For what had felt like hours, Noctis had listened to the rhythmic scrape, scrape, scrape of Ignis's dagger against the sharpening stone. It seemed Gladio and Prompto must have fallen asleep the moments their weary heads hit the pillows—and, truth be told, Noct had expected to do the same; he hadn't slept in a real bed since Altissia, and they had been very fortunate to have found a hotel in Accordo still accepting customers, when most people were closing up shop and fleeing the country in hopes of finding some place on Eos that wasn't trapped in this eternal night. But as soon as he'd realized Ignis wasn't climbing immediately into bed like the rest of them, Noct had been struck with a bout of insomnia.
Ignis sat at the desk sharpening his blade—not likely the furniture's intended use—and Noctis lay on his back in one of the two queen beds in the room, trying to focus on a groove in the pattern of the white paint on the ceiling to keep his eyes from blurring with tears.
Perhaps half an hour ago he had turned on a lamp for Ignis, even though he was aware the other man was blind. Ignis had asked him—speaking to him directly for the first time in several days—if he had done that for his sake, gently reminding him it was unnecessary. And Noctis had lied and said that it had been on the whole while so he could have some reading light, and that it had clicked because he was just turning it off now.
He wondered if Ignis knew the truth. After all, the prince wasn't the type to pick up a book to read for his own enjoyment, and he wasn't a very good liar. Noct also pondered whether or not Ignis could sense his wakefulness. But the thought that plagued and tormented him most was the fear Ignis had not come to bed because he hadn't wanted to share it with him.
Before…the accident (or whatever had claimed the man's vision, as Ignis refused to discuss it), the two had craved closeness—especially at night. Ignis had tried to find the smallest, most cramped-looking hotel rooms he could manage, under the pretense of their cost-effectiveness, just so he and Noct could share a room apart from Gladio and Prompto. And once, when camping, Noctis had "accidentally" dunked his sleeping bag in a fishing pond so he could share Ignis's instead.
The prince wasn't certain how successful they had truly been, but he and Ignis had tried to keep their relationship a secret to themselves. They weren't ashamed of it, but as Ignis had pointed out, it might make their travel companions feel awkward to know they shared a tent and hotel rooms with a pair of lovers. And Noct had, after all, started off this journey an engaged man. The prince's betrothal may have been a political ploy in which he had had no say, but he had always known he might have to marry Lunafreya at the end of their voyage. Ignis had promised he would understand, and had even urged Noctis to obey the will of the people, as their future king. Of course, now that Lunafreya had been lost, no one could come between them or stop them from making their relationship known to the world. Only suddenly Ignis didn't seem to want him anymore.
The scraping of metal against stone was becoming grating, and finally Noct could stand it no more. He sat up, pushed back the covers, and climbed out of bed. The prince felt heartsick as he padded across the floor in bare feet to the desk where Ignis sat sharpening his blade. He felt underdressed in his gray boxers and black T-shirt, while Ignis wore slacks and a button-up dress shirt and even still had his gloves and shoes on. But then he remembered they were supposed to be in bed, and realized the fact was that Ignis was overdressed.
Whether Ignis had heard his approach or sensed his presence, something had caused the man to cease his tireless scraping. He gripped the stone in one faintly trembling hand and the hilt of the dagger in his other sweating palm. He said nothing.
Noct gently laid his hands to rest on Ignis's shoulders. He hadn't known what he was going to say, but what came to mind was, "Aren't you tired, Iggy?" What came out of his mouth, however, was, "Iggy, why won't you let me touch you?"
The question was met with silence.
At the cool response, Noct's eyes began swimming behind a thick luster of tears. He didn't trust his voice to speak, so instead he gently massaged Ignis's shoulders, just to be touching him.
All at once, Ignis rose from the chair. To Noct's surprise, the man reached up and cupped his face, drawing him in for a fervent kiss. It was so sudden, the prince nearly choked. But he swallowed back a gasp and wrapped one eager arm around Ignis's neck and one frantic arm around his waist, clinging to him as if they were falling.
This was the first kiss they had shared since their arrival in Altissia weeks ago, and it was more passionate than any other before it. Ignis's dark sunglasses were fogging from the heat of their breaths. And his lover's mouth, usually so soft and pliant, was rough with desperation. Noctis could feel his own lips bruising beneath the pressure. But he didn't care; all that mattered was that Ignis was kissing him, wanted him.
And Noct wanted Ignis, like never before. He didn't care that anyone else was in the room with them. While Ignis held his head tightly between his gloved hands, Noctis pulled the man's shirt free from his slacks. His hands rose and began unbuttoning it from the collar, fumbling with the anticipation. Ignis, still kissing him, made a soft sound of protest against his mouth, twisting his shoulders to prevent Noct from his task. Noct frowned and kissed Ignis harder, then reached again for his shirt buttons. This time Ignis made a warning sound and lowered one hand to swat Noct's away.
