[ awful, that Clive can't say with any certainty that Prompto doesn't need to worry, that more can be spaced out, that they'll have time to know and see and touch each other in the future. the lack of certainty means that all Clive can guarantee is the sureness of the present and the reassurance that Prompto is being heard now, when all of their needs are desperate and immediate.
so. teeth sink into pale, freckled skin. one mark blooms over Prompto's jugular, slightly more aggressive than Clive usually allows of himself; another sits pretty where neck meets shoulder, followed by another on the crest of a well-shaped collarbone. proof that Prompto was wanted, is wanted.
more looks and sounds and feels like the heat of Clive's erection sliding and grinding against Prompto's, slick with pre and need. the cheap motel mattress creaks in time to Clive's ragged panting; he has one hand gripped over the edge of the bed's headboard, keeping him braced while he thrusts up and along their tightly pressed-together hips, as powerful as the bulk of his body suggests he would be. careful but relentless, spurred on by the hitching and hiking of Prompto's voice. ]
[ clive bites him, and the world spins so far out of control that prompto can barely breathe. he's lost in the feel of it, a desire that burns down to its most simple format: move and give and take. nothing else matters but that. but them. the sound that leaves him is a throaty whine, one he'll be embarrassed about later if anyone asks about it, and prompto's holding onto him now, the hand at his hip squeezing tightly at the back of clive's thigh. ]
Yeah. [ it's followed by the softest moan, the hand between them feeling just how wet the two of them are before prompto lets it fall to the side to fist at the sheets. ] Yeah, it's so... [ hot hot hot ] If you keep doing that, I'm gonna, [ he swallows, nudging clive close to press an open-mouthed kiss to his lips, ] I'm gonna come.
[ the goal, probably, but there's so much more he wants to experience. wants to feel. all clive has to do is stay right where he is, real enough between prompto's legs and wedged deep in the crevices of his heart. ]
[ too fast, too under-negotiated, too unprepared－ but perfect, nevertheless. as far as their first time together goes, rutting like teenagers in a cheap motel room isn't the most romantic, but Clive isn't thinking about where or when or whys. he's thinking about Prompto, about how he feels and how he sounds and how he tastes, about the friction of his hand and the absence of it when Prompto relents to being gripped by the waist and shaken, about spread knees and slick heat and wanting to come. ]
Come for me, [ he kisses against Prompto's jaw. ] ―I won't be far behind.
[ the hand holding the headboard slides down, rests on top of Prompto's, and splays his fingers out of rumpled sheets; they hold hands like that, with Clive bucking up against him, close and closer, kissing affirmations against Prompto's lips. like that, and you're perfect.
(poor Prompto's upper body looks like a botched game of Minesweeper: dots of red all over him, in Clive's shape.) ]
[ he listens to Clive and really only understands the sentiment. that it's fine, that it's okay. prompto tries to hold out a little longer regardless, sucking in breath after breath as if he's just run a marathon, but it's the sweetness of his kisses and how clive holds onto him that unravels him.
his orgasm is sharp, the soft cry of clive's name punctuating his release as his knees dig into his sides and his entire body bows into him. seeking a little more friction and then stuttering as it all slams into him. prompto sinks into the mattress, comfortably pinned between it and clive's weight, and the hand digging into his thigh slides between them, seeking out clive's cock to touch him where he can and however he can. ]
Come on, [ he urges softly, already beginning to feel absolutely boneless. ] Wanna feel you —
[ the last few bucks and grinds are a maelstrom: synesthetic, almost. Prompto hits his peak, and the warmth of his come against his cock melds with the sweetness of his voice calling Clive's name, and everything else is hands and sweat and pure, unthinking need. the friction is perfect, the heat of Prompto's breath coaxing him to his own orgasm is perfect, and everything else stops mattering.
Clive comes like that, his breath held on the tail end of a strained moan that turns into Prompto's name halfway through. he pulses in Prompto's grip, letting him feel exactly how he unravels; in a few seconds, once he starts to regain his ability to think, he'll be a bit embarrassed at how much of a mess he's made on Prompto's pretty hand.
until then: this. reciprocal bonelessness, and a gentle kiss to punctuate the last of his shuddering aftershocks. Clive inhales through his nose, then smiles. ]
...How did I measure against your imagination?
