SEVEN FOR A SECRET

prompto silently applauds himself for how well keeps his eyes from drifting in ravus’ direction, how well he pretends to simply not notice anything at all ( save for the tense line of his shoulders and his shaky hands as they clumsily push his drenched hair from his face ). this is completely normal !! completely fine !! just two guys both existing in the shower and taking care of their hygiene !! two guys…that may have spent the better part of the afternoon with their lips locked together…and that can’t seem to stop staring at each other….

a warm touch to his belly has him startled and crashing back into the here and now, and he flinches, accidentally tugging at his hair when his fingers get tangled in wet strands. initially, he thinks that maybe ravus is asking him to move, that maybe he needs the water—-but before he can make any attempt at moving, the commander is on his knees at his feet.

now WHAT is going on here ?! there are very few—-if any—-reasons for someone of ravus’ status to ever be in such a position with prompto, and he doesn’t really think this is one !! “r-ravus ?? what—-“

his question is cut off by the gentle press of lips to his skin, and prompto can practically hear his brain short circuit. it’s like a record scratching—-all thoughts halt immediately, his hands stall in midair in the act of coming back down to his sides. all prompto can do is squirm and stare, wide-eyed as those lips trace the soft plains of his stomach.

and hope that his body doesn’t have a painfully embarrassing reaction to the position they’re in.

hearing prompto’s voice, ravus feels himself come back to the here and now … shame almost finding his features … should he be embarrassed? does prompto not want this? is it weird? perhaps it’s too much? maybe he should have asked? maybe he —- … his thoughts are cut short as he looks to the side, lips still against prompto’s hip as something catches his eye. something quite interesting. something …

in an instant, ravus is suddenly brought back to niflheim, at the head of his army, and now he understands why prompto holds such a curious sense familiarity over him. 

eyes fall from prompto’s wrist as the cool metal of ravus’ prosthetic find prompto’s skin as well. he’s now looking up at prompto’s face through damp lashes as he continues to trace his lips along each hip, coming painfully close to brushing against prompto’s cock with his neck. with his eyes still focused in on prompto’s like a hawk, ravus regains his footing ever so slowly, pulling prompto against him once he’s back on both feet. 

he can hear his heart pounding in his ear drums, his blood is boiling hot —- he’s never felt so many different (but positive) emotions in his life at once before and he doesn’t quite understand what to do with them all.

𝑂𝑁𝐿𝑌 𝑊𝐻𝐸𝑁 𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑆 the pattering of the running shower, does prompto finally raise his head ⸺ and now he knows he’s staring. not even at the dark horror marring the commander’s back ! no, the blond finds himself simply watching the way the water runs through silver strands, the way strong fingers slip through them and along his scalp…the way the water trails down ravus’ skin and how it glistens and glows in the warm light overhead. his lips are parted, eyes wide. more than anything, prompto wishes he had his camera, if only to hold onto the beautiful sight ravus makes at this very moment ⸺ nothing perverted at all !! just…ravus…pretty….

he’s startled out of his own thoughts when ravus’ eyes open, jerking his head elsewhere ( at the frosted glass shower door that he definitely can’t see out of ! prompto, what goes on !? ), only to peek at him from the corner of his eye anyway like a sheepish child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. maybe he didn’t notice prompto was staring ? maybe. 

prompto inclines his head half as a nod of thanks and half to get his head under the water quicker. it’s odd, maybe, the way prompto has this way of wetting his head and hair first before fully stepping under the spray of the water. it just feels right ! wetting from head to toe in that exact order ! he hopes ravus doesn’t think it’s weird…if the prickling at the back of his neck is telling him the truth, he can definitely feel ravus’ eyes on him. oh gods, he probably thinks he’s nuts !!

ravus finds nothing odd about the way prompto showers, or maybe he’s just too entranced by how nice his body is. how cute he is…. the fact that he’s actually naked in the shower with another human being ..! many things are distracting ravus from thinking about much else; he’s got limited time to judge prompto at all. he does, however, wonder if prompto can feel him staring just as he felt prompto staring —- he wonders if he should stop. and now he’s wondering why it’s so bloody difficult to tear his eyes away ! there’s no way he can stop staring. not now. if he wasn’t supposed to stare, why would prompto even get into the shower with him? he felt it should be expected …. 

