#arcade learns to be more careful with six. but that learning curve is exacerbated with Vulpes

[archersartcorner]

Vulpes & Six with some Richard Siken quotes. I’m just on a Siken binge atm…..

[praesidioest]

Gladnis Week - Day 4

for @gladnisweek​

Day 4 - Sensory date night for Ignis

Chapters: 4/7 Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, gladnis Additional Tags:  Canon Divergent AU, fluff, domestic, slice of life, domestic angst, jfc can they kiss already (no never), slow burn, iono man Summary:   The worst date of all time turns into a sensory date for Ignis, and more

AO3 link: here!

It never quite sat right with him, the careful, meticulous way that Gladio undressed him. Like a hallowed thing. Like some sacred icon reverently divested of its vestments after a high holy day, after all the world had gone away and relinquished them back to the tedium of the quotidian, to the hands of the acolytes who loved them best. There was nothing inherently untoward about the way Gladio treated him, with a respect and reverence that bordered on sacred sometimes. Ignis knew his intentions. He knew Gladio only wanted to spoil him, as indulgent men are wont to do. But the self-effacing Ignis could never quite resign himself to being the center of attention. It was a demureness of character, a humbleness he saw nothing wrong with, not even when he still flinched under his lover’s careful touches, and therefore made no effort to correct.

It also didn’t help that the frantic susurration of the running water mirrored the usual disorderly unrest he felt at Gladio’s assiduous solicitations, augmenting and exacerbating it with every button unfastened that bared his skin to the heated air.

“Be sure to—” he began, his voice already fraught with nervous energy.

“Place the suitings in the dry cleaning?” Gladio finished, amusement soft in his tone as he bent to remove his dress socks.. “I’ve even folded them, just like you like them.” Ignis noted the shadow that blocked the light and indicated that he’d stood, the scent of Gladio’s cologne as he leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Relax.”

Ignis nodded with a nervous smile. His hands alit on Gladio’s where they rested on his hips, a reflexive response from when he used to stop them there, a long-past nervousness that had abated, to give way to the needfulness with which he touched him now, pressing his broad hands to him. Ignis’ hands slipped up his forearms, over the folded cuff of his sleeves, up the swell of his muscled arms, to finally fasten themselves to the bolster of his shoulders. Gladio took that as some tacit invitation, and kissed him, slowly, deeply, before pulling away with a groan.

“Into the tub,” Gladio instructed, with a swat of his hand at Ignis’s behind, his hand already grasping his to offer his support as he stepped within. The water was a little more hot than he’d liked (Gladio did prefer scalding ablutions), but it proved soothing soon enough as he sank down into the lissome salt soak, and settled himself within the welcoming warmth of it. The chill from the ocean air driven out with the permeating heat, scented with citrus and vetiver and a hint of green tea. His signature scent. Clean and crisp and a little earthy. Comforting.

He heard the little musical plop of another bath melt added to the water, then the soft splash of the loofah that followed after. Gladio’s hand dipped beyond the surface of the water to retrieve his, immediately setting to massaging the palm of his hands, his fingers. “You ever been on a date that bad before?” Gladio asked conversationally, almost HAPPILY, as though the earlier debacle had nothing to do with him. His hands moved to Ignis’s wrist, thumb worrying circles up his forearm, massaging him further.

Ignis gave a light, sardonic laugh as his answer. “You know I don’t date,” he pointed out I’ve been on two dates in my life prior to this, and one was with you to the arcade when we were sixteen. Do you remember? Actually, who can call that a proper date? You told me to meet you at the arcade after my duties were done, let me play one claw game before you cornered me and very gravely informed me that you liked me.” He shook his head with a soft laugh at the memory. “I thought you were making fun of me.”

There was a contemplative moment of silence, and he he felt Gladio lift his hand and kiss his knuckles, then turn it to kiss inside his palm. “I meant it,” he said softly. “I always did.”

Ignis reached over to press that same hand to cup his cheek. “I know you did.”

And then the inevitable. “Who was the other date?” Gladio asked, a little accusatory. As accusatory as Gladio could ever be with him.

“Are you going to stay out there?” Ignis asked with an exasperated sigh, redirecting the conversation. “Or are you going to join me?”

“I’m spoiling you,” Gladio insisted petulantly.

Ignis laughed, tipped forward to kiss his stubbled cheek. “Come inside. I’m lonely without you.”

Gladio gave a little groan, through which he muttered a rueful, “Unfair!” Ignis felt him move away, the rustle of clothes as he undressed, the revelation of light as he moved to the side of the tub, to climb in behind him.

“I like this better,” Ignis said gently, shifting carefully until he fit neatly against Gladio’s chest. Those familiar, thick arms wound around his shoulders, and Ignis turned his head to kiss again at the point of Gladio’s jaw. “Don’t you like this better?”

“So who was the other guy?” Gladio asked breezily, in spite of the dogged determination Ignis knew creased his brow.

“This again?” Ignis sank back down, slumping into the water.

“I’m curious.”

“You’re jealous.”

“That, too.”