[ affectionately. he kisses Prompto again, then rolls them both onto their sides. ]
[ he's barely present in his body to recall all those important details. clive's face and how everything feels, humming some thoughtless noise as he registers the sound of his voice and the question. but he kisses him first, indulging in the fact that he can. he's allowed that, at the very least. ]
Better. [ the word's a bit of a slur, drunk on the high of his orgasm and clive's proximity. ] So much better. [ with the hand that had gripped tight to clive's, prompto rests his fingers against his chest and traces the shape of a collarbone. watches the steady beat of his pulse like he's suddenly too shy to look him in the eye. ] I, um. I like when you kiss me though.
[ because he's got a nice mouth. a really sexy mouth. a mouth that's bruised some of his skin, which prompto will admire later when he's alone and wonder if he'd ever be so bold to return the gesture. ]
[ the afterglow settles over him like a warm, heavy blanket, and Clive yields to it with resigned contentment (his hypervigilance will be back later, maybe in the morning). he likes the way Prompto fits against him, smaller and thinner and easy to hold, and he keeps one arm looped around him while the other lifts to comb fingers through blond hair again, adjusting sweat-mussed strands back into place.
gently fussing. Clive will be Clive. the smile stays, and spreads when he's told that his mouth finally has a use for something. ]
How fortunate for me. [ sincerely, as he presses their lips together briefly again, warm breath to warm breath. Clive has licked into Prompto's mouth enough by now that he no longer tastes like residual mint, but that, too, makes Clive feel a strange sense of satisfaction. ] You're perfect to kiss.
[ a quick bump of forehead to forehead. ]
...I'll bring us something to wipe ourselves off with. [ an offer, and a disclaimer: ] ―Not because I want to leave, mind.
[ the way clive takes care with him is almost odd—not because of clive himself but because prompto's not so used to it. he's usually the one fussing, the one watching out for everyone else. his desire to be needed and useful outweighs his own comfort, so it's difficult for him to relax into the idea of it. difficult until clive's affection drowns out the buzzing in the back of his head.
he huffs out a sound, light and amused. ]
I figured since you said you planned to stay. [ a light tease, nudging his nose against clive's before there's distance between them. ] Pretty sure there are towels in the bathroom. If you wanna check there first.
[ since he hadn't gotten around to really showering, having planned to do it first thing after a run.
and once clive does finally separate from him, prompto's sitting up to shift to the edge of the bed in an attempt to save the sheets from getting dirtied further. his hand's a little sticky now, but he's also absently searching for his phone, intent on documenting the mouth-shaped bruises for later inspection. (and also to send to clive at a later date. for fun.) ]
[ agonizing, to peel himself away from Prompto, but Clive manages. vertical again, he makes his way to the bathroom and instinctively summons a mote of fire instead of turning the lights on; Clive is still getting used to the convenience of electricity and convenience. no need to use magic to conjure water or to find a river to dip in－ this world continues to fascinate him every day.
one damp towel, one clean towel. Clive quickly cleans himself off before returning to Prompto with goods in hand, still naked with no real semblance of shame. he quirks a brow when he catches Prompto fiddling with his phone, and slides back next to him on the bed. ]
You'll ruin the gadget, [ he laughs, taking Prompto's sticky hand to clean off. ] ...Something urgent?
[ politely not looking at the contents on the screen. (post-sex selfies would absolutely ruin Clive if they ever hit his inbox.) ]
[ prompto's own modesty will return at some point, but he's already focused on trying to edit some of the pics he's taken. the lighting isn't great, so he'll have to do it in the bathroom later. much later. because he's staring at clive now and blushing ever so slightly.
there's a quick shake of his head. ]
Just saving some stuff for later. [ with his hand clean and his phone tossed to the opposite side of the bed, prompto leans closer to clive. ] You know, [ he adds with a little smile, ] you could've just turned the light on. Like, that's what it's there for.
[ he very much understands that clive isn't used to modern conveniences, but it's cute to see him still choosing what he knows over anything else. there's also a joke in there somewhere too, though prompto's much more interested in taking in what he can see of clive now that his attention isn't diverting to thoughts of naked bodies and touching and kissing.
he bites at his lower lip. ] I wanna photograph you some time. Not now 'cuz this is nice, but maybe later?
[ the wet towel grazes over Prompto's stomach this time, cleaning off what Clive knows is their combined come (which makes him feel warm all over again, as he replays that perfect moment in his mind). it travels up to Prompto's chest, where Clive is forced to contend with all the lovebites he's left scattered like freckles around Prompto's neck, his shoulders.
he clears his throat, somewhat sheepish, then dries everything off one last time before setting the towels aside. ]
In the nude? [ is a little playful, regarding the photographs. ] If so, I'd rather you keep them to yourself after they're taken.
[ who the fuck would Prompto even show them to????? but no, that's just a joke, so he appends: ] You can take whatever of me you want, Prompto.