 … but what’s not expected is when ravus, against his own conscious will, reaches an organic hand out. finger tips hesitate right next to prompto’s toned belly, and soon enough, he closes the gap and presses gentle fingertips against warm flesh. as if he has dipped his hand into flame, ravus wants to pull his arm back, but it seems as though he’s found himself addicted to the burn. 

𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑀𝑃𝑇𝑂 𝐶𝐴𝑁 𝐻𝐴𝑅𝐷𝐿𝑌 𝐷𝐸𝑁𝑌 the nervous flutter of his stomach, nearly tripping over his own feet as he stumbles into the bathroom. like it always seems to be in ravus’ presence, his face flushed pink, both with embarrassment for his lack of coordination ( at a crucial moment, no doubt !! now is not the time to be uncool, prompto !! ) and…the fact that ravus is very much naked. it’s okay ! stay calm, prompto ! you can do this — !

oh…

before he can stop himself, his eyes fall to the inky stain webbing over ravus’ skin. it looks painful, and prompto can’t tell if it’s a bruise, a scar…or something even worse. briefly, he has a sharp, spiking urge to touch it, to run his fingers along the vein-like marks across his shoulder, but he gets only a moment’s passing before the commander is gone from his sight, sliding into the shower.

for reasons separate from hormones and the butterflies in his belly, prompto feels his heart beat away at his chest, hears his pulse in his ears. is ravus alright ? what is that…scar ? is it from the attack on tenebrae ? does it have something to do with his missing arm ? so many questions crowd the marksman’s mouth, but he swallows them back down; he can’t bring himself to ask any of them — is he afraid of the answer he’ll get ? maybe. 

“ y-yeah ! i think the only person i know that doesn’t take hot showers is ignis. says it’s bad for the skin, or something like that. ”  a small laugh bubbles over his lips, and he was hoping for it to sound lighthearted, but it only sounds nervous and wobbly. another big swallow, and he’s dropping his pants and underwear in one go and stepping into the shower behind ravus. 

he tries — really, he does ! — but his eyes can’t help but find that mark again, even if they quickly drop to stare at his own feet, watching his toes curl and uncurl against the ivory tile of the shower floor. “ u-um…but if you don’t like hot showers, that’s fine too ! i’m not…um…super picky ? ”

𝐻𝐸 𝐶𝐴𝑁 𝐹𝐸𝐸𝐿 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑀𝑃𝑇𝑂'𝑆 𝐸𝑌𝐸𝑆 𝑂𝑁 𝐻𝐼𝑀 ... or perhaps that's his own paranoia itching at the lining of his brain. either way, he's extremely hesitant to turn and face the smaller blond, worrying his bottom lip between perfect teeth as he reaches out to turn the nozzle of the shower. "hot is fine with me, though your companion is correct; cool water is far better for the skin." he turns then, finding prompto focusing on his own feet instead ravus at all.

well, now he feels silly!

exhaling a quiet sigh of relief, ravus is able to relax a bit, feeling less ashamed of his own nudity in the presence of the tiny man. "even if you simply rinse at the end of a warm shower with cooler water. that's better than nothing." he offers a smile before stepping into the stream of water, eyes closed and hands rising to card his fingers through his hair. it felt nice ... the warmth, the water rinsing the sins of the day from his skin. it's exactly what he needed after the day's events.

of course, he still has his own companion to think about, so he doesn't hog the water for too much longer. stepping aside, ravus motions for prompto to rinse off as well as he reaches for the bar of soap in the holder. as he lathers up, ravus makes a very conscious decision to try and keep his eyes ahead. up. at prompto's face, or the back of his head ... and not at his very delectable little body that made his heart thump behind his ribcage... yeah ... easy enough! his eyes definitely aren't falling right back down to the pretty curve of his waist, or the dip of his belly.

