Chapter Text
The metro pulled up and its doors opened out onto the platform, and finally Ignis could breathe. He squeezed through commuters packed into the train, his backpack in his arms like a battering ram to get him through the disgruntled morning crowds of labourers in their fluorescent yellow and orange vests. The hour Ignis travelled to university was far too early to be considered rush hour, and yet it brought with it an entirely different group of commuters who needed the early service as much as he did.
He elbowed his way through the turnstiles—which failed to let him through at one point, resulting in having to plead to the disgruntled station staff to let him through—and out of the metro station. Then began the next part of his journey by bus.
If Ignis had the choice, it would not be public transport.
Much like it hadn’t been his choice to sell his car for money to stretch across three months of rent, nor was it his choice that the person he was splitting the rent with had unceremoniously walked out on him, leaving him to cover the entire thing month-to-month.
Finding a new place to live close to university in the middle of the academic year was a struggle already, but finding a place that was affordable and allowed pets? Practically impossible, and Ignis wasn’t about to give up Rosemary either. Even if he did find a place, it wouldn’t be the right time. Almost half a decade he’s lived and accumulated his belongings in their small apartment, and moving it all to a new place would cost him a lion’s share of time or money, or both. With his looming deadlines for his thesis, and both of his part time jobs cutting his shifts bit by bit like some form of primeval torture, Ignis simply could not afford to give up either.
The early morning was the only time Ignis could get a solid chunk of writing done, and today it was especially important he made it count, what with his supervision meeting landing just before his shift at the cafe. He unlocked his assigned office, a small room with a small desk—with a drawer of a not-so-small collection of Ebony—and a computer. It’s not much, but most grad students are used to even less than much , but it was all he needed for him to put his head down for the next few hours and make headway with his thesis.
“You're going to have to extend your candidature Ignis," said his supervisor. The man let out a deep sigh, his eyes shutting for a moment through the exhale, as if he delivered the news with a heavy heart. Anyone who had spent longer than an hour working with Professor Ardyn Izunia would know that to be false. As anyone who had spent longer than an hour working with Izunia would sooner question if the man even had a heart.
Izunia simply had quite the flair for the dramatic. But he had an excellent track record, was well funded, well supported and well connected.
"I don't need to extend it," said Ignis, leaning forwards in his chair, "I only need two or so weeks to collect the data, less than a week to complete preliminary analysis, in time for my last progress review—"
"It’s too ambitious,” Izunia leaned back and waved his hand. “You said you’d address issues with accessing government data two months ago Ignis. I’ve yet to see any of this new data."
"I have addressed them, which is why I’ve said, I’ll only need a few more weeks,” Ignis rubbed his eyes under his glasses, but he refused to lose his composure. “I hadn’t anticipated the hiccoughs we’ve had, but I’ve ironed them out—”
"No one would’ve, and no one ever does,” Izunia tapped his pen on his desk, and offered a smile. To Ardyn it would’ve been comforting. To Ignis, it was nothing short of unsettling. “Almost everyone extends their candidature Ignis. It’s less stress and a cleaner dataset for you, a more polished draft for me to look at—everyone’s happy. An extra six months would do you a world of good."
Ignis had drawn up the plan for his adjusted protocol himself. He can pull it all off in a month, and finish the first draft of his writeup the following month. But his adjusted schedule let very little time, for very little else.
"You've the potential to make waves in this field Ignis, you’re one of the most brilliant students I’ve had, but it’ll only harm your track record if you did a slipshod job of it, and your supervision team, myself included, have high hopes for your body of work. If you keep up the output you have now you’d make a competitive applicant for the university’s postdoctoral fellowship.” His supervisor rose from his seat, and walked around to Ignis’s side of the desk.
“But you’re one out of hundreds,” Izunia said, examining his nails as he spoke. “Slip up in your research output even just slightly and you can kiss your glowing prospects goodbye.”
“ Unless,” Izunia, leaned on the front of his desk, standing in front of Ignis, “You wanted to drop a bit of the teaching and marking load you’ve got with me. I could gladly take them off your hands, give you more time to expedite your work—”
“That won’t be an issue,” said Ignis, before taking a deep breath and letting out a metered exhale. The extra money he received from the classes and marking, no matter how meagre they were week to week can make the difference between having electricity running for the week or showering in ice cold water. “I mean to say sir, I can manage the workload perfectly fine, even if I continued my current study load as it is.”
Izunia blinked up at Ignis, slowly, as if an idea had occurred to him.
“Are finances the problem Ignis? I understand you won’t be able to extend your scholarship. My boy, if there’s anyway I can assist—”
“Not at all,” said Ignis, quicker than intended. “I’ve done research into top-ups. I’m sure I can secure a few.”
There was something disconcerting about the way his supervisor offered him help. The extra classes and paid hours marking papers, Ignis could understand, many academics with the funding would happily palm those off to lighten their own teaching loads to focus on their own research. But Professor Ardyn Izunia extended his assistance in various other ways that can be easily misconstrued as inappropriate, and Ignis, would err on the side of caution and politely refuse.
His supervisor’s face curled into a smile. “I take it you’ll consider it then?”
"I understand the merits and the drawbacks of this decision,” Ignis said, very diplomatically despite how much he seethed inside. “And I will think about it, and when I’ve made the decision, I will get back to you."
"Good man. Have a decision ready before your next progress review.”
That’s only a month away , Ignis wanted to protest, but no, he couldn’t show his supervisor any further incompetence. With Ardyn as his supervisor and his teaching manager, he could easily cut those teaching contracts with a snap of his fingers. Ignis calmly set the door closed behind him, before briskly striding down the hallway, almost breaking out into a trot to get back into his office. He turned on his laptop, and opened up various iterations of his schedule. He can manage, he can work his way through it.
But as sleazy as the man was, Professor Izunia was partly correct. With a university as prestigious as the Royal Insomnian , there would be many elite candidates vying for that fellowship. Ignis needed all the output he could get, but not to the detriment of the careful balancing act that was his finances.
He took off his glasses, set them down on his desk, and massaged over his closed eyelids. He had a small savings account, not as large as it used to be, with emergency money for well, emergencies , which he intended to be for small emergencies gods willing, but nothing to this extent. He can stretch that through the next few months, while he applied for the top ups and saved anything else he got from his shifts at work.