“Very well,” Ignis sighed, tipping his head back to rest in the curve of his shoulder, an indulgence that Gladio had no right to at the moment, but Ignis very much wanted. “He was a boy who used to deliver pastries to the Citadel. At first it was only for special occasions. But the king took a liking to them. Or rather, Noctis did, and Regis asked for a regular quotidian delivery for breakfast. So he came by rather often. Often enough that I felt comfortable to ask if he had any practical advice to give me regarding viennoisserie. He was kind enough to invite me to his bakery after hours and show me his particular technique for mille-feuille. Once, he invited me for hot chocolate and the croissants that hadn’t sold from that morning. And he kissed me.”

“Did you kiss him back?” The petulance in Gladio’s voice had not ebbed in the least.

“A little,” Ignis admitted thoughtfully, recalling the memory with a slight but distinct softness to his words. Like nostalgia. He caught himself, and reached back to cup Gladio’s cheek in his hand again, drawing him close to rest his temple against the corner of his frowning mouth. “It was nothing, Gladio. I never saw him again.”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t have gone on a proper date with me,” Gladio groused. “It’s not like I never asked you. A thousand times in a hundred different ways.”

Ignis sighed lightly. “You know why. I couldn’t afford the distraction. Neither of us needed it. And I knew, I knew that I would have loved you too much, and too well.”

“Is that supposed to be some sort of consolation?” Gladio asked, behind the shell of his ear, and Ignis could already hear the budding abatement in his voice.

“No,” Ignis said, turning to kiss him sweetly, methodically, until the twist of his lips had relaxed to something that resembled a half smile against his. “But this is.”

Gladio laughed, amused at how well Ignis had learned to use his affections against him. “Alright,” he conceded, patting his slender thigh in the water. “You win. I’m mollified.” He kissed him once more. “Shampoo? Before the water starts getting too cool?”

Ignis nodded, righting himself as Gladio poured the gel into his hands and worked it nicely into a lather against his scalp. “This is like when we were kids, right when you first came to Insomnia, and you’d come over my house for sleepovers. Against your will, but the king had insisted, since we were so close in age, and would be working together. I really looked forward to playing with you, and you couldn’t be bothered with me. Not even bathing together. You’d never let me shampoo you.”

“I liked to do it myself,” Ignis recalled simply, pushing his head back into Gladio’s careful hands.

“You hated being touched,” Gladio corrected with a little laugh. “Serious little thing you were.”

“That was true, but only partly,” Ignis admitted.

“I was always real disappointed,” Gladio confided, still working his hair assiduously. “It was supposed to be bonding time, you know? Kids in the bath. And you always kept me at arm’s length. Probably didn’t help I had a crush on you, even then. I didn’t take it well.”

Ignis laughed delightedly. “Even then?”

“Mmhmm,” came Gladio’s wordless answer. “I remember being in school and being real upset one of those silly fortune telling games didn’t say I was going to marry you.”

“When you were six, Gladio!” Ignis laughed incredulously.

“Oh yeah,” Gladio assured him. “I was convinced. Convinced. Pointed a chubby finger at you across the way and said ‘SAVE THE DATE.’ It was madness.” He looked at his hands. “I’m starting to get pruny here. Should we rinse off?”

Ignis agreed, letting Gladio pull him carefully to his feet, and continue scrubbing at him with a dutiful diligence, from his fingers down to his toes. Ignis waited within the hot spray as Gladio did the same to himself, all the while recalling the sundry ways he used to try and court Ignis from the time they were children until really, that very moment.

Towel dried and lotioned (again, by Gladio’s industrious hands), he let himself be gathered up in Gladio’s arms, held fast to his chest by an arm around his waist as his own arms circled his thick neck. Gladio walked them back to his room, cradling Ignis’s head as he laid him down in his bed, which smelled distinctly of his own scent: sharp, clean marine notes softened by bergamot and bolstered with a hint of jasmine. It was an idle thought as Gladio’s weight settled between his thighs, upon his chest, as he immediately set upon kissing him again.

It was almost too much all at once: Gladio wearing his scent on his skin, transformed into something distinctly sublime mingled with the earthiness of his own bouquet, the touch of his rough hands impossibly gentle as they ran up his sides and down, pinning his hips to the mattress, the taste of wine on still sweet his breath as he kissed him with a propriety he could succumb to over and again.

“Wait,” Ignis whispered, breaking away from his kiss.

“Too much?” Gladio asked, immediately backing off, though his hand remained at his waist, thumbing circles against the jut of his hip bone. “We don’t have to tonight. You know I don’t mind.”

“No, it’s not that,” Ignis assured him with a small smile, his fingers toying at the soft hairs at the nap of Gladio’s neck. “I only need a moment. I get overwhelmed sometimes. The scent of you, the weight of you, the taste of your lips, the way you touch me .... In tandem, it’s—”

“I’m an assault on the senses, it’s true,” Gladio joked, pressing his mouth to the hollow of Ignis’s cheek and breathing in.

“What sound will you make for me, then?” Ignis asked, his teeth catching at the soft skin beneath the hard line of his jaw, his fingertips slipping down the slope of his spine, pressed to the small of his back to anchor him fast. “Complete my devastation here.”

Gladio laughed, burying the sound in the curve of Ignis’ neck. He dislodged himself just enough to kiss an exploratory line up his neck, to the juncture of his jaw, where the tip of his nose nuzzled just at the soft skin behind the bell of his ear. “How about this?” he mused through a protracted sigh. “Marry me, Ignis.”