What a strange sound. But the meaning is clear as day, even when it shouldn't really be. Ravus will probably accredit that to being in a haze, but in actuality, it's the dragon curled around his soul that finds the purr so appealing. Though, both of them bask in being pet, appreciating the way Noctis combs back through the thick fluff of his mane.
Now if he could just catch his breath, clear his head, and actually think- well, that's a lot to ask for. The way he starts to get a touch dizzy with the heat and lack of air is a mild inconvenience, but it doesn't rightly stop Ravus from trying to chase that soft pleasure. Not at first, anyway. Not until he finds himself digging his claws into the downy fuzz at Noctis' hip to keep him closer, keep him still. The possessive flex of his claws can't quite get down to skin, where he wants to dig in properly. Something that spikes a wave of greedy heat through him, and he growls low against the other prince.
And like Noctis, it's not a human sound he makes. Which is precisely what snaps him from the fog.
Ravus gently draws away, finally dragging in lungfuls of air in the minute space he leaves between them. While he works on catching his lungs up to speed, his hands skim up Noctis' sides, along his arms, and up along his neck. Until he so carefully holds the younger's face. Odd eyes, pupils blown wide, regard Noctis with a soft affection. Could they continue to fall apart like this? Certainly. But doesn't Noctis deserve better? Better than inebriated escapades without an ounce of all the romance that should accompany a pair of princes courting? A terrible pang plucks at his heart, realizing he nearly ruined that. It's precisely why he desperately tries to hold to his resolve of doing things right. Ravus tries to say as much between panting breaths.
"It's hard to think like this," he prefaces, the unspoken bit being that he may mangle this where he's usually rather florid with his words. "But I would wish for you to have better than the mire on my mind that makes me clumsy and... crass, I suppose. You deserve more than this."
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Now if he could just catch his breath, clear his head, and actually think- well, that's a lot to ask for. The way he starts to get a touch dizzy with the heat and lack of air is a mild inconvenience, but it doesn't rightly stop Ravus from trying to chase that soft pleasure. Not at first, anyway. Not until he finds himself digging his claws into the downy fuzz at Noctis' hip to keep him closer, keep him still. The possessive flex of his claws can't quite get down to skin, where he wants to dig in properly. Something that spikes a wave of greedy heat through him, and he growls low against the other prince.
And like Noctis, it's not a human sound he makes. Which is precisely what snaps him from the fog.
Ravus gently draws away, finally dragging in lungfuls of air in the minute space he leaves between them. While he works on catching his lungs up to speed, his hands skim up Noctis' sides, along his arms, and up along his neck. Until he so carefully holds the younger's face. Odd eyes, pupils blown wide, regard Noctis with a soft affection. Could they continue to fall apart like this? Certainly. But doesn't Noctis deserve better? Better than inebriated escapades without an ounce of all the romance that should accompany a pair of princes courting? A terrible pang plucks at his heart, realizing he nearly ruined that. It's precisely why he desperately tries to hold to his resolve of doing things right. Ravus tries to say as much between panting breaths.
"It's hard to think like this," he prefaces, the unspoken bit being that he may mangle this where he's usually rather florid with his words. "But I would wish for you to have better than the mire on my mind that makes me clumsy and... crass, I suppose. You deserve more than this."