Author's Note: This chapter contains strong language, along with sensual descriptions. Reader discretion is advised.
Iris couldn't help but stare at Ignis passing her between classes.
His eyes would glance over and prickle her pale skin to rose.
His knuckles would brush her skirt.
Was this torture?
Daydreaming about a guy whose kisses and touches sank into her conscience every waking moment?
She could see him now, speaking with Prompto. His lips were full as he spoke. His hair was untamed today. She wanted to run her fingers through that hair. Draw wet kisses down the collar of his neck.
Arousal was an enemy she always lost to.
Was Ignis losing to it as well?
"Iris," his silky voice would greet her. "How are you?"
She'd turn towards him. Examining his cheekbones and his eyes.
"I'm –"
Hot and bothered.
Aching.
Wet.
Ugh, she couldn't say any of that.
"Doing well," she'd simply answer.
Throughout the week, she'd see him with the boys. They wouldn't leave him alone. Come to think of it, they hardly ever left him alone. Except when he was in the kitchen. Yes, she got lucky that day.
Something had to change. Somehow, they had to be alone together again.
So, she created the perfect plan.
Lightning cracked the deep evening-blue sky. In its wake, a distant thunder rolled and rumbled across the City of Lucis. The citizens turned their faces to the skies and a torrent of rain descended upon them, too sudden and too soon. It wasn't forecasted to pour today. It wasn't supposed to rain at all this week. But life was unexpected that way. As those caught in the rainstorm began to duck for cover, only one person stood in the middle of that storm, eyes locked on those dark clouds as the rain slipped against her skin.
Iris relished the feeling of water drenching her face, her hair, and her clothes.
She knew people would think she was crazy, standing all alone in the rain without an umbrella or jacket, not attempting to search for a nearby awning or building to take cover under.
But she loved the rain.
Loved how it reminded her of Ignis and his gentle, warm hands as he baked. His deep sea-green eyes paired with his sexy lips when they curved to smile at her. His moist tongue entering her mouth and massaging all kinds of sensual desires into her head.
Know that through every storm, there will always be a silver lining waiting for you.
His words were like a caress she could not forget, as powerful as the day he said them to her before handing her a gift.
His handkerchief.
How serendipitous was it for a rainstorm to pour down on the day she was planning to return Ignis' handkerchief?
It was her plan to be alone with him again.
She felt beautiful and alive. Something giddy and hopeful stirred inside her when she reached his house. Ignis lived on his own, which were his parents' wishes, as they wanted him to be more responsible and independent. But of course, Ignis was already those things.
Before she could push the bell, Ignis quickly opened the door. Worry and shock adorned his face.
"Iris, you're soaking! We need to get you dry, hurry."
She ducked into the foyer as he pulled her into his arms. He was wearing a crisp white button-down dress shirt that seemed to glow underneath the foyer's light.
"I'm so sorry you walked in this weather," he said guiltily, patting her hair down with a towel he already had in hand.
"I should have picked you up. Truly, I am so sorr – "
She cupped his face and kissed him.
It did not matter to her what he should have or could have done. He was here now, and that was all she cared about.
She felt his face soften, relaxing into her kiss, gently bringing his hand to the back of her head. He smelled like sandalwood and vanilla – perhaps a shampoo and soap he'd used before coming out of the shower. She always loved the way Ignis smelled. She also loved pressing herself against his strong, lean torso. Touching him felt intimate – like they'd been dating for years. As this crossed her mind, she realized that her shirt was wet and was quite positive her bra was on display, but Ignis hadn't seemed to notice. Or maybe, he was trying not to.
Thunder roared outside.
He gripped her wrists.
"Iris," he breathed, releasing her hands and lips.
Her heart was pounding just as hard as the rain that kept pouring outside. She smoothed her hands down to his chest and smiled at the steady rhythm beneath his shirt she so carelessly drenched.
"I just wanted you to kiss me," she grinned, playing with the collar of his dress shirt.
He smirked.
"Be careful. I might not stop kissing you."
She sent him a seductive smile, before shyly burying herself into his shirt.
