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When he feels a little extra warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach, like anticipation, he realizes what's coming and makes sure he's got the right birth control pills on their next stop.


After all, he can't go into heat on suppressants, can he? And he loves heats.


It makes sense that it's coming on when they're well-stocked on food, pretty flush with gil after successful hunts. Sometimes the adrenaline from a successful hunt is enough to leave him feeling on the verge of pre-heat, thrumming in his veins like they're all roads leading right to his dick.


So when he has time to himself, he jacks off more, fingers himself a little rougher, is careful to make sure he's cleaned out and ready. His body makes it easier by doing most of the work on that last one for him. He wonders how long it'll take the rest of them-- who'll catch on first. It's not like he's discreet; during long rides in the backseat of the Regalia, he knows his boxers are getting a little damp in both front and back.


It's not just precome and slick that start flowing a little more freely. Iggy's cooking is going to be the death of him in the best possible ways-- the smell has him bordering on drooling. When he works out, the fine sheen of perspiration is just that little extra bit slippery, clings against rough scrubbing that little bit more, and the smell is intoxicating.


Ignis is faster on the uptake, but Prompto's got a nose on him like nobody else Gladio's ever met. Gladio may be patient, may be a hunter, born shield for the future King--


"I think I'll ride shotgun today." says Noct, casual. "Hey, we're supposed to make it to the camping spot pretty early, right?"


"It'll still be a couple of hours." Ignis sighs. "We'd best be ready."


Having the top of the Regalia down makes it like a slow game. He pretends to read, unhurried, while the breeze of the unseasonably cool day turns the scent of his oncoming heat into a phantom that surges when they slow or turn.


At first, Prompto doesn't really respond. He's rabbity and unfocused as ever, occasionally peering around at the scenery, pulling his camera out, chattering about everything and nothing with the wind stealing the words from around them.


Even with how bony Prompto is, Gladio is big. It's impossible for their thighs not to brush, and Gladio hides a bit of a grin as he stretches out-- arches his spine, yawning deep and wide-- and spreads his legs a little wider to press against him a bit. After a moment of hesitation, without saying anything, Prompto presses back.


For how blatantly thirsty he is, Prompto's also one of the least aggressive alphas that Gladio's ever met. There's a little bit of electric thrill and frisson running between Gladio's thighs when he starts to pick up the telltale scent of sharp, fresh musk, sweet like wood and rushing fresh air. Bingo.


Idly, Gladio wonders what his knot will be like. He knows already that Prompto isn't going to be incredibly hung or anything, but something tells him that his strength's probably going to be in his refractory period; it's easy, after months on the road, listening to squirming in sleeping bags and the creaking of caravans, finding smells not-quite-washed-out from hotel showers-- too fresh-- to guess that Prompto's probably going to be insatiable, ready to come back for round after round.


He absolutely can not wait.


That's when the unforecasted drizzle starts. It doesn't take long for the roof of the Regalia to be on its way up, and it doesn't take long after that to realize that he might be in for a little more than he originally bargained for, to the point that he's twitching in his pants in anticipation.


"Dear heavens," says Ignis after a few minutes of the gentle patter on the roof. "Do I need to crack a window?"


"Nah," replies Gladio, unhurried, slouching a little more, smiling a little wider. "I'm good."


He's smelling more than just arousal from Prompto. It's too sharp, too frenetic, too raw. A little flirting and hormones and he's already managed to push him farther in the direction of a rut; there's some mischief and pride in Gladio, because that's him . He did that.


"So, what, you just wanna turn the car into a hotbox of horny the whole way there?" asks Noct. His tone is as flat as it would be if they were discussing the next run to pick up energy drinks, but there's an undercurrent of interest.


Prompto starts to turn a fascinating shade of red.


"Are you sure?" asks Ignis. "I-- well, I suppose there's no better time that I can think of, although I'd prefer to have a bed involved."


"Hey, it's my heat." says Gladio.


"What?" says Prompto.


"Can we at least stay at a caravan?" Noct sighs. "It's raining."


"I dunno, princess, you gonna fall asleep with your knot in me again?" ribs Gladio.


"That was once !"


Prompto squints at Noct, momentarily distracted. "I didn't even know that was possible. Uh, should I--? Let you guys have some space?"


It seems like as good a time as any to turn the full-force Gladio grin on him and sling an arm over his shoulder. "Well," says Gladio, "you're welcome to join in, of course."


"Holy shit," says Prompto.


"If you think you're up to trying to fuck all this," says Gladio, gesturing at his entire self, which he is proudly aware is quite a lot of self, "into the ground, that is."


"I'm getting the cushions out and that's final." says Ignis curtly. "Nobody is doing anything on the actual ground, thank you very much."


The smell is radiating off Prompto in waves, and his pupils are blown. "Am I dreaming?" he asks.


"That's not a yes." Gladio teases.


"That's a yes! That's a yes!" yelps Prompto. "I just-- is that why you smell so good? Gods, Gladio, I wanna,"


"Yeah?" says Gladio.


"I could just eat you," says Prompto with a searing groan. "You smell-- really, really good."


Gladio outright purrs. "I could handle that." he says.


"We aren't even there yet." grumbles Noct. "And we're going to have to set up in the rain. Guess you're the one getting spoiled with everything you like for once, Gladio."


It's hard to compete with the smells of his and Prompto's hormones encouraging each other, but despite the tone, Noct smells anything but disinterested.


"So you guys have...done this before, right?" asks Prompto. "Well, I mean, obviously you've done this before, I'm just wondering what I'm in for."


"Gladio," says Ignis, sounding resigned, "likes things particularly messy."


"What he means," says Gladio, "is that when I'm in heat, I can be a real comeslut." His grin feels outright wicked. "Gonna get sloppy, pal."