Yeah, naked. [ which is followed by the smallest laugh. ] They're just gonna be for me anyway.
[ as if he'd send random nudes of clive to someone, even if he wanted to show him off. they're private, and that's how he likes it—much the same as the ones he's already taken of himself in the past and hidden away in a folder on his phone. for now, he's content, and he shows it by taking clive by the hand to tug him closer.
still somewhat bashful though, even as he presses a kiss to his mouth. ]
Thanks. [ he's talking about the pics. ] You wanna try to sleep?
[ not that he's all that tired, but that's a moot issue when he'll eventually grow drowsy enough with clive so close next to him. give his brain a chance to settle after everything. ]
[ Clive is a big, solid wall of hard-earned muscle, but he easily acquiesces to the tugging. his balance tilts, shifts, and he eventually takes the initiative to circle Prompto with his arms, pulling him into an embrace that persists even after he falls backward onto the ruin they've made of Prompto's sheets.
he hopes that the answer to "did you have a good night" is "yes", now. a lightness of being that Prompto deserves. it would be nice if he could stay to save whatever part of this world needs saving, if only to make sure that Prompto can be happy in it.
maybe a little too heavy to say out loud. a nod, and Clive kisses Prompto's temple, and settles them both against slightly-saggy pillows. ]
...A sound idea. It's been a long day. [ soft, warm. ] Rest well, Prompto.
[ if asked again, his answer would be 'yes'. of course it would. there's still plenty to navigate now, wondering if it's even worth the heartbreak of getting attached (too late anyhow but in hindsight, maybe). clive could disappear just as quickly as he'd arrived, and that's a thought that prompto will slowly fall asleep with, tucked against clive's solid, warm outline. but this? having such companionship on the road? this is nice.
so, he isn't going to think about it. not until he has to, not until it happens. ]
G'night, Clive. [ a mumble, comfortable enough now that closing his eyes is easier.
but even in sleep, it continues to loom over him like an angry shadow, and he wakes from some fitful dream where daemons crawl through the darkness and he's swallowed by the mechanical whir of MTs dragging him towards their open mouths. he's sweating, he realizes. the motel room is kind of muggy, and he's plastered to clive's side, one leg having been thrown over his.
ugh. the slightest wince, and prompto begins the arduous task of trying to pull himself away without waking him up. maybe to shower, maybe to dress and just breathe in cooler air before dawn. ]
[ (un?)fortunately, Clive is a light sleeper: both out of necessity, and due to circumstance. ten years as an older brother with an ill sibling who occasionally snuck into his room to share beds; thirteen years subsequent as a slave living day to day in profoundly unsafe barracks rife with violence and abuse.
he feels Prompto squirm and clutch at him, and so― he doesn't sleep, mostly. he drifts in and out of half-consciousness, breaking the lulls between what he gleans are poor dreams to stroke Prompto's hair, to stay close. it's only when the barest promises of morning filter through the thin curtains of their motel window that he thinks to close his eyes, and it's only a short amount of time after that that he feels the sweat-drenched body pressed to him start to stir.
historically, the best thing to do for someone who's had a bad night's rest is to not pummel them first thing in the morning about it. he waits until he's sure that Prompto is actually awake to crack his eyes open, though the gesture is perhaps a bit too purposeful to be natural, and his focus immediately after opening his eyes is far too sharp.
(anyone who has known Clive for more than a hot second will say that Clive is, in fact, a terrible liar.) ]
[ he's not paying so much attention to clive's face as he is the way he breathes, in the process of attempting a roll when his voice strikes through the quiet. ]
Oh. [ it has the same weight as a curse. ] Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. I was just, uh... [ prompto deflates almost immediately. ] I was thinkin' about getting some air. Or grabbing a shower.
[ he's already running through the mental gambit of things to say, the peace his mind had found those precious moments the night before having disappeared. but he tries his best to remain still now, disliking the tacky sensation of skin against skin where they continue to touch. it can't be comfortable for clive either, though prompto doesn't point it out. instead, he offers him a soft half-smile. ]
I can do that, and you can sleep some more. We don't have to be out of here for a while yet anyway.
[ his focus becomes hawklike for a fraction of a second. appraising, assessing. the moment lingers like a held breath, then dissipates; Clive settles back onto Prompto's pillows, and closes his eyes.
he won't smother. they've slept together once, but that doesn't entitle Clive to Prompto's feelings, or the things that he isn't yet ready to divulge. without an invitation, Clive won't push to bridge the space that Prompto clearly needs. ]
Alright.