An hour or two at most was all Ignis could manage to squeeze out of writing the next chapter of his thesis before his alarm dinged off to get ready for his first work shift of the day. It was only a short bus ride into town, an outfit change and an addition of an apron, until he was making cup after cup of coffee at an inhumane speed and efficiency at a cafe in town. Only a university town would have an afternoon coffee rush.
Prompto let out a weary sigh when the last customer from a lingering queue received her order. “We were lost without you this morning Iggy.”
Ignis continued to wipe down the coffee machine. “Blame my supervisor.”
“How’d your meeting go anyway?” asked Prompto, crossing his arms and leaning his hip on the edge of the counter, his eyes wide and at full attention.
Ignis didn’t want his friend to worry, but at the same time, he couldn’t lie to him either, not when he gazed up at Ignis with sincere concern.
“Izunia wants me to extend my candidature.”
“Wai— What? I thought you said, that he said—”
“That I was on track yes,” Ignis finished wiping the nozzle of the milk steamer, and he stuffed his rag in his apron pocket. “But all of the sudden he’s offering to take his teaching load off me if I don’t. Says that’s the only way I can maintain my output.”
“Yeesh.” Prompto let out a whistle. “Are ya gonna do it?”
“I see some merit to his idea,” said Ignis, instead of I don’t really have much of a choice, “loathe as I am to admit it, I don’t think I can manage writing and working and publishing—”
“Hey are we even talking about the same Iggy here?” Prompto slapped Ignis’s arm, and quickly rubbed the spot he hit. “You can do all that in your sleep .”
Ignis suppressed a smile. “And as good as you think I am Prompto, I can’t afford to slip up now, with all the time and effort I’ve already put in.”
Prompto roughly ruffled his hair, as if it didn’t look unruly enough. “It all sounds so complicated.”
“That’s just how it is, I’m afraid." Ignis shook his head solemnly, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He preferred the mad rush to caffeinate the aptly named sleep deprived students of Insomnia to the late afternoon lull, where time seemed to crawl until the end of his shift, until he had to rush off to his next shift for his other job.
One unread message sat in his inbox. Speak of the devil.
“Everything okay?” Prompto asked, the sound of Ignis’s deep exhale catching his attention.
“They just cancelled my shift.”
“You mean at the grocery store? Did they say why?”
“No. Just that it’s been cancelled.”
Ignis slipped his phone back in his pocket, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he mentally calculated how much of an impact seven hours of work can make on his budget for the month.
“I’m sorry Iggy.” Prompto shifted on the spot, his brows drawing together in worry. Prompto was one of the only friends who knew how precarious Ignis’s financial situation was. “If there’s anyway I can help—”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Ignis sighed. It’s not like Prompto fared any better than Ignis did. His only saving grace was living in an apartment a fraction of the price of Ignis’s, but shared with three others, farther out from campus. He offered Prompto a smile. "It’s only one shift. I can use the time to write in any case.”
That seemed to brighten Prompto somewhat, just enough for the two of them to get through the rest of their shift together. Prompto finished up first, having started earlier, and had waved Ignis off with a “See ya later!” his eyes glued to his phone as he jogged out out of the cafe. Some hours later, Ignis clocked out of his shift.
On the bright side, there was no question of what he would do with his suddenly open block of seven hours. He hitched his backpack over one shoulder, waving off the manager closing up the afternoon, and broke off into a sprint towards the bus stop. He made a quick stop back home to refill Rosemary’s water and food bowls under her careful scrutiny, and fixed himself a quick snack, before heading back towards the direction of university.
“ Where are you?” asked an oddly curious text message from Prompto at around 8:00PM in the evening.
“ I’m back in my office,” Ignis messaged back. “ Why?”
“ No reason :)” was all Prompto had to say. “ Good night Iggy!”
His phone remained silent for the next hour, and by then Ignis was already distracted from the curious exchange he had with Prompto. On this day of the week, his friends knew he’d be working until midnight. Ignis supposed it was only normal Prompto would worry for him on an evening he didn’t always have free.
“What are you two doing in my apartment?” Ignis exhaled. Cindy sat on Ignis’s couch in a short yellow dress, her legs drawn up over the cushions while she painted her toenails bright pink. On the floor, Prompto sat cross legged, also dressed in his Friday’s best, Rosemary rubbing her white fur all over Prompto’s plaid pants.
“Thought we’d get ready here so we can all leave together,” said Cindy as a matter of factly. “Prom’s picked out your outfit.”
“My what?” asked Ignis. He locked his front door behind him, hanging his bag on a nearby hook with his jacket.
“Wait, Prom didn’t tell ya?”
“He seemed busy!” Prompt exclaimed. “And I figured, it can be a surprise—”
“What’s a surprise, Prompto?”
“We’re goin’ out, it’s Friday night, friends go out, we’re friends,” Cindy waved her nail polish brush around, before honing in on another toenail. “I heard about the shitty day you had hon, and ya need the break—”
Ignis sighed. “Did Prompto forget to mention the part where I do not have the funds for this?”
“Don’t be such a worry wart Iggy, me and Prom agreed to split paying for your drinks—” Prompto nodded enthusiastically from the floor, “But once Prom’s done with you, you won’t need us payin’ for your drinks, just sayin’—”
“You two don’t have to do this.”
“But we want to!” Prompto jumped up on his feet, and shoved Ignis from behind, pushing him towards his bedroom, while Rosemary ambled after them. “You work so hard, you need a bit of a break!”
“I don’t have time—”
“Iggy darlin’ you and I and Prom all know better than most that you were gonna spend this evening watchin’ those weird murderer documentaries all night,” Cindy yelled out from the living room. “You have the time to hang out with your friends. By the time I dry off my toes, you better come out here lookin’ like someone ready to swindle a bar.”
“Gotcha Cin!” Prompto called out.
“No you do not—”
They ended up in a small bar downtown, away from campus, Ignis thanked the heavens. They took their seats up the bar where Prompto and Cindy did pay for the first few of Ignis’s drinks, drinking and laughing together, the two talking about anything and everything to keep Ignis’s mind off everything else. It was too good to be true for Cindy and Prompto to keep the alcohol flowing, even with their joined wallets, but Cindy was nothing if resourceful. Her wily charms were put to good use, chatting up patrons nearby who would send drinks her way, only for her to pass it down to Ignis. It worked maybe three or four times before everyone else caught on, it was a small club, but before long, Ignis was pleasantly buzzed, joining in on their chatter when he could offer anecdotes that had nothing to do with work or sleazy supervisors, which all have admittedly taken over his life.