"Seriously, did we end up in a porn sometime without me noticing?" asks Prompto. His voice has a ragged edge to it that's only getting more prominent. "Not that I'm complaining!"


“Actually,” says Noct, “I’m kind of surprised you two haven’t done anything sooner. I mean.” He shrugs. “I won’t feel bad about not keeping up with you. You’re both kind of freaks.” he adds, fondly.


Ignis makes a thoughtful noise. “Quite.” he says, sparing a glance toward Prompto.


Gladio makes a big show of looking back and forth between Prompto and the front seat, slowly. “You two been holding out on me?” he asks. It comes out warmer than intended, but he can’t manage anything but a wave of sheer want right now when he pictures the things that a couple of alphas can get up to together.


“And you’d best be glad of it,” says Ignis a bit admonishingly, “as I highly doubt the wisdom of unleashing you on someone too inexperienced like this. Did you remember to buy electrolyte drinks? Do you have the right pills?”


“Ye-ehhhh-esssss,” Gladio drags out. “I’m not gonna get knocked up and nobody’s gonna pass out from dehydration. C’mon, Iggy, live a little.”


“Gladio,” says Ignis, sharp. “So you’re planning on being lucid, cognizant, and helpful during any cleanup? Aftercare? It takes two of us to carry you to the shower, and there will be no such amenities at the sanctuary.”


Gladio’s face might get stuck this way.


Noct buries his face in his hands.


“I see,” Ignis says, adjusting his glasses, “that any money saved on caravan rental is going to be what it will take to get all of our towels clean.”


He thinks he can faintly hear Prompto praying under his breath from the next seat over. Fortunately for him, there are no gods here, only Gladio’s brief contemplation of whether or not he could fit two of them inside him at once if he angled things right.




The drizzle eases off by the time they get there, although it’s still overcast, and it doesn’t take long to set up at the sanctuary by sheer muscle memory.


That leaves Ignis in charge of cooking, because he insists, Noct to fall asleep in a chair by the fire despite being stiff as hell because he’s moody he missed his mid-morning nap, and Prompto and Gladio to each other.


Ignis also insists that they keep any doing-things to in the tent, however much Gladio thinks vaguely that it might be hot to feel the cool, rough rock under his hands and knees, the scrape and the sting. It’s nice out, and nothing’s likely to get the jump on them.


“No exhibitionism.” he says again, and wow, he really did go all-out getting the blankets and towels and cushions ready, more than he’d remembered them bringing; Gladio’s never felt the urge to nest, but he knows he’ll appreciate it for the extra mass packed around him in the night, when his body will crave it the most-- so he doesn’t say anything.


He may also still owe Iggy for a ruined mattress during a heat that had gotten ridiculous. Going by the sheer amount of towels, the man hasn’t forgotten.


Shoes get left at the entrance.


“So, uh,” says Prompto once they’re reclined in the all-too-neat, all-too-unfamiliar impromptu nest. “How do you usually start things?”


“Well,” Gladio drawls, “it’s not like there’s an itinerary. You just-- go with the mood. Got something in mind?”


“Yeah, just--” says Prompto, shuffling closer to him. “Can I touch?”


“I should hope so!” says Gladio, laughing a little. He takes hold of Prompto’s hand. “C’mon.” he says, settling it on his chest under his open shirt.


There’s a lot of freckles on Prompto’s cheeks, over the bridge of his nose. His breath rattles out of slightly-parted lips, and even in the shade his irises are bright. Gladio studies the hint of purple under the blue while he has the chance, through lowered lashes; apparently months of close proximity mean nothing in the face of Prompto’s inability to decide where to look first, caught between Gladio’s face and the lines of his muscles.


Then his thumb brushes over Gladio’s nipple before jerking away in retreat. The sensation is electric.


“Can I?” asks Prompto, eyes searching, pushing at the edge of Gladio’s shirt, and Gladio’s got no protests because he’d honestly expected neither of them to be wearing anything by that point.


“Yeah,” he breathes out, “yeah,” and his shirt’s not off long before his mouth is pressed to Prompto’s and that thumb is back over his nipple.


Apparently he needs to give Prompto a little more credit, because rock-hard in his jeans or not, Prompto seems pretty invested in the ensuing necking. He kisses his way along the stubble at Gladio’s jaw and then nips gently, experimentally behind his earlobe, gripping the back of his neck with the other hand, and wow, he’s got no complaints whatsoever about having a wriggling lapful of Prompto.


Gladio isn’t a big fan of extensive nipple play, but after some careful pinches and tugs, Prompto moves on to be the hot open mouth against the side of his neck, down his chest, and it’s good, he needs more, more . More of the cock grinding down between them; more of the tongue he doesn’t know whether to chase the taste of, or let alone to torment the rest of him. Prompto tastes like skin and sticky saliva and everything nice, and apparently those little teeth he’s being so careful with are sharp.


“Gladio, holy shit, Gladio,” says Prompto, when the favor gets returned in the form of tonguing up the lean line of his neck. “Gladio, Gladio,” he chants, “you taste so good, feel so good.”


There’s a fire roaring in Gladio, now, hunger pulling him deeper; he’d expected at least another night before he hit true heat, but his body’s raring to go, and his pants feel tacky and drenched, clinging to his thighs.


They end up half-wrestling, rolling as they make out; Prompto’s chest is lean but muscled, and his hipbones are outright sin peeking above the waist of his jeans, which are starting to soak through with a dark wet point at the front, doing nothing to hide how much Prompto is into this.


“More,” Gladio growls, “more, need more, inside me,” and finds his head rolling back a bit as Prompto drags at his pants hard enough to lift his hips off the ground. “Hell-- yes! You’re not gonna break me--”


“Holy shit,” Prompto moans, “you’re soaking--”


Then Prompto heaves to hook Gladio’s knees over narrow shoulders, and buries his face behind Gladio’s balls.