[ blankets draw over his chest; he remembers that he's still naked, and he should probably be a bit more modest about it now. his phone lies discarded on the floor on top of his shed clothes, set to ring if it receives a notification. (he doesn't get any: only Prompto has his number.) ]
[ he can sense there's something unspoken between them now, hovering for a moment or two longer before slowly (and finally) drawing away. prompto nods and then murmurs agreement, something soft that he's certain clive would hear despite that fact.
and once he's free, he only lingers a second or two on the edge of the bed – watching clive and putting everything to memory – before gathering some of his things from a partially opened bag on a nearby chair and fleeing quietly to the bathroom. the shower doesn't help calm his nerves, though he stands under the water for far longer than necessary as he tries to force his thoughts outside his body. far away from the still lingering pleasantness of the night before.
he should probably make up for all the awkwardness, set on that as he dresses and feeling a little more like himself. prompto stares at the bite marks in the dingy mirror for a second or two before asserting himself and the decision he's made.
carefully, he sits in the space between clive and the side of the mattress, leaning over him. ] Good morning, by the way. [ his smile is brighter, less troubled. ] Forgot to say it back.
[ while Prompto showers, Clive does some soul-searching. about this world and his place in it, what fate has deemed necessary for him to do here, how he can spend his time until he has no more of it left. he thinks about his fortuitous encounter with Prompto, and whether he could have (or should have) done anything differently the night prior.
only the last of those musings have a concrete answer: he wouldn't have. at some point, he gives up keeping his eyes closed and reaches for his phone to pull up the camera roll, and smiles at his three-pic gallery. two blurry blond blobs, followed by one perfectly lined-up shot of a beautiful young man and his well-practiced smile.
the same smile beams down at him a few minutes later, after Clive has set his device down and started playing one-man I Spy with the ceiling. ]
I got ahead of myself. It's barely morning.
[ a light quirk of his lips, though his gaze remains somewhat appraising. ] I'll be out of your hair if you want your room back.
[ not begrudging in the least, though his expression sort of falters for a moment at clive's suggestion of leaving. despite his normal response to allow it to happen, to let Clive do whatever he wants to do, prompto quickly shakes his head and bridges that gap to head off whatever miscommunication might come from this. so, playfully, he maneuvers over clive and settles atop his thighs, the blanket and prompto's pants the only thing separating them.
he rests his hands against clive's chest. ]
You'll have to take me with you if you wanna go anywhere. [ it's a tease, of course, but he decides that, since he's already come this far, he might as well go the distance.
so, prompto dips down and kisses clive with a warmth that reflects exactly how he feels: happy, content, and wanting more of this thing between them. ]
[ and oh, Prompto is playing with literal fire. "you'll have to take me with you" takes on added meaning when Clive holds it up to the things he was contemplating before, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint he has not to say "to Valisthea, then", even as a joke. he would sooner cut his own hands off before he hurts Prompto in that way.
the added weight on his body feels achingly good. so does the kiss, which he tips into and reciprocates, palm to Prompto's thigh. attached already, despite all the ways in which others might tell him (rightfully so) that it's ill-advised. ]
...I left my sword in my room, [ is a light joke, once their mouths part. ] But I suppose I can do without it for the morning.
[ says the man who can animorph into a giant hellbeast if he really had to. they're very safe. he thumbs along the crest of Prompto's knee, then dips down to kiss at one of the marks he'd left on Prompto's jaw only hours ago. ]
[ at first glance, he might never have associated 'cute' with clive. but there are moments like this, where he's so relaxed and sweet, that prompto can't help thinking he's the very definition of the word. anyone would be lucky to have him as a companion and as a partner, as a lover, and that creates a warm flush all the way through him that has nothing to do with the residual heat of the shower he's just taken. maybe they'd talk about it some day. if he managed the courage before it was too late.
quietly, prompto snickers in response and then leans into the press of clive's mouth, eyes slowly sliding closed. ]
Not a bad way to remember last night, [ he hums, not at all looking for an apology. ] I kinda liked it anyway.
[ that mix of pain and pleasure, the care that clive had shown him. had it not already been too late, prompto would have handed him his heart right then and there without any strings attached. but he has to tiptoe around those words, the ones right at the tip of his tongue that almost tumble free: how i like you. how he likes him so much that he'd willingly follow him anywhere.
prompto flattens himself against clive, mostly so he can reach him easier and kiss the corner of his mouth. ] We're still a few days from Lestallum, so... they'll probably fade a lot before then.
