Chapter Text
“Ah, come on already,” Prompto groans softly, annoyance laced through his words, growing stronger with each second that passes. “Fuck,” He leans his head down to rest against the arm pressed to the metal wall before him, eyes shut tightly as he tries desperately to conjure something, anything, hot enough to shove him over the edge. It almost hurts, the stroke of his fingers along his length, the warmth of the night air against his heated skin, how damn hard he is. All Prompto wants is for it to end already, he can practically taste the edge of his orgasm, dancing just out of his reach despite all his best efforts.
It shouldn’t be this bad, a quiet thought in the back of his aroused mind says. It’s weird. He should be weirded out, as uncomfortable as the other guys had been at dinner, at bedtime not that long ago, with their special guest. And he had been, when he had thought they would be camping with Ardyn, at dinner when the man had made a grab at his jaw, even if he had played it off as a joke of some kind. But once the five of them had piled into the enclosed space of the caravan, it was like a switch had flipped in his brain, and suddenly instead of the creeped out he should have felt, an unbearable horniness had descended on Prompto like a violent storm.
Which had directly led to his current, shameful position. Tucked between some highly stacked box things and a dumpster, out behind the gas station, unsuccessfully trying to jerk himself off. At this point, it seemed he was more likely to rip the damn thing from his body than reach any sort of release. Even his most self-indulgent fantasies, the ones he barely ever let himself entertain, had failed utterly. “Please, damn it.” Prompto all but growls at himself, frustrated and worn out.
“What do we have here?” A sudden sing-song voice asks behind him, making Prompt startle with a jolt, going rigid against the wall and tearing his hand away from himself. In the panic of the moment, heart hammering against his ribs, mind still tinged with need, it takes Prompto longer than he’d like to place the distinct timbre of that voice. So when he turns his head, casting a wide eyed gaze over his shoulder, he’s surprised to find the last person he could want, standing at the edge of his little hiding spot. Ardyn’s face is a portrait of amusement, and something else Prompto can’t quite place, as he steps further into the makeshift alcove. “Having yourself a bit of trouble?” He tilts his head, and it isn’t until Ardyn steps to fill the only avenue of escape that Prompto realizes just how large the man is, build tall and shoulders set wide.
“Well, this is pretty embarrassing,” Prompto tries to force himself to laugh, to somehow play this off, hands reaching to fix his trousers and cover himself. Before Ardyn comes any closer. “I was just, uh-”
“You needn’t stop on my account,” Ardyn says easily, the roll of the words leaving his tongue making the hair on the back of Prompto’s neck stand on end. There’s more of that unreadable look on his face, something close to hunger but, twisted somehow. It doesn’t ease the rapid pounding of the gunman's heart. “Though I doubt you’ll get much of anywhere, like that.”
“Wh-huh?” He stutters, confused by the knowing way Ardyn had said those words. Like he was in on something that Prompto had no clue about. “What do you mean?”
Ardyn has the audacity to tut at him, seeming to take the question as an invitation to step even closer. Prompto shifts uncomfortably where he is, trapped against the wall, fingers squeezing around the waistband of his pants. “Such a shame, how long you’ve gone to waste,” Ardyn says, shaking his head with a mock sadness, closing the already pitiful distance between them. Until he’s little more than a hair’s breadth away from touching Prompto. “So utterly neglected,” the words ghost across the back of his neck, a wet heat distinct from the air’s warmth, goosebumps following in its wake. Prompto very nearly shivers, and he isn’t sure if it’s from fear or… something he refuses to consider. “Completely unaware of what a treasure you are.” He says it low, like a purr, finally taking that last step to press himself against Prompto’s back.
The fit of it— hugging the dips of his body, pushing him even farther against the wall, all but engulfing the little gunman, —has Prompto gasping. His throat is painfully tight with fear, teeth digging into the soft flesh of his bottom lip, trying his best not to let himself tremble. Something dark in the back of his mind says Ardyn would like it. “What are you-” His voice comes out like a squeak, shaky and weak, “Stop it.”