And, yeah, he definitely didn’t give Prompto enough credit, because he’s never gotten eaten out from this angle before and holy shit . Prompto’s going for it like a real champ, all sloppy noises, and his mouth is so hot, so wet, he’s twining his tongue with slick fingers to stretch Gladio out and leave his back arching.


The position is good for him; he loves the pressure in his core to hold it, the line of his weight from his shoulders and through his hips to where he’s balanced on Prompto, the effort they’re putting in. One of his legs nearly slips from the sweat when he throws his head back with a loud, loud groan as Prompto settles into a good rhythm.


Gladio’s cock is so hard and tight against his stomach that it’s twitching, oozing a line of precome that dips into his navel, and then Prompto’s other hand is on it, pumping it, and the sheer verve he’s eating ass with redoubles.


For a brief, foggy moment as he settles into the yes-yes-yes so-good more-more-more of sex, he thinks that, if he accidentally gets himself in the eye when he comes? He’s absolutely gonna have to add it to his bucket list just to scratch it off. The angle’s pretty awkward for Prompto to be jacking him at, but there’s a lot to be said for enthusiasm.


“I’m close,” he gasps when he is, because he figures he’d better be fair, and then the tongue gets replaced with three fingers slamming home.


“You taste,” says Prompto wetly, letting Gladio’s hips drop a little, “so fucking good--”


And then that mouth closes over the head of his dick godgodgod , blond head bobbing, and it’s not long before his first orgasm is hitting him.


His gut clenches, and his toes curl, and the arch of his back goes sharper than he thought he could bend as he’s finger-fucked through aftershocks that drag out a long, long time, leaving his thighs and core aching and trembling.


“Damn,” he says, and it comes out shaky, “damn, kid, not bad,” because Prompto looks as wrecked as he feels, licking slick and come off his fingers when he hasn’t even gotten out of those jeans yet. “Didn’t--” it takes him a moment to adjust position, catch his breath, “--didn’t expect you to be all about that foreplay.”


“Figured I better make a good first impression.” Prompto replies. His face is absolutely soaked with slick.


He tastes like it, too, once Gladio’s got his legs to one side and can lean in. He tastes like everything filthy Gladio loves, and Gladio’s aching for it, can’t wait until he’s going out of his mind for it. Even just the fingers being out of him has him too empty, and he wants to be filled.


“You gonna fuck me,” he asks low and close, “or are you gonna make me ride you?”


Prompto moans openly into his mouth. “ Holy shit , Gladio,” he says, and then, “Why not both?”


“Don’t write checks your knot can’t cash.” says Gladio, finally, finally getting the fly of Prompto’s jeans open and pulling him out of his briefs.


It’s been too long since he’s felt a cock in his hands. Prompto’s hot, thrumming, more than raring to go; he’s uncut and his foreskin is amazingly soft against Gladio’s fingertips, which explore the lines of it down to Prompto’s hips. His pubes are a bit darker and redder than his hair, and surprisingly soft for how thick and springy the hair is, trimmed neatly.


The smell is mouth-watering to Gladio, but he wants that flushed, plush cockhead and that hard length inside of him sometime yesterday, thanks.


“Should we wait for the others?” asks Prompto. Gladio snorts.


“How can you even hold out like this?” he asks, gently batting at Prompto’s cock to make it sway a little using a broad palm. “Don’t worry about wearing me out. I’ll be good to go all night once things really get started.”


Prompto gnaws his lower lip a bit, sitting crosslegged across from him with his boner out, looking too ridiculous and too cute and entirely like someone Gladio needed to be getting fucked by, thanks. “How do you want it?”


Any way I can get it , thinks Gladio, but he falls onto his front with a groan. “Just. Fuck meeeeeeee.”


“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Prompto replies, and he nudges Gladio’s knees apart, takes a moment to run his hands over Gladio’s ass. “God, you look so good from every angle, it’s not even fair.” he grumbles as he tugs up at Gladio’s hips, until Gladio gets the idea and lifts enough that a cushion can get shoved under him, pushing his ass up in the air.


He can’t say that he expects the lingering kiss-with-tongue that gets pressed to his rim, and he lets out a small keen; Prompto’s detail-oriented, exploratory, and he maps his way up the most sensitive parts of Gladio’s back as he lines them up.


“Hey,” says Prompto against his spine, “hey,” pressing the head of his cock up against Gladio and then in, penetrating. Gladio can feel himself flexing inside, gripping down, trying to get more already as Prompto gasps into the back of one of his shoulders. “Oh, wow.”


“C’mon, fuck me, fuck me,” Gladio mutters, feeling like all his nerves are coming alive and screaming for more as his heat truly sinks its hooks in him, and then, sharper, “ Prompto !”


And then Prompto’s hips snap forward, and it’s Gladio’s turn to gasp. “Yeah, like that,” he says, thrusting back with his whole body, “c’mon, harder , I bet you can do better than that,”


The thing about Prompto, Gladio thinks, is that he’s almost always ready to do his best to rise to a challenge.


He doesn’t think much after that for a while, letting himself sink into the hot fog of need and pleasure, making noises more than attempting to say anything coherent. Prompto’s rutting into him at the unrelenting pace he needs, and as his body responds to it, he goes from bracing back in search of more friction to a boneless slump.


So time melts for a little while. What can he say? Even without his hormones going wild, Gladio likes fucking.


He doesn’t know how long it is before Prompto’s trying to tell him something. His brain starts to try to re-engage reluctantly at first, and then with more interest as the words start to take a shape that makes sense.