[ there's something disarming about how honest Prompto is about liking things. Clive's life in Valisthea had been so colored by people safeguarding their needs and wants to prevent them from being taken away; there'd been so much dearth and death that there was a pervasive sense of guilt in experiencing happiness.
Prompto is different. he smiles, and the world is a little brighter for it. he laughs, and gravity seems to reverse. something precious, to be preserved and protected― Clive finds that he would do most anything to make sure that Prompto is at ease.
arms wind around Prompto's shoulders, keeping him in place while they kiss, one hand at his nape. after their lips part, Clive slides his mouth to a well-shaped ear, and nips at the soft skin of Prompto's earlobe. he stays there as he responds. ]
Will I have no other opportunities to make more, before we arrive at our destination?
[ low, and with clear intent that he also wants this to continue for however long he's permitted. at the very least, he thinks he'd like for them both to enter Lestallum with Prompto bearing at least a mark or two, so that everyone they encounter knows that they're not just a young man and his bodyguard, or a mercenary and his guide: he'd like for them to think that Prompto has been held and loved. ]
[ clive asks, and prompto knows the answer before it even registers as something tangible to say. especially when he's sinking into the weight of clive's embrace, mouth parting softly in an attempt to hide the shiver that's slowly working its way down his spine. their attraction to one another feels magnetic now, like he could find him any place and at any time without so much as a hint of where he might be.
he exhales, the sensitivity of his lobe being bitten doing things to him that make his skinny jeans suddenly somewhat uncomfortable. ]
You can make as many as you want. [ admitting it is easy when he doesn't have to look him in the eye as he says it. ] I want to have all of you. [ a pause, and he backtracks, blushing hard at the way that sounds. ] Is that weird? I don't know why it came out like that.
[ just kill him now and make it quick. ]
But I mean it, so... Guess what I mean is — I want to know all of you. [ as if that sounds any better. ]
[ Prompto's blush travels all the way to his ear. Clive can taste that flush against his mouth, and he chuckles about it; chuckles a little about the fumbling, too, though not unkindly. it's as cute as everything else about Prompto, and he rewards it with a light nip to cartilage.
he gets the message, loud and clear. sometimes Clive can be slow on the uptake (clearly), but he has a feeling he's not misinterpreting this one. ]
You're fine, [ he assures. not weird in the least, or weird in similarly-weird company. if anything, Clive is the one who insinuated himself into Prompto's space by assuming a lot about his mental state from a simple "yes and no"― someone less inclined to be kind the way Prompto is might have taken the ill-concealed concern as patronization. Clive loves that a little about Prompto, too: that he truly believes in the goodness of Clive's intentions.
even like this, pressed together and trading early-morning kisses. so trusting. let no one ever take advantage of Prompto's heart, Clive thinks. ]
We're aligned, on that front. I'd like all of you. [ tracing Prompto's spine with an index and middle, just for the sake of feeling him. ] Including the things you're reluctant to speak of.
[ only the barest allusion to the possible nightmares; Prompto can interpret this however he wants, because the sentiment is the same: you're lovely, including the parts of you that you think might not be. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tfln; burstmodes. (nsfw!)
[ awful, that Clive can't say with any certainty that Prompto doesn't need to worry, that more can be spaced out, that they'll have time to know and see and touch each other in the future. the lack of certainty means that all Clive can guarantee is the sureness of the present and the reassurance that Prompto is being heard now, when all of their needs are desperate and immediate.
so. teeth sink into pale, freckled skin. one mark blooms over Prompto's jugular, slightly more aggressive than Clive usually allows of himself; another sits pretty where neck meets shoulder, followed by another on the crest of a well-shaped collarbone. proof that Prompto was wanted, is wanted.
more looks and sounds and feels like the heat of Clive's erection sliding and grinding against Prompto's, slick with pre and need. the cheap motel mattress creaks in time to Clive's ragged panting; he has one hand gripped over the edge of the bed's headboard, keeping him braced while he thrusts up and along their tightly pressed-together hips, as powerful as the bulk of his body suggests he would be. careful but relentless, spurred on by the hitching and hiking of Prompto's voice. ]
Prompto, [ he huffs. ] Does it feel good?
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Yeah. [ it's followed by the softest moan, the hand between them feeling just how wet the two of them are before prompto lets it fall to the side to fist at the sheets. ] Yeah, it's so... [ hot hot hot ] If you keep doing that, I'm gonna, [ he swallows, nudging clive close to press an open-mouthed kiss to his lips, ] I'm gonna come.
[ the goal, probably, but there's so much more he wants to experience. wants to feel. all clive has to do is stay right where he is, real enough between prompto's legs and wedged deep in the crevices of his heart. ]
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Come for me, [ he kisses against Prompto's jaw. ] ―I won't be far behind.
