Author's Note: So! This story is actually part of a bigger project I have in the works, which was in its outline/draft stages when certain two characters blindsided me with their chemistry. While chatting about the pairing on a Discord server during Christmas Eve, I asked "Prompto+Ignis smut, who want?" and my friend, enabler that she is, said "I WANT" and so, here it is. This first chapter ("Only You") is from Ignis's point of view. The second chapter ("You Alone") is the same event, but from Prompto's point of view, hence similar wordings and identical dialogue in places. However, what either of them reveal about their past within their thought process is different, so hopefully the second chapter isn't treated like an excuse to copy-paste. Okay? Okay.

Special thanks to Rikusqueenofhearts for being that enabler that motivated me to write this. Much love!

Night had fallen upon Lestallum, but after ten whole years of no dawn to even speak of, it still took a little convincing to believe that the nightfall would only be temporary. It was over a month after Noctis had brought to bear the full power of the Crystal upon the Plague incarnate, and paid with his life to fix what amounted to a quarrel between the gods that the humans had nothing to do with. All because of things that had been done, actions that had been decided long before he or anyone he knew was even born.

Ignis would have liked to say he wasn't still affected by it, but he would have lied if so. He was. Especially when losing Noctis came with losing Prompto as well. The ache of it still struck from time to time.

He couldn't return to Insomnia. Not after what had happened there. Besides, he was too used to his apartment in Lestallum. He'd lived in it for ten years, and those years were the ones he spent helping the people harvest power from the Meteor, eventually being eased (or convinced or tricked, depending on the interpretation) into performing so-called "administrative duties" and "diplomatic relations". That mostly involved convincing the people huddled together in one city that it no longer made sense to hold animosity against each other based on what patch of dirt they were born on; the Starscourge didn't discriminate on who it infected no matter how much they'd will it to work otherwise. They got the hint well enough after some years of cohabitation with former 'enemies', but…

What else could he do?

To go back to Insomnia was to remind himself of the things he no longer had.

So he stayed in Lestallum, where he gained things instead of lost. Work the same as he had all these years; early mornings, long hours, late nights. The streets were filled with nothing more but the whistle of the wind and distant music as he made his way to his home. He'd opened the door to silence, ascended the steps, went to his bedroom, same as always.

The bedroom was colder than he'd left it. That was the first thing he had noticed. He wrote it off as the ghost of things that were no longer there. It happened sometimes, merely the mind playing its tricks, same as when it caused skin to tingle as if insects were marching atop it when no such thing was there. He felt a cold that wasn't there.

He stood in front of the dresser and placed his keys down. The thought flit past that he shouldn't have bothered coming home. All he was doing was preparing for another night where he attempted in vain to push all of his failures from his mind until sleep was merciful and pulled him under, to know nothing more until the early morning again.

What was the point?

"You usually work this late?" The voice came from nearby, where the bed was.

He didn't will it; a blank expression came over him like a mask and the blood turned to ice in his veins to protect him from that voice. He was hallucinating now, was that what it had come to? Hearing Prompto as if he were there with him?

"Yes. A lot of work needs to be done, still. The rebuilding effort in Insomnia is ongoing. As more homes are remade, more people return to them." Entertain the voice, respond to it, perhaps it will go away.

"Then why aren't you in Insomnia?"

"There's nothing waiting for me there. You know that."

"Yeah… I do." The bed creaked as weight shifted on it. "Is it too late for me to say 'Sorry'?"

Ignis wasn't sure if Prompto could see him in the dark. If he did, he would note the chip in the mask, the way Ignis froze mid-motion for the second it took to realize that it wasn't a figment he was speaking to, before he completed the action and removed his tie, folding it neatly and setting it into the drawer.

"It would be, if there were anything to apologize for," Ignis said after a time. "The decision to stay was mine to make, as was yours to leave."

A breathy laugh. Sounded like a smirk came with it. "You've got a point there."

Ignis held his tongue; the thoughts blew about in his mind like a gale. He wouldn't let them out. He had done that and- and- he'd felt like such an utter fool back then. Noctis was dying, he was dying and they were all losing him, Ignis and Gladio and everyone that had come to believe in their King and vowed to fight the darkness in his name until he returned, they were all losing Noctis, but instead of keeping a calm disposition and show fealty to his King like he'd sworn, what broke Ignis and made him spill his guts out and consider abandoning everything was that he was going to lose Prompto.

He did anyway.

He kept losing him, over and over and over again. Altissia. Cartanica. Gralea. Insomnia. He would keep losing him whenever the memories played again.

He couldn't protect any of them. Not Noctis, not Prompto, not even himself. And because of his weakness, he would keep losing those he cared about.

But he couldn't continue to lose what he no longer had; couldn't lose it if he let it go instead.

