chlorhexidine: (Iggy)
[personal profile] chlorhexidine posting in [community profile] fic_ception
Ignis sat on the sofa, double checking a financial report. He'd had a long day, and his eyes were stinging already. Dinner had been a simple affair, made in conjunction with Gladio, a burst of laughter and happiness in an otherwise trying day. Time with Gladio was that, he'd come to realise.

He'd fall asleep with an arm draped over his side, and wake up with his back against Gladio's chest, legs tangled into Gladio's, and the sound of Gladio's breath in his ear. He didn't snore quite as badly if he slept on his side, but he tended to cuddle while he slept and cling when he was disturbed, and occasionally Ignis would be woken in the night by a nose tucking into his hair and a noisy stuttered breath as he was breathed in.

He enjoyed it more than he'd have liked to allow himself. There was a comfort in waking up securely held, and warm, for all that Gladio's hips pressed so close to his own usually made him intimately aware of Gladio's sleeping erection. Ignis had awoken in a similar state himself more than once, Gladio's hand draped over his hip and fingers dangerously close to making things worse.

Ignis had dreamt of those fingers on more nights than he was willing to recount, or Gladio's mouth, and on one occasion, a memory that made Ignis's face burn with mingled pleasure and shame he'd woken from such a dream to find Gladio half on top of him. Ignis's face was twisted into the pillow, Gladio's weight spread across his back, and his hips pressed into Ignis's just so, so Gladio's erection pressed against him, separated by nothing more than two thin stretches of cloth.

It had been tempting, sorely tempting, to reach down and finish what his dream had started right there, with Gladio so close, doing an unconsciously stellar job of playing into Ignis's arousal. Such a thing would not have been right, however, and Ignis had forced himself to slip away, and finished the job in the shower, the memory of how Gladio had felt pressing him into the bed being more than sufficient for it to be a quick job.

Allowing Gladio to share his bed was a trial in many ways, but a pleasure in others, and the more relaxed manner Gladio had carried since Ignis had asked him to make it permanent was worth whatever trials Ignis found it presented him.

His discussion with Prompto still rolled around in his head. Prompto, for all his sweet nature and wide eyed relative innocence, was a highly competent companion. Ignis had seen his scoring; what he lacked in self confidence, he'd made up for in compassion. It was why he'd been chosen for Noct. He was someone Noctis could nurture and care for, and come out of his shell with, and who would have the patience and understanding to let Noctis out of his shell. They were growing together, forming a cohesive partnership, and from the way Prompto spoke, solid bonds of trust and care.

His compassion extended to others, however. It extended to Gladio, and remembering what Prompto had said, his assertion that Gladio found him difficult, that he was unhappy because Ignis daren't let him too close, had left a heavy weight of guilt in Ignis's chest.

Gladio returned from washing the dishes and sat down, next to Ignis but not touching him, and opened his book. If Ignis stayed as he was, he knew, Gladio would eventually creep closer, seeking contact but not wishing to ask, or perhaps wishing to give contact, and knowing better than to offer. Gladio found him hard to read, Prompto had said, but Ignis suspected Gladio read him perfectly well. It would be easier to soothe and care for him if Gladio didn't know how Ignis was feeling most of the time.

Ignis read another few lines of his report, and then glanced at Gladio. He hadn't moved, yet, but it was only a matter of time. Ignis bit his lip, and steeled himself before he shuffled over and rested himself into Gladio's side. Gladio gave a questioning grunt, and looked at him, and Ignis pretended not to notice the confusion shifting slowly into softness, into happiness in Gladio's eyes, and the way his mouth settled from a faint frown into a gentle, warm smile.

“You okay?” Gladio asked, as Ignis turned away to go back to his report.

Ignis looked at the report, but didn't read it. “Just tired,” he answered, quietly, “don't let me stay up too late tonight.”

“I won't,” Gladio replied, and then shifted himself and brought his arm up and around to curl around Ignis's waist, cradling him in the crook of his shoulder. Ignis took a moment, and then relaxed there, bringing his feet up onto the sofa and resting the report against his knees as he went over it. He read like that, with Gladio's arm coiled around him, and his warmth against his back, and pretended not to be aware of how Gladio kept looking at him. He could feel his gaze, checking on him, perhaps making sure he hadn't fallen asleep, or was still comfortable, and he carefully ignored the way Gladio's idle fingers pinched at his shirt.