[ the hand holding the headboard slides down, rests on top of Prompto's, and splays his fingers out of rumpled sheets; they hold hands like that, with Clive bucking up against him, close and closer, kissing affirmations against Prompto's lips. like that, and you're perfect.
(poor Prompto's upper body looks like a botched game of Minesweeper: dots of red all over him, in Clive's shape.) ]
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his orgasm is sharp, the soft cry of clive's name punctuating his release as his knees dig into his sides and his entire body bows into him. seeking a little more friction and then stuttering as it all slams into him. prompto sinks into the mattress, comfortably pinned between it and clive's weight, and the hand digging into his thigh slides between them, seeking out clive's cock to touch him where he can and however he can. ]
Come on, [ he urges softly, already beginning to feel absolutely boneless. ] Wanna feel you —
[ and hopes that'll be enough the first time. ]
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Clive comes like that, his breath held on the tail end of a strained moan that turns into Prompto's name halfway through. he pulses in Prompto's grip, letting him feel exactly how he unravels; in a few seconds, once he starts to regain his ability to think, he'll be a bit embarrassed at how much of a mess he's made on Prompto's pretty hand.
until then: this. reciprocal bonelessness, and a gentle kiss to punctuate the last of his shuddering aftershocks. Clive inhales through his nose, then smiles. ]
...How did I measure against your imagination?
[ affectionately. he kisses Prompto again, then rolls them both onto their sides. ]
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Better. [ the word's a bit of a slur, drunk on the high of his orgasm and clive's proximity. ] So much better. [ with the hand that had gripped tight to clive's, prompto rests his fingers against his chest and traces the shape of a collarbone. watches the steady beat of his pulse like he's suddenly too shy to look him in the eye. ] I, um. I like when you kiss me though.
[ because he's got a nice mouth. a really sexy mouth. a mouth that's bruised some of his skin, which prompto will admire later when he's alone and wonder if he'd ever be so bold to return the gesture. ]
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gently fussing. Clive will be Clive. the smile stays, and spreads when he's told that his mouth finally has a use for something. ]
How fortunate for me. [ sincerely, as he presses their lips together briefly again, warm breath to warm breath. Clive has licked into Prompto's mouth enough by now that he no longer tastes like residual mint, but that, too, makes Clive feel a strange sense of satisfaction. ] You're perfect to kiss.
[ a quick bump of forehead to forehead. ]
...I'll bring us something to wipe ourselves off with. [ an offer, and a disclaimer: ] ―Not because I want to leave, mind.
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he huffs out a sound, light and amused. ]
I figured since you said you planned to stay. [ a light tease, nudging his nose against clive's before there's distance between them. ] Pretty sure there are towels in the bathroom. If you wanna check there first.
[ since he hadn't gotten around to really showering, having planned to do it first thing after a run.
and once clive does finally separate from him, prompto's sitting up to shift to the edge of the bed in an attempt to save the sheets from getting dirtied further. his hand's a little sticky now, but he's also absently searching for his phone, intent on documenting the mouth-shaped bruises for later inspection. (and also to send to clive at a later date. for fun.) ]
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one damp towel, one clean towel. Clive quickly cleans himself off before returning to Prompto with goods in hand, still naked with no real semblance of shame. he quirks a brow when he catches Prompto fiddling with his phone, and slides back next to him on the bed. ]
You'll ruin the gadget, [ he laughs, taking Prompto's sticky hand to clean off. ] ...Something urgent?
[ politely not looking at the contents on the screen. (post-sex selfies would absolutely ruin Clive if they ever hit his inbox.) ]
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there's a quick shake of his head. ]
Just saving some stuff for later. [ with his hand clean and his phone tossed to the opposite side of the bed, prompto leans closer to clive. ] You know, [ he adds with a little smile, ] you could've just turned the light on. Like, that's what it's there for.
[ he very much understands that clive isn't used to modern conveniences, but it's cute to see him still choosing what he knows over anything else. there's also a joke in there somewhere too, though prompto's much more interested in taking in what he can see of clive now that his attention isn't diverting to thoughts of naked bodies and touching and kissing.
he bites at his lower lip. ] I wanna photograph you some time. Not now 'cuz this is nice, but maybe later?
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he clears his throat, somewhat sheepish, then dries everything off one last time before setting the towels aside. ]
In the nude? [ is a little playful, regarding the photographs. ] If so, I'd rather you keep them to yourself after they're taken.