Ardyn ignores his demand, if he even heard it at all, slipping a hand around Prompto’s side. “It must have been unbearable, all this time,” He sighs, fingers feather light as they trail up Prompto’s chest. “Forced into such tight spaces with them, the very air saturated with such powerful scents,” Those strong, thick fingers fit easily around his slender neck, though the touch is gentle. Caressing as it slides to fit beneath his jaw, guiding his chin up to the brilliant blanket of stars above. Prompto’s mind is a hazy mess of confusion, lost in a dense cloud of fear. “What it must have done to you, without you even understanding why.” He feels unbearably hot, under the weight of Ardyn, his body and his words. Helplessly pressing his hands to the smooth surface of the wall, trying to keep himself from being fully pinned against it, some meager attempt to ground himself, to resist Ardyn’s advance. The blood in his veins burns, searing under every inch of his skin, drumming to the rumble of Ardyn’s voice. “Don’t worry,” That voice says, tone aiming for soothing but it’s lost to the touch of his lips against the shell of Prompto’s ear. “I’ll give you what you need.”
Ardyn’s other hand curls over his hip, inches farther to drag the rough pads of his fingers along Prompto’s still painfully hard cock. There’s a noise in the back of his head, the screech of a siren, a storm warning, telling Prompto to do something. Fight, struggle, protest, scream even. Tug his sidearm from the Armiger and fire a shot, if he must. Instead, all Prompto can muster is a weak, frightened whine. “No…”
“Shhh,” Ardyn breathes against his cheek, touch squeezing almost curiously around his length. The hand still holding his jaw captive guides his head back even more, forcing Prompto to arch his back in order to follow its urging. The hand may be gentle now, but that could stop at any moment. The result is a rather uncomfortable position— one that has Prompto feeling… dirty —as well as a clear view of the older man’s face. Of amber eyes alight with desire, of a dangerous stretch of a smile. “There’s no need to resist your instincts, dear Prompto, not with me.” Ardyn dips to place a soft, burning kiss to his forehead. Prompto shuts his eyes tight against the touch. “I won’t condemn you, for your wants.”
Tears well at the corners of his shut eyes, threatening to spill as Ardyn peppers his face with more gentle kisses. He doesn’t understand… any of this. How it could be happening, even as it is. What Ardyn’s stupid words mean, or why they make him feel so dizzy and, strange. Prompto should be scared, should be fighting for his life, or at least his dignity, but he isn’t. His body hardly feels like it would listen to him, the muscles of his limbs lax and loose, even if Prompto had the will to try. A whimper claws up the back of his throat, when he feels his body press against Ardyn, the curve of his ass fitting perfectly against the other man’s groin. Feels the shape of his lust. Panic trickles in again, at that feeling, the knowledge of what’s happening to him, but all it can fuel is a startled jerk of his hands when Ardyn fits his mouth over Prompto’s own. The kiss is gentle, like all the others, even if the man’s lips are rough, the stubble of his chin scratching against the soft skin of Prompto’s face. His fingers tug at messy, crimson locks, trying to pull Ardyn away from him, though his efforts are pitiful at best. Hands clumsy and lost, uselessly squeezing at their hold in some attempt to ground Prompto, if nothing else.
Against his mouth, Ardyn smiles into his kiss, humming lowly. Utterly pleased. Retracts his fingers from their lazy hold around Prompto’s length, sliding up his abdomen and sneaking beneath the hem of his tank top. The hand spreads appreciatively across his stomach, up the small jut of his pectoral muscles, until a finger brushes over one of his nipples. The touch makes Prompto jump, gasping into the kiss before he can stop himself. Ardyn doesn’t give him a chance to rectify his mistake, shoving his wet tongue gleefully past his lips. It’s gross, god it’s gross , Prompto thinks. His eyes squeeze shut, and he tries to pull away from the intruding muscle, soft and slick in his mouth, away from Ardyn entirely. But the fingers around his jaw tighten, grip forcefully keeping him in place. Ardyn drags the pad of his thumb across the hardening bud of his nipple once again— a little more firmly this time —as his tongue leisurely survey’s Prompto’s mouth, sliding alongside his own, trying to coax him to play along. Pressing farther into his throat when the boy refuses to respond. He tries again to force a reaction from Prompto, fingers moving to pinch this time, only for Ardyn to pause. His touch shifts to curious, prodding questioningly about the aroused nip. Prompto feels his face flush red with embarrassment, which seems completely stupid at this point, as Ardyn chuckles against his open mouth.
