Magnus wants to reach down and run his fingers through Alec’s hair, but he can’t. His wrists are tied together with a length of silk rope that connects them to the headboard. They both know it’s only an illusion of control - Magnus is more than capable of getting out of the bonds with just a single thought and slightest push of magic - but it’s still a nice fantasy, having Magnus helpless like this. “Fuck,” Magnus whines, his hands straining against the rope with the overwhelming urge to touch, “Alexander, please!”

An elegant hand cups the side of Prompto’s jaw, gently – slides around to below his chin, to tip his face up. Then Ignis is leaning down to kiss Prompto stupid, not that it takes much. Just an insinuating glance in his direction is enough to make Prompto feel like his brains are melting out his ears. When Iggy actually sets hands on him? That’s it, game over. RIP rational thought. Prompto’s still not sure what the smartest, sexiest, most incredibly put-together man he’s ever laid eyes on sees in him, but hey. He’s not complaining. He’ll take whatever he can get, for as long as it lasts.