"Ooh I love this song!" Cindy piped up. "Come on you two, come dance with me!"
"You can't afford nearly enough alcohol to convince me to do that," said Ignis sternly. In fact he was making that last swindled drink last for as long as he was able, even if it was an overly sweet cocktail that left the taste of bubblegum in his mouth.
"No need to convince me!" said Prompto.
"But Iggy!"
"I'll be okay here, you two enjoy yourselves."
Cindy pulled Prompto to the dance floor, while Ignis nursed his loud and piercingly sweet drink. For all its sweetness though, it was strong. His chin propped up on the back of his hand, Ignis glanced down at the alcoholic concoction. Can’t even afford my own alcohol . After a shake of his head, Ignis tipped his head back and downed the rest of his sugary drink in a few gulps.
"If I get you another, could I convince you to do that again?" said a voice from beside Ignis. From the corner of his eye, he could see the man move down a stool, taking the spot that Cindy left empty.
"It’s worth a try," muttered Ignis, emboldened by the alcohol and further disinhibited by his nerves. He lifted his chin up slightly, angling the corner of his eye to survey the man beside him, careful to conceal his curiosity.
The man was almost a full head taller than Ignis, his stature imposing even from where he sat on Cindy’s vacated bar stool. His wide shoulders and broad torso tapered down to a narrow waist, accentuated by the tailored fit of his three piece suit. His eyes tracked up the man’s broad torso and to the man’s face, all sharp jawlines and leering smoulder, dark hair pulled together in a low effortless bun. Ignis met the man’s eyes.
The thick eyebrows framing them raised slightly, and one corner of his lips twitched up.
In his inebriation, Ignis hadn’t noticed that the man was fully aware of the journey Ignis’s gaze travelled across the man’s body.
The other man’s lips broke out into a full grin. He flicked his hand up at the bartender. “Could you get us another round?”
The bartender walked off to the other end of the bar to fix their drinks. The bar wasn’t exactly cacophonous, not like the cheap college bars Ignis and his friends frequented and that their budgets limited them to, which often doubled as live venues for up-and-coming garage bands that should stay in garages, if such a concept existed, but here though the pulsing music was loud, it was a pleasant buzz and thumping for the bodies on the dance floor.
And all of it seemed to recede when this stranger spoke.
The bartender set their drinks down in front of them.
Ignis eyed his drink, a bright pink concoction in a tall cocktail glass beside the stranger’s short tumbler of amber liquid. Too caught up with the stranger’s easy flirting, Ignis had forgotten he was drinking one of Cindy’s rejected cocktails.
The stranger let out a deep chuckle. “You don’t really hafta to chug it y’know,” said the stranger.
“I still feel up to the challenge,” said Ignis with a small sip of his drink. Just as sickeningly sweet as the last one.
“And what? Deprive me of the time I could be spending chatting up a looker like you?”
Not subtle at all .
The stranger extended his hand.
“Gladio,” he said with a wink.
Eyeing the hand in front of him, Ignis took it in his in a firm handshake. His hands were large, proportional to the rest of the man, with long thick finger— Why am I thinking about this?
“Ignis,” he said.
The stranger called Gladio returned his grip with a firm one of his own.
“What’s a fella like you doin’ taking your friend’s drinks on a Friday night and not gettin’ bought drinks of his own?” said Gladio.
“It would be a shame to put good alcohol to waste, the quality of her prospects in men aside,” said Ignis, his cool demeanour belying the tumult of confusion and nerves and excitement in his gut. It’s that cocktail of emotions that made him ask, “What’s a man like you doing buying drinks for a guy like me?”
Gladio held his glass to his lips. “I see a new face, I wonder why we haven’t been introduced yet, so I address the problem myself.”
“A can-do attitude,” scoffed Ignis.
“Exactly,” said Gladio with a sip of his drink.
“Should put that on your résumé.”
“Say if I did,” said Gladio, swirling his drink in his hand, “your place got any openings for a big strong man with a can-do attitude like me?”
Ignis swallowed down his drink in a hard gulp to mask how he choked at the man’s forward questions. “How would you even know a big strong man was what I was after to begin with?”
“I don’t.” Gladio chuckled. “But hey, that’s how the hunt goes anyway, right? Try everywhere you can, even for the things you’re obviously not qualified for. Eventually someone’ll take ya.”
“I take it that’s where you got to where you are now?” asked Ignis, his cool demeanour as he sipped belying the loud and fast pounding in his ears and the fact the he had no idea what he was doing .
The man called Gladio let out a large bellowed laugh. “You’re a funny one,” he said.
“Is that the kind of characteristic you’re after in a hire?”
“Normally, but there’s usually no time for that when I’m involved.” Gladio’s lopsided grin was devious for sure, and it stirred something in Ignis’s gut he couldn’t quite ignore. “Not all that much talking at all involved really.”
Ignis scoffed. “Having been graced with even a few minutes of your stimulating conversation, I daresay that’s probably how the other party prefers it.”
Gladio laughed again, unfazed by the barb of Ignis’s words. “I make up for it in several other ways.”
“You’d have a lot of compensating to do,” muttered Ignis.
“I think I do though more than enough.” Gladio smiled into his tumbler before draining the last few drops of the bottom. “So,” he said, when it seemed Ignis had nothing else to say nor do but sit there and let his ears burn under the man’s leer, “the alcohol hasn’t gone to waste—” he nodded at Ignis finishing off the rest of his drink “—what say you and I put the company to good use too? Y’know, judge for yourself if I do enough to make up for my stellar personality.”
Ignis’s fingers curled tighter around his glass. He looked up and Gladio shot him another lecherous grin and a quick wink. To top it all off, his large hand had landed on Ignis’s knee, enough of a distance for Ignis to push it away.
Ignis blinked down at himself. What business did this man have picking up Ignis of all people? He looked like a right mess, the scowl he wore with his outfit only now relaxing in his shock. He hadn’t had time to style his hair or correct whatever fashion wrongdoings Prompto had exacted on him before they left his apartment, and Prompto had made it part of his civic duty to pick out his darkest and tightest clothes, whilst also deliberately leaving him to look disheveled and unruly.