“Gonna come, gonna come,” Prompto babbles, “please, Gladio, what do I--”


“Don’t stop!” snaps Gladio, and then he’s chanting under his breath, “ come on come on come on come on --”


Then, to his somewhat impressed surprise, Prompto manages to pick up the pace and force, and settles his teeth at the juncture of Gladio’s neck and shoulder with unrelenting pressure. Gladio feels more than hears the noise that comes tearing out of him in response.


And then he feels the rush of hot, wet, as the cock inside him jerks and twitches. After a moment, he manages to place the sound that Prompto’s making as a muffled sob as he comes. Damn has his rut got to be hitting him hard.


The stretch and sensation of being filled increase as Prompto’s knot swells to lock them into place. Something inside Gladio temporarily abates, a baser need met; he nearly rolls on Prompto by accident while trying to find a position that he can twist to look at him from.


“How can you move like this?” asks Prompto, out of breath, but with a laugh. “Woah, woah there, big guy!”


Gladio shrugs, enjoying the feeling of Prompto’s whole body shifting where he’s plastered against his back. He’s filled up and contented, idly semi-hard without the nagging drive to do anything about it, and best yet, he knows there’s more to come.


“So how long you usually knot for?” he asks, giving the most languid stretch he can with an ass plugged full of cock. He even grips down a little, and relishes in the noises that Prompto makes in response.


“Uhh,” says Prompto. “Not super long. Is that bad?”


“Well, that depends,” says Gladio, “on when you’ll be ready to do it again.”


Prompto seems to think it over for a moment. “That’s reasonable,” he says, and Gladio ends up snickering a little because he can physically feel Prompto’s ‘that’s-fair’ shrug. “How many rounds do you think you’ll end up going?”


“Think of this as like…”


And Gladio hesitates, because he’s the clearest-headed he’ll probably be for the next few hours, on his first knot of the heat. It takes him out of heat with a partner who’s in rut to really, truly wear him out, and before the heat’s over, he’s going to be out of his head with it.


“Warmup?” suggests Prompto.


“Yeah.” says Gladio. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d be at it all night. Look, no matter what I say once I’m worked up, if you need a break or feel uncomfortable--”


“I appreciate it, and I know you mean it,” says Prompto, very sincerely, “but really, it’s not gonna be a problem right now.”


“Oh?” asks Gladio.


Prompto squirms. Even tied, he’s fidgety, knot tugging inside Gladio every time he moves-- but Gladio’s got no personal complaints about that.


“You’re literally inside me.” says Gladio. “Just say it.”


“The longest I’ve gone is three days.” says Prompto, and for a moment it doesn’t make sense. The overall state of rut is about more than the drive that characterized its peak, and it’s weird for it to last more than a couple weeks, but it’s not unheard of.


Then he thinks about it a little harder.


“You’ve jacked it for three days straight?” he asks.


“I took breaks,” says Prompto. It’s in a small voice. Gladio absolutely should not laugh at him.


Feeling his own cock jump over the answer as he pictures it, however, is completely acceptable. Gods.


He manages to reach behind himself to pat Prompto awkwardly on the shoulder. “So, what, your knot goes down but your dick’s still hard?” he jokes.


Prompto stills on his back, and Gladio thinks, oh .


“Sometimes.” says Prompto.


“Yeah, okay, I take it back,” teases Gladio, infusing it with as much pompousness as he can, “you’re done when I’m done. All aboard the Prompto express, no stops.”


Prompto laughs a little helplessly against him. “I think the Ignis express might have something to say about that.”


That is, of course, when the sound of the tent zipper makes Prompto jolt, with a harsh tug against Gladio’s rim that makes him growl softly and tug back.


Ignis lets himself in and zips the tent closed behind him, and then, as he turns to the full enclosed smell of the tent, something in his blank, unruffled face wavers.


“First round?” he asks, arch, setting the case of electrolyte drinks down hard. “Remember to look after yourselves.”


“You could always join in,” says Gladio, hoping he looks more hot than ridiculous as miles and miles of naked, gleaming muscle. He gives Ignis a purposeful once-over. “Not like I’m gonna be hungry for much other than cock for a little while.”


“The rest of us aren’t so lucky, and you’ll certainly have changed your mind by the time all of this is over.” retorts Ignis.


The tent zipper opens again.


“Hey,” says Noctis, poking his head in, “is there any reason the arsenal is suddenly full of sandwiches?”


Gladio turns a grin on Ignis that’s downright feral. Ignis just sighs.


“I suppose the jig is up,” he says.


“Sounds like you’ve got some time on your hands.” says Gladio. He waggles his eyebrows.


Ignis sighs, but both his arousal and Noct’s are managing to make themselves apparent through the fog of sex smells, and there’s a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.


“Are you alright with that, Prompto?” asks Ignis.


“Oh boy,” says Prompto, sounding more than alright with that. “Hell. Yes.”


“Shoes outside!” Ignis adds sharply with a glance to Noct.


Noct sighs and finishes letting himself in the tent. “Not gonna have any peace anyway. Might as well watch,” he says, the brat , as if none of them can see that he’s getting hard in his pants.


“It is kind of weird being, uh, out on display here.” says Prompto, but his cock is giving little jitters inside Gladio that are all kinds of unexpected and ridiculous.


There’s a lot of big talk out there about big knots, and more pressure, being more full sounds amazing, but once Prompto’s gone down a little, it’s enough to make Gladio wonder if he’ll be loose enough later for Prompto to just fuck him on the knot. The idea sends a thrill up his spine; he loves being stretched, filled, but what he loves most of all is the simple pleasure of fucking.


Ignis’ gloves go to the side, and then his clothes get set aside neatly folded, and he’s half-mast and giving Gladio a very considering look through heavy lids.