𝐴 𝑆𝑂𝐹𝑇 𝑆𝑄𝑈𝐸𝐴𝐾 𝐿𝐸𝐴𝑉𝐸𝑆 prompto’s lips, flustered nerves making him jumpy, even with the gentleness of the commander’s touch. if even possible, his cheeks burn even hotter, eyes wide, lips parted, and heart thumping loudly away in his chest. how is it possible that ravus looks just as large without the mountain of clothes and metal strapped to his body ? how does he still make prompto feel so…tiny ? it makes his heart flutter and his ears hot, and gods, he wants to kiss him again. he doesn’t even have it in him to be ashamed at the way he blatantly stares at ravus’ lips — how can he not, with them right there ? but he’s gone before prompto can voice his want, leaving him glued to the floor and watching his retreating back. 

his teeth dig into his bottom lip, shuffling his weight from foot to foot, tapping the toe of his boots against the carpet. honestly, what’s he got to lose ? he’s got nothing to be ashamed of; sure, he’s scrawny ( especially when put next to ravus’ height and bulk ), but he already knows that. besides…he’s been invited.

mind made up, prompto steps out of his boots, dropping his vest and tugging his tank top over his head as he follows behind ravus’ retreating back. “ hey hey, wait up !! i-i’ll join !! ”

𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝐿𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐼𝑀𝐸 between ravus' invitation and prompto's acceptance of said invite ... plenty of time for ravus to stare at himself in the mirror, already stripped of his clothing. he regrets it for a moment (inviting prompto to shower with him) and nearly slams the door shut to lock it quickly, but he keeps himself planted firmly in place, eyes never leaving his own reflection. for what he is, ravus is a rather striking man. extreme and sharp features, high cheekbones, fierce but beautiful eyes ... strong, muscular. subtracting the grotesque ink from his body, ravus had nothing to be ashamed of. he had nothing for anyone to question !

grimacing, ravus quickly realizes that he would definitely need to explain what the hell that was all about. he could only lie away so much. perhaps if the discoloration didn't eat away at his entire left side, threatening to take over the left side of his hip and just around his rear, it wouldn't be so difficult. if, perhaps, it had only been a few blackened veins and some dark bruising around his shoulder, it would be easy to explain. but he always underestimates how far the poison spreads. ʜɪᴅᴇᴏᴜs, he thinks to himself, his grimace twisting into a dark and venomous grin. it's only a matter of time before he starts losing all human consciousness and metamorphose into something terrible. something worse. something that could potentially devour prompto alive ...

he pauses in his own reverie then, spine rattling with a hard chill.

prompto.

it hadn't occurred to him before that this could be turning into something far more than just friends. yes, yes ... he's had his lips locked onto prompto's for most of the day, and now they're about to shower together, but ... he wasn't thinking about the potential future. the idea that perhaps prompto could very well become his very first victim ...

he's knocked free of the hold his haunted mind had over him when he hears prompto's hesitant little voice sing from the other room.

prompto agreed to join ...

PROMPTO AGREED TO JOIN???

alright, there's all but one thing to do in such an instance: stay calm, of course! it's fine. prompto is an understanding little guy. he might not even ask about anything, instead waiting on ravus to explain. if that's the case, ravus doesn't have to explain anything! oh, but wouldn't it be much easier to just explain and then make it very clear how important it is he keeps it to himself? what if prompto asks his friends about what he saw ... oh, there's so many outcomes and so many options.

though, each and every one of those outcomes and options and hesitations and well ... everything else ... is knocked clear out of his head the moment he sees prompto emerge from the open door. ravus lifts his head, eyes staring at prompto through the mirror, unable to conceal the very obvious look of feral hunger on his face. licking dry lips, ravus' eyes fall from prompto's face to his nude chest. in that moment, he wants nothing more than to eat him up. instead, ravus peels his eyes from the reflection and turns to enter the shower, quickly hiding his shame for the time being.