[ who the fuck would Prompto even show them to????? but no, that's just a joke, so he appends: ] You can take whatever of me you want, Prompto.
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[ as if he'd send random nudes of clive to someone, even if he wanted to show him off. they're private, and that's how he likes it—much the same as the ones he's already taken of himself in the past and hidden away in a folder on his phone. for now, he's content, and he shows it by taking clive by the hand to tug him closer.
still somewhat bashful though, even as he presses a kiss to his mouth. ]
Thanks. [ he's talking about the pics. ] You wanna try to sleep?
[ not that he's all that tired, but that's a moot issue when he'll eventually grow drowsy enough with clive so close next to him. give his brain a chance to settle after everything. ]
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he hopes that the answer to "did you have a good night" is "yes", now. a lightness of being that Prompto deserves. it would be nice if he could stay to save whatever part of this world needs saving, if only to make sure that Prompto can be happy in it.
maybe a little too heavy to say out loud. a nod, and Clive kisses Prompto's temple, and settles them both against slightly-saggy pillows. ]
...A sound idea. It's been a long day. [ soft, warm. ] Rest well, Prompto.
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so, he isn't going to think about it. not until he has to, not until it happens. ]
G'night, Clive. [ a mumble, comfortable enough now that closing his eyes is easier.
but even in sleep, it continues to loom over him like an angry shadow, and he wakes from some fitful dream where daemons crawl through the darkness and he's swallowed by the mechanical whir of MTs dragging him towards their open mouths. he's sweating, he realizes. the motel room is kind of muggy, and he's plastered to clive's side, one leg having been thrown over his.
ugh. the slightest wince, and prompto begins the arduous task of trying to pull himself away without waking him up. maybe to shower, maybe to dress and just breathe in cooler air before dawn. ]
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he feels Prompto squirm and clutch at him, and so― he doesn't sleep, mostly. he drifts in and out of half-consciousness, breaking the lulls between what he gleans are poor dreams to stroke Prompto's hair, to stay close. it's only when the barest promises of morning filter through the thin curtains of their motel window that he thinks to close his eyes, and it's only a short amount of time after that that he feels the sweat-drenched body pressed to him start to stir.
historically, the best thing to do for someone who's had a bad night's rest is to not pummel them first thing in the morning about it. he waits until he's sure that Prompto is actually awake to crack his eyes open, though the gesture is perhaps a bit too purposeful to be natural, and his focus immediately after opening his eyes is far too sharp.
(anyone who has known Clive for more than a hot second will say that Clive is, in fact, a terrible liar.) ]
Good morning, [ he murmurs. ] You're up early.
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Oh. [ it has the same weight as a curse. ] Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. I was just, uh... [ prompto deflates almost immediately. ] I was thinkin' about getting some air. Or grabbing a shower.
[ he's already running through the mental gambit of things to say, the peace his mind had found those precious moments the night before having disappeared. but he tries his best to remain still now, disliking the tacky sensation of skin against skin where they continue to touch. it can't be comfortable for clive either, though prompto doesn't point it out. instead, he offers him a soft half-smile. ]
I can do that, and you can sleep some more. We don't have to be out of here for a while yet anyway.
[ considering it's barely even morning. ]
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he won't smother. they've slept together once, but that doesn't entitle Clive to Prompto's feelings, or the things that he isn't yet ready to divulge. without an invitation, Clive won't push to bridge the space that Prompto clearly needs. ]
Alright.
[ blankets draw over his chest; he remembers that he's still naked, and he should probably be a bit more modest about it now. his phone lies discarded on the floor on top of his shed clothes, set to ring if it receives a notification. (he doesn't get any: only Prompto has his number.) ]
I'll be here if you've need of me.
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and once he's free, he only lingers a second or two on the edge of the bed – watching clive and putting everything to memory – before gathering some of his things from a partially opened bag on a nearby chair and fleeing quietly to the bathroom. the shower doesn't help calm his nerves, though he stands under the water for far longer than necessary as he tries to force his thoughts outside his body. far away from the still lingering pleasantness of the night before.
he should probably make up for all the awkwardness, set on that as he dresses and feeling a little more like himself. prompto stares at the bite marks in the dingy mirror for a second or two before asserting himself and the decision he's made.
carefully, he sits in the space between clive and the side of the mattress, leaning over him. ] Good morning, by the way. [ his smile is brighter, less troubled. ] Forgot to say it back.