As Ignis grabs a cushion to kneel on, Gladio pulls himself up onto his elbows and rearranges the blankets a little for support, making Prompto yelp and hang onto his back. He knows that for some alphas, knots can be sore, over-sensitive, but Prompto can’t seem to stay still, and it’s a lot of fun teasing him.


The adjusted angle has him gripping down tighter on the knot, and he feels the quick spray of more ejaculate inside, and wow, that’s going to feel great once they make it to riding.


“Got a good view?” he asks Noct. Prompto, of course, has a partially-blocked view, but he doesn’t seem to be complaining.


“Mm-hm.” Noct is slouching into a little nest, an ankle on the opposite knee, resting his head on his arm. He looks every inch of spoiled princeling watching his retainers that he is, but money and influence alone can’t buy a show like Gladio sucking cock.


He nuzzles the line of Ignis’ hipbone and presses his face into the crease of Ignis’ thigh and pubic pad, nosing in. The cock against his cheek twitches, and he turns his head to kiss down the length of it, taking a moment to make Ignis gasp and swat him gently by mouthing at his balls.


Somehow, Ignis manages to keep everything shaved on the road, so all Gladio has to think about is going to town on him.


It’s easier with how wet his mouth is. Ignis tastes fleshy and a little salty and absolutely fucking amazing, sliding in and out with ease, taking a moment to poke at his cheek entirely to make the other guys snicker at the visual. In response, Gladio gives himself a moment to adjust and swirl his tongue around the spot just under the head that drives Ignis crazy before diving deep, pulling a groan through Ignis’ gritted teeth.


“Holy shit!” he hears Prompto say. “Does the big guy have no gag reflex?”


“No-pe,” says Noctis, popping out the consonant a little smugly.


“This,” says Prompto, “is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You guys are going to ruin me.”


Gladio pulls off of Ignis’ cock for a moment, playing with it with one hand. “Hey, if you’ve got the energy to chat,” he suggests, “you could be moving back there.”


“I-- yeah,” says Prompto, thoughtful. He hasn’t gone down enough yet to try to pull out without a considerable amount of trouble, but he does figure out a rocking motion that grinds sweetly in Gladio, and Gladio gets to make sloppy noises around Ignis’ cock in response.


Something about it must really be working for Ignis, because Gladio finds himself chasing the distinctive taste of Ignis’ pre-come, lighter and more sour, less bitter than he’d usually expect. So he goes faster. Following his pace, Prompto picks up the pace of the rocking, breath hot against Gladio’s back.


Ignis twines a hand into Gladio’s hair, grip firm but not actually pulling, and Gladio’s back arches sharply.


“Do you want to take three knots today?” he asks conversationally.


Prompto nails a particularly good angle; mouth full, Gladio responds with an enthusiastic groan.


“Get yourself off.” says Ignis. His pupils, when Gladio peers up at him, are huge. Even if he’s the quietest and most poker-faced of them all, there’s tells for when he’s really into something, and what Igins is really into is being in charge and watching people orgasm.


Gladio complies with his free hand, happily. He’s the hardest and heaviest he ever gets, and his hand is practically flying on his cock, jerking himself with rough motions that melt into the push-pull of friction in all directions.


When he’s coming again, he wraps an arm around Ignis and clings, choking himself with his nose pressed to Ignis’ pubic pad and stars behind his eyes. His whole body shakes from the orgasm, and Ignis ends up pushing his face away to make him stop to breathe.


“Can I,” asks Prompto, panting, still rocking into him; Gladio can feel the come shift as Prompto gains range of movement back, feel himself starting to drip around Prompto again as the knot’s going down.


“Yeah?” asks Gladio. He’s hoarse; there’s drool plastered down his chin; he’s never felt better.


“Can I watch you fuck him?” Prompto asks Ignis.


“You’re still hard,” says Gladio, and it comes out all kinds of warm and amused. Of course he’s still hard; he said he might be, right?


“Yeah, that’s not going away anytime soon.” says Prompto. Then he’s twisting a bit on top of Gladio. “Besides, Noct’s gonna start pouting if we ignore him too long.”


“I don’t know,” says Noct idly from where he’s palming himself through his pants, “I’m pretty good with this. Might not say no to his mouth.”


“Come onnnnnnnn.” Gladio groans. “Less talk, more action.”


“You’re insatiable.” complains Ignis. He sounds fond.


“You know,” says Prompto thoughtfully, “I’ve never seen someone else get knotted before.”


“What, don’t watch porn?” asks Gladio, straining to try and grind back against him.


“You know what I mean.” says Prompto.


Then he’s pulling out, and Gladio’s startled to find a needy little keen come bubbling out of himself at the loss. He’s already dripping so much, out his ass, down his thighs, but he wants more, more, more--


Ignis flips him onto his back, sending him loose and sprawling; he’d forgotten Ignis could do that, and it sends a hot surge of want through him. “Oh hell yeah!” he crows.


His legs go over someone’s shoulders again, but this time it’s as Ignis nearly bends him in half to fuck him, heedless of the sloppy mess Prompto’s left behind.


Gladio can only get fucked by Ignis with come in him when he’s in heat or Ignis is in rut, which is a shame, because it’s one of his favorite feelings in the world. (What’s less of a shame are the things he’s going to do for Iggy later to make up for it.)


“Oh,” Prompto says from somewhere behind him, “so that’s how he likes it?”


Ignis is the longest of the alphas, and he’s good at going so deep that Gladio feels like he can taste it. He knows just the right angle, too, to leave Gladio moaning for it, spreading his legs as wide as they’ll go and pulling his knees as high and back as they’ll go. There’s a muttered string of sweet nothings from Ignis, getting more fervent and scratchy as things go on, as Gladio’s fucked open in a way best described as ‘expertly’.


“Saw him get off just from that once,” says Noct, and Gladio can hear and smell the other two touching themselves. It’s doing all kinds of things to him. “But he likes it any way he can get it. At least with us.”


