Rosie does eventually pull off Noctis' shirt, and he tries to be objective about it when he glances up to take in the sight of his body. It's hard to be objective when he's this turned on, though, so he's not sure the fact that he thinks he looks better than he'd thought from the outside means anything. Maybe it's just Ardyn's boner that thinks so.
But he can care about that later, when he doesn't have soft, yielding flesh beneath teeth and lips that he uses to bite into the plush curve of one of Rosie's breasts like an apple, not quite hard enough to break skin but hard enough to leave distinct marks. When he's not buried balls-deep in wet heat and trembling slightly, hands curled into fists, with the effort of staying...civil about it. Rosie may want to do this again; the other two might be having fascinating new experiences; but all Noctis wants is for this to be over so that maybe he can feel some semblance of control over himself again. And what an awful, selfish thing to want, when both of his partners are having such a good time.
He's halfway to convincing himself to just pull out and leave them to it when Ardyn tightens his legs' grip on Noctis' waist and bucks his hips for more, and Rosie catches his gaze with Noctis' own ocean-blue eyes that seem to be asking him for something. No, to leave would be selfish, too. He has to find some way, somehow, to give them what they deserve. Why is it so difficult? Why can't he just enjoy this?
He lifts his head to look at Rosie, his amber eyes full of conflict, frustration, struggle. But the urge to kiss his own lips comes back with a vengeance, and he wants to be gentle with his passion but he ends up grabbing her with one hand firm at the back of her neck while the other grips Ardyn's hip tightly and pulling her closer to claim her mouth. His mouth. Whatever.
He deepens the kiss immediately and desperately with a hungry growl, and the distraction is enough to make him forget about trying to go slow. He thrusts into Ardyn once, to give her what she wants; twice, to feel it for himself; and then too many times to count. Everything he does is powerful and urgent, kissing Rosie and fucking Ardyn both harder than he means to with an intensity that seems to beg them to help, to fix this, to overwhelm him before he overwhelms them and loses himself entirely.
no subject
But he can care about that later, when he doesn't have soft, yielding flesh beneath teeth and lips that he uses to bite into the plush curve of one of Rosie's breasts like an apple, not quite hard enough to break skin but hard enough to leave distinct marks. When he's not buried balls-deep in wet heat and trembling slightly, hands curled into fists, with the effort of staying...civil about it. Rosie may want to do this again; the other two might be having fascinating new experiences; but all Noctis wants is for this to be over so that maybe he can feel some semblance of control over himself again. And what an awful, selfish thing to want, when both of his partners are having such a good time.
He's halfway to convincing himself to just pull out and leave them to it when Ardyn tightens his legs' grip on Noctis' waist and bucks his hips for more, and Rosie catches his gaze with Noctis' own ocean-blue eyes that seem to be asking him for something. No, to leave would be selfish, too. He has to find some way, somehow, to give them what they deserve. Why is it so difficult? Why can't he just enjoy this?
He lifts his head to look at Rosie, his amber eyes full of conflict, frustration, struggle. But the urge to kiss his own lips comes back with a vengeance, and he wants to be gentle with his passion but he ends up grabbing her with one hand firm at the back of her neck while the other grips Ardyn's hip tightly and pulling her closer to claim her mouth. His mouth. Whatever.
He deepens the kiss immediately and desperately with a hungry growl, and the distraction is enough to make him forget about trying to go slow. He thrusts into Ardyn once, to give her what she wants; twice, to feel it for himself; and then too many times to count. Everything he does is powerful and urgent, kissing Rosie and fucking Ardyn both harder than he means to with an intensity that seems to beg them to help, to fix this, to overwhelm him before he overwhelms them and loses himself entirely.