When he'd finished reading he closed the report, and dropped it onto the coffee table. Gladio looked at him again, but rather than pull away Ignis settled back a little further, tilting his head back to rest against Gladio's shoulder as he closed his eyes. “You should go to bed,” Gladio said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble.

Ignis murmured, because he knew, and he agreed with Gladio, but he said, “Not yet.”

Gladio went quiet, and Ignis half dozed, fingers laced across his stomach just above Gladio's, listening to the occasional shuffle of paper as Gladio turned a page one handed. Then the book closed with the dull thud of paper and leather, and Gladio's body shifted as he leaned to put it carefully on the table.

“I'm not asleep,” Ignis said, his eyes still closed.

Gladio murmured, shifting so that Ignis was lay a little more against his chest than into his shoulder. “Not far off,” Gladio said, his voice a pleasant purr near Ignis's ear. His hand rested on Ignis's shoulder, at the crook of his neck, and began to rub his thumb into the muscle in slow circles.

Ignis kept his eyes closed, but bit the inside of his lip. You've always got someone to hug you, and you're not letting Gladio be that for you. Prompto's words bubbled in his mind again, but he'd heeded the boy's concerns so far today and the happiness on Gladio's face was almost painful to contemplate. Had he really been making him that miserable? “Gladio?” He asked, his stomach in a knot.

Gladio's hand moved immediately, and Ignis could feel his sudden tension, so different from how relaxed he'd been. “Sir?”

Ignis swallowed, his heart thudding in his chest. “Do you need me to move? That might be easier with two hands.”

There was silence and a stillness behind him, and Ignis stared ahead of himself, finding that he was scared of what the answer may be. “Yeah,” Gladio said, after a moment, and there was relief and happiness well hidden in his tone, and Ignis closed his eyes against it. He sat up, crossing his legs, and he felt Gladio shift, sliding one leg down between Ignis and the back of the sofa, and bringing the other around, so that Ignis was sat between his spread thighs. Then he applied his hands, one on each shoulder, with a confidence and a firmness that made Ignis gasp, and then groan, and hang his head forward as warm, large fingers worked at the muscle delightfully.

Gladio gave his own happy murmur at the reaction, and continued to work, moving down from Ignis's neck to the top of his shoulders, and then down his back. The shirt shifted under Gladio's fingers, getting in the way, but he could feel Ignis relaxing under his hands and didn't want to bring that to a sudden stop by asking him to take it off.

Ignis lost track of how long Gladio had been massaging, his mind turning to a pleasantly quiet hum of nothing very much. “You're very good at this,” he said, his voice a sigh as Gladio squeezed and released the muscles at the crook of his neck, easing away aches and tension that Ignis hadn't been aware of possessing.

Then Gladio tugged him back, and against his chest, settling back on the sofa with him to hold Ignis in a cuddle, arms wrapping around his chest and his chin on top of Ignis's head. “Thank you,” Gladio said.

Ignis relaxed against him, and into him, letting Gladio hold him. He'd been missing out on this, he realised, and it wasn't just him that had missed out on it, Gladio had too. He sounded so pleased, and relaxed that Ignis couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at having denied them both this for so long. “I've been making you miserable, haven't I?” He asked, softly, guiltily. His answer was silence, and Gladio pulling his chin off the top of Ignis's head to bring it down to the side instead. “Prompto,” Ignis explained, his voice quiet, “had a word or two on your behalf.”

“Not miserable,” Gladio answered, his arms tightening around Ignis.

“Unhappy then,” Ignis offered. The silence that ensued was all the confirmation he needed. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm just in a difficult position, and it's no excuse for the way I've treated you. I've been telling myself you're a bodyguard, but you're a companion too, and I haven't been treating you like one.”

Gladio exhaled slowly, the air brushing past Ignis's ear. “You need to decide,” he said, his voice low, and careful, “whether I'm a man you can be attracted to, or a pet you can't.”

“You're not a pet,” Ignis said, tension returning to his shoulders, but Gladio didn't release his hold.

“Then trust me to have more choice in my actions than a dog,” Gladio replied, firmly. “Not everything is about training, and conditioned responses,” he said. Ignis felt him shift, and felt Gladio's erection press against his back with the movement of Gladio's hips. “Some things are just about what I want.”

Ignis swallowed, his mouth dry. “I can't,” he croaked.