Meanwhile this stranger called Gladio looked like he stepped straight out of the cover of Lucis’s Richest 100 with a suit that had to have cost more than Ignis’s entire student debt. He was certainly objectively attractive, but with his cocksure attitude and advances that lacked subtlety and finesse, this Gladio wasn’t the kind of man Ignis would ever go home with. Not that he’s ever attracted the attention of men like Gladio before. If Ignis were to be truthful to himself, he hadn’t received any attention from other men in a long time, nor the time to try and garner it, not since his last relationship.
He was never really in the right headspace since, Ignis would always reason, but now, four or fove or so cocktails braver, the thumb on his leg rubbing slow circles on his knee, swirling his better judgement away with the rest of the thoughts that had occupied his brain all day, several hours from a lost shift and his supervision meeting from hell, all he could think was—
Well, what the fuck.
His life has been on a one way train down the metaphorical shitter for several months now and was showing no signs of stopping, he may as well get a literal dick in him as a pat on the back for his best efforts.
Ignis could only manage one weak nod before the stranger called Gladio was on his feet to pay for his tab. When he returned, Ignis rose off his bar stool, and the man called Gladio was leading him out past the crowds and thumping music, and out the bar with a hand on his lower back.
The cab Gladio flagged down weaved through the towering buildings of the city, and to Ignis’s surprise, towards the highrises nestled with the heart of Insomnia’s centre. The tension inside the taxi was palpable, Gladio’s idle chatter more or less faded into the haze it left between them. More to reaffirm himself than anything, Ignis slowly reached out and put his hand on Gladio’s lap.
Those golden eyes widened in surprise and met Ignis’s gaze, before blinking down at his lap. His lips curled into a smirk, and he placed his hand over Ignis’s. “Still up for it then?”
Fuck it .
Ignis launched himself into the man’s lap and captured his lips in a ravenous kiss. It must have taken a moment for Gladio to register what was going on until he was kissing back and his hands were pawing at Ignis everywhere, rumpling him even more. A hardness rapidly grew against Ignis’s leg where he straddled the man’s thick muscular thigh.
“Enthusiastic,” Gladio groaned. “I like it.”
In response, Ignis grabbed him by the crown of his hair and dove his tongue down Gladio’s throat. Their groans muffled against each other’s lips and the loud rustling of their clothing against each other the only sounds in the cramped taxi, and after a particularly loud moan from Ignis after the roll of Gladio’s hips, Ignis still had the sobriety to question why the tax driver hadn’t made any effort to extricate them from each other.
“He wouldn’t dare,” Gladio muttered, his voice smug, low and thick with arousal.
Ignis hadn’t had the time to be embarrassed by the fact that he had wondered that out loud, since Gladio was sliding his palms up the back of his clothed thighs and all Ignis could do was curse Prompto and his choice in tight denim for his outfit for the evening.
They separated long enough for Gladio to pay their most likely shocked and embarrassed taxi driver, the grin Gladio shot him shameless as he punched what had to be a sizeable tip in, if the taxi driver’s wide eyes were any indication. Ignis could only attempt to give him an apologetic look while he held his shirt closed and stepped out of the taxi. His eyes landed on the entrance to the highrise they parked in front of and doubt dropped like a lump of lead in his stomach.
“We still good?” Gladio asked, the shadows cast by the streetlights hiding his expression.
“Of course,” Ignis scoffed, one hand still holding his unbuttoned shirt closed whilst he willed the nerves out of his voice. Stepping out of the heavy heat that had built up between the two men in the taxi, the cool evening air was like a blast into Ignis’s face, and served to clear Ignis’s lust-addled mind somewhat and contribute some logic to his situation. Only the rich and famous could afford this deep into the city.
As he puzzled these details out in his confusion and alcohol addled brain, Gladio was tugging him into an elevator and Ignis’s eyes widened when Gladio jabbed a button for a floor all the way in the 30s, but before Ignis could open his mouth to ask, Gladio’s heat engulfed him again, his lips pressed against Ignis’s preventing any further questions, the friction between their groins preventing any further coherent thought. No matter how expensive those pants had to be, the material could not hide the sizeable erection Gladio pressed against him.
For almost thirty floors the elevator ascended, fortunately never needing to stop. Ignis slung his arms behind Gladio’s neck, rocking his hips against his while they tangled and slid their tongues against each other. The wet smack of their lips and Gladio’s heavy groans over the hum of the elevator goaded Ignis on to rock against that length harder, and crave what it would feel without the expensive material between them. Just as Ignis hooked a leg behind the other man’s hip to better rut against him, a rich moan rising out of his throat as he did so, the elevator dinged, and the doors slowly slid open.
“Good,” said Gladio. His lips glimmered in the elevator light. “Any longer and I was ready to fuck you in there.”
Ignis’s heart raced in his ears, the reality of what they were about to do crashing down on him now that this stranger’s laid it out to him in plainer terms.
Gladio took him by the hand, leading him down to the corridor in brisk steps. It was fortunate that the hour was late, and that there were no inhabitants around to see them in this state, their clothing rumpled, a clear tenting in both their trousers, and Ignis’s bright red flush extending to his ears, glowing even redder when Gladio unlocked his apartment door with a lurid wink.
The door swung open and Ignis had to pry his jaw off the floor. This apartment had to be three, four, five times the size of his own flat, opulently furnished with dark, sleek furniture, illuminated by the lights provided by the floor length windows city views. Yes, Ignis was beginning to shake off the drunkenness from alcohol, but being drunk off the confusion of the situation could be the only explanation as to why his legs took him towards the direction of the kitchen, so that he could run his hands over the countertops.
That’s definitely real marble , he concluded.
Gladio’s hand was on his lower back back, and just that momentary heat felt good, that Ignis couldn’t help but let himself be led by it down a dark corridor and towards a dimly lit bedroom, where Gladio slammed him against the door, taking his lips again.
“Still okay?” asked Gladio through a quiet laugh, his expression in the dim light unreadable.
“Why do you keep asking me that?” said Ignis, exasperated. Because you’re drunk Ignis, his last sober brain cell supplied. “I cannot express anymore explicitly how much I need this.”
“Oh, need , huh?” Gladio flashed him a smirk, and granted him another roll of his hips.
A momentary slip of the tongue that Ignis dared not entertain, instead choosing to fumble with Gladio’s belt while Gladio stripped him down.
