( what must it feel like, he catches himself wondering sometimes, to not only be destined to walk a certain path, but to have everything along that path written in stone before you're even old enough to understand what's going on? he knows that, from a very young age, noctis had been aware of what awaits him once he comes of age, both as a king and husband to the oracle.
… luna.
there's the smallest pang of guilt that seeps into him at the thought of her, though by all rights, she shouldn't have a place in his head with the other's lips working against his own as they are – but it's just that, because he's betrothed, because he's meant for someone else, and even if there's ample time before it all comes to fruition, it won't change the fact that he won't be able to keep him.
( like he ever would have been allowed to, in the first place. )
but he's nothing if not an opportunist, seeking out the proverbial door that opens when another closes and the like, and it's without a single thought to anything else that he brings both of his hands up to rest on slender shoulders, fingers curling lightly against muscle and bone, the pad of his thumb just close enough to the collar of noctis' shirt to brush over the warm skin of his throat. ( and he's always been that, whether he chooses to believe it or not, the sort of warmth that attracted him like the moth to a flame, the sort of person that prompto has always wanted next to him, come what may. )
he shifts, just a little, the muscle beneath the other's hand tightening with the movement as he presses in the slightest bit closer, a soft, wanting little noise escaping him, belying anything that he might be trying to keep from himself –
but mostly, the fact that he's caught himself wanting this before now, and that's something that he isn't going to be able to ignore anymore. )
no subject
… luna.
there's the smallest pang of guilt that seeps into him at the thought of her, though by all rights, she shouldn't have a place in his head with the other's lips working against his own as they are – but it's just that, because he's betrothed, because he's meant for someone else, and even if there's ample time before it all comes to fruition, it won't change the fact that he won't be able to keep him.
( like he ever would have been allowed to, in the first place. )
but he's nothing if not an opportunist, seeking out the proverbial door that opens when another closes and the like, and it's without a single thought to anything else that he brings both of his hands up to rest on slender shoulders, fingers curling lightly against muscle and bone, the pad of his thumb just close enough to the collar of noctis' shirt to brush over the warm skin of his throat. ( and he's always been that, whether he chooses to believe it or not, the sort of warmth that attracted him like the moth to a flame, the sort of person that prompto has always wanted next to him, come what may. )
he shifts, just a little, the muscle beneath the other's hand tightening with the movement as he presses in the slightest bit closer, a soft, wanting little noise escaping him, belying anything that he might be trying to keep from himself –
but mostly, the fact that he's caught himself wanting this before now, and that's something that he isn't going to be able to ignore anymore. )