“Aren’t you something,” He says, finally ending the assault on Prompto’s lips. The words are heavy with amusement, as his fingers tug lightly at one end of the barbell piercing he’s discovered. Prompto makes a strangled noise in response, panting lightly now that he’s able to. The air tastes strange, heavy and thick around him, the familiar bite of spice settling on his tongue. He feels light headed, dizzy, and so very tired. The heat from before seems to have only grown worse with each new touch, each draw of breath, until the press of Ardyn’s fingers squeezing his chest feel more like the lick of flames than anyone’s hands. He doesn’t even resist, couldn’t if he tried, when Ardyn turns him around, leaning limply against the wall. Protests with a pathetic whine when Ardyn tugs the hem of his shirt up. “How cute,” The man admires, a nauseating light dancing in his eyes. Smiles smugly, when he glances up at Prompto’s face, before bending to drag his tongue over his newly exposed nipple.
There’s a mantra of words spinning in Prompto’s head, the only clear thoughts he can drag together. No, stop, please, don’t. But his mouth won’t form the sounds, even as his mind screams them. When Ardyn seals his lips around the bud his fingers had neglected, tongue pressing curiously at the bit of metal struck through it, the only sound that leaves Prompto is a soft moan. A distressed sense of shame flares in the very back of his mind, but it’s so dulled by the haze even Prompto barely notices. His body won’t listen to him, pressing into Ardyn’s touch now, pliable and melty under the man’s hands, wet lips parting around little sighs. Whatever fight Prompto had in him, whatever will to resist, seems to have drained away with his strength, and sense. His panic has given way to a sickening want that grows louder with each suck Ardyn makes, each squeeze of his fingers. To the point that when the older man draws back, the whine that leaves Promopto’s mouth is one of loss.
The wide smile Ardyn gives him at the sound should be frightening, the glint of white teeth past reddened lips a threat, but it isn’t fear that makes his heart jump. “There you are, pet.” The words are full of appreciation, of a praise that makes Prompto’s pulse thrum with pleasure. This time, when Ardyn’s lips cover his own, the kiss is welcomed. Returned with a clumsy effort. Meets the soft slide of Ardyn’s tongue with his own, curiously following the older man’s lead, his gentle coaxing. He’s never kissed like this before, was ashamed to admit that he’d only ever had one, chaste kiss, born out of a mutual curiosity and then pointedly forgotten. If Ardyn minds his inexperience, he doesn’t give it away, humming encouragingly against his efforts. He cups Prompto’s cheek when he breaks the kiss, thumb stroking lovingly across his cheek. “So eager to please,” Ardyn chuckles, other hand snaking down to fit around the curve of his ass, fingers kneading appreciatively. “I won’t keep you waiting.” He assures, and the next thing Prompto knows, one of his already weak legs is being kicked out from beneath him, making the boy stumble and plummet to his knees. Ardyn’s hands— one curled behind his skull, the other firmly gripping his ass —carefully slow his descent, easing Prompto to kneel before him. Fingers card affectionately through his blond hair, while Ardyn’s other hand retracts, pulling back to fiddle with the fastener of his own trousers.
Anticipation wets his mouth, as dazed blue eyes watch Ardyn’s fingers expertly undo the fastens. Everything is strangely soft in Prompto’s vision, like a gaussian blur has been applied to the edges of everything, leaving only the bits of Ardyn directly in front of him clear. He shudders when Ardyn finally tugs his cock free from the confines of his trousers, attention focused only on the wide, reddened head of it, topped with beads of pre-cum. Just waiting for him. Disgusting, screeches a distant, desperate voice, wresting what little control it can to keep Prompto still, to keep his mouth closed as Ardyn drags the head against his lips, smears the cum there. He’s torn between that pleading, broken voice, and the blaze scorching his each and every nerve, begging for more. Doesn’t know which desire to follow, to obey.
