( It's just a first. Maybe that's all it needs to be. Maybe there's no real word for what they were, are, or are becoming. Perhaps all they need to have is this feeling, this spark that lingers there, something indescribable and vibrant. Alive with colour in a world that steadily gets darker and darker.
And in this dark, in the pitch black and silence of the night, all Noctis wants is to be closer, to find the light that they're losing, being denied with each passing day, to clutch it close to his chest and never let go. His fingers find places to rest, the strength to cling and curl and tug him closer with the pieces of clothing he latches onto, the slight emboldening of Prompto's movements, of his lips catching his own opening floodgates, knocking away skittishness and dragging out a sort of clumsy, aching need, his fingertips caught in their own prayer for more, for everything of the other to wrap around him and never let go.
He presses into the kiss a little harder, tongue no longer hesitating, nothing but curiosity in his movements, exploring new land for the first time.
Maybe that's what they are. A first exploration, with all the promise and wonder that comes from a body not your own; anticipation that causes Noctis' hips to rock slightly, has his hands skirting under the hem of Prompto's shirt, to map out all the little things (muscles and skin and bone) that lie there. )
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And in this dark, in the pitch black and silence of the night, all Noctis wants is to be closer, to find the light that they're losing, being denied with each passing day, to clutch it close to his chest and never let go. His fingers find places to rest, the strength to cling and curl and tug him closer with the pieces of clothing he latches onto, the slight emboldening of Prompto's movements, of his lips catching his own opening floodgates, knocking away skittishness and dragging out a sort of clumsy, aching need, his fingertips caught in their own prayer for more, for everything of the other to wrap around him and never let go.
He presses into the kiss a little harder, tongue no longer hesitating, nothing but curiosity in his movements, exploring new land for the first time.
Maybe that's what they are. A first exploration, with all the promise and wonder that comes from a body not your own; anticipation that causes Noctis' hips to rock slightly, has his hands skirting under the hem of Prompto's shirt, to map out all the little things (muscles and skin and bone) that lie there. )