noctisms
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Summary
Prompto's fingers are long and graceful as they slide gently into Noctis' hair. It takes everything in him not to gasp at the sensation as shivers run down his spine because Prompto's touch is agonizingly gentle as he collects the stray locks that loom over the king's face and clips them neatly back into his hair behind his ear. The contact sends a jolt of pure electricity straight through Noctis' nervous system and down towards his cock.
No, he's not proud of it.
Again, thank the gods he's wearing dark jeans.
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It turns out that even kings need their ID cards renewed. Good thing a photographer downtown is fully willing to help (in more ways than one). -
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Summary
It’s the way he would catch the prince off guard, at random moments throughout the day- lingering fingers along his arm, pulling him to a magnetic distance when Gladio and Ignis walked further off. How Noctis could practically hear the grin curve onto his lips as they rested right below his ear.
“We should take another drive tonight, just you and me.”
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Inspiration from Risingson by Massive Attack.
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Summary
“I like the way you touch them,” Noctis mumbles.
“Lamps?”
“Prompto,” Noctis says, making a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh. “The guns.” He puts a hand over his face. “I like the way you handle them. Okay?”
“Huh,” says Prompto, and then, “huh.”
(In which Noctis has a thing for Prompto handling his guns. He hopes Prompto doesn't notice.
Prompto notices. And he is into it. )