The fingers stroking his hair shift to scratch lightly against his scalp, a massaging touch that soon turns encouraging, dips low around his skull and nudges him forward. Without meaning to, Prompto lets his lips part at the pressure Ardyn applies, numbly stretching to fit around the wide head. He doesn’t feel like crying, as it comes to rest heavy on his tongue, the taste bitter and strong, but his eyes are wet all the same. Ardyn is slow and careful as he urges Prompto to take him in, thick cock easily filling his small mouth, making kiss reddened lips pull taut around his girth. Keeps his touch kind even when he slips too deep and Prompto gags against the intrusion. A thumb falls to Prompto’s cheek, stroking across the freckled surface in soothing arcs. “You look so pretty,” He coos with an awe that stokes the heat under Prompto’s skin, even as something tells him part of that sentence went unsaid. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” He asks so innocently, fingers curling into the short locks at the back of Prompto’s head, nudging him farther down Ardyn’s cock. “My pretty, precious little pet.” A strange, strangled little noise leaves Prompto’s throat at those words, reverberating against Ardyn, who sighs lightly at the sensation.
Prompto lets his eyes fall shut, blocking out both Ardyn’s body and everything else. Gives in to the weak, useless feeling of his limbs, body going loose where he kneels. He doesn’t have the will or energy to fight back, knowing his body would resist any attempt at significant movement. What more can he do, at this point, then let Ardyn have his way? Even his very own body seems to want it, anyway. So Prompto allows it to follow Ardyn’s urging touches. Until all that exists are the fingers guiding his skull, the searing heat where their flesh meets, and the slick sliding of his mouth along Ardyn’s cock. The sounds of the movement are obscene to his ears, almost as much as the weight pushing back into his throat. He feels as if he’s going to choke, to suffocate like this, but Ardyn doesn’t seem at all concerned, pushing farther with each agonizingly slow roll of his hips.
The tears that had welled beneath Prompto’s lashes are falling in earnest now, leaving wet trails along his heated skin. The man above him gives a pleased hum, stroking a thumb along his cheek, until it can swipe a tear from where it clings to pale lashes. Prompto forces himself to open his eyes, immediately locking with Ardyn’s utterly pleased gaze as he draws the thumb to his lips, tongue slowly moving to savor the salty bead of his tears. The grin that stretches over Ardyn’s lips a moment later, strikes fear through Prompto like a bolt of lightning, and he can no longer hold back the tremble that shakes through his weakened body. His vision blurs with a fresh wave of tears, a muffled sob shaking free of his throat. As if dislodged by the thrust of Ardyn’s cock.
“You’re too much,” Ardyn says with a cruel laugh coloring his voice, dragging himself free of Prompto’s lips, the wet hole of his mouth. The ironic kindness of his touches had been bad enough, but it’s worse when Ardyn shoves him back off his knees. Grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging roughly, Ardyn forces him to stretch his body to ease the pull on his scalp. Shifts to crowd closer into what little space Prompto has, bracing himself with an arm against the wall. Ardyn doesn’t hesitate to shove his cock past Prompto’s lips, roughly pushing down his throat. It hurts, Ardyn’s length so thick it easily fills the tight column of his neck, forcing his throat to stretch in ways the muscles were never meant to. He can barely breathe past the cock filling his mouth, gagging against it, even struggling to take in air through his nose, but Ardyn doesn’t seem to notice or care as he sets a brutal pace of thrusts. Forcing him to keep taking pound after pound of his hips, even as the boy chokes and gurgles beneath him.
Prompto tries desperately to make his body relax, to go as limp and lifeless as the doll Ardyn obviously thinks he is. There’s little he can do against the assault, throat burning from the lack of breath and the abuse as it’s slammed into again and again, tears flooding his eyes and spilling down his cheeks, his nose. Drool spills from his lips, forced out by Ardyn, bubbling under his nose and soaking his chin, the collar of his shirt. He gags violently as Ardyn fucks his throat with abandon, feeling as if he’s going to vomit even as he’s stuffed full of that huge, hard cock. The feeling worsens when he feels the distinctive slap of the red head’s balls against his chin, his neck.