He approached the bed then, and kept the clear of his throat just short of audible. "It would be rude of me to ask that you take leave of my bed so soon. I'll still inform you that I need to sleep, and that bed only has room for one."

That's it. Prompto would leave like he had before. It had to be easy.

It wasn't. "Mm, you sure about that?"

"Yes. Quite sure." Please go. You've already taken all that I was with you. I have nothing more.

"Huh… There's a good spot you can rest on, though."

"Is there really?" Please, please, please...

"Yeah. Give me your hand, and I'll show you."

There was the faintest twitch of concern to Ignis's brows, but he held his hand for Prompto to take anyway. At once, he felt the brush of a thumb over his knuckles, and felt the press of downy lips on his fingertips that made his breath catch. Warm skin, a soft cheek as Prompto guided Ignis's hand to touch his face.

The memory of what Prompto looked like came back in sparks and flares. The constellation of freckles on his skin. His unruly flaxen hair. His eyes a glimmering and deep blue. And then more; the steady pulse Ignis could feel beneath his fingers, the slope of his collarbone, muscles taut and defined and wait why wasn't he feeling any fabric by now?

A gasp left Ignis's lips when his hand was moved further down. His mouth went dry. He tried to think of anything else to disguise his reaction but nothing came to mind.

He'd had the mistaken notion that at least those feelings for Prompto had cooled over time. They did no such thing. And he desperately hoped that Prompto hadn't noticed, but judging from that unmistakably proud note to the blond's hum, he did.

The visor came off first. It would've gotten in the way otherwise, when Prompto's fingers caressed Ignis's cheek, then cradled the back of his head and coaxed him close enough for their lips to meet.

Prompto tasted like he looked; sweet and full and bold and enticing with heat buried beneath the surface and building up by the second. One taste, and Ignis was back to an early June morning a decade ago, brushing the hair away from Prompto's face, watching sleepy eyes flutter open and widen to surprise when offered a serving of beef stew, the nod of understanding when Ignis pressed a finger to his lips to keep quiet about it, the stunning smile in return that was equal parts gratitude and mischief.

He was being kissed back just as eagerly, though he wondered why; Prompto was one thing. He was good. Ignis knew, however, that he had begrudgingly gained a predilection for quickly-roasted Ebony and sacrificed taste for convenience while he morbidly awaited the day he'd be found slumped over his desk from his self-imposed workload, survived only by the combined half-life of the drink still in his system.

Prompto gave a soft grumble and pulled away. "You're doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Over-thinking."

"I… I'm sorry." Maybe it didn't much matter why he was being kissed, so long as Prompto didn't stop. Their lips found each other again, and he got his arms around Prompto's shoulders, pressing close as the other leaned back onto the bed. He moved to straddle him then, but a gentle smile and a hand on his chest made him pause.

"If you wanna make it up to me, lose the clothes. You're overdressed for this occasion."

Gods, Ignis could hear the wink and the grin in that. It made his face flush and his blood rush southward. In his life, he'd never imagine Prompto would be so forward, but that voice alone provided ample motivation for him to take his shirt off. He would have done the same to his pants, but was stopped by hands grasping his own, and warm breath skimming his ear.

"Ah-ah-ah… Let me handle that."

Ignis didn't dare think of just who Prompto sounded like. He pushed it out of mind, and allowed himself to feel the kisses at his neck and jawline that made his skin tingle. Quietly reveled in the feel of his pants slipping down past his thighs, and fast hands reaching and finding what they needed to. He stifled a groan as Prompto began to tease his cock beneath the fabric of his underwear.

Perhaps repressing that sound was not the right action to take, but he could only base that little theory off the fact that Prompto seemed even more insistent in his actions, nipping at Ignis's earlobe, marking his neck with more than just kisses, trailing his thumb over the spot he knew was sensitive until Ignis's cock strained at the touch and he let out a more audible moan.

"There you go … Don't hold back."

No need to wonder what more the blond had planned; the boxer briefs were slid down next, and he grasped the brunet's arousal in full.

Ignis understood then, why this was described as if one's nerves were set aflame with a touch. He was more excited from this than he thought he had any right to be. The sounds to go with his sensations were more lewd than even in his fantasies: skin on skin as Prompto's fingers glided across his shaft, flesh wet from liberally-dripping pre-cum. He had plenty of reasons to make noise then, to vocalize the things he'd never thought would actually leave his mouth within earshot of another.

With each second, the heat that was building deep within him got more unbearable, made his voice sound more desperate, until … Prompto stopped.

Ignis didn't think he had it in him to whimper, but that was what left his lips. Whimpers, weak and needy as he sought his release. Please, don't stop, just finish me, I'm so close...