“We both want it,” Gladio said. “I touch myself to thoughts of you,” he purred, down Ignis's ear, “and I know you run off to the shower in the morning to do the same, but you're so hung up on the idea that I'm a collar that you won't let me touch you. You said I'm more than the collar around my neck to you, but you won't act on it.”

Ignis felt his skin prickle at Gladio's words, and his proximity, and the erection pressing into Ignis's back. His hair stood on end, and it was terrifying, and yet pleasant at the same time. “Gladio,” he said, weakly, “I can't.”

“Why not?” Gladio asked, his arms holding Ignis tightly.

“Because I love you,” Ignis whispered. “And if,” he started, and faltered, closing his eyes tight and forcing himself to start again, “I want nothing more than to be close to you, Gladio, but if I do that, I'm asking for something of you that I don't know if you give. The idea of being close if you're only playing at loving me breaks my heart.”

“What makes you think I'd only be playing at it?” Gladio asked, his arms loosening around Ignis, urging him to sit up, and turn to face Gladio. They sat up together, and Gladio put his hand to Ignis's cheek as he looked at him, and saw the fear and pain in his expression, for all Ignis was trying to hold it back.

“Would you?” Ignis asked.

Gladio studied Ignis's face for a moment. He'd known Prompto had spoken to Ignis, because Prompto had spoken to him as well afterwards. Ignis, Prompto had concluded, had some serious hangups, and mostly they were about the fact that he didn't like the idea of being worked like they'd been trained to, and couldn't tell where their training ended and actual companionship began. Prompto said he'd tried to explain that their feelings were still their feelings, regardless of how they'd got there, but Ignis seemed stuck on the idea that the feelings of a collar were less genuine because they'd been conditioned to have them.

Ignis needed Gladio to respond to him in a way he wasn't trained to do, but that was difficult because Gladio's training was so damned comprehensive. There were very few things it hadn't covered, and shown him how to do, or how to react to the prospect thereof.

There was one thing, however.

Gladio leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ignis's. It was clumsy, and awkward, and Gladio had only heard about the practice. Masters didn't kiss their collars. Collars were never to kiss a master. It was an action for freemen, about compatibility, and affection, and nothing more. Ignis closed his eyes, and then swallowed as Gladio pulled back again.

“You've never done that before, have you?” Ignis asked, faintly, his eyes remaining closed for a moment. When he opened them, he looked at Gladio, his eyes searching his.

“No,” Gladio answered.

Ignis swallowed again, and then asked, “Close your eyes?”

Gladio looked at him for a moment longer, and then did as he was asked. There was nothing, for a while, just the sound of something being set down on the coffee table, and then a hand ran along his jaw, and Ignis's weight shifted, and breath gusted over his lips before something pressed against them.

It was sweet, and warm, and soft. Ignis's lips moved against his own, tenderly, and Gladio felt a stutter in his chest. When that feeling pulled away, ever so slightly, Gladio moved to chase it, not wanting it to end, and then he felt something else, something warm, and firm, and wet tease against his lips, and he realised it was Ignis's tongue.

He opened his mouth slightly, intending to mimic the action, and instead found his tongue meeting Ignis's. The touch was so intimate, so gentle that it burned, and Gladio found it hard to think about anything else. Ignis was a presence over him, lavishing sweet affection on his mouth with soft presses of his lips and tongue that were a thousand times more intimate and penetrating than something as simple as sex, and Gladio wanted nothing more than for this to never stop.

He became desperately aware of his own erection as Ignis's weight pressed down over him, and he wrapped his arms carefully around him, being as gentle as the way Ignis kissed because he didn't want to break this moment. He tugged Ignis' hips closer into his own, and felt Ignis's erection pressing into his own hips with more than a little victorious delight.

Eventually Ignis pulled away, leaning up a little, his hips still pressed against Gladio's. He'd put his glasses on the table, and he wore that slightly unfocussed look Gladio had come to associate with bedtime, because it was the only time he saw him looking like that, but this was a little different because his lips were flushed, and so were his cheeks, and his eyes were dark and shone in the light.

Gladio felt much as Ignis looked. Warm, and vulnerable, and just aroused enough that his groin was making demands, and just comfortable enough that he'd have been happy to ignore that if he could go back to kissing Ignis.

“You said you touched yourself thinking of me,” Ignis said, softly. “Would you show me what you were thinking of doing?”
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September 2017


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