All Prompto wants is to pass out, to surrender to darkness and let this be over. But he’s painfully present instead, able to hear the deep moan that Ardyn gives above him, head dipping low, messy hair falling in twisting curls around his face. “You feel so good,” He groans, as if it’s praise. As if Prompto should be pleased . “Such a good bitch .” The last word is punctuated by an even more violent thrust, Ardyn shoving himself impossibly deeper. The ones that follow are so quick and forceful that Prompto can’t take in any breath at all, feeling his dizziness grow worse as the world starts to darken at its edges, his throat working uselessly to make a sound of distress. Not that it could be heard past the onslaught, or the sighs and quiet moans falling from Ardyn’s lips.
He almost welcomes the embrace of oblivion, but before it can whisk him away from this, Ardyn suddenly starts to slow, easing himself out of Prompto’s throat and mouth, just in time for air to flood back in. He coughs and hacks around each swallow of breath, everything from his lips down to his lungs burning desperately with need, and deprivation. When his stomach lurches, Prompto can’t even consider trying to hold back the vomit that spills into his mouth, splashes over the asphalt pavement with a wet gag. The only reason Prompto doesn’t collapse right into the mess he’s made, is because his hands jerk out to catch him, arms trembling as he takes in broken gasps.
All too soon his precious moments of escape are cut short, Ardyn once again sinking his fingers into Prompto’s hair, slipping down to cup his chin and raise the exhausted boy’s head. He doesn’t think he can take any more, but still Prompto makes himself obey, letting his battered mouth fall open once again. It’s a small mercy that at least this time, Ardyn is gentle again, only sliding his cock shallowly over Prompto’s tongue, against the soft flesh of his cheeks. One of his hands is firmly stroking the length, and if Prompto’s head wasn’t a swimming mess, he might have been more alarmed by how the base of Ardyn’s cock seems to swell. As it stands, he barely registers it happen at all. Only notices the hand that tilts his head back, Ardyn catching his dull gaze. “Make sure you take it all,” He practically coos, but it barely hides the threat behind his words. It isn’t until thick, salty cum is flooding into his mouth, that Prompto understands. He tries to swallow it down obediently, but there’s so much of it spilling into his open lips, so thick it seems to stick in his mouth. It feels revolting as it slides down his throat in hurried gulps. He doesn't understand how someone could cum this much, or how he could possibly keep up with it when his throat feels shredded beyond use.
It’s inevitable that some of Ardyn’s semen would spill past his swollen, bruised lips. He gathers it from Prompto’s chin with a disappointed sigh, shoving his now stained fingers into Prompto’s mouth, until he’s gagging once again. “Don’t be a wasteful whore,” Ardyn says sharply, fingers pushing into his already battered throat. “Not after I did this for you.” He whines at the dangerous tone, hurrying to suck and lap every drop of cum from Ardyn’s fingers.
There’s something cold about it, Ardyn’s seed, Prompto realizes dazedly. It feels like ice on his tongue, where it sticks along his throat, in the pit of his belly where the bulk has settled. It’s nice. Soothes the nerves that are still, even after all of this, burning painfully with his own lust. It no longer feels so much like his very being is burning to ash. But the heat still hurts. And perhaps worst of all, he’s still painfully hard.
He can see his own neglected cock, straining for attention, when Ardyn removes his now cleaned fingers and allows Prompto’s head to fall. There’s a thick line of pre-cum spilling down the length, oozing at a steady pace from the head. That’s never happened before, he thinks with dull alarm. But then, that wasn’t exactly new. Not tonight. The exhaustion Prompto feels is so thorough, he can’t even muster the shame he should feel, at still being so aroused despite… everything. His lips start to tremble, a broken sob bubbling its way out of him, falling from his lips as new tears spring to his eyes. He hates letting Ardyn see him like this, but he doesn’t have the strength to hold it in anymore. It draws out that cooing voice that makes Prompto’s hair stand on end, when Ardyn takes note of his current, defeated state.