He hadn't realized he said that out loud until he heard Prompto's breathless chuckle. "You really wanted just my fingers? I've got so much more than that to give you."

"Then whatever it is, give it!" The words tumbled out of him then and he knew it. "I want you, and I want more."

Prompto finished undressing him as they got back onto the bed, and they left the clothes in a haphazard pile. They were lost in each other once more, teeth nibbling at lips, fingers threading through each others' hair, tongues sliding together, against, around, over, under each other, in a dance so elegant despite the desperation it was born from.

He felt Prompto's smirk, and the blond pulled away to whisper, "Can't believe you were keeping this a secret from me, Iggy."

Ignis tried to catch what breath he could, and managed enough to echo, "A secret…?" Even he was wondering what it was, but the squeeze to his ass suggested the answer.

"Something this nice, under those pants? Come on... "

Ignis found himself chuckling. "It's not like we could have done this earlier."

"You sure? You always would wake up earlier than the guys when we camped together. And even when we rented out a room. Could've at least 'forgotten' your pants one morning while you paced around..."

"And give you a free peek?"

"Yeah, that's the idea."

"Perhaps you're-" the feel of Prompto's teeth grazing his neck made his heart skip a beat, "perhaps you're right. I should have done that. Or even rented a room for only the two of us."

"Oooh, now that's bold… you think they would have noticed?"

"Gladio would suspect something. Noct wouldn't have given it a second thought. But if that didn't clue them in, we would have."

A gasp of feigned shock. " 'We'? That sounds like too many people involved."

"No, that's just enough. I wouldn't touch myself with you there."

"Not even if I asked?"

"Not even if you asked."

"Ouch. But I see your point. Why do that, when you could get this?"

There was a ghostlike brush of fingertips at Ignis's entrance, and the flutterof that sensitive area earned another whine from him. He began rocking his hips, hoping his movements would tempt Prompto to sink his fingers inside.

Temptation resisted, for now. Instead there was the slide of a drawer opening, fingers searching for something, followed by the drawer going shut. The slow swish of something fluid lapping at the sides of its container.

"Had this already here, huh?" Prompto's tone was both teasing and impressed. "Did you ever…?"

"No," Ignis's admission came with a shake of the head. "I've… only ever been by myself in this apartment." Sensing that Prompto would say something in reply, he added, "The thought of you kept me from feeling the worst of my solitude."

( Prompto had been a second away from saying You must have been lonely, but that addition made him quiet. )

Ignis said nothing more, letting that particular truth settle. Thoughts of the past kept him company. There were times those thoughts were less the truth as it happened, so much as they were conjured ideas of things he could have done or said differently to change the current present.

And… as much as he despised the memories that reminded him of his failures, he could never part with them. Not when it came to Prompto. Something else would take over and the memory would change to something more heated, urgent, raw, blissful. The 'memories' then stopped being about changing the past or the future in the long run, instead enjoying what bits of the present they could.

In reality it had only been a few seconds, before Prompto asked, "You thought of me, huh?" He already knew the answer, but he just wanted to hear it again out loud.

Ignis would give him that. "Yes."

"And… did I do this?"

A click of the bottle, then the cool of infused oil was poured in a stream along the cleft of his rear. Fingers delved once more and spread the slick along, and circled his puckered ring, toyed with it.

"Y-yessss?" Ignis hissed in response. The feel of those fingers caused another bout of quivering, and he tried to keep his neediness to a minimum, though he didn't make any promises about it. He was pushing back against those fingers, one more attempt to get them inside.

Temptation indulged, this time, though Prompto started first by applying a gentle pressure to the entrance until he felt it 'give', and even then stuck only a finger in, up to the first knuckle. That alone earned a gasp and more desperate squirming as Ignis made a futile attempt to hide how his cock twitched at that invading digit. Then it went deeper, all the way in to the third knuckle, and the brunet buried his face into the crook of the blond's neck and breathed what sounded like a sigh of contentment.

"This too, I'm guessing?" Prompto was ever so inquisitive.

"Mm… mm-hmm."

Ignis let out a partially muffled sob as the finger was withdrawn. He missed the feel of it already.

Prompto seemed in-tune with what those wordless noises meant, and he slid his finger back in. The resistance to his entry was still there, but it didn't matter so long as he took his time to wear that resistance down. That was something he seemed to know how to do perfectly, patiently, only pressing in when he felt the muscles give way to him, and he would go slow on the way out as well, taking each agonizing second to stroke those walls.

"You feel amazing, Iggy," he whispered.

"Hn?" Ignis lifted his head from its newfound hiding spot.

A short laugh escaped Prompto next, and he repeated, "You feel … ah, what's a word you'd use … exquisite, that's it..." He picked up his pace as he spoke. "That's the right word. Feels like you're pulling my finger in, and you're warm, too... "

"I…" Ignis took a deep breath, "I'm glad it feels that way for you. If there's anything more I can do, then-"

"Nn-nn." Prompto shook his head. "None of that, now. Let me take care of you this time."