𝐻𝑈𝐻 !!

prompto has been watching ravus for a while now: on their way to the hotel, to their suite, and even while ravus took an almost torturously long time to get undressed ( all the while not being able to help thinking that he would rather just sleep in his clothes, if it took that much time to get dressed and undressed ) — and it doesn’t escape his notice that ravus consciously decides against removing his shirt. as curious as a young child, prompto of course wonders what it is under that shirt that ravus would rather keep hidden.

so of course he isn’t expecting to be offered to join the commander in the shower !! something that involves being naked !! is it a slip of the tongue ? did he mean to ask prompto that ? or…is he just joking ? ravus definitely seems to be the time to make a joke with a straight face, right ? like ignis does sometimes ?  but if that’s the case, what should he say ? he doesn’t know if he should play along, or if ravus wants to see him flounder around like a gaping fish ( he’s much used to being the object of that kind of teasing ), but he definitely getting the latter, anyway, by no conscious choice of prompto’s.

oh gods, he knows his face has to be bright red with how hotly it burns, and prompto can’t help but drop his eyes to his boots — damn, he needs to clean them; this poor carpet — to avoid making any awkward eye contact while he tries to gather his flustered, scrambled thoughts. “ u-uh… ” wait !! but what if he’s actually serious and meant to ask him that ! would it be cruel to tell him no ? would he get upset ? damn…

“ w-well…i mean…are you sure you want me to…? ” are you really comfortable being naked in front of me, his unspoken question.

𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑀𝑃𝑇𝑂'𝑆 𝑅𝐸𝐴𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐻𝐴𝑆 the commander's lip curling into a subtle smirk, as if he had been kidding about the question asked. surprisingly enough, however, ravus had been entirely genuine. it would be easy to explain away the horror under his shirt with tiny lies; bruising from the heavy weight he had to carry. veins poisoned by heavy metals and nothing more. to anyone else, the ink around the injury wasn't grotesque. really, it just looked a bit painful. but to ravus, it was hideous — a constant reminder to himself that he is nothing more than a monster. not noble. not important; a puppet.

he stands directly in front of prompto, hands on his waist, looking down at him. one would think that as soon as he lost the coat, he would be less intimidating. less intruding. less bulky. but, no ... ravus is simply just a built, bulky man. taking one arm from his waist, ravus places a gentle finger just under prompto's chin to tilt his face upward.

"it's up to you." he doesn't make the humor obvious, but he's very much entertained by how easy it is to paint prompto's face in the prettiest shade of red he's seen. "after we wash the burdens of the day from our skin, i will prepare dinner." he allows another smirk to cross his face before dropping his hand and turning his body to walk toward the bathroom.

𝐴𝐻…𝑅𝐸𝐺𝑅𝐸𝑇. it burns in the blue king’s throat, left raw from the venom he spit from it, and curls in his belly, making it heavy and uncomfortable. it pulls him out of the icy depths of his anger — truly, he needs to free himself of the grip that man has on his emotions; a simple mention of him should certainly not undo him this way — and leaves him waist-deep in guilt as he watches the hurt color kuroh’s face. 

of course, it isn’t unfair of kuroh to ask such a question. it isn’t as if his and the red king’s relationship has been kept quiet or subtle. it must be rather confusing and unsettling for him…rationally, munakata knows that. if it had been mention of anyone else in this situation, perhaps his temper wouldn’t have flared so high so quickly; but unfortunately, even when he is not present, mikoto suoh really, truly knows how to bypass every safeguard and push the exact buttons he works so hard to conceal. and kuroh — poor, poor kuroh — simply did not know. munakata can’t fault him for that, and it was unfair of him to behave as if he did. 

kuroh would have never intentionally pushed his buttons that way ( no, that speaks more of suoh mikoto’s character ); it is one of the things he enjoys about his company so much. where his and kuroh’s relationship is gentle and sweet, his and mikoto’s is volatile and fiery — and, if he’s being truly honest with himself, he can feel himself being consumed by its flames bit by bit; soon, there will be nothing left.

oh, but he can’t tell kuroh that ! no, this isn’t a conversation to be had with anyone but the red king himself.