"That idea sounds far too good to pass," she whispered into his chest.
His mirthful chuckle followed as he tipped her chin up.
"First, let me take care of you," he whispered back. His voice was so gentle, yet so deep. She tried her best not to snicker when he sneaked a glance at her chest.
"Oh, before you do, let me give you this."
She pulled out the handkerchief from her bag, hoping it didn't get wet in her travel. Luckily, it was dry and clean.
Ignis shook his head.
"Keep it. When you need to use it, think of me."
Her cheeks went crimson at that.
"Ok," she agreed, placing it back in her bag.
Ignis kissed her forehead before guiding her past the living room, where she dumped her bag and shoes, then around the kitchen, and up the stairs.
The hallway upstairs was dark, only briefly lit by the flash of lightning from a small window close by. She squeezed his hand.
"Am I allowed up here?" she teased. She'd never been to Ignis' room, and who knew what sorts of things they'd end up doing in there.
He squeezed her hand back.
"Of course. You're my girlfriend."
Girlfriend.
Iris' couldn't fight the bright smile that formed across her lips.
Ignis pulled her inside, and Iris took a survey of his room. There was a queen- sized bed with a grey comforter and two pillows, a desk with dual monitor screens, a laptop, a dresser, mirror, and walk-in closet. Everything was neat, organized, and immaculate; just like him.
He made his way to the dresser, placed the towel on top, and pulled out a large grey shirt, blue shorts, and brown fleece sweater and laid them out on the bed.
"You can wear these while your clothes dry. I can dry them in the laundry room if you'd like."
"What about your clothes?" she reminded him of his damp shirt.
He smoothed a hand over his chest.
"Not to worry – I'll change too."
As he moved to his closet to unbutton his shirt in private, she grasped his arm.
She could hear his breath catch in his throat and her own heart thudding in her ears when he slowly turned to her, a question in his eyes.
She answered by placing her fingers over his, on the button he was about to undo.
His face filled with surprise. Alertness.
And his eyes? There was wonder. Wanting.
Encouraged by this, she slowly undid the first button, and then the second, her fingers brushing down the planes of his chest, his abdomen, his navel.
He carefully watched her fingers cascade down his torso, the gentle unweaving of his garment, and swallowed deeply when all of his buttons were undone.
What was beneath that button-down shirt sent a shiver down Iris' spine. Strong, hard pecs, leading to a marvelous six-pack that would haunt her dreams. His skin was firm, draped in the shadow of muscles. Lots of muscle. She felt those muscles at the party. The strength of them as they wrapped around her in an embrace. The tautness that pressed against her clothes, but never her skin.
She let out a shuddered breath. Was this too much? Had she gone too far?
He lifted her chin and their eyes connected. He was a foot taller and he towered over her like a knight; powerful, mysterious, and protective. She liked that. Liked how her head could rest right below his chin.
She particularly enjoyed the scorching heat of his gaze, laden with possessive desire the likes of which she never saw before. Because no one in her life ever looked at her like that. Never held her in place with a mere stare. And that's when she realized it wasn't just his shirt that she had undone.
Silence grew between them, but the raindrops continued to hit the bedroom window, echoing against the walls.
"What are you doing to me, Iris?" he whispered fervently, though it seemed like he was asking himself that question.
She brought her hands to the lapels of his shirt, pulling it down his shoulders.
"Helping you change," she whispered back.
The shirt dropped to the floor.
She took his warm hand, trying hard not to feel his fiery gaze behind her head as she guided him into his closet.
He had a lot of dress shirts, mostly in the colors of white, grey, and black. She recognized the navy-blue shirt he wore at the party and smiled at the memories it brought back of their first kiss. Their first touch.
"Dressing me up, too?" he casually teased in her ear, like he was charmed and excited at the prospect.
She passed him a sly smile.
"Just an excuse to see you half-bare."
She saw him swallow at that, taken aback by her bold words. Yet, a proud, smoldering grin grew on his lips. He seemed to appreciate being her eye candy.
He moved to stand closer, his bare torso touching her back, his chin resting against the top of her head. His arms enveloped her from behind in a precious embrace. She would have stayed that way with him for a while, just enjoying his presence and his breath against her hair.