If that was what he wanted, then Ignis would oblige by allowing himself to simply feel, and let his body react naturally. He didn't want to over-think this like he had earlier.

A second finger joined the first in their exploration, and that had Ignis's hips moving in time to the thrusts. He relished the fact that Prompto was already undressed; nothing stopped their contact as he ground up against him.

His hands roamed the blond's body, and he took his time forming a picture of it in his mind. He realized, he'd never truly gotten the complete picture of what Prompto looked like. His face, hair, eyes, of course. Soft lips, a lovely smile, biceps that begged to be touched, but everything else? Underneath clothing, usually. He remembered the texture of Prompto's clothing, but now? Rippling muscles, smooth and dewy skin, the faint and faded bump of a scar near the shoulder... he wouldn't ask where that scar was from, and silently accepted that they'd been through so much from Altissia onward, and changed further in the ten years they were apart until they reunited in Insomnia. It didn't matter, anyway. They were both here, now. He would enjoy this.

"This is… different," he breathed.

"That difference… good, or bad?" There was an undeniable smile there.

"Wonderful."

"So are you. Don't forget that."

Later, after this was done, Ignis would affectionately call Prompto out for being a sneaky bastard. For now, he was too enthralled by both the compliment that came from the blond's lips, and the subsequent kiss after. Distracted by those things, to tell the truth, because Prompto slid a third finger into his ass and earned one hell of a moan from him.

"Heh, didn't know you had that kind of noise in you, Ignis."

"There's-" he attempted to gather his breath, acutely aware that everything was growing hotter and that he was sweating, "there's still much you don't know about me. Care to find out?"

"With pleasure."

Ignis remembered what stars looked like. He had to still know what they were, otherwise there was nothing else to describe the sparks of light he was seeing on the backs of his eyelids each time Prompto worked his fingers and stroked his trembling walls, teased that sweet spot just within reach, caused his hips to buck and his cock to spurt out more pre-cum in anticipation for what would happen next.

He could feel it. That familiar coil of heat building in the pit of him that would come undone with just the right amount of pressure, to tip him past the point of no return.

He was rocking his hips. Moaning with abandon. So close, so close, so close-

Prompto stopped. Again.

Ignis cried out in betrayal.

There was an almost dark chuckle from Prompto. "I told you I had more than just my fingers to give you. But… maybe you should tell me what it is you want, aside from just these..."

"You know full well what I want," Ignis moaned, hunger laced in every single letter of those words.

"Oh, you're right, I do, but I want to hear you say it. It's so much more fun that way." That easy, lilting drawl to Prompto's voice would have made lesser men reach their peak from the sound alone. It was the only thing Ignis could think of at that moment, so he could pride himself on not having done exactly that yet.

"I…"

"You...?"

Ignis bit his lip. He felt tingly all over. "I want..." He thought he would be able to say it out loud, but he didn't want to sound vulgar. Therefore, it was as if his tongue tied itself into a knot not to say it. Self-conscious, at this stage? Yeah, he thought it was ridiculous too.

Prompto laughed. "You're way too cute."

"What?"

"You're pouting. It's adorable."

"Ah…" He was starting to wonder what was coming over him. This was a new experience for sure, but he hadn't expected so many unfamiliar things. He was making expressions he hadn't before, saying things that he thought wouldn't leave the confines of his imagination, and things he hadn't even conceived of.

This was… unlike him?

But who was he?

Tactician, adviser, cook, medic, daemon hunter, administrator, and a load of other things besides. Composed, rational, and rooted in logic for 'just two occasions' if those occasions were all day and all night. No idea passed his mind if it hadn't at least five alternate options attached in case of emergency - even his contingencies had contingencies. And even then, chances were that it would stay in mind; he only let his best ideas come to light.

All this was unplanned. All of this. He hadn't a clue how to navigate this and was trying to fall back onto things he knew to do ( take care of others, be mindful, don't fool around, consider your reputation ) but now Prompto was leading him and trying to unravel the tension that he'd relied on to keep him upright and whole and sane, reputation be damned.

Gods, who was he without all that stress?

He wished to know and yet was hesitant to cross that bridge, afraid of who he'd find on the other side.

For now he was being guided with a hand to his hip. "Up." A simple command. He lifted his ass up and felt the cold of more lube being poured, picked up the sweet and heady scent of it, then Prompto's fingers spread most of it along like before. Meant to be soothing, certainly, but Ignis was still trembling. Fear? Anticipation? Both?

There were slick, wet noises next. A familiar sound, but no feeling to accompany it.