Noctis didn't want to lose the contact he'd been missing all these weeks, but he had to find out what was going on because it was killing him. So the prince took hold of Ignis's shoulders again and pushed him away. Holding him at arm's length, he asked breathlessly, "What's wrong, Ignis?" He took a wild guess. "Is it the others? We can do it in the shower—the Regalia—I don't care. I just want to be with you!"
Ignis released Noct to catch himself as he fell back against the desk, looking far tireder than excited now. "All this time," he murmured, faintly panting, "I feared you did not want me. Now I realize I was the one keeping us apart."
"But why?" Noct whispered, stepping closer and hugging Ignis's hips between his hands. "Of course I want you, Ignis. Of course I do! That's not going to change—ever."
Ignis sighed heavily, then said with quiet bluntness, "It might."
"What makes you… Why would you say that?" Noct was breathing faster again, but not from hunger. "Ignis, you're worrying me."
"Noct," Ignis began softly, "I haven't been able to gaze into a mirror lately, but I know… That is to say, I can feel my face. I know it has…changed."
Noct frowned. "What?"
Ignis lifted a gloved hand to his cheek, his fingers brushing over the barely-healed scars that had claimed half his face. "I know it isn't pretty. And there's more. I had hoped I would heal—if not regain my sight, at least my body might be…" He broke off, his hand lowering to his collar and holding it closed against his throat as if to hide every inch of revealed skin. "I asked the others to look at me objectively, and to be honest about the situation. And they said—"
"I don't give a damn what they say or think!" Noct snapped, louder than was necessary. "Your face—everything about you is pretty. Ignis, I'm your boyfriend. Why couldn't you trust me to look at you and tell you what I think?"
"It's because you're my—lover," Ignis argued. The word "boyfriend" had thrown him; he and Noct had never discussed what term was appropriate for their relationship, but he had not considered that particular one. "I needed an objective opinion, for one matter, and for another, I didn't want you to look at me. I didn't want you to see."
"Yeah, well, that's not up to you. They're my eyes, and you're my boyfriend, and I'll see whatever I want to see." Noct was aware he was yelling. He wasn't mad at Ignis, but the pent-up frustration over the last weeks was seizing the opportunity for release, now that Ignis was finally speaking to him—really speaking to him.
The prince stepped even closer, reaching for Ignis's buttons again with determination. Ignis tried to push his hands away once more, but Noct was anything but gentle as he forced Ignis's hands back against the surface of the desk and momentarily pinned them there. "Stop it," he ordered, and, reluctantly, Ignis complied.
While his lover leaned back against the desk in silent, nervous apprehension, Noctis methodically unbuttoned his shirt. If Ignis wanted an objective opinion, he was going to get one.
At last Ignis's shirt hung open. Before pushing the fabric back to inspect his torso, Noctis reached up and carefully removed the dark glasses from Ignis's burned eyes. Iggy tried to turn his face away to hide his scars, but Noct took hold of his chin gently and brought it back to center. Then, his heart hammering, he grasped the lapels of Ignis's dress shirt and slowly drew the top open to look at his body.
Noct was quiet for a long time. Ignis's lower lip trembled as he felt his heart crumbling. The prince—his beautiful prince—couldn't stand the sight of him. He had told himself over and over for weeks this didn't change anything important; he still had to help secure Noct's position on the throne and aid his king in the reclamation of their world. They hadn't time for fooling around, anyway, and there was no sense in vanity. But he had only been lying to himself; his every thought had been consumed with the fear this might happen, and no matter how many scenarios he had imagined, he had only been deceiving himself to think he wouldn't break down if Noct rejected him.
But Noct wasn't finished with him. He felt the prince push the fabric of the shirt over his shoulders. He stood up from the desk as Noctis directed him to do, as obedient and limp as a ragdoll, and allowed the prince to slide the sleeves down his arms. He didn't even struggle as Noct unbuckled his belt, unzipped his slacks, and finished undressing him fully. He finally stood there, completely naked. He knew the scars extended just beyond his hip, on the front and back of his left side. He knew he was hideous. He felt like the monster he truly must be.
Then Ignis felt the unexpected touch of a kiss near his temple, where once the ash blond hair of his eyebrow had extended and now the rough skin of his scar ended. He almost protested, but the sound faltered in his throat and came out sounding like a whimper.
"Am I hurting you?" Noctis murmured tenderly.
"N-no," Ignis managed, swallowing the painful lump in his throat.
"Good." Noct's breath was warm against his face as the boy continued making love to it, his lips light but lingering as they covered every inch of Ignis's scar in butterfly kisses. They ended with the gash across Ignis's nose, then at last returned to the taller man's mouth. Noct pulled Ignis's lower lip into his mouth and suckled it, his hands grasping and massaging the man's hips, even the scarred one, gently but insistently.