Gladio pushed him down onto the bed, and Ignis bounced atop the mattress, firm, had to be expensive, left only in his haphazardly unbuttoned shirt and his underwear.
Gladio stripped out of his own vest and slacks, and one part of Ignis’s brain had the mind to protest the treatment of such expensive clothing with the way Gladio threw his vest in a heap on the floor, but Gladio’s pants dropped next and were thrown to the side with his vest, and he slipped his button up shirt up and over his head with a flourish, granting Ignis with an eyeful of bulging muscles, lined with dark sprawling tattoos that spanned the man’s shoulders and forearms.
Apparently Ignis’s mouth hanging open in rapt attention was simply not enough, and Gladio shoved his boxers down to reveal his long, thick, uncut cock, stiff and erect, jutting away from a tuft of public hair. It was leaking at the tip, a drop of precome rolling down to guide Ignis’s gaze down its thick and veiny shaft and settling at Gladio’s heavy balls.
A deep chuckle wrenched his gaze back up at the man’s smug smirk.
“Like what you see?”
“Oh fuck me,” said Ignis with resignation, in part a reaction to his current situation— could this Gladio be any more of a tool —but also very much an open invitation.
“Gladly,” said Gladio. “Get on your hands and knees for me.”
Throwing his own shirt to the floor—if this floor was good enough for Gladio’s expensive suit, it’s good enough for Ignis’s shirt— Ignis rolled over, bracing himself on his hands and knees, the blood that raced in his ears with nerves now shooting down to his dick in anticipation. Years of being in a relationship that ended in eventual complacency, may have made the blood thrum in his veins harder at Gladio’s simple command. He’s had casual encounters since then, all sloppy and inexperienced, or subdued and restrained, much like what his partners assumed Ignis to be.
Ignis tended to attract a type.
Gladio’s hands tugged his underwear down his legs, past his knees and off his feet, chucking them to the side with the rest of their clothing. A light smack connected with Ignis’s rear, and Gladio chuckled at his small yelp.
And Gladio was unlike any other type of man Ignis has ever attracted before.
“Cute ass you got there.”
“I could say the same of your dick,” Ignis bit back.
“Yeah, nah, not what that dick thirsty look you had on your face just then said.” The warm flesh of Gladio’s cock made contact with the cleft of his ass, and Ignis moaned when he stroked it between his cheeks. “Gonna open you up real good.”
Gladio leaned over to the side to rifle through his bedside table and Ignis peered over his shoulder. Behind him Gladio was rubbing lube between his fingers, until his gaze met Ignis’s.
Gladio winked.
With another furious flush, Ignis buried his face in the pillow, his timing perfect as a thick wet finger penetrated him.
“You don’t have to go slow,” Ignis moaned through gritted teeth. Gods, where did this Ignis come from? “I want to feel it.”
“I dunno if we’re still joking around about the size of my dick, but in case you missed it, I’m huge.” Gladio pushed a second finger in nevertheless, and that was a burn Ignis hadn’t been acquainted with in a while. “It’d wound my pride if you came out of this feeling like shit.”
“But you could still hurry it up.” Ignis rocked back onto those fingers, gasping when they hit his prostate. “There— Add another—”
“You really are a needy little slut aren’t’cha? Wouldn’t have thought it when I picked you up—it’s always the quiet ones.” Ignis resented that, but the third finger was even more of a stretch, making him yell into the pillow. None of his previous partners have ever felt anywhere as thick as their own three fingers, nor three of Gladio’s . They stretched against his entrance, bordering on painful, just enough for the pleasure to be overwhelming until Gladio rubbed along his prostate.
The pain, and the pleasure. It was as close as Ignis could get to muting every other thought in his mind, and honing on those alone.
“Fuck me,” Ignis said again, and this time it only meant one thing.
“Can’t be any clearer than that.” There was the sound of a wrapper tearing behind him, and Ignis twisted around to see Gladio roll the condom down his—Ignis had to admit—massive cock.
Another smack against his ass had him falling forward against the pillow. Hands clamped around his hips, and that large cock pressed against his entrance, until the head caught his rim, making Ignis moan into the pillow.
“Still good?” asked Gladio with a grunt.
“I’m fine.”
Bit by bit, Gladio’s cock penetrated him, the girth stretching him out further than Gladio’s fingers could prepare him for, until eventually, Gladio’s balls were pressed flush against Ignis’s rear. There was very little time for Ignis to recover until Gladio was rolling his hips, and snapping them against Ignis’s rear harder.
“Oh—!” Ignis gasped.
“Feel good?”
“Yes—” said Ignis, panting heavily with each small thrust.
Gladio drew out further on the windup, and thrust back in harder, hitting Ignis’s prostate head on.
This guy’s good , better than anyone he’s ever taken, but all Ignis could offer him was another strangled moan.
“Harder—” Ignis moaned, “I can take harder—”
“Fuck— You’re such a slut—” groaned Gladio, and he thrust in faster, the slide of his cock inside his walls making Ignis’s head swim and unwinding his body from the knot it had worked itself in all day, and Ignis wondered why he was even so high strung to begin with, but Gladio was hitting his prostate again, and the rush of endorphins flushed out whatever worries he had housed in his brain away, his focus squarely centred on the large cock inside him and the heat that it built up in his groin.
“Do that again— Ah!”
Fingers tangled in the back of Ignis's hair, yanking at his scalp as Gladio tilted his hips and drew back in, every second thrust striking Ignis’s prostate, making him scream louder into the pillow.
“Just like that—” Ignis rocked back, his movements messy as he tried to meet Gladio’s thrusts. “Yes— Like that—”
Realising this to be the perfect angle, Gladio’s pace quickened. “Yeah? You like my cock stretching you out?”
“Yes—!” Ignis cried, his own words sounding foreign to him. He’s never had a partner with a mouth as filthy as Gladio’s to respond to, but Ignis had always been a quick study. “Fuck me harder—”
“ Fuck, you’re so hot— Your ass is so tight—”
The sounds of their skin slapping against each other, Gladio’s balls knocking against his rear, the fingers digging bruises in his hips, all felt so distant and imagined, but yet still felt so real.
“I’m close—” gasped Ignis.
Gladio leaned forward and grabbed his leaking cock.
