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The weekend had come and gone just as fast as the work week that preceded it, which meant that you had worked seven days straight without pause or rest. This also meant that you had worked right through your birthday in the noble endeavor to help your boss finish the finishing touches on the contract made with the Citadel. For the past ten years, you had poured your heart and soul into events planning to go from childrens parties and backyard barbeques to celebrity weddings and $5,000 dollar plate dinners held in the most prestigious locations in Insomnia.
Ten years of late nights, no weekends, short vacations and cancelled dates that could have maybe led to worthwhile relationships but never saw the light of day. Then of course there were the birthdays that faded away into the past like yours had. It was 9:30PM on the day of your birth and you were all alone to celebrate the last few hours. Of course your friends had understood when you needed to reschedule for the following weekend, but it still felt a little hollow to walk down the downtown street of Insomnia toward your apartment, to the bar just across from your building.
One of the King’s Crownsguard members, Cor Leonis, had bought the rundown building a year after you moved into your apartment, and turned the area around completely. Once he got into the former diner and rebuilt it nearly from the studs, others in the area began to invest and partner up to rebuild the neighborhood to its former glory. Now, this spot was in the top five places to live in all of Insomnia, boasting farmers markets, fine Galahdian cuisine and a number of boutiques that produced one of a kind items even the King came down to buy.
The best part of your neighborhood was that even though it was thriving, it still felt like a place meant for families and close knit friend groups instead of snobby upper elites. People could walk down to the corner store in their slippers and no one cared…
Just like you could still walk into Cor’s bar after a long day at work and enjoy the calm atmosphere instead of some rowdy, noisy bar. Cor Leonis didn’t tolerate any rough housing or patrons who were only interested in frequenting his establishment to get a look at the men and women who protected them on a daily basis. Therefore the majority of his clients were locals from the neighborhood, soldiers, and every now and then a few members of the royal family.
Being his across the street neighbor, you were a frequent visitor and always appreciated that he treated you like someone who mattered enough to listen to and give drinks that were made with a heavy hand. Some people were absolutely terrified of the Marshal, but you knew him as someone who was a bit rough around the edges while also capable of being kind and caring for the inhabitants of his city. He was just a man who didn’t appreciate bullshit.
The grooves in the dark oak wooden door shifted beneath the splay of your fingertips as they danced across the expanse toward the rough copper door handles, and as you pressed down with just the right amount of pressure, the smell of beer, peanuts, and cigar smoke wafted out to greet you. No one else smoked in Cor’s bar except for him, but he was there often enough that the crisp sweetness of the Altissian tobacco had embedded itself in the walls.
Dim lighting set the wooden interior awash with a dull glow that was soothing to the nerves, and over in the far corner by the pool tables the jukebox was playing some classic rock that set the mood for an easy going track. Yes. This was just what you needed.
You stepped into the bar and shifted your purse from your shoulder down to hold in your hand, barely getting it onto the bartop in front of the third barstool from the register when you heard, “Hey! There she is! My favorite customer.” The voice was far from that aged husky timbre that was unmistakably destroyed from years of shouting command and smoking.
Your eyes flit upward only to lock onto lilac hued baby blue eyes that look warmer than honey glistening in the summer sun. “Prompto! I didn’t expect to see you…”
“Well, ya almost sound disappointed.” He teased you fondly, wiping down the bar just in front of you before tossing down a napkin and whipping up a beautiful crystal tumbler that he quickly topped off with a shot of gin and tonic water. “There ya go. Vodka cranberry to start the night…” He winked, just a quick motion that should have done nothing to you, but then he grinned that toothy crooked grin and your insides were mush.
Prompto Argentum. Cor Leonis’ adopted son and the apple of the Crown City’s eye. He was the best friend of Prince Noctis, an up and coming photographer and one of the latest inductees into the Crownsguard. Not only was he talented with a good head on his shoulders, but he was one of the kindest people you had ever met. Not to mention… drop dead gorgeous.