“Oh I know,” He starts, voice dripping with a sickly sweetness. “It hurts terribly, doesn’t it?” A hand reaches out for him, and all Prompto can do is turn his head away, fresh tears burning down his cheeks. It does nothing to stop Ardyn from taking hold of his arm, fingers firm and tight around his bicep, and using the hold to drag Prompto to his unsteady feet. Should he let go, Prompto would collapse under his own weight.
Instead Ardyn presses the boy’s limp, pliable body up against the wall, leaning his own steady form into him. Prompto’s arms are dragged around Ardyn’s shoulders, and he can’t find it within himself to pull them away. What would it matter, to bruise himself falling, when there was no escaping whatever Ardyn was planning to do. What reason was there to make things any worse? His breaths come in hiccuping, sobbing gasps, and this close to Ardyn the air feels suffocatingly thick, full of that spice laced flavor. One that makes his already sluggish, dazed mind all the more hazy.
Ardyn keeps forcing a soothing facade, shushing him gently as his hands drag up and down along Prompto’s sides. “Don’t worry,” He murmurs against Prompto’s ear, “I’ll make it all better.” A particularly harsh sob leaves him at those words, as Ardyn slips one arm around his waist, drawing his hips away from the support of the wall. His other hand snakes down Prompto’s body, until he’s wrapping fingers around his needy cock, lightly stroking down the length. After so long of nothing, the touch almost hurts, Prompto’s body jerking against Ardyn as if he were pressing ice to his inflamed, oversensitive skin. Every point at which their flesh meets, feels chilling and painful in this overworked state.
He wants to beg Ardyn to stop, to drag the icy touch of his hands away, even knowing how useless the effort would be. Still, barely formed words tumble from his lips in messy, broken pleas.
“Please,” don’t. He whines weakly; “Ardyn,” Stop. his voice breathless and strained; no, “More.”
Ardyn chuckles at his cries, “That’s it,” He purrs, dragging his lips along the edge of Prompto’s jaw, before once again closing them over his mouth. This kiss is an inelegant, sloppy affair, Prompto’s lips loose and useless, mouth a wet cavern waiting to be filled. The heat of his own body against the icy touch of Ardyn’s tongue, seems to fill his mouth with a flood. As if the reaction is one of melting something frozen. Is it Ardyn’s spit, or his own? Prompto has no idea, but it spurs him to draw out more of it. Wanting to drown in the cool wetness, as if he’s been lost in the desert for days without water, only to find an oasis at his fingertips. All too soon that refreshing escape is drawn away, Ardyn pulling back to look at him with a pleased, slick smile. “Such a good boy.”
A needy sound leaves Prompto’s throat without his permission, once again burning under the heat of his body. But Ardyn’s lips don’t return to his, instead pressing softly to his forehead as the pads of his fingers dance down Prompto’s cock. The light touch is not nearly enough, even as fingers curl and squeeze around his balls, making Prompto gasp wetly. He can’t stop his head from falling to rest against Ardyn’s shoulder, tucking against his neck as he breathes in soft pants. Senses overflowing with that sharp, dizzying scent. Ardyn’s fingers continue farther along his body, stroking the sensitive stretch of skin there, before coming to a pause just over the tight entrance of his body.
The thought of Ardyn trying to push inside him is utterly terrifying, even is this hazy, thoughtless state of wanting. The arms still wrapped about Ardyn’s shoulders squeeze weakly, earning him a soft shushing sound from Ardyn, the fingers of the hand still holding Prompto’s waist kneading gently into his side. The pad pressed to his hole doesn’t try to force entry, applying only the barest, teasing pressure as it rubs at the ring of muscle.
“Do you have any idea,” Ardyn muses, more than he asks, voice a rumbling vibration that seems to ghost through Prompto’s body. “How well you were made for this?” The words are followed by a soothing press of lips against the pulse point of his throat, tasting the rapid pounding of his heart. Lingers there as his hand moves again, slipping back to prod a warm, slicked finger against his perineum. If Prompto had the power left to think, he might have questioned several things, but all he can do now is sigh helplessly at the massaging touch, the wet pressure that seems to spur new heat even as it soothes the hunger of his flesh. Peppering soft kisses along the column of Prompto’s neck, down to follow the bit of his collarbone and shoulder that poke out from beneath his shirt, Ardyn’s fingers press more and more firmly into his skin. Touch insistent, fingers messaging in a spreading motion.