"Noct…" Ignis tried to protest, but his lover's name came out in a plea. Noctis pressed closer, kissed deeper. Then suddenly the prince's hands reached behind Ignis to lift him, setting his bare buttocks down on the surface of the desk.
Ignis was weakened by the prince's kisses as they trailed down his throat to his wounded shoulder and then moved lower, to his scarred breast. He supported himself by bracing his hands against the desk behind him as he leaned back, exposing himself to Noct for the first time since incurring his injuries.
He couldn't have refused Noct now if he'd wanted to; he'd been too alone and afraid these last several weeks, aching for the prince's touch too badly. This was all he had been wanting and needing, this sensual reassurance, and he couldn't give it up—even if Noct's tongue was expertly circling his hardening nipple while cries of agonized pleasure were pouring from his throat, and they both knew full well they weren't alone in the room.
Noct's mouth trailed further downward, along the outer side of his breast and then to the sensitive skin beneath it. Ignis could no longer support himself with his hands and instead sank to his elbows, leaning his head back to moan as his arousal grew and his lover's celestial touch moved lower and lower.
"You guys know this room doesn't belong to just you, right?" Gladio snapped from the bed he shared with Prompto. "Some of us are trying to sleep in here."
Noctis was drunk on the feel and taste of Ignis's skin. He felt his lover stiffen in his embrace and saw through eyes clouded with hunger how Ignis struggled to cover his naked body.
"Could you guys give us some time alone, please?" Noct demanded hoarsely, not really asking.
"Now, just a minute here!" Gladio thundered. Ignis squirmed away from Noct and climbed down from the desk, feeling around on the floor frantically as he stooped to gather his clothes. Noct sighed and turned around to face the source of their interruption, standing in front of Ignis to shield him from prying eyes. Gladio continued, "I was fast asleep until you guys started fooling around, and I'd like to get back to it. So why don't you just get—"
"Gladio!" Prompto growled through gritted teeth. He'd been tugging on the larger man's tattooed arm, trying to get his attention, ever since his initial outburst.
"What? Aren't you pissed off? They woke you, too, didn't they? Carrying on like kids when we were on the road for fourteen hours today with hardly a break, and tomorrow we have to get back on the road and may or may not be able to scrounge up anything for breakfast first."
"Gladio, don't be so insensitive."
"Huh?"
"They've hardly been speaking to each other since…you know." Prompto was already climbing out of bed, stepping into his shoes and reaching for his jacket. "Let Noct take care of Ignis tonight. We can find another place to sleep."
Gladio's jaw dropped and it looked as though he might protest again. But Prompto was already headed for the door in his pajamas, and Noct was standing with his arms crossed, glaring at him, and Ignis's head was hanging in shame, his clothes gripped in a bundle in front of his lap, looking pitiful.
"Fine," he said with a heavy sigh. "We'll just go sleep in the lobby, then."
He stole the blanket from their bed and trailed after Prompto, who was waiting in the hall.
"Gladio," Noct called, and the other man stopped to look at him. "Thanks."
Gladio shrugged and closed the door on his way out.
"I have never been so humiliated," Ignis said when they were alone.
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," Noct soothed, taking the wad of clothing from Ignis's hands.
"Except now I'm quite sure the lamp was on this entire time, and everyone saw me in a very compromising position with you…"
"Don't be ashamed. It's natural for two people in love to have sex, Ignis." Noct scooped his lover into his arms to carry him to their bed—the bed they would share tonight.
"Not like this," Ignis whispered.
"Why?" Noct questioned, setting his lover down in the middle of the bed, leaving him to find his way between the sheets as he stripped off his own sleep clothes. "Because we're both men? Because you're blind? Why should any of that matter? I love you, Ignis. I want to make love to you. And Gladio deserves to sleep on a couch after the way he's treated us both these past few weeks."
Ignis sighed. "Please go and get them and bring them back. Once we're finished," he added softly.
"If it'll make you happy." The prince climbed into bed with his lover, drawing him into his embrace. "Now, where were we…?"
Ignis wrapped his arms around his lover's neck. "Noct."
"Yes, Iggy?"
"I love you more than words could ever express."
Noctis smiled and wrapped his arms around his long-time companion and rediscovered love. "And I love you. All of you is beautiful, Ignis."
They began again, but rather than pick up where they left off, Noct started from the beginning. Ignis had countless scars on his face. His chest and shoulder were discolored and patterned from whatever had burned or exploded near him. The deep, red lines extended to his hip, wrapped around his body. Noct's mouth traced every perfect imperfection with tenderness until even Ignis couldn't understand how he had ever doubted his love.
