly enamoured.

He reached up, swiftly, the fastest movement either of them was making, and pulled the glasses off Ignis's face. He dropped them on the table, with the book he'd been reading, and cupped his hand around Ignis's cheek before he devoured him in a deeply passionate kiss that Ignis barely responded to for his pleasured utterances. His hand drifted to Ignis's throat, cupping around the back of his neck as he placed a languid kiss there. Ignis's rhythm was starting to fall apart, and Gladio pressed his forehead against Ignis's own once more, helping him to keep the steady, slow movements of his hips going with the one hand he had on his rear.

Ignis wasn't holding back, he knew, he was simply riding a slowly increasing wave of pleasure. His breath stuttered, his voice cracked, and Gladio looked him steadily in the eyes as he said, with wholehearted intensity, “I love you.”

The wave broke, and Ignis shuddered, his head tilting back as orgasm overtook him. The noise he made was at once pathetic and gorgeous, and Gladio knew he'd be happily remembering that noise for a while, just as he'd remember this look on Ignis's face. Gladio could feel the internal pulse and flex of orgasm around him, the spasms hitting him in time with the peaks in Ignis's voice.

Gladio forced himself to hold on to his own, not wanting to miss a second of Ignis's pleasure so he could memorise and savour it, until Ignis leant forward and buried his face against Gladio's neck, tightening his arms around him like he was a lifeline. The twitch of muscle inside Ignis dropped in intensity, and only then did Gladio guide him to resume the shift of his hips until Gladio came inside him, holding Ignis close in both his arms.

“I love you,” he repeated, once his own voice had returned to him.

“I love you too,” Ignis answered, into his throat, lying dazedly against him.

Gladio found Ignis's chin with his fingers, lifting his head so he could look at his dazed and sated expression, and then pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. “Thank you,” he said.
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