Ignis pouted again, this time perfectly aware of the face he was making. "Really? How rude. I'm right here."

"Yeah… really," Prompto groaned as he pleasured himself. "I thought about it for a bit… wanted to keep this a surprise. But don't worry, baby. I'm not gonna finish like this. I said I'd take care of you."

Baby. Prompto called him baby. Why did that sound so hot coming out of his mouth? The tingling feeling was growing unbearable. Wait, what was the surprise he mentioned?

Ignis was trying to gather all his thoughts before they scurried away from him. He felt the tip of Prompto's cock at his entrance, though, and he dropped every single one. Careful as ever, the blond wasn't pressing in, merely rubbing the wet tip against the fluttering ring, so that wasn't the issue. The brunet reached behind himself, movement slow and tentative for what he knew was there. His fingertips caught the feel of slicked flesh, he pressed against it more firmly, and at that touch, what breath he had left his lungs.

He truly hadn't gotten the full picture of what Prompto looked like. Especially not there. That cock was thick, throbbing, teeming with veins. Rivulets of pre-cum stained Ignis's fingers. That, combined with the copious slick of oil? Prompto said he wouldn't finish himself off, but now Ignis wouldn't have been surprised if he did it anyway. Hell, Ignis himself was tempted to finish Prompto that way. He was impressive and imposing and gods his cock was practically begging for a good workout.

But,

Wait,

… Prompto was planning on …

The press of that tip to Ignis's entrance again made him groan, "You must be joking."

"Not kidding you, babe. That's all me."

Ignis licked his lips, then remembered he was supposed to sound indignant, "You're one to talk about keeping secrets. This one is quite… big." Understatement of a lifetime, that.

"Maybe I should've worn clown shoes back then to warn you. That'd make it real obvious."

"Either too obvious, or construed as overcompensating. Regardless, I wouldn't believe it off of just shoes."

"Fair enough. You wouldn't be caught dead letting me dress that bad anyway."

A firm hold was on Ignis's hips. Keeping him steady. More pressure to that puckered ring. Gods, they were really going to do this.

Then everything seemed to click together. It was as if a faint undercurrent of electricity had snuck its way under his skin, serving as a harbinger for the bolt that struck.

There was something about Prompto now that he had seen hints of long ago, during the sparring matches they would have with each other in the early hours of the morning to keep their minds and bodies sharp.

Ignis could recall that Prompto's time training as a Crownsguard was limited, significantly late in comparison to the trainings that Ignis and Gladio received. Prompto carried that awareness more than anyone, and found the solution was to hone his skill in close-quarters combat in case his firearm failed him for whatever reason, building up in places he found himself lacking in, so he wasn't a liability to the group.

Ignis could recall the first time ever that Prompto made his request, downcast gaze and murmured words, as if Prompto feared wasting his time with such a thing, playing outside of his role as their gunner. ( He hadn't realized then, that there was a reason that Prompto had requested his help and not Gladio's. ) There was little reason to fear; Ignis thought nothing of it, and they set to sparring every morning. There was something about Prompto then.

Ignis hadn't been sure how to describe it when he first glimpsed it, nor had he found the words for how it made him feel.

He had the words now.

He was unbelievably turned on.

The way Prompto moved in the past, was like he'd unearthed bits and pieces of something buried in his subconscious that allowed his movements to simply flow. When Prompto really lost himself in the sparring matches, his blows were direct. His hits were hard, movements were snap-quick, dodges were efficient to clear away from the hit and poise him for a counter.

No, it was wrong to say Prompto 'lost himself' in those situations. He found himself. In those matches, he was unburdened by doubt.

That was him now, all the time. Not only in battle, but everywhere else. His actions, words too. And he knew it.

That was where the feeling was coming from. That strength, that confidence. It was so hot. And Ignis needed it more than anything.

He reached out to stroke Prompto's cheek, and whispered- pleaded - his name.

Prompto turned his head enough to press his lips to Ignis's hand and hummed in curiosity.

"I… I need you to make me yours, in every way possible… I want to belong to you."

Ignis could feel the smile against his palm. That was what Prompto wanted to hear. The blond brought Ignis's hips down, pushed against him and -

Ignis's pleasure came out in vaguely coherent groans as he felt himself stretched open, heat building in him when the whole of Prompto's cockhead made its way inside with a popping sensation. There was nothing else for a while as they both waited for him to adjust, but soon an ache for more overtook him and he moved, trying to get Prompto in deeper.

Prompto couldn't hide his own pleasure as he slid further into Ignis's walls; they clenched tight around his cock as they engulfed every inch of it. Once he bottomed out, he held still for a few more seconds to let Ignis adjust once more, running his hands up and down his lover's back, whispering sweet nothings and praise. He pulled out until just the head was inside, then buried himself back in. He kept a slow pace as he held Ignis still.