But she remembered that her clothes were wet and her bra was definitely showing. And Ignis seemed to realize that too, which may have been why he moved his arms away from her chest.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You need to change as well," he said, almost stammering.
Yes, she needed to get out of these clothes.
So she started to pull her moist shirt over her head.
"Iris," his voice was low. Desperate. Warning.
Her shirt was off, and she turned around to stare Ignis down, a challenge in her eyes.
Ignis, normally intelligent and composed, was now at a loss for words, staring wide-eyed at her exposed chest, and, ahem, assets.
Iris wondered what he was thinking. Did he see her as simply Gladiolus' little sister, in need of protecting? Her chastity to remain intact? She wondered about this during her walk in the rain, thinking of all the things she wanted to do with Ignis, besides talking, cooking and returning his handkerchief. How far would Ignis be willing to go with her? How deep did his feelings run? Were they as passionate as hers?
She wanted to get to know him. That's what she told him before. And she meant that – in both body and soul.
Ignis bit his bottom lip, furrowing his brow as his eyes devoured her. He seemed conflicted. Overwhelmed.
Behind him, Iris could see lightning flash from the bedroom window. Hear the thunder roaring once more. The wind howled as she and Ignis stood a breath away from each other inside that cramped closet. But neither of them seemed to care what was happening outside anymore, because the storm brewing between them needed to be quelled before it spun out of control.
Iris made the first move. She placed her hands on his stomach, got on the tip of her toes, and planted a small kiss to his delicious lips. She felt him respond, his head tilting to get the perfect angle of her mouth as he continued their slow kiss. His fingers lightly grazed her waist where her skin met her skirt. From the way his fingers curled, she could tell he was ravenous.
She softly released his lips.
"How was that?" she asked, breathless.
His eyelids were heavy.
"Perfect," came his winded response.
He rested his forehead against hers, agonizingly drawing his eyelids to a close, as if he were commanding every fiber in his being to contain himself.
"You're bold, Iris." he revered. "And beautiful."
Her cheeks bloomed rosy at the compliment and she allowed herself a smug smile.
He bent his face down to the column of her neck, a waft of vanilla hitting her nostrils as he inhaled her scent.
"What do you want from me, beautiful girl?"
She wanted so many things from Ignis – selfish, devastating things. More importantly, she wanted to test this chemistry between them. See how intimate Ignis would allow himself to be around her. How unraveled he could get.
"I want you to help me take this off," she pulled at her bra strap.
Ignis' gaze settled on the bra, his eyes tracing the curve of the cups and the straps that held them in place on her shoulders. She couldn't tell if he was shy or nervous because his face never gave it away. He nodded.
"Turn around," he motioned his index finger in a circle.
She was surprised at Ignis' confidence. It seemed he figured out what she was doing. So, she complied with his request. His breath roamed against her neck. She felt his fingers gently detach the clasps. Felt those fingers linger on her sensitive skin. Felt him exhale.
"What's next?" he rasped.
She inhaled.
"The clothes on the bed. Can you bring them over?"
His heat drew away as he walked out the closet. She heard his footsteps against the wooden floor of his bedroom as he approached the bed, gathering the clothes there.
She took this time to remove her bra, and when Ignis returned he handed her his grey shirt. Back turned, she pulled it down her torso. It came half way down her thighs. Next, was her skirt. She bent down and took that off, and Ignis handed her his blue shorts while remaining awfully quiet. With the shorts on, she finally turned to see Ignis' stoic face, trying (very hard might she add) to look anywhere but her.
She smirked.
"Sweater?" she gestured to his brown fleece.
Ignis was about to hand it to her, but she raised her arms up, indicating that she wanted him to put it on her.
He chuckled.
Placing it around her head, he gently pushed her arms into the sleeves, careful not to hurt her hands in the process. He slowly pulled it down her body, the length of the sweater reaching her thighs. Iris quickly noted his eyes darkening when his knuckles brushed the curve connecting her ass and thigh. His breathing labored.