“Oh— Gladio—! ” Ignis wanted to cup his hand over his mouth for even daring to call out the stranger’s name, but that hand engulfed his dick, and the heat in his groin and the pressure against his prostate forced that name over and over, back to the forefront of his mind. “ Gladio— I’m gonna come—”
Harder and faster, Gladio thrust in him in an unrelenting pace, his hand pumping to the time of his thrusts, until a drive against his prostate had Ignis squeezing his eyes shut. His vision blared white behind his eyelids, a scream of Gladio’s name escaped his ragged throat, and it took him a second to realise he was spilling into Gladio’s hand and all over his bed.
“Oh—” Ignis panted hard, his legs quivering, struggling to keep himself up as Gladio slowly milked him dry.
“ Fucking hell Ignis, you’re so fucking hot,” groaned Gladio, slowing his hips, thankfully, as anything against Ignis’s prostrate began to feel like a hot poker.
Pulling himself off Gladio’s dick with a thick groan, Ignis turned around and blinked down at Gladio’s still hard cock and then up at Gladio’s raised eyebrow. Ignis rolled the condom off that large cock, throwing it off the side of the bed.
“Allow me,” said Ignis.
Gladio looked puzzled, up until Ignis swallowed his cock down his throat.
Ignis couldn’t figure out if his pulsing headache made for a better alarm than his phone did. He blinked his crusted eyes open and smacked his dried up lips. His mouth still tasted like alcohol and something else, something salty. A quick survey of his surroundings confirmed that he was in an unfamiliar bed, and bare naked.
The bedroom he was in had to have been the size of his entire apartment alone. There was a heap of clothes on the floor at the end of the bed, a hodge podge of Ignis's old clothes intertwined with an expensive looking but crumpled up suit.
A crumpled suit that had last night, peeled back to reveal rippling, bronzed muscles. Beneath that broad chest was a rumbling voice, one that coaxed Ignis through orgasm after orgasm until he was well and truly spent. The same voice that groaned and yelled loud while Ignis worked the other man’s cock in his mouth.
Squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath, he let his mind careen through mortifying memory after memory, until the sound of a shower spray from the adjacent bathroom distracted him from his self-flagellation.
His cue to leave.
Rising up on uneasy legs, he frantically collected his clothes, pulling on his underwear before digging through the pile of clothes on the floor, until his phone rang from the pocket of his jeans.
There were several missed calls from Prompto and Cindy, and even more text messages from the pair, a few of which were from earlier in the morning.
“ I saw you leave with someone ,” texted Cindy. “ Let me know if you’re okay !”
Less calm and collected was Prompto’s most recent message, “ Please text back soon so we know you weren’t taken home by a mass murderer! ”
Ignis sighed. “ I’m fine ,” he messaged them both. “ Talk later. ”
His phone rang again in his grip, this time showing the contact name for his boss at the grocery store. He can’t ignore this one, much as he really needed to get out of this apartment fast.
“Good morning Ignis, is now a good time? It’s kind of urgent.”
No it isn’t, but —
“Yes, now’s fine.” Ignis rifled through the pile on the floor for his shirt.
“It’s about our store.”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry to break this to you, but head office is shutting our branch down next month.”
Ignis froze, from where he was putting one arm through his sleeve. “I— What—?”
“We’ve known for a while our store hasn’t been performing as well as the others but last month’s profits were the final nail in the coffin.” His manager sighed. “If you could even call it a profit.”
“Wait, what would this mean for us?” asked Ignis, knowing full well exactly what it meant. “Is there any of the other stores we can go to?”
“I’m sorry to say this Ignis, but no. The other stores in the region are being forced to cut down on staff due to budget cuts too, and trust me, I’ve tried my best to find you a different store to move you to. You’re a reliable worker Ignis, but there was nothing else I could do. The least I could do was let you know as earliest as possible.”
“There has to be some sort of consideration in place, I’ve worked for this company for years,” said Ignis, his voice fraying at the edges, frantic words tangled deep within his chest tumbling out of his mouth, “I have my rent— and my bills— and— I lose my scholarship in a month—”
“I really am sorry Ignis. If I hear of any openings, I’ll make sure to refer them to you.”
Rubbing his temples with one hand, he let out a shuddered exhale. He shouldn’t be unloading this on his manager, not when he was kind enough to let him know in advance. “Thank you Takka, really. For letting me know.”
“I wish you all the best my boy.”
All his best ? What would that pay for ? The shock settling in, Ignis crumpled forward, half-naked in a heap on the floor, his head in his hands as he tried to process what one less paycheck meant for the coming month.
The sound of the shower spray ending and the bathroom door opening brought Ignis’s thoughts to a screeching halt. Great. Another inconvenience he can add to his morning.
“Hey, you alright there?” asked that familiar rumbling voice.
Ignis looked up from his heap, up at the man in front of him. His muscles glistened from the moisture of his shower, and droplets of water rolled from his dark hair, leading Ignis's gaze to his towel hanging dangerously low around his hips.
“My apologies,” muttered Ignis, glancing away from the dangerously handsome man before him.
Using one hand to dry his damp hair with a towel, Gladio cast a curious glance at him, and offered a rare serious expression.
“If you don’t have to be anywhere, do you wanna have breakfast?” asked Gladio.
Breakfast with the stranger who nailed him to this high priced mattress like it was the last day on Eos was the last thing Ignis could possibly want to do right now, but so many of his stresses were clambering for room in his brain, it left little space for reasoned thinking, all he could do was weakly nod and be swept along.
Gladio searched through his wardrobe, and said, “Feel free to use the shower by the way.”
Ignis frowned.
“I mean, unless you weren’t plannin’ on putting your clothes back on, I’m keen on that too,” said Gladio with a smirk over his shoulder.
Half-dressed only in his shirt, Ignis hastily collected his clothes in his arms and scurried into the bathroom while the other man had his back turned towards his chest of drawers, almost as if they hadn’t already spent hours the night before with their naked limbs rubbing up against each other in every way possible. He took in the gleaming white bathroom with awe, before dropping to his knees in front of the toilet, and he regurgitated all his swirling nerves and confusion and alcohol and everything else into the toilet.
“Everything okay in there?” asked Gladio from outside.
“Shut up,” Ignis yelled back through the acidic taste in his mouth.