“Ah,” Prompto sighs, feeling a cooling pleasure flood through his heat strained veins. His mouth is lazy and lax, stumbling over the sounds he tries to make as he raises his head. “Ardyn-” The name is all he can manage, before his voice is wretched out with a moan. There’s a rush of that soothing pleasure, mixed with the intense sting of flesh tearing. High cries of agony claw out of his mouth, Prompto feeling as if he’s splitting apart at the seams.
Ardyn smothers the noise with his tongue, swallowing the whines and cries of his pain, fingers never once pausing in their stroking even as the sensation changes. It feels as if those fingers have broken inside him somehow, stroking the wet meat of his insides. There’s a hot wetness trailing down his thighs, fear sparking through the haze of everything else. The scared whine he feeds into Ardyn’s mouth, seems to be enough to convince the man to pull away from the silencing kiss, tongue dragging over the lips that linger close by his own.
“Don’t be afraid,” Ardyn says gently, the words spoken against his mouth, as the hand at his side once again moves in strokes to ease the building tension. “The pain has already passed.”
Though Prompto still whines weakly against him, Ardyn’s words ring true. The pain has given way to that initial wave of pleasure once again, pleasant, tingling sensations spilling from the flesh under Ardyn’s fingertips. They grow with a dizzying strength as Ardyn’s touch messages more firmly along the slick paths they seemed to have formed. Until Prompto’s breath is coming in hot, panting huffs against Ardyn’s smirking mouth, tremors of want radiating through him. His legs feel weak, threatening to abandon the little support they’re offering, Prompto’s arms clinging tighter to Ardyn to compensate. Pulling him even closer. The way the man laughs at the action should make Prompto feel something, embarrassment or disgust. Anything unpleasant. But instead the sounds falling over him have Prompto’s body shivering with desire, a keening noise falling from his own lips.
There’s no room left in the mushy mess of his head for rational thought. For the things he should be feeling, the awareness of his own actions. All that can slip through the haze is the distant, building thrum of an approaching release. And he wants it so badly. Needs it like the air he drags into his lungs. Every inch of him aches, trembles, with that need. “Please,” He whines helplessly, arms pulling Ardyn further in, until the needy, slurring word can be spoken against his ear. “Please, please, please, ” Prompto repeats that single word like a mantra, the only shape his lips can make. Desperately begging Ardyn to help him, to let that crescendo finally overwhelm him, so that he might be freed from the painful heat burning him up.
He can feel Ardyn’s laughter as it builds in his chest, feels the shudder of it under his arms, before it falls over Prompto like drops of rain. “But of course, pet.” He says indulgently, tone one of utter pleasure. The stroking touch between his legs shifts, fingers probing carefully deeper inside the heated, wet flesh. Until he grazes a small knot of nerves that has Prompto gasping, jolting in his grip. Against his quickly working throat, Ardyn grins, the flat of his teeth pressing into freckled skin. Peppering lazy, open mouthed kisses down the length of his neck, Ardyn presses more firmly into the spot. The caress draws a low, wanton moan from Prompto’s lips, the muscles in his thighs quivering as he clings helplessly to Ardyn. It’s almost too much— edging into painful —when Ardyn plays with the sensitive bud. Pushing, stroking, pinching it between his fingers. Earning lewd cries of pleasure for his efforts. Prompto can do nothing but bury his head in the crook of Ardyn’s neck, arms squeezing tightly to the only thing keeping him upright, body trembling under the waves of sensation. Spit floods his mouth, spilling over his lips with the wet moans he makes, soaking the fancily patterned material of Ardyn’s clothes.