Iris smiled. She was definitely having an effect on him. She slowly leaned up and captured his lips again.
Ignis groaned, returning her kiss. His arms wound around her waist and he pressed her to him. Iris' hands landed on his pectorals, enjoying his toned muscles and smooth skin. His tall, lean body molded well to her small, short frame and she wondered if Ignis noticed that too.
Their kiss became heated, a game of domination they both wanted to win.
His tongue brushed the seam of her lips, before she allowed him to enter her mouth and play with hers.
Then his hands cascaded down to her thighs, lifting and encircling them around his waist. In a sheer moment, she was carried and her back was pushed against an empty wall of the closet. It took Iris by surprise, but also filled her with delight that Ignis was eagerly taking initiative and showering her with passionate kisses to her mouth, jaw, neck, collar bone…
One more heated kiss later, they were panting, their breaths hot against each other. Demanding and unsated.
Iris couldn't believe how intense that was. Arousal flushed across her skin as she met Ignis' eyes. He appeared just as starry-eyed and disconcerted, but that didn't stop him from embossing her tightly against him.
After a while, she said:
"You must be cold without a shirt on, Iggy."
She ran her palms down his abdomen, watching his skin goose up at her touch.
"I'm not cold at all," he assured, running his hands against her body that was covered by his fleece.
"At least let me find you a shirt," she giggled, hugging him.
He kissed the top of her head.
"Pick whatever you want, Iris. I'm yours."
When Iris returned to her house late that evening, she was accompanied by Ignis. Their intimate soirée kept churning in her mind, especially with Ignis standing-oh-so closely to her on the front porch as she dug around for her keys. It also did not help that he was giving her bedroom eyes as she did.
"Do you need help finding your keys?" he offered.
Iris shook her head. She was just getting distracted.
Ignis was wearing a maroon T-Shirt that accentuated his muscles, which she picked out for him shortly after their intense kissing session. Even if they'd only kissed and touched each other (very passionately), she couldn't believe how far they went. How forward she was with Ignis. How sensitive Ignis was to her. She had to stop herself from blushing at the thought of them doing those things to each other.
But first, she had to make sure her brother did not catch them.
As if on cue, Gladdy pulled the front door open and peered at both of them.
"You guys are late," he gruffly said, looking back and forth between them. "What were you doing?"
Iris gulped. Oh no. This would be the moment he'd confront them. Was that a gleam of suspicion in his eye? As if her own brother would lay off her back once he found out.
"Cooking," Ignis casually answered, lifting the bag of food he packed from his house.
She and Ignis actually did cook and eat dinner together that evening. He gave her pointers on what recipes she should try and she brainstormed new recipe ideas with him. It was very sweet and lovely to spend that extra time with him, among other, steamier, things.
A sigh of relief went through her as her brother nodded.
"Damn. You must've been cooking up a storm."
Ignis quirked his eyebrow, a smile dancing on his lips.
"You could say that."
Iris almost choked as she glanced between her brother and Ignis. As far as her brother knew, she went over Ignis' house to hone her cooking skills and learn some new recipes. It wasn't a total lie. But the way Ignis responded would probably have made her brother ask more questions, so she quickly added:
"We brought you some food in case you didn't have dinner. It's really good, I tried my best, and you should eat it and tell me what you think!"
Gladdy grinned.
"Thanks, sis. Thanks, Iggy. You know I can't say no to a homecooked meal!"
He laughed as he grabbed the bag from Ignis and sauntered off with it to the kitchen.
She and Ignis passed each other a look. Then they both laughed.
"Thanks Iggy," she said, brushing away her fears. He kept his promise in keeping their relationship a secret, and that was a relief to her. It was also his idea to bring food over for Gladdy, which only proved to help them avoid scrutiny.
"Thank you, Iris," Ignis corrected, squeezing her shoulders. "Thank you for choosing me and allowing me to be with you."
He leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. She closed her eyes. She would have to savor this one small kiss until next time.
"I want to take you on a date," he sighed in her ear.
She perked up.
"Where?"
"Wherever you want."
She giggled.
"Ok," she said in a hushed tone. "I'll text you."