The world swirls into the slap of flesh on flesh, and he lets himself slip away into the haze of lust. At some point there’s a hand on his cock, and he’s coming again with a shout, being fucked through orgasm and aftershocks with no mercy, and Ignis keeps going for what feels like forever.


Then there’s the fresh rush of wetness as Ignis gets off in him, hips stuttering to a stop, a choked-off cry behind Ignis’ teeth. To the extent that he’s still thinking, he thinks, foggily, that Ignis’ knot doesn’t get quite as big as Prompto’s does at its largest-- but he knows from experience that it won’t go down much before it releases altogether.


Unfortunately, Ignis isn’t in rut, and all good things must come to an end. Eventually. He’ll hold onto the knot as long as it lasts.


“He’s hard again already?” asks Prompto, and then, oh, his cock’s getting sucked while he’s tied, that’s new. When he tips his head back, too, he finds another cock dangled over his face.


“Want this?” asks Noct, a little teasing as he taps himself against Gladio’s lips.


Gladio growls and nips at his hip before sucking him in, reaching up with both hands to grab onto Noct’s ass; still ever the tease, Noct really makes him work for it to get him deep, and if he doesn’t match Ignis’ length, if Gladio teases him sometimes, he’s still easily the thickest besides Gladio himself, bitter and musky and running astonishingly hot.


The smell of him is heavy, caught in the wiry hairs that Noct ignores for how short they grow in, and with the smells and weighty presence of three alphas finally pressing in on him proper, three alphas that he knows, trusts, likes (sometimes, loves always), wants, needs--



He feels drunk on it.


Then, conspiratorially, Noct leans to talk over Gladio. “Hey. Wanna know what really works for him?” he asks.


Prompto makes a damp sucking sound as he pulls off of Gladio’s cock, like he’s reluctant to stop, which.


“Yeah?” says Prompto.


Gladio’s sweaty and unwieldy, but compliant, as Noct enlists Prompto’s help to rearrange him to be sitting up pressed against Noct, pinned between him and Ignis, with his legs around Ignis’ waist.


Noct runs a hand down Gladio’s abdomen, and presses in below the navel, as if he could feel Ignis’ knot through the muscles. The pressure is great.


“Mm, baby,” he says into Gladio’s ear, “you look so good with Ignis knocking you up,” and Gladio groans.


“Yeah,” continues Noct, “gonna fill you up so much that you’ll look like you’re bred up already. Gonna wreck you. Gonna stretch your belly out with come.”


Prompto’s watching with huge eyes, solemnly, as Gladio bucks between them.


“Love to breed you,” says Noct, “we’re gonna put a whole litter in you, all of us, gonna ruin you, Gladio,”


“Please,” gasps Gladio, and then he’s chanting a stream of something incoherent as Ignis slips out of him only to be replaced by Noct, and Prompto’s mouth is on his cock again, and Ignis is mouthing at his neck.


He thrusts up into wet heat and back down onto unyielding hardness, hips shaking, losing track of himself. Fingers get pressed into his mouth for him to suck on, but he can’t tell whose; after he’s coming yet again, he’s on his stomach, with Noct fucking him hard but not fast, an agonizing and delicious drag out into eternity.


And he just keeps getting louder, making needy noises as he’s taken apart by the patient, wet slide. He’s babbling filthy things, half-coherent; he wants to be filled and covered completely, he wants to drown in it, he wants --


When Noct pulls out completely, taking away that filling presence he needs and leaving him loose and gaping for a long moment, he scrabbles at the blankets and tries to pull together the brainpower for a verbal protest.


There must be jizz spattering when they tug at him to help him move, but Ignis doesn’t say anything, just helps Gladio get settled half-laying in his lap, leaning back against him, cushions piled under Gladio’s tailbone. Once he gets the idea, he nuzzles as much of his weight back into Ignis as he things Ignis can hold, and Ignis just wraps both arms around his torso and pulls him even closer.


“Having a good time?” asks Ignis, his lips brushing Gladio’s jaw and ear as he speaks.


In response, Gladio tries to draw his knees up to demonstrate exactly what would be giving him a better time, whether it creates a small fountain of sexual fluids or not, but he meets resistance, yields to the pressure on his legs to keep them in a more relaxed position.


“Let us take care of you.” says Ignis. He presses his mouth to Gladio’s, lets Gladio turn it into the kind of sticky open-mouthed kiss that Gladio loves, tongues twining.


“Prompto, you’re up.” says Noct.


I’m on it .” Prompto responds.


Something in Gladio bubbles with fond humor at the familiar phrasing.


The angle is a little more difficult, but Prompto’s nothing if not game, and Ignis has him thoroughly distracted with making out.


Then there’s a hand on him and his own cock is pushing against and then in, somewhere slick and tight-tight-tight--


“Hot damn!” breathes Prompto a little reverently, as Gladio turns his head, a sticky strand of saliva drawing out and clinging, to watch Noct lower himself down to ride Gladio.


“Don’t worry,” he says, “you’re still getting my knot.”


Gladio’s pressed in on by three bodies, being toyed with, fucked. They all look incredible. The flush risen on their faces is different for each. It contrasts with Noct’s skintone, mostly around his ears and cheekbones; on Prompto, it stays around the apples of his cheeks, making the freckles stand out.


It’s particularly precious to see on the often-composed Ignis when he turns his head, and the contrast makes the green of his eyes all the brighter.


Iggy’s glasses are off, his mouth puffy and red, and he’s looking deliciously disheveled. Noct’s eyes are so dark as to be like staring into infinity as his thighs quiver from the strain of working himself open on Gladio’s cock; his lips are parted as he throws his head back, and Prompto’s face is buried in the side of his neck.