Ignis could only think that Prompto was right in his choice of word. It was exquisite, the way the blond split him open with each thrust, and filled him so thoroughly. It made him ache for more, it made him want to push back on that thick, solid cock, it made him want to impale himself on it. He wanted all that, but it was up to Prompto to give it to him, to care for him in that way. Such need came out in soft whimpers of frustration.

"Please, please…"

Prompto leaned close to nibble at Ignis's ear, and growled into it, " 'Please', what?"

Gods that noise was so perfect- "Fuck me… Harder, faster, I need it..."

Suddenly Ignis was flipped over onto his back. In this position, Prompto all but slammed into him, thrusts relentless and unyielding. A guttural cry escaped Ignis's throat as he was filled with an urgency he couldn't imagine, as his sweet spot was pounded into, and he clung to Prompto and dug his nails into the blond's back.

Rather than be deterred by the reaction, Prompto reveled in it, it was only more motivation. "That's it, baby… You're so hot, tight, perfect for me…"

There was more than that to Prompto's words, possessive growls of how Ignis would be his forever, how such soft walls were made to have his cock in them, how he intended to leave Ignis deliciously sore in the morning and thinking only of what happened the night before.

All that would have made Ignis blush had he heard another say it in his presence, but coming from Prompto's mouth seemed like a previously-unspoken truth, and he bit into Prompto's neck to mask his moan at the filthy words.

The heat that coiled in his belly grew stronger the more they went on, and his muscles tensed as he was brought close to his peak. Prompto was merciful this time. He pushed Ignis over that edge with a strong thrust, and the brunet came with a cry of the blond's name. His walls twitched and spasmed, his cum spurted out in hot jets, and that caused Prompto to find his own release. To return the favor, he sunk his teeth ( more like fangs ) into the soft, sweat-damp flesh of Ignis's neck as he buried himself to the hilt inside his lover and released hot, thick ropes of cum.

Only when the pressure finally ebbed and he had nothing else to give, did Prompto withdraw from him, and they lay there, worn out and gasping for breath. Prompto brushed away Ignis's hair from his face in feather-light strokes and kissed his forehead. "Was that like how you imagined, Iggy?"

It took Ignis a few seconds to register that he was being spoken to by name, but when the words sunk in, he smiled and whispered, "Better."

"Thought so." Prompto flipped their positions yet again so that Ignis lay on top of him, and rubbed his back and ran his fingers through the brunet's hair. As the minutes stretched on and they were drifting to sleep, he asked, "how much do you think it'd cost to get a bigger bed?"

Ignis smiled and nuzzled Prompto's neck. "We'll figure that out in the morning."

Needless to say, he'd slept better than he had in ages.

The next morning had practically snuck up behind Ignis and clapped its hands right next to either of his ears. He woke up with a start to note the overwhelming warmth in his room that could only come from the sun already up, high in the sky, and beaming its light through his window. He'd usually leave before the temperature rose to that extent.

"What- what time is it?"

Prompto stirred from his own slumber, still muzzy from the night before. "Mmm… it's…" a pause as he checked the clock on the nightstand, "eleven thirty-one…?"

Ignis practically choked on air at hearing that. This couldn't be happening. Five hours past his usual time- He was interrupted from the throes of a breakdown by a repetitive patting on his back; Prompto had heard him choke and thought it was real.

"I'm fine, please, just, I need to make a phone call."

He had to practically peel himself off from Prompto first, and as soon as he accomplished that tremendous feat, he pressed a button to call his own work number. His voicemail would pick up, he'd record a message there, then forward it to the senior members of the Crownsguard ( he still called it that even when there was no crown to guard ) instead of calling either Monica or Dustin individually. Not having to talk directly to a living soul on the other end would help him stay with at least a little bit of denial that he hadn't messed up so bad to warrant a reprimand.

So, naturally, this meant someone was on the other end to pick up.

"This is Dustin Ackers speaking."

Ignis saw his entire life flash in front of his eyes. Or, the first two thirds of his life, anyway. "Greetings, Dustin..."

"Oh! Ignis! Forgive me, I didn't recognize this number. I trust that you're enjoying your day off?"

The gears in his mind stuttered at the words 'day off'. "I… yes. I am. Just calling and making sure that everything is running smoothly."

"Ah, you don't need to worry about that." There was no doubt that the man was smiling on the other end of the line. Ignis was just about ready to smile, too, until another voice came on.

"Dustin? I thought I heard Ignis talking."

An instant replay of the life-review was in order. As if Ignis sorely missed it. Spoiler alert: he did not.

"Oh, Monica. Ignis is on the other line. He has a day off today."

"About time! He's put in so many hours already that if it were up to me, he'd have the entire month off."