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only the last of those musings have a concrete answer: he wouldn't have. at some point, he gives up keeping his eyes closed and reaches for his phone to pull up the camera roll, and smiles at his three-pic gallery. two blurry blond blobs, followed by one perfectly lined-up shot of a beautiful young man and his well-practiced smile.
the same smile beams down at him a few minutes later, after Clive has set his device down and started playing one-man I Spy with the ceiling. ]
I got ahead of myself. It's barely morning.
[ a light quirk of his lips, though his gaze remains somewhat appraising. ] I'll be out of your hair if you want your room back.
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[ not begrudging in the least, though his expression sort of falters for a moment at clive's suggestion of leaving. despite his normal response to allow it to happen, to let Clive do whatever he wants to do, prompto quickly shakes his head and bridges that gap to head off whatever miscommunication might come from this. so, playfully, he maneuvers over clive and settles atop his thighs, the blanket and prompto's pants the only thing separating them.
he rests his hands against clive's chest. ]
You'll have to take me with you if you wanna go anywhere. [ it's a tease, of course, but he decides that, since he's already come this far, he might as well go the distance.
so, prompto dips down and kisses clive with a warmth that reflects exactly how he feels: happy, content, and wanting more of this thing between them. ]
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the added weight on his body feels achingly good. so does the kiss, which he tips into and reciprocates, palm to Prompto's thigh. attached already, despite all the ways in which others might tell him (rightfully so) that it's ill-advised. ]
...I left my sword in my room, [ is a light joke, once their mouths part. ] But I suppose I can do without it for the morning.
[ says the man who can animorph into a giant hellbeast if he really had to. they're very safe. he thumbs along the crest of Prompto's knee, then dips down to kiss at one of the marks he'd left on Prompto's jaw only hours ago. ]
Founder, I made a mess of you.
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quietly, prompto snickers in response and then leans into the press of clive's mouth, eyes slowly sliding closed. ]
Not a bad way to remember last night, [ he hums, not at all looking for an apology. ] I kinda liked it anyway.
[ that mix of pain and pleasure, the care that clive had shown him. had it not already been too late, prompto would have handed him his heart right then and there without any strings attached. but he has to tiptoe around those words, the ones right at the tip of his tongue that almost tumble free: how i like you. how he likes him so much that he'd willingly follow him anywhere.
prompto flattens himself against clive, mostly so he can reach him easier and kiss the corner of his mouth. ] We're still a few days from Lestallum, so... they'll probably fade a lot before then.
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Prompto is different. he smiles, and the world is a little brighter for it. he laughs, and gravity seems to reverse. something precious, to be preserved and protected― Clive finds that he would do most anything to make sure that Prompto is at ease.
arms wind around Prompto's shoulders, keeping him in place while they kiss, one hand at his nape. after their lips part, Clive slides his mouth to a well-shaped ear, and nips at the soft skin of Prompto's earlobe. he stays there as he responds. ]
Will I have no other opportunities to make more, before we arrive at our destination?
[ low, and with clear intent that he also wants this to continue for however long he's permitted. at the very least, he thinks he'd like for them both to enter Lestallum with Prompto bearing at least a mark or two, so that everyone they encounter knows that they're not just a young man and his bodyguard, or a mercenary and his guide: he'd like for them to think that Prompto has been held and loved. ]
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he exhales, the sensitivity of his lobe being bitten doing things to him that make his skinny jeans suddenly somewhat uncomfortable. ]
You can make as many as you want. [ admitting it is easy when he doesn't have to look him in the eye as he says it. ] I want to have all of you. [ a pause, and he backtracks, blushing hard at the way that sounds. ] Is that weird? I don't know why it came out like that.
[ just kill him now and make it quick. ]
But I mean it, so... Guess what I mean is — I want to know all of you. [ as if that sounds any better. ]
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he gets the message, loud and clear. sometimes Clive can be slow on the uptake (clearly), but he has a feeling he's not misinterpreting this one. ]
You're fine, [ he assures. not weird in the least, or weird in similarly-weird company. if anything, Clive is the one who insinuated himself into Prompto's space by assuming a lot about his mental state from a simple "yes and no"― someone less inclined to be kind the way Prompto is might have taken the ill-concealed concern as patronization. Clive loves that a little about Prompto, too: that he truly believes in the goodness of Clive's intentions.
even like this, pressed together and trading early-morning kisses. so trusting. let no one ever take advantage of Prompto's heart, Clive thinks. ]
We're aligned, on that front. I'd like all of you. [ tracing Prompto's spine with an index and middle, just for the sake of feeling him. ] Including the things you're reluctant to speak of.
[ only the barest allusion to the possible nightmares; Prompto can interpret this however he wants, because the sentiment is the same: you're lovely, including the parts of you that you think might not be. ]
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