Taking your eyes on a visual tour of the young man who had stepped to the other end of the bar to set up a few more rounds of beers for the pool players, part of you regrets the decision to step into this bar tonight. He’s got his hair slicked back instead of in its usually chocobo-esque coiffed style which draws ones attention to his massive eyes and freckled features that are just begging to be kissed! He’s pale flesh and beauty marks with flushes of pink strewn over the canvas of his lean body that he shows off without shame in black skinny jeans and a dark grey muscle shirt that he never tucks in so when he bends over you can see the dip of his lower back where the sweat pools when he’s been lugging kegs from the back cooler to the front.
It’s not right to say that you have a crush on a man nearly a decade younger than you, but looking never hurt anyone and why shouldn’t you notice how gorgeous he was! Not like anything would come of it. There was no way he was single. “Thanks Prom…” You hear the waitress, giggle before she prances off to deliver the beers to her customers, a perfect reminder of everything he could have that is not you.
Again, you are far too old. It wouldn’t be right.
“Sooo…” Prompto ambles back up to your side of the bar and leans against the polished wood structure, waggling his adorably tailored blond brows. “I’m happy to see you tonight. Been a while.”
Two months and five days.
“Has it?” You grin around the sip of vodka and cranberry, enjoying the burst of tartness that hits the back of your tongue to clear out the lingering coffee you inhaled all day long to keep you productive. “How’s school?”
Prompto grinned at you but didn’t call you out on the abrupt conversation change, and answered with a shrug, “It’s okay. Into my last semester. I have a lot more time to help dad at the bar and work on my training at least. And you? How’s work? I heard your firm got that big contract with the citadel.”
“Yeah.” Polishing off your drink and setting it down for a refill, you grin when Prompto picks up the nozzle for tonic water, just a hit to give an edge to the cranberry juice, and presses the button with a long finger. There’s something about watching him work with his hands. He’s efficient, confident, and makes it all look way too easy. It’s sexy. “We did. Just finished getting everything squared away…”
“Working late hours then?” His eyes twinkled at you with interest, but you waved it off as a trick of the lighting.
Giving him a nod and a soft word of appreciation for the little slice of lime he tosses into your glass, you slip your fingertips around the smooth body and tilt it up to your lips to down half of it. Perfect. Smooth. “Too late. Missed my birthday.” But the alcohol was helping. There were few issues that a good drink and cute company couldn’t fix.
At least in your mind. Prompto on the other hand didn’t seem to appreciate your commentary on a missed birthday and gasped in response, “What! When was your birthday!?”
You chuckled, slipping back into the worn leather seat that you occupied and sipped down the last of your second drink. Maybe these were going down a little too quick and it was time to switch to something harder, slower…
“Today actually.”
“What! And you were at work?” Prompto shook his head and reached for your glass, so attuned to your unspoken wants that he didn’t even have to ask what was next, he just made the glass of whiskey on the rocks with a twist of lemon and settled it back down in front of you. “Nuh uh! This won’t do. I’m sorry. We have to do something for your birthday. First… your drinks are on me…”
You almost choked on your whiskey. “W-what?!” You sputtered, snatching up the bar napkin to dab at your lips just in time to watch Prompto pop open the register and drop a hundred dollar bill inside like it didn’t weigh a damn thing. “Prompto! You cannot buy me my drinks.”
He whirled to face you with his full lips turned upward in a taunting grin, “Can. And did. No fussing! It’s your birthday. Where the hell is your boyfriend! He should be out with you!”
“I don’t have a boyfriend…”
“Girlfriend?”
“Nope. All single.” You motioned to your curvy form that was dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt instead of something glamorous. There wasn’t much to look at, or so you thought, but Prompto felt otherwise.
He watched the way your arm swept out to draw attention to your thick curves and the way you looked encased in leather with just a slight hint of a daze in your eyes from the alcohol that had fully relaxed you. You weren’t drunk, you were just comfortable and starting to feel really good. Had you been more alert maybe you would have noticed the way he licked his lips when his gaze danced lower to your breasts, or the way he shifted to adjust himself when he dared to wander lower to the apex of your thighs highlighted in light wash jeans.
But you didn’t.
It was probably also why you didn’t notice the sudden shift in conversation when Prompto commented, “Well… lucky me.” In a deep whisper that filled up his chest and rolled so easily off of his tongue. Maybe you didn’t fully catch it, or maybe you didn’t want to because how would you rationalize accepting the advances of a man so much younger than you…
One with sex rippling over his entire frame, lust burning in his eyes that should be filled with innocence, and promises written across his lips that would ensure a night well spent in his arms. He would see you to the end and not leave you wondering when it would be over so you could finish yourself off before falling asleep.
