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innoctuousThe first time it happened, he might have tried to let it go — not quite immediately, but eventually, maybe over the next couple of days spent chasing bounties that would keep them both busy, occupied — but such close proximity doesn't exactly allow for blessed silence when there's a constant feedback loop of feeling mixed with responsibility, and he'll never claim to understand it, but he's not exactly in the dark, either.
I want you lingers in the back of his mind like a prayer he hasn't bothered to say, because it might have a chance of falling on deaf ears.
I need you is a damned close second that might actually be tied for first place, but every time he looks at Ignis when that particular thought crosses his mind, the other has conveniently looked in the other direction. Not … out of any disdain for that first kiss, he knows, because they had both been reluctant to pull away even though it was expected of them.
The second time, it had been a bit harder to pull away, to put that distance between them that needed to be there, both mentally and physically, if they were expected to do their jobs properly. There were too damned many menaces out there that needed to be taken care of for them to find themselves slacking, and that kind of distraction was one of the reasons it was forbidden in the first place.
( That damned word, the thing that spurs it on even more, because if there's one damned thing that points him in the direction of the things he isn't supposed to do, it's to tell him that he can't. )
Tomorrow will see the fruits of their labors in tracking one particular bounty that has led them to and fro and back again, and he hadn't realized the sun had set until Ignis had set a hand against his shoulder and suggested that they make camp for the night. There's still a bit of dusty light at the edge of the horizon as he brings their fire to a nice, bright burn and then sets to pitching the small tent meant for one as the older himself prepares their dinner, and Noct. Can't help the way his thoughts wander, to the press of lips and gentle wandering of hands that might end up being broadcasted to the other nearby, and. Damn it.
He's had enough of this.
He's been sat by the fire for long enough that his thoughts have quieted, if only for the sake of not causing too many waves but it all might as well swell back up in a cacophony of him, him, him as he pulls himself back up to his feet and closes the distance between them, both hands fisting in one sleeve of Ignis' jacket and tugging until he's facing him, rising up on the balls of his feet to push into that personal space with a soft sigh that might just drift into a small growl at the tail end. "I can't —" he breathes, harsh and stunted and so very real. "You. You're all I think about." Another measure of silence, and he chances peering upward, blue eyes little more than a ring of color surrounding deep-black pupils.
"I need to kiss you again." Because of course this had been his doing in the first place, of course this had been his fault — but does he look at all sorry about it? Nah.
Sorry has no place here.
I want you lingers in the back of his mind like a prayer he hasn't bothered to say, because it might have a chance of falling on deaf ears.
I need you is a damned close second that might actually be tied for first place, but every time he looks at Ignis when that particular thought crosses his mind, the other has conveniently looked in the other direction. Not … out of any disdain for that first kiss, he knows, because they had both been reluctant to pull away even though it was expected of them.
The second time, it had been a bit harder to pull away, to put that distance between them that needed to be there, both mentally and physically, if they were expected to do their jobs properly. There were too damned many menaces out there that needed to be taken care of for them to find themselves slacking, and that kind of distraction was one of the reasons it was forbidden in the first place.
( That damned word, the thing that spurs it on even more, because if there's one damned thing that points him in the direction of the things he isn't supposed to do, it's to tell him that he can't. )
Tomorrow will see the fruits of their labors in tracking one particular bounty that has led them to and fro and back again, and he hadn't realized the sun had set until Ignis had set a hand against his shoulder and suggested that they make camp for the night. There's still a bit of dusty light at the edge of the horizon as he brings their fire to a nice, bright burn and then sets to pitching the small tent meant for one as the older himself prepares their dinner, and Noct. Can't help the way his thoughts wander, to the press of lips and gentle wandering of hands that might end up being broadcasted to the other nearby, and. Damn it.
He's had enough of this.
He's been sat by the fire for long enough that his thoughts have quieted, if only for the sake of not causing too many waves but it all might as well swell back up in a cacophony of him, him, him as he pulls himself back up to his feet and closes the distance between them, both hands fisting in one sleeve of Ignis' jacket and tugging until he's facing him, rising up on the balls of his feet to push into that personal space with a soft sigh that might just drift into a small growl at the tail end. "I can't —" he breathes, harsh and stunted and so very real. "You. You're all I think about." Another measure of silence, and he chances peering upward, blue eyes little more than a ring of color surrounding deep-black pupils.
"I need to kiss you again." Because of course this had been his doing in the first place, of course this had been his fault — but does he look at all sorry about it? Nah.
Sorry has no place here.