"An… entire month?" Ignis thought aloud. "Could I do that?"

"We'd-" "Yes." "Monica-!" "Listen; a life spent not enjoying it is a life wasted. And everyone needs rest from time to time."

Ignis and Dustin both mulled over her words. ( Dustin could even forgive the interruption. )

"A month it is, then. But I'll be checking on you all in a week, anyway."

"Good. See you in a week."

"Thank you. See you then."

The call ended, and Ignis checked his own pulse to make sure he hadn't actually died. Pleased at his findings, he would have returned to the bed, but he caught a lingering floral scent in the air before feeling its culprit.

Prompto wrapped his arms around Ignis, nuzzled him, and purred, "What's that about you having a month vacation?"

Ignis's mind was useful for replaying non-sighted memories, too. Particularly the ones from last night, and exactly what Prompto had promised to do with him. "You… you must have been hearing things."

"Really? I hear a lot of things. I say a lot of things, too. Like last night…?"

Shit, he remembered too. "Fuck me sideways," Ignis muttered.

"Mm, you got it."

"Wait-!" Ignis was being picked up and carried like a bride. "That's not what I meant!"

He soon learned a harder lesson than most; Prompto was a man of his word.

That night, Ignis sobbed in his post-coital delirium that at this rate, Prompto would leave him needing a cane to navigate through town ( after all that effort to acclimate to not needing one ) , and he was sore 'down there' and hot everywhere else.

The bed creaked and lifted with the absence of weight, followed by footsteps toward the door, and the door coming open. Ignis couldn't help but frown just a little; sure, he wanted that area to be left alone, but that didn't mean he needed to be left alone. His irritation was short-lived as the door came open again, the footsteps approached, and he felt something cold near his face.

"Open wide~."

Ignis complied, and felt the chill of an ice cube at his lips. He had an idea of what to do- he closed his mouth around it and started to lap at the ice, drawing in cold droplets as the ice began to melt a little in his mouth. It wasn't as refreshing as a drink, but it would do.

He found out soon that the ice wasn't necessarily meant for his mouth.

He also found that he liked the 'creative application' of that ice, and that he was quite the audiophile, judging from how much he enjoyed the sloppy and lewd noises as Prompto showed what else his soft lips and eager mouth were good for.

The next morning he learned that the act of seduction itself was an art form the way Prompto wielded it; though they didn't get up to anything, hearing Prompto speak as if they would sent shivers down his spine and made his knees weak.

By the evening, Ignis was already on his knees, holding onto Prompto's waist, getting a good taste of what his body craved. He learned that he loved it when Prompto couldn't keep himself from digging his fingers into Ignis's hair and would hold his head still to thrust into his throat. He learned, too, that his preference was swallowing and not spitting.

The morning after that, Ignis mused aloud that they were supposed to have gotten a new bed by then but kept getting conveniently distracted. Prompto conceded that he did ask for it first, and the distraction was subsequently his own damn fault, but tried to turn it back onto Ignis by calling him irresistible. Ignis appreciated that compliment. Prompto was still a bastard, though.

They got that bed after all- a super king size. Prompto suggested christening the new mattress. Ignis, with genuine innocence as to the implications, wondered what type of champagne to buy.

"Oh… I was thinking of a different kind of bottle-popping."

Ignis adjusted his visor in a way that his hand could hide his words from perceptive lip-readers as he mouthed, "You pervert."

Prompto laughed.

The next morning, Prompto treated Ignis with breakfast in bed. Ignis was surprised that it wasn't meant euphemistically. He savored the ripe fruit, letting the strawberry juice dribble down his throat and cling to his lips. Prompto kissed it off of him on occasion, slow and soft, and they delighted in the act itself rather than lead to anything more. The morning was surprisingly quiet; Ignis found that he liked that too.

The evening, Ignis was reviewing the pros and cons to bed sizes. The benefit to the smaller bed was that he would often sleep on top of Prompto or the other way around. Prompto loved to soothe him, Ignis loved to feel the marks he left on his 'sweetheart'. Sometimes they would spoon, positions similarly interchangeable. The drawback was the lack of space to sprawl out.

The benefit to the bigger bed was, of course, the space to sleep independently. The drawback was that perhaps it was too independently and their bodies fell into the subconscious habit of sleeping as if no one were around. He wondered how he woke up with knees in his face and elbowing Prompto's ribs in turn when he was sure they both went to sleep right side up, but thought it acceptable as long as the blond's foot wasn't in his mouth.

And then, eventually, because he was cursed with the gift to foresee everything except his own errors, he woke up one morning with Prompto's foot in his mouth. Kicking Prompto out of the bed was difficult; it took him a minute to actually fall off of the other side.