Waving him goodbye, she stepped inside her house and locked the door. She slumped her back against it and sighed blissfully. Everything felt perfect. Everything felt just right.
Until she saw her brother leaning by the banister of the staircase, like he'd been there that whole time. His arms were crossed, a scowl pressed on his face. Iris hadn't seen him this pissed since that time she got lost following Noctis and the boys when they snuck out the house as kids. Ok, she was young at the time, and probably deserved the scolding she got. But right now? She didn't understand what this was for.
"You must think I'm an idiot, don't you?"
Her eyes widened. No. There was no way he knew.
"What are you talking about?" she spat, trying her best to stay cool. But judging by the way Gladdy's face hardened, she wasn't sure if it was helping.
"How long has it been going on for, Iris?" he continued, his eyes boring holes into her.
"How long were you giving Iggy lovesick puppy-dog eyes?"
Her jaw slackened. No words came out. She didn't know what to say. What to feel.
"Are you two banging each other?" his voice sharpened.
Something snapped in her.
"That is not your fucking business," she shouted. Iris couldn't believe how much of an insensitive jackass and judgmental jerk he was being. She was ready to throw her bag at him.
"Oh really?" he continued, treading towards her. "So, I'm just supposed to ignore the fact you went to Iggy's house during a thunderstorm to 'cook' and came back with a hickey on your neck?"
Her hand shot up to her neck. Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
"Or, how about that time you two were in Noctis' kitchen for fucking forever, and you came out looking like you got it on? For peet's sake, Iris, I'm not blind."
Her jaw dropped. So, he did know. He knew this whole time! What. The. Hell.
"If you knew about us," she stammered, "What are you so upset about, then?"
"I'm upset you and Iggy said nothing to me!" he roared. He was right in front of her now, his chest heaving, his eyebrows scrunched up. He looked like a bull, ready to charge. Had Dad been home, he would've already showed up and asked why the hell they were shouting in each other's faces. Then, this argument would've landed both her and her brother in deeper shit.
"I wasn't ready to say anything to you!" Iris found herself roaring back. "I wasn't ready for any of this! It just happened."
"How did this happen, Iris?"
Iris couldn't breathe. Not when she was being forced to think back to several weeks ago, when she was crying in the hallways of Insomnia High, trying so hard not to look at Noctis falling in love with someone else. Then Ignis saw her, actually saw her hurt, her pain, and offered his ear – his comfort. From there, she couldn't look at Ignis the same. And maybe, Ignis couldn't see her the same either. She couldn't get her mind off his words, his touch, the sound of his voice. She allowed herself to let go of her inhibitions and explore. Explore what it meant to love. To go beyond a schoolgirl crush.
How was she supposed to explain that to her brother? He only saw her as his baby sister. Her feelings were unimportant to him, weren't they?
Tears started blurring her vision. She'd never felt so attacked. Never felt that she needed to defend or explain her feelings – because why would she? This was her life. These were her feelings. Her decisions.
When her tears slid down her face, her brother's brow rose.
"Did he force you?"
Iris froze.
"Iris," he put his hands on her shoulders.
"Did Iggy force himself on you?"
Iris pushed him back, shocked.
"No! How could you think that?"
"Then why are you crying?" he glared.
"Because you are screaming at me!"
It was the truth. She didn't feel respected. Gladdy only saw what he wanted to see: his poor, young sister, being naively lured by his best friend. This was how little he thought of her and Ignis. This was how he planned to have this conversation.
"You've been nothing but accusatory and rude," she continued. "I chose Ignis, ok? I kissed him. I asked him not to tell you. And I'm crying because you always treat me like I'm some little girl you need to keep protecting. But I'm not! This is my life! These are my decisions. You are not the boss of me."
Gladiolus pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Iris, you're sixteen. I know this is your life, but "
She huffed out a breath.
"You're an asshole, Gladiolus!"
Her brother went stiff. She never called him by his first name. But things had to change if she was going to get any respect.
"Iris!" He bellowed as she stormed up the stairs.
Yeah, he could scream her name all he wanted.
But he'd be no match for her thunder.