After Ignis had entertained the idea of a quick shower and a rinse of his mouth, it was a silent trip down thirty floors in the elevator, and Ignis couldn’t figure out if it was better to keep his eyes closed the entire trip down but have images of him rutting against a stranger in an elevator flash behind his eyelids, or to keep them open to the scene of the crime, while Gladio leaned against the railing, meeting Ignis’s inadvertent glances with a smirk.
After exiting the building, it was a short and awkward walk to a nearby cafe that Ignis could only dream of ever being able to afford to even step foot in. Acknowledging that Ignis was probably intent on keeping his mouth shut, Gladio ordered for them both while Ignis stared at the exorbitant prices people were paying, for breakfast .
What am I doing here?
The waiter brought them their coffee first, and Ignis remained silent while they sipped, with Gladio mostly occupying himself with his phone, tapping out messages at lightning speed. He had dressed down, almost unrecognisable in his skin tight white shirt and dark understated jeans, his hair tied up in a half pony. Peeking out from the collar of his shirt was an angry red mark on his neck.
Ignis averted his gaze back to his cup of plain black coffee. What was I on last night?
The waiter soon returned, setting down plates heaping with artfully arranged eggs and bacon and hashbrowns, trimmed with tomatoes and sliced avocados.
“Figured you could use a meal,” said Gladio, effectively cutting through their silence. He picked up his cutlery in either hand. “Only thing you’ve got in your belly right now has to be—”
“—don’t say it—” hissed Ignis.
“—alcohol,” finished Gladio with a self-assured smirk. “Why, whatcha think I was gonna say?”
Ignis set his lips in a tight line as he took his utensils in an iron grip before digging into his meal. They ate in silence, the only sounds between them the loud scrape of Ignis’s cutlery along his plate.
He could feel Gladio’s perplexed gaze on him as he tore through his food with ferocity.
“Ignis, wasn’t it?” asked Gladio. Ignis continued to chew in silence, and Gladio added, “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?” said Ignis through gritted teeth.
“Your little meltdown on my bedroom floor this morning, maybe?”
“Why would I want to talk about that with you of all people?”
“Whassat meant to mean?”
Ignis threw his hands up in front of him, his expression incredulous. “I don’t even know you!”
“Maybe you don’t, yeah, but you sound like you’re going through some shit, and even if I already got my dick wet, I’m not sending home someone I slept with lookin’ like—” he pointed a fork at the deep crease between Ignis’s brows “—lookin like that .”
Ignis let out an exasperated sigh.
“I dunno,” said Gladio with a shrug. “Maybe it’ll help to tell a stranger.”
“I don’t know what to tell you that you haven’t already eavesdropped ,” Ignis began, against his better judgement. But it wasn’t as if he would see this man again. “I’m losing one of my jobs, I lose my scholarship soon and I’m covering the rent of two people.”
“Scholarship?” Gladio’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re a student? Wait like, you’re”—his face contorted in confusion— “How old’re you exactly?”
“I’m a doctoral student,” said Ignis with a groan. “So as you can see, I have to get going, I’ve much to do as it is.” Ignis pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, the dread of paying for his meal settling with the ample breakfast in his stomach.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll pay, I made you get breakfast.”
Ignis released a hollow laugh through his nose, but returned his wallet to his pocket nonetheless. “What, do you think I was charging for last night’s services or anything?”
“Bacon, eggs and hashbrowns, for the night we had?” Gladio barked out a laugh. “You would be seriously underselling yourself.”
Despite being the one to initiate this line of conversation, Ignis’s ears burned red from Gladio’s backhanded, well what was it, compliment?
“I have to go,” said Ignis again.
“Really, Ignis, I had fun last night. We could do it again sometime,” said Gladio. He forked his last bit of bacon to his mouth, then set his fork down on his plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He dug through his own pockets for his own wallet, and pulled out a sleek black business card. Gladiolus Amicitia . Amicitia Corporation . Ignis’s stomach recoiled. “And in exchange, if there’s anything I can do to help, just give me a call.”
“Help?” Ignis asked, turning the dark piece of card in his fingers with a raised eyebrow.
“All I’m sayin’ is, work keeps me busy, and picking people up every night takes effort. Compatibility between us obviously isn’t a problem if last night was any indication.” Sitting back, Gladio slung an arm on the back of his chair and he gave Ignis a lazy grin. “I’ve been lookin’ for something more convenient, you clearly need some money, and you sounded like you had fun too—so how about it?”
Ignis slowly blinked in astonishment. He’s not suggesting what I think he’s suggesting is he ? “How about what ?”
“You do somethin’ for me, I give you somethin’ for the trouble,” said Gladio. “Kinda like last night and breakfast, except I’d be giving you exactly the amount you’re worth.”
In an effort to keep the bile rising up his throat down, Ignis remained silent.
“You ever heard of a sugar daddy ?” Gladio continued.
Anger swelled through Ignis’s chest, his cheeks rapidly pooled with rage and embarrassment, and the other man’s continued appraising gaze made his skin crawl. He shot up from his chair and in front of Gladio’s face, he tore the business card into tiny pieces and scattered them onto Gladio’s empty plate.
“Thank you for breakfast,” said Ignis, his tone laced with the finality of his cold anger, and he marched out of the cafe, not once looking back at the self-satisfied smirk on his patron’s face.
Much to his friends’ disappointment, Ignis refused to divulge any details about his mystery fling. Ignis himself could admit the experience was indeed full of intrigue, the kind that made for interesting stories that made heads crane over in curiosity during parties, but even if Ignis was the type of person to kiss and tell, which he wasn’t, Ignis would rather bury the memories of that evening to the further recesses of his mind, and the smug shit-eating grin of the man that accompanied a proposition that made Ignis flare up in anger at the very memory of it.
For the next few weeks, Ignis balanced his books like an anxious but meticulous tight-rope walker. One less paycheck meant severely minimising on the simple luxuries he had in his life, better quality food ingredients to cook with for one, the one hobby he allowed himself, cheaper brand of cat food, to Rosemary’s uppity disappointment. But he managed, and they will manage, until his rent for the following month came out of his bank account and his scholarship ran out. But that was a whole different beast to contend with.
One evening, as he prepared his dinner of instant noodles, padded with cheap cuts of beef and steamed frozen vegetables, his e-mailed pinged.
That should be the roster .
As his noodles bubbled over the stove, Ignis pulled up the roster on his phone, and his stomach sank. That can’t be correct. Only one person on the floor during morning and the lunch hour rush? He ran his hand through his hair and punched in the contact details for his manager.