he sighs, removing his glasses to wipe at his face, leaving his fingers pressed tightly to his eyes long enough that he sees spots of color when he opens them again. when his eyes find kuroh once more, the storm in them has calmed, leaving behind only sheepish regret. “ that…was uncalled for, ” he says at last, voice quiet with remorse. he wants to reach out, to slip his fingers beneath his chin and raise it until he can see those dark eyes he enjoys so much, but he refrains. surely, he has no right to offer such a gentle touch after his deplorable behavior. “ raise your head, yatogami kuroh,” he says instead, “ do not be ashamed; you’ve done nothing wrong. ” a pause. another sigh. “ however, to answer your question: no, i don’t. i actually don’t think about him at all while you’re near. ”

yet another reason he greatly enjoys the black dog’s company.

𝐾𝑈𝑅𝑂𝐻 𝐷𝑂𝐸𝑆𝑁'𝑇 𝐷𝐴𝑅𝐸 even lift his eyes through the silence. if anything, he wishes only to turn on his heels and leave munakata to his own rumination. it's loud — - the silence - — and he doesn't know how much more he can take of it. it's deafening, really, and growing louder and louder with each passing moment. so loud, in fact, that he does actually flinch back, legs more than ready and willing to take him in the direction of safety. ( safety for his heart, of course ) he's not in any physical danger —

but then munakata speaks and the soles of his shoes are glued once more to the floor. he doesn't look up at the king's admittance of guilt, but he does release the softest little "hm ..." in agreeance, of course. it was uncalled for, and kuroh is happy to hear that munakata agrees. tilting his head back upward to look up at the blue king, kuroh's tears are gone within a moment, as if they never found refuge in the ducts of his eyes.

"i see." he says, a hint of irritation in his tone. he wouldn't say it, especially considering they almost ended up in a confrontation he didn't necessarily want to have, but he's certainly thinking about how easily munakata can sweet talk himself out of an awkward situation. how he can distract by pretty words alone. he's thinking about how often munakata has diffused many a situation regarding mikoto with flattery. if he continued to allow such a thing, kuroh's broken heart would be his own fault.

prompto’s lips part with little to no hesitation at all, and if he’s being truly honest, he’ll probably give the commander anything he asks for in this moment, withholding nothing of himself. thin arms wind around ravus’ neck, pulling him ever closer, even as his lips swelled and his chest burned with need of air. prompto feels as if he just may become addicted to the feeling of ravus’ lips on his, feels greedy in the way they kiss until neither of them has breath to give.

is he paying attention when ravus speaks of getting a place to settle in for the night ? maybe a little…or maybe not at all. he spares him a single nod and that only, eyes barely open, the words going in one ear and out the other. his body and mind are thrumming with new thoughts and sensations that refused to be subdued, and prompto has no will to do so, anyway. he wants those lips on his again, and cares full little else.

and shortly after, like magnets, their lips are drawn to each other again. soft, pitiful noises leave prompto’s throat as he presses their bodies closer. oh, those poor passersby on the street, being subjected to a sight they certainly weren’t asking for as they’re merely trying to enjoy their night out. those poor, poor things !

only when prompto’s head begins to spin, does he finally pull away, deep blue eyes hooded and hazy. and it’s only then that ravus’ words from earlier fully register in his mind: hotel. he’s still breathless, words coming between heavy pants, when he finally responds. “ late…we should…probably…go…now…right ? ”

the sooner they get there, the sooner they can continue uninterrupted, after all.

" 𝐼𝑇 𝐼𝑆𝑁'𝑇 𝐹𝐴𝑅 𝐴𝑇 𝐴𝐿𝐿 . ” his breathy reply as he turns his body to motion toward the way behind them. taking a step forward and away from prompto, ravus is quick to notice how terribly shaky his knees are ... embarrassing. he’s also quick to notice just how strange his mouth feels now that prompto isn’t attached to it. 

his movements are swift, long legs striding forward and down the street, through an alley, and down another street ... and they’re there. how strange is must seem for civilians to see the commander walking about casually, with a tiny blond at his side. he wonders, for only a moment, what they might be thinking.