Of all things, the contrast of the fall of their hair together briefly hypnotizes him. Then they all pick up the pace, and he thinks he could happily die like this.


A lot is happening at once. The slap of Noct’s cock between their bellies, his moaning with Prompto’s hands teasing his nipples, the squeeze of his ass around Gladio. Fingers in Gladio’s mouth again-- this time Ignis’, long and clever, as Gladio tries to spread his legs wider as if Prompto isn’t eagerly bottoming out in him, to squeeze down for as much friction as he can get when he’s this wet and stretched open.


It occurs to Gladio to wonder when Noct got the chance to finger himself open, but there’s more important things going on, like the sweet and maddening sensation of how tight he is around Gladio’s swollen, over-sensitive cock. He’s not going to be able to come like this. It doesn’t matter.


After a little while, Noct eases off of him, which makes Prompto’s hips stutter to a stop. Gladio lets out a low whine.


Noct huffs in amusement, reclining next to him and giving him a gentle shove. “I was getting close,” he says, voice rough.


That draws a sharp breath from Ignis behind him, and it’s enough to pull speech from Gladio. “Really?” That’s a new one.


“All of us together.” he replies, as if that explains anything. Maybe it does. Noct shrugs as he cracks the seal on a bottle of sports drink to pass to Ignis, who drinks long and deep of it before pressing it to Gladio’s lips.


It’s cool and sweet. Grudgingly, he finds that he’s a lot more thirsty than he thought. He could hold the bottle himself, but he lets his arms slump to his sides as Ignis carefully helps him sip, because something about it just feels...right.


Prompto has a bottle of his own in his hand, half-empty, when Gladio looks next, with Noct rising to whisper in his ear. The gleam in their eyes as they conspire sends a thrill through him.


Once they pick things up again, Prompto ruts into him with a renewed, toe-curling urgency that he doesn’t expect but eagerly welcomes. Noct moves one of Gladio’s hands to his cock, and Gladio gets the hint, working it enough to keep Noct hard without getting him off.


His hips shake as he thrusts into the air fruitlessly, and Noct and Ignis work him over with bruising love bites in all his favorite places.


But when Prompto orgasms, he grips around himself and pulls out past the point where his knot would end, milks his come into Gladio without tying with him.


Gladio doesn’t get time to get affronted at that, because Noct’s pulling away at the same time, and doesn’t take long to take Prompto’s place slamming into Gladio. Some primal noise makes its way out of him; he hadn’t expected it, but he’d tightened back up a bit, and being stretched wider again is better than he’d have thought to ask for.


“I have to say,” Ignis tells Prompto while Gladio pants and rocks, “your refractory period is very complementary to this.”


He misses whatever gets said next, because Noct picks up the pace until Gladio’s basically making just one noise, interrupted into hiccuping wails by the rhythm as Noct gives him the rough fucking that he hadn’t realized he was waiting for all afternoon.


Slick hands close around his dick, then, and Ignis’ voice is in his ear.


He catches bits and pieces of the filthy talk, pitched under rather than over the noise, working him into a frenzy. “Built for this, weren’t you, love?” murmurs Ignis. “Built to bear all of our offspring at once. It’s like you were made to be a perfect bitch just for us to breed .”


The next climax hits Gladio so hard that he whites out for a moment, can feel himself howling but not hear it. Noct does slow down for a moment, then, giving him time to ride it out and catch his breath.


Ignis takes his fingers out of Gladio’s mouth to drag through the mess on Gladio’s stomach, then brings them back up, and he trembles and shudders all over, moaning, as he tongues between them to clean off every last drop. The fucking picks back up again.


“You’re so gorgeous like this.” says Ignis, holding him tight.


It leaves him sprawled out in bliss when Noct knots him. Noct’s come is thick, and there’s always a ridiculous amount of it. It’s not the biggest knot he’s ever taken in his life, but it means business.


Noct flops his head onto Gladio’s chest, and Gladio lifts a leaden-feeling limb to settle his broad hand around the back of Noct’s head. He’s earned some exhausted, lazy cuddling.


“Huh.” says Prompto in some wonder, squeezing a hand under Noct to press against Gladio’s navel. The hand’s way is somewhat eased by the mess, which Prompto doesn’t seem to have a problem with, although he might if he weren’t in rut. “I didn’t think you’d actually get stretched out with come. I always thought that was, like, hyperbole.”


“Most omegas don’t eagerly take up with three alphas at a time.” Ignis replies. “In another life, for your unusual sexual attributes, both you and Gladio could be in very high demand to act in pornographic material.”


A skeptical noise comes out of Prompto’s throat. “Okay, yeah, him,” he says, gesturing at Gladio, “but me?”


Yes , you.” says Ignis.


“Me ‘n you too, Specs.” says Noct into Gladio’s chest, sounding a little affronted. He gives a vague wave without looking up. “‘R havin’ a. Doin’ porn things. Orgy.”


“I’m afraid I’ll only be able to go one more round, after this.” says Ignis to Gladio, rather than addressing anything Noct said.


Gladio fights through the fantastic fog to pull himself together, as much as he’d like to relish in the fucked-out feeling. “Iggy.” he says.


“Yes?” Ignis responds.


“You and Prom.” he manages. “ Both . Wanna try both.”


Ignis goes very, very still. “...Are you certain?” he asks.


“Please.” says Gladio, because he’s never been more certain of anything in his life. Then, while he’s thinking, he gestures at Prompto. “Could stretch me first. Fuck me with the knot?”


Which is how, plugged up and waiting for Noct to deflate, he ends up reclining on an improvised cushion throne and treated to watching Ignis playing with Prompto.


Prompto is in Ignis’ lap, an arm wrapping down around his front to jerk him off while Ignis fingers him with the other hand; the other three had surprised themselves and each other with the sharp flare of pheromones when Prompto, red-faced, mentioned that sometimes he liked it while getting himself off.