“So, I just received the final roster for the month,” Ignis had asked after he’d dispensed of their formalities.
There was the sound of an awkward clearing of the throat from the other end of the line. “This is about your hours I presume.”
What else could it be about , Ignis wanted to snap back, but this man was still his employer.
“It has to be a mistake. Four days to two? Have there been any complaints?”
“It has nothing to do with your performance, but you must understand, I’ve recently evaluated our flow of customers with the staff we have rostered on a shift, and I’ve realised that it’s excessive. ”
“Excessive,” Ignis repeated. You’re cutting costs where you can at the expense of inundating your employees, just call it what it is.
“If anything it’s a testament to my reliance on you, that I’ll let you take these shifts on alone,” said his manager. “And I couldn’t very well give you all of the remaining shifts Ignis. It wouldn’t be fair to your coworkers.”
Rubbing the bridge of his nose with a thumb and a forefinger, Ignis switched the stove off and eyed the pot of his noodles. By his feet Rosemary had trodded over, circling his ankles, as if goading him to finish his dinner so Ignis could fix her her own.
Ignis released an exhale. “I understand.”
“I knew you would. I’ll see you next week.”
Ignis locked his phone and quietly set it down on the counter. Retrieving a bowl from one of the kitchen cupboards, Ignis ladled himself his dinner, his simple noodles embellished the best way he could. The first of many bowls for the next few months.
“You were right to bring her so soon Mr. Scientia,” said the vet.
Within the next few weeks Ignis had received the last cheque for his scholarship, just after he had used up the last of his grocery store pay. His application to extend his candidature another six months was approved. Never a man of his word, Izunia took away one of the classes he had assigned to Ignis for the coming semester. It was tight, but Ignis managed . With no help nor Ignis needing to bother anyone else with his issues no less, and Ignis considered that enough of an achievement.
About a week ago, Rosemary had stopped eating. She seemed fatigued the past few days, a distinct change from the refined air the ragdoll carried herself in. Ignis began to suspect that this wasn’t the same prissy upturn of her nose at the cheaper cat food they’ve had to resort to, when she started never making it to her litter box in time, and that itself had to be strange considering Ignis was a strict toilet trainer. As soon as he had spotted the small pool of vomit she left by the stove, Ignis rushed Rosemary over to the veterinary hospital, but not before making sure Prompto could cover the shift he had to abandon.
“The first course of antibiotics we’ve administered should stave off the worst of the infection in her kidneys, but we’ll have to put her on a course of oral antibiotics for the next few weeks.”
Ignis quietly nodded, obediently taking the prescriptions the veterinarian wrote out, along with plans for the specialised diet Rosemary would have to be on for the next few months.
He would have to bring her back for follow-up appointments, and Ignis hesitated to calculate how much those consultations would cost him. As the receptionist at the front desk typed up his bill, Ignis glanced down at Rosemary laid out in her carrier, seemingly too tired to even fiddle with the cone around her neck. The relief to hear her soft purrs distracted Ignis from the bill that the receptionist handed Ignis, and Ignis was at least thankful that her illness’s timing coincided with the receipt of his final scholarship deposit.
Ignis arrived home late, having spent three or four hours at the veterinary hospital’s waiting room before Rosemary could even be seen. He entered his apartment with the cat carrier in one hand, and a bag of her medication and special cat food in the other. He opened up the cage, and after some soft coaxing, Rosemary padded out. Placing his backpack on his kitchen counter, he pulled out a bottle wrapped in brown paper, one luxury he afforded himself that evening—he had already shelled out half of his savings for Rosemary, he could spare chump change for cheap grocery store wine—and a cold convenience store sandwich he had grabbed on the way home.
He settled in his couch with this laptop on the coffee table and Rosemary on his lap, her purrs soft as she fell back asleep.
"We've had a long month haven't we?" murmured Ignis, running one hand over the soft fur of her back while his laptop booted up.
He spent an hour scouring for part time jobs who would accept his erratic schedule, and bookmarked a number he would be sending his resume to the following morning. But there had to be something out there, Ignis wondered, anything , that could give a bigger financial return for shorter hours. Then those words surfaced in his mind again, the deep voice delivering them lancing anger through his chest once more. Two glasses of wine past, Rosemary gently purred on his lap, the image of a bright flash of teeth was back on his mind, and his fingers were typing out search terms like sugar daddy out of their own volition. He snorted while he pored over blogs and articles detailing the exorbitant amounts of money people were paying for their companionship, before shaking the ridiculous thoughts out of his head.
Three glasses later, he opened up a browser tab, purely out of curiosity. Gladiolus Amicitia, he typed out, a name he wasn't likely to forget soon, though not for the lack of trying.
A company website showed first. Amicitia Corporation . Ignis was familiar with the company and not just through his own research—the weapons industry not only was one of the most thriving industries in Lucis, it was also one of the most infamous.
Four glasses of wine later, Ignis had read about all of the national and international contracts the Amicitia Corp. held within the arms industry. They supplied to both allies and also old enemies-turned-allies, with one of their largest contracts with Niflheim of all places . Ignis drained the bottom of his wine bottle. With Clarus Amicitia at the helm, Amicitia Corp. was leading in the profits they brought the country through weaponry supply alone.
Clarus, Ignis was familiar with, but his son was more of an afterthought, featuring mainly in tabloids and gossip rags. But Gladiolus Amicitia was not beyond reproach. He was no stranger to scandal, his appearances in media ranging from representing the company in trades deals he managed himself, or in affairs or short-lived relations with prolific members of high society. There were stories of his lavish parties, minor criminal charges—rich people got away with everything clearly, if he could keep repeat offending with those DUIs—and a temper flare-up at a recent press conference.
Then there was that devil-may-care attitude and the ease to which he propositioned Ignis to drop all his sense of moral principles.
Shutting his laptop closed, Ignis rubbed at his eyes and rose from his couch, cradling Rosemary gently in his arms, careful not to aggravate the cone around her neck. He laid Rosemary by one side of the bed and slipped into his threadbare comforter. It would be preposterous , Ignis thought as he laid his head on his pillow, and only out of utter and complete desperation . He let his exhaustion drag him to asleep, too tired to even care he hadn’t changed out of his clothes.
No amount of money in the world would be ample compensation for tolerating the company of a man like Gladiolus Amicitia.