#highfleurentia

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Ravus/Aranea/Ignis

Warnings: N/A

Summary:  The Niflheim-Tenebrae delegation makes an appearance at a Lucian state dinner, and Ignis engages in extensive negotiations and diplomatic positioning. (It's 9k of mostly-smut, because I love this threesome.)

Other Tags: Threesome - F/M/M; Pre-Canon; Cunnilingus; Kissing; Double Penetration; Vaginal Sex; Anal Sex; Diplomacy

AO3 Link

Ignis was early, as he always was for these sorts of events. He checked over the expansive ballroom and the royal dining room both, consulted briefly with the Citadel’s Master of Protocol, and was satisfied with the overall layout, though Ignis did ask that a few items be tweaked here and there. The seating arrangement, in particular, was delicate. He ended up swapping three of the arrangements and moving one entirely, based on his memory of the heights and interests of the various guests and out of a desire to facilitate conversation. He also, as a last-minute move that rankled him, placed himself between two guests who shouldn’t have been seated together. He resolved to ask that he be given the final edit on the seating chart next time. Ignis had barely finished as the guests began to arrive, and he made another mental note to arrive fifteen minutes earlier to the next state dinner.

Tonight’s event was particularly lavish, as if to display to Niflheim and Tenebrae that they did not, in fact, have Lucis on the ropes as much as they might like to think. Abundant flower bouquets spilled out of giant urns flanking the walls, and glittering crystal and silver sparkled along long dinner tables. Candles flickered in sconces and ornately cut cups dotting the dining tables. Ignis was busy holding a conversation with half of his attention and spending the other half tracking who Noctis and Regis spent time with, making diplomatic calculations and careful adjustments as he went—coordinated, as always, with elegant table manners and witty repartee.  Still, by the time the party moved into the ballroom for dancing, Ignis was grateful for the break.

what in the fuck is this

Preview:

Rigid warmth buoys Ignis between heavy waves of―perhaps not sleep. That feels too weak a word. It's almost as if he's been knocked unconscious by a particularly nasty spar with Gladio. But he doesn't hear Gladio's mocking growls or the med wing's quiet rustling of nurses. In fact, there's barely any sound at all, which first leads him to believe he's in his own apartment, where the walls can block most of Insomnia's thrumming. But he's not...sure?

He rarely feels so uncoordinated. The frustration forces his senses to lift the steel curtain a half inch more.

Breath. The rigid warmth breathes. One side on his nose and eyelids, a small splash compared to the other billowing on the back of his neck, meshed between knobs of his spine. For a strange moment, Ignis' brain melds them into one being before snippy logic flares his sense of touch and forms a new picture:

His preferred air freshener is absent and his walls can't block this much noise. Not his apartment. But not Noct's either.

It's the rest of it that really snaps his eyes open.

Rigid warmth. Scarred skin.