Now he’s making all kinds of soft needy noises and gasps, to the point that Noct is awkwardly half-twisted to watch because it’s impossible to look away. Ignis liked to be exact, precise, and adept in any matter he could, and it made him into someone who could turn simple acts of foreplay into a downright artisanal show.


It only lasts as long as Noct does, and Noct pulls out a little early, gritting his teeth and rocking gently back against Gladio’s rim until he’s worked himself free. It takes a couple of tries, and the entire time Gladio grips onto the blankets, as it leaves his legs twitching and shuddering from the intensity; he doesn’t have to try very hard to make a big deal of squirming and moaning over it.


Noct kicks back to watch the process as Gladio tries to coordinate with the other two. Ignis helps him balance in a crouching position over Prompto, who’s so close that it looks painful, but Gladio’s shaky and off-balance until he hears and feels a restorative item use from behind him.


He decides not to ask if Noct just used an elixir so that Gladio would have the energy to try riding a knot for the first time.


So instead he sinks onto Prompto’s cock to ride it like he stole it, feeling like it’s making his entire insides lurch every time he bottoms out. It takes some real work with his thighs and hips, but he gets both of them gasping and bucking together as he works Prompto toward another orgasm.


The first time he works Prompto’s knot out and then slams back down over it, Prompto lets out a noise that’d make Gladio think he was dying, if Gladio hadn’t known him long enough to identify it as no cry of pain. Gladio can finally really feel the sweat beading up on his own forehead, running down his jaw, although somebody got the vent open for some air when he wasn’t looking, and things are rapidly cooling the closer it gets to night.


For a moment, he thinks of it for a moment as feeling like he’s being fucked in and out of with a really nice plug-- but he basically is.


He gets to work using the results of about a decade of not skipping leg day. It’s laborious, but euphorically, weirdly new. Besides which, he’s watched videos of knot-fucking before, and he’s pretty sure that this is one of those things that Iggy means when he suggests that Gladio’s in a lot of porn in some other universe.


It’s not an easy sex act for alphas, either, but Prompto sounds absolutely like he’s about to come unglued in ecstasy, so Gladio’s starting to think he might have a new kink.


After an indeterminate amount of time, Prompto’s gasping, hips jerking, and scrambling to grab at Gladio’s hips. “Wait! Need a sec!” he says, high and tight, and Gladio freezes in place.


Then, as he feels the knotted cock jerk inside him, he stares down in some wonder and not a little amount of gratification, because he just got a dry orgasm out of someone who’s already knotting. He hasn’t even seen that in porn.


“Okay, sorry,” says Prompto, “I just. Needed a moment.”


He rides until Prompto’s knot goes down significantly, and then Gladio’s fighting to keep control of his breath and stay balanced, handing the reins over, as Prompto slips two fingers in alongside himself.


Ignis looks on approvingly. “A good thought. We can both work on stretching him until we’re ready to-- well.”


Noct continues to recline and spectate from the side while they finger Gladio open around Prompto’s cock, Prompto’s hips twitching the whole time, until Ignis deems it doubles time. He doesn’t look particularly invested, but he does look and smell fond, warm, and sated, and his presence means something even when he isn’t doing anything.


When the time comes, Prompto and Ignis work together to help brace his weight as he grips their cocks together to guide in, and he’s lowered down slowly and carefully.


The stretch is as blunt as the first time he went down for a dicking, and they all take plenty of time adjusting to it. He’s used toys that were bigger, but they were also one smooth shape, while this is a completely unfamiliar flavor of friction inside.


Then they start moving together.


At that point, Gladio lets himself check back out into the haze of animalistic pleasure. He’s nearing his limit for the day, but all he cares about is flying apart from the intensity. Some irrational part of him wishes he was even more flexible, could stretch farther, could take all three of them at once.


He’s pulled back in from somewhere outside space and time when his own orgasm blindsides him, leaving him fighting to catch his breath as galaxies explode around the edge of his vision.


Because it isn’t just one of his fantasies, the timing doesn’t work out for a double knotting, and Ignis probably wouldn’t keep fucking him with Prompto knotted in him. To his surprise, the one who’s finishing first is Ignis, who buries the sound of it in Gladio’s shoulder as if they can’t probably hear Gladio and Prompto’s louder moments at the nearest outpost, and possibly farther, like in Accordo across the sea, or in space .


Gladio is so stretched by then that, once Prompto’s pulled away, Ignis’ knot won’t seat properly, slipping as he drips out around it. Something about that viscerally satisfies Gladio, even if he mourns the gradual loss of fill and pressure.


“Alright.” says Ignis, once he’s gained back that composure that can somehow weather being leashed to Gladio by his penis. “I think this marks a good time for a cleaning and wash-up break, so that we can eat.”


“Yeah,” says Prompto, who’s already wiping himself down, “I could definitely go again, but a re-fuel sounds good.”


When he gets near Gladio with the towel, Gladio growls, startling him.


“What’s up with the big guy?” he asks, glancing between Ignis and Noct for answers.


“Gladio,” says Ignis.


Gladio just grumbles incoherently at him.


Gladio ,” Ignis repeats, “we need to clean you up as well.”


“Leave it.” says Gladio.


They do not, in fact, leave it, but it’s fun to bat at them and bitch as they all tackle him for a rubdown with the towels at minimum.


His heat’s not over, but he ends the evening feeling the best kind of sore and the most thoroughly fucked he’s ever gotten. It’s the best heat he’s had so far, even when they drag him out the next day to scrub him down despite his protests.


He thinks of it as ‘so far’ because he suspects, somehow, that as they learn each others’ needs and desires, the best may be yet to come.