That Sunday, they actually left Lestallum for a quick retreat, and the stop of choice was Wiz's Chocobo Post. They traveled there by feathery steed, one that Prompto had affectionately dubbed "Teioh". Emperor, sovereign, king. Fitting, considering who had entrusted it to him… despite Ignis's misgivings.

Ignis realized all too late that Teioh was the chocobo that had been given to Prompto a decade ago when it was just hatched. The little chick was now full grown. He remembered the color of its feathers. Not through an actual review of his memories, but because that feathered miscreant stole his visor. After that, he could make a damn good guess.

Prompto had the time of his life retrieving the visor, but not without the telltale click of a camera going off when he got everyone together. He promised Ignis that he hadn't taken a selfie with Teioh. Knowing him, though, he had done it and brushed Teioh's feathers up to simulate Ignis's hair; there was so much fussing over getting Teioh's feathers just right.

To start the weekdays off, they went to Hammerhead to meet with Cindy again, and the delight in her voice was palpable and a welcome treat. Prompto was still an absolute disaster around her. It was understandable. It was also a fact that Ignis realized he could let Prompto live down, but he wouldn't. To speak of Hammerhead itself, it stood strong as ever, with more people working there than before and the newer recruits getting firsthand lessons from Cid on how to fix cars and weapons alike.

Iris was among those new recruits, though an itinerant one. Meeting her was a surprise, and she was just as overjoyed to reunite with them as they were to reunite with her. Last Ignis heard, the youngest Amicitia had a stunning reputation as a Daemonslayer. It wasn't quite that way anymore. Without a King to be a Shield to and no daemons to slay, she joined with the Hunters to cull the overpopulation of local fauna ( and maybe show a Coeurl or two who's the real ruler of the region ) and figured it wouldn't hurt to learn how to maintain her weapons.

She avoided the subject of Noctis. For all their sakes.

After they caught up on what they missed of each other, they said their goodbyes. Iris said,

"I'll tell my brother you said 'Hi'!"

and it didn't occur to Ignis that she meant "they" plural,as in, she would speak on behalf of Ignis and Prompto together, so he thought nothing of it until they returned to Lestallum the following day and considered making their visit to the Hunters' Headquarters where the other Crownsguard were stationed so he could check up on them a tad earlier than they would expect.

He didn't think of it until he heard "About damn time I saw you two!" from behind him.

Ignis could recognize that voice anywhere, and he was thankful it served as a quick warning before a massive hand clapped him on the shoulder in greeting. He would have jumped out of his skin otherwise. Or at least, he would have felt like jumping out. He liked to think he had some level of restraint left in him.

Prompto hadn't even skipped a beat. "Hey, Gladio! Long time no see. Miss me much?"

"Not even gonna dignify that with an answer."

"That's cold!"

"You've been through worse, quit whining. So, when were you two lovebirds gonna tell me about this?"

Prompto fell silent, and Ignis took that as his turn to speak. ( He was sure that Prompto even looked at him and sought an answer. )

"I… I'm not sure," Ignis admitted. He had forgotten, in a sense, that the world was yet inhabited by people who knew what they were like a decade ago, back when their party numbered four and not three. People that knew what they each had meant to the other, and how strong their bonds were, how indestructible they expected those bonds to be.

But the world was inhabited by those people, they did exist, and Gladio was among them, and he saw the bonds twist and break, he knew the truth that things didn't stay the same and that sometimes they couldn't be restored, he knew that sometimes broken bonds were gilded over and mended to be stronger, though different than before. He knew that at times, that things didn't stay the same was the whole point.

He knew, and he was still happy for them.

Ignis hadn't expected that. Then again there was a lot he hadn't expected from Gladio.

"Fair enough, this does seem like a recent thing. You're the type to deliver news when you think it's a sure thing, whether it takes three minutes or three years."

Ignis said nothing, and just let out a soft chuckle. He was right about that. It did take a while for him to spit things out if he didn't have all of the evidence. He knew that now more than ever.

"But, look at you!" Gladio's hands were on Ignis's shoulders and it felt like he was just barely restraining himself from hugging Ignis, "You look better than the last time I saw you. Actually eating right, I take it?"

"Yes, better now than before."

Prompto piped up in confusion, "Wait, what were you doing before I showed up?"

Before Ignis could open his mouth, Gladio beat him to the punch, "He was living off of Ebony and takeout."

"Oh hell no!" Prompto sounded absolutely incredulous that Ignis wasn't cooking for himself. "With the dishes you make? That's a tragedy. You know what? Maybe I should take that up-"

"No!" Ignis and Gladio both answered in unison, realized it, and laughed. Ignis laughed harder than he had in a long time, and for once, he thought he would be okay.

Who was he without all of the stress?

He was Ignis.

And that was enough.