Every inch of Prompto’s skin is flushed pink and red, blood boiling under his skin as Ardyn’s deft fingers work him closer and closer to a building orgasm. One that threatens to break what little sense he has left. Like this heat, this overwhelming lust, might consume him whole. Become the only thing he knows at all. He can’t imagine wanting anything else, as he gives high pitched cries of need. He can feel it coming over him, bearing down like a storm, the rumble of its approach making the shaking in his legs all the worse. He’s a wreck in Ardyn’s hands, totally at his mercy as he slurs calls of the man’s name and trembles helplessly. Delight dances in the amber eyes that watch him, savoring the show he’s carefully crafted, but Prompto is too far gone to notice.
Then Ardyn’s grip around him is shifting. The arm that has been supporting Prompto’s waist dropping away, making his hips fall back against the wall. The fingers toying with that sensitive bundle of nerves shove roughly into the wet mess of him, taking hold and squeezing forcefully. A scream starts to tear up Prompto’s throat, but it’s smothered by the fingers of Ardyn’s free hand pushing knuckles deep into his mouth. He chokes around them, strain making tears well in his eyes, but the pain is quickly overtaken by a rush of pleasure. It’s more intense than anything Prompto can remember feeling, forcing his vision to go dark as what little mind he has left is swept away by feeling. So much feeling. Hot and searing, a blaze across every nerve, followed by a kiss of ice that eases all of the hurt. Leaves his body a melted, limp mass held up only by the wall at his back and the hand harshly gripping between his legs.
Prompto has no idea how long he’s lost in that sea of sensation and pleasure, it feels like ages and not nearly long enough. But eventually awareness trickles back in. He doesn’t hear what Ardyn says, but he can feel words being murmured into his neck. Can feel calloused fingers on his tongue. He gags weakly under them, and to his surprise Ardyn actually draws them out. His expression is pleased as he pulls back to admire Prompto, who can only stare dazedly back at him. Slowly he becomes aware of warm fluid soaking his thighs, quickly cooling as it drips down his shaking legs. Ardyn’s fingers are drenched in that same liquid as he pulls them from Prompto, the lack of support sending the boy crumbling roughly to the ground. Landing on the asphalt hurts, but all he can muster is a wince at the pain. His head falling back to rest against the metal wall gives him a perfect view of Ardyn, standing above him with a smug smile on his stupid face. The man holds Prompto’s gaze captive as he draws the fingers to his mouth, making a deliberate show of licking the fluid off them. Prompto can’t tell if the look of utter rapture on Ardyn’s face is a show for his benefit, or a genuine reaction to the mess he’s cleaning. Doesn’t know which possibility makes him feel worse. When he’s cleaned the last of it from his fingers, Ardyn gives a low, appreciative moan.
“My, how good you taste.” He says, in a way that makes a chill shiver run down Prompto's spine. If he could bring his body to move, he would flinch when Ardyn crouches down, leaning close to his face. But all he manages is a quiet noise in the back of his torn up throat. “I sincerely hope that whoever you allow to shape those other holes,” Prompto can do nothing but shut his eyes against that face, the words making his skin want to tear itself from his useless body. “Understands what an honor you’re giving them.” Ardyn forces another kiss over his mouth, the grin on his lips tasting like mockery. He presses that same smile to the shell of Prompto’s ear, breathing heavy against it. “I certainly did.”
With that he draws away, easily raising to his feet. Raking his gaze over Prompto’s pathetic form one last time, he turns on his heel and finally leaves.
There’s no relief at being alone again, at it all finally being over. Just a screaming ache across every single inch of his body. It screeches in protest at just the movements of his chest, stretching around each breath. Shame claws its way through the cracks between the pain, stinging wet at his eyes. As if to add further insult, he can feel his cock straining with want even still . It’s almost like even his very body is mocking him for allowing Ardyn to… to do any of this. With effort he forces a hand around the damn thing, barely a full stroke bringing him over the edge. There’s no rush of pleasure like the orgasm before, just the release of pressure as he spills over his own fingers. The sight makes him want to vomit.
Prompto drags his hand across the pavement beside him, trying to scrape the sticky white cum from his hand. Over and over the asphalt scratches across his palm, until the raised bits of it cut stinging wounds in the skin. Continues even then. It’s the only movement he can bring himself to make.