once inside the hotel, ravus takes no time at all to procure a room for the two of them. "as i said ... not far at all." and just like that, they're in the suite. it's a nice setup, certainly suitable for someone of ravus' status. three fully furnished rooms and a well-stocked bathroom. it’s certainly comfortable and he thinks maybe he should invest in something like this instead of the great big mansion he acquired. 

something so big always feels so very lonely. he spends little time at his home for that very reason, and it isn’t until this moment he actually realizes it. 

huffing to himself, ravus begins the lengthy process of undoing each and every buckle of his coat before moving to the metal attached to his shoulder. the plates, when manipulated, come off rather easily and he meticulously places them atop the pointless desk in the corner of the room. with the prosthetic free of the plates, ravus is able to slide his coat from his body, meticulous in his movements yet again as he gently places it on the spare bed to reveal a relatively simple shirt with only one long sleeve. he’s about to slip that shirt off as well, when he’s reminded of the horror that lies underneath; he’ll save that for another time. he’s not ready to have that conversation just yet. 

ridding himself of the armor against leather pants is his next step, which he does rather easily. said armor is also placed against the bed and at last, ravus is staring to look like just a normal guy ... save for the metal arm attached to his side, of course. 

after sliding free of his heavy boots, ravus offers prompto a grimace ... for the first time in his life, he’s feeling a bit self conscious. it’s only now that he’s undressed in front of another that he’s realizing just how long it takes from start to finish. he has to wonder if prompto is silently judging him. 

@magpieflight​:  ❝ 𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑺 𝑯𝑰𝑴 ? ❞  ━ ( kuroh → munakata )

𝐷𝑂𝑁'𝑇 𝐴𝑆𝐾 𝑀𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑇, munakata wants to say. the answer is a complicated one that will only serve to upset them both. what could kuroh possibly hope to gain from asking him such a question ? is he attempting to upset him ? seeking to force his hand ? kuroh has never seemed the type to go picking unnecessary fights, but now in the sudden agitation that sets munakata’s fingers to fidgeting ( curling and uncurling at his sides ), he isn’t so sure.

usually unreadable and tinged with hushed amusement, sapphire gaze is steely and sharp as it watches kuroh from the corner of his eye. his lips are set in a thin, firm line, and munakata knows his displeasure with the question is heavily apparent ━ and that even if it wasn’t, kuroh could have probably deduced it on his own, with how closely he’s been caught watching from time to time. briefly, his eyes sweep over the black dog’s face ━ making short eye contact, should kuroh be looking his way ━ before he’s facing the opposite direction, watching the people mill about on the street below.

“ i don’t see why should be on your mind at all at this moment. ” he knows his tone isn’t as calm as he would like, sharper and icier than he intends. “ do you make a frequent habit of speaking of others while spending time with someone, yatogami kuroh ? ” 

𝑃𝐼𝐶𝐾𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐴 𝐹𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 isn't his intention. kuroh isn't necessarily the type to go out of his way in an attempt to cause animosity or conflict. confrontation makes him nervous, even when it's necessary, and watching munkata's silent reaction to his question makes him even more so. his eyes fall, slowly, regretting every single moment in his life that brought him here. the question isn't asked with malice or even a hint of sarcasm. it's simply a question that weighs heavy on his heart whenever he spends time with munakata. he needs to know where he stands in the blue king's life, and if he comes first or last when it involves mikoto. the idea doesn't bother him so much anymore; he's been able to find acceptance. but he still wants to know.

perhaps this question wasn't the best way to find that out. it certainly wasn't worded correctly and for that, he truly is sorry. he wants to vocalize that, but before he can get any words out, munakata snaps with a venom that makes his blood run cold. not having the courage to look up at the blue king, kuroh simply folds in on himself to keep himself as small as possible. dark eyes focus on nothing at all, averted downwards as he flinches away from the question asked. unsure of how to even answer, kuroh wishes that the floor would just swallow him whole. if it were anyone else, kuroh would have his hackles up, ready to fight ... but this is different. munakata already made him feel two inches tall -- now add in a reprimand, and he was done for.

"it won't happen again."