No. Prompto Argentum was an all night kind of guy, who would keep you changing positions until every inch of you was embraced by every inch of him.
Maybe…
Maybe he can convince you that it will be alright…
Maybe that’s why you stay to chit chat with him throughout the evening instead of heading home, exchanging witty banter and nearly lewd jokes that make your cheeks flush and his blue eyes shift from a gentle tease to absolutely ravenous. Is it why he grazes the tips of his fingertips across your knuckles and upward toward the inside of your wrist to stroke lightly along your pulse point as though memorizing your heartbeat?
Or perhaps the reason you stay is because of the way his smile shifts from boyish to sultry with a quirk of his lips followed by the offer he makes with a whispered word, “Dance with me…” He holds his hand out to you, teeming with confidence and grace. How could you possibly say no?
Even though you do try. “Oh come on… I’ve never been a good dancer.”
“Then you haven’t had the right partner.”
“And you are the right partner?”
He smirks even broader as he skirts around the bar and stands just in front of you, perched between your slightly parted thighs. “Maybe… Maybe I know just how to teach you to move… how to hold you in my arms.” He takes hold of your hand without warning so that he can draw you out to the dance floor, pressing you against him as though he has done this for years before leaning down to whisper, “Maybe I can give you what you need…”
A shockwave of sensation hits you the second his breath cascades over your lips, the taste of his breath parting past the whiskey on your tongue to leave you delirious with hunger. “What do I need?” Another relationship that breaks beneath the strain of your love for your job? No. You certainly don’t need that.
But that’s probably not what Prompto is offering, it shouldn’t be. He’s way too young for you…
And you have to remember that when his eyes drink you down just as hot and fast as a hit of crown flows down your throat. Afterall, how can you want something from him and how is he drawing you so effortlessly into his orbit with nothing but a grin and the way his hips move in tandem to the music leading the two of you through a perfect slow dance.
Prompto curls his hands into just the right places to be decent and yet wholly inappropriate as he guides you into his movements, his fingers cupping yours with a hidden strength that paints the atmosphere around you. The other hand dips low on your hips so that his pinky traces the top of your round ass and when he leans down to whisper into your ear, age is the last thing on your mind. “You need someone to pay you some attention… to not be afraid to chase your pleasure… let me give you that. Consider it your birthday gift.”
The song ends on a bass low note strumming right through the core of you but Prompto doesn’t release you from against him. He waits with a patience you do not feel inside at all, until you give him a single nod to acquiesce to his request. Then, and only then, does he step away and make the announcement for last call to the near empty bar.
Twenty minutes pass while the workers wipe down tables and toss the dishes into the dishwasher to ensure they are properly sterilized for tomorrow, and you are left sitting to wait on pins and needles wondering just what you were thinking to say yes! Prompto doesn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time he shuts the bar down with quick and efficient movements, promises alight with blue flames that make your knees threaten to buckle.
“Goodnight, Prom!” With a lack of customers on a sunday night, evening pick up went by rather quickly which means that the other staff members do not need to stick around for unnecessary chit chat. The young woman who had been serving beer all night gathers her things and makes her way to the door that Prompto is holding open for her and then gives you a final wave with a knowing glint in her beautiful eyes. “Goodnight! Happy birthday, _______.” Is the last thing you hear from her as she disappears into the night outside and Prompto closes the two of you inside the bar without another soul in sight.
That naughty grin full of cocky sureness that only someone his age could wear, fills up his gorgeous face, and then he’s stalking toward you like a coeurl on the prowl. “Glad you stayed.”
You laughed and backed away ever so slightly from him, slightly overwhelmed by the ease in which he approached you. IT’s not like the two of you were talking about exchanging recipes. He was offering you… sex…
Gods! How long has it been now? A year? A year and a couple of months? And what was worse, was that the last time wasn’t even that memorable considering it had been a quick hookup that left you more frustrated than when the two of you had begun. Something tells you though, that being with Prompto will not end in disappointment. When he finally stops in front of you now that there is nowhere for you to run seeing as how the wall is at your back, he leans down and ever so gently brushes his lips across yours. “You okay?” It’s a chaste touch meant to calm you down, but all of those desires you save for the darkness that you spend alone in your bed, ignite to life and begin to consume you.
He’s the only sturdy point of reference that you have in this moment, and even with the slight inhibition that the alcohol has stripped away, there’s that logical part of you that cannot believe this is happening. “I dunno… Prompto… you’re so much younger than me… what would your dad say?”
He chuckles with a knowing lilt to the sound and presses his forehead against yours tenderly, his arms coming up to hold you like a lover would. “He’d say it’s about damn time. I’ve had the hots for you since I was 18.” Then he rolls his eyes adorably and amends his statement with, “Probably before. But it was legal at that point.” when you don’t seem to warm up anymore to the idea, he promptly changes tracks and turns to pull you toward the bar.
“Look… I dont want to make you uncomfortable. I like you. I have for a long time, and I think you like me too. Who cares about age? My dad dates women much older than him and some men… the only thing that matters is that we have a good time together. I know your career is important to you…” He turns that youthful grin up to ten and licks his lips to draw your attention to the puffy pink pillows. It’s one of the places you can’t help but look at on Prompto’s face and he seems to know it. “I just want some of your time… but if anything, if you don’t want it to, this doesn’t have to go any further than tonight.”
He’s begun to lead you back behind the curving countertop into his realm where the magic happens and you find it rather impossible to deny the fact that something is going to happen tonight. His fingertips are coaxing against yours, drawing you straight back into his arms, and this time you aren’t dazed by the alcohol so much as you are from the gentle kiss he bestows upon you. “What do you say birthday girl?”
Your buzz is gone leaving you to stare down the fork in the road before you with painful clarity. Never in your life have you done something out of what is ‘expected’ whether by your family or society, but here you are, standing in the arms of a boy turned man who looks like he wants to make all of your fantasies come true. Would it really hurt to let him?
Didn’t you deserve a bit of fun?
Gliding your hands up the front of his muscle shirt, getting a good feel for his hardness of his body, you give a slight nod and whisper, “Okay.” Your gaze finds its way to the stormy blue eyes alight with pleasure before they drift closed to absorb the entire impact of Prompto’s kiss.
He takes to you like a good glass of whiskey, sipping to wet the lips, letting the taste seep into the tongue, and then he indulges deep and insistently. One hand anchors to the side of your head, tangling in the locks of hair that have slipped free from the hair band wrapping them to the base of your head, holding you still so that he can get his fill of you. And by the Gods you let him.
You let this man take you away on a wild ride that has you moaning unabashedly into his mouth, twisting and turning to help him move your clothes out of his way so that he can press the rough pads of his fingertips against your curves. Curves and Whiskey…
If it was a song it would be yours and everything he can see in you that others pass by. You’re potent, decadent, and luscious not only in flavor but in the way you feel so perfect molded into his trim body. He’s dated men and women alike, had plenty of lovers that took off the edge of being single, but he hasn’t had anyone like you. “I’m gonna make you feel good…” His promise erupted through your mind and had you melting into his strong embrace.
“Mmmk.” Was the best response you could muster as the two of you fought toward the countertop and then Prompto was lifting you with practiced ease onto the dark wood finish, eyes hungry and determined.
He wasted no time in taking hold of your jeans button and fly to pull them apart, before hooking his fingers into the tops of your jeans, grasping onto your panties for good measure, and giving a solid tug to free you from their confines. You squeaked at the move and rushed to cover yourself from his bewildered gaze, but he batted away your hands and leaned right in to kiss your mound in greeting. “Oh Gods! Prompto… you don’t have to… I umm… I didn’t have time…” To tidy up…
“Good. I prefer it.” He shoots you a wicked smile that makes your stomach flip flop uncontrollably, and puts his hand to your stomach, pressing you back against the bar top. “Trust me. It’s gonna be good, baby… I haven’t had complaints.”
Where did all of this bravado come from? How was it possible for someone to be so self assured when you were still floundering to find a satisfactory balance when it came to your own abilities. The night could have passed with you pondering that question, but when Prompto parted your labia and flickered his tongue through the thick juices, coherent thought vacated your brