Blushing Light in Dark Corners

By: Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-

Author Notes: Just a small drabble. We need some happiness and funniness in this fandom.

Blushing Light in Dark Corners

"Noctis, you've lost your goddamn mind—"

Warm lips were pressed against his and an even warmer hand pushed him into the enclave. He quickly pulled the burgundy curtain to hide them, but then turned his sights upon Gladio. The Shield was helpless against the onslaught of lips and tongue and the raw strength Noct rarely bothered to show. Even inside the training room, pinned down with sweat dripping down his neck and puddling below him, Noctis rarely used anything other than the bare minimum.

Gladio would have been proud if it wasn't being used against him in that moment. Getting pulled around the Citadel in the middle of the fucking day—what did Noct think he was doing? Maybe that hit to the head the other day had finally manifested itself in loss of any basic sense. What would his father do if he caught Gladio and Noctis making out like a bunch of stupid tenagers?

No—what would King Regis do to Gladio if he found him defiling his one and only son?

Gladio was pretty sure there was a pike somewhere in the castle that would have his name carved into its shaft.

But Noctis laughed at him as he ran a hand through the other man's hair, pulling him down for another kiss. He moaned when the soft, supple tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth. Noct pulled a little away and nibbled at Gladio's lip, pulling it into his mouth. There would be a bruise, no doubt, but Noct didn't seem to care.

And Gladio, older and more responsible, should have done the worrying for the both of them. It was his job to think when Noct was unable to think for himself…

Of course, Gladio was pretty sure that his ancestors never expected that one of their own would be the reason why the Crown Prince couldn't think. But that tongue, those teeth pulling at his bottom lip, the hands in his hair.

"Noctis! Where are you?"

The only thing stopping Noctis from snorting out loud was Gladio pulling himself away from the prince, slapping his hand over the other teenager's mouth. Barely breathing, Gladio pressed harder when the sharp clunk of a heeled boot collided with the marble. A cane tapped at the rippling red fabric, then—

"Noctis?"

Gladio's throat closed as he saw the peaking of light into the enclave. The light blushed across the stone behind Noctis's head, and how much blood did a body have, because it was all about to be painted across Noct's shoes…

"Your Majesty. Noctis is in the training room."

The light disappeared and Noctis licked his hand, grinding up against the front of Gladio's increasingly tight pants. One of the teeth on his zipper clicked.

"Oh? I thought I saw them going in this direction."

"No, Regis. They're definitely in the training room."

"Then would you find my son and tell him to come to my chambers. I'd like to speak with him about his training."

"Of course."

Gladio barely let his breath whisper out of his throat until the clicking of King Regis's cane disappeared into the Citadel. He stared down at Noctis, whose smirk had swallowed the entire bottom of his face.

A voice reached through the velvet curtains, and Gladio couldn't tell whose face was more terrified, his or Noct's.

"Your Highness. I believe you heard your father. Gladio…" his father's voice trailed off as the man pulled back the curtain, spilling light into the enclave. "A word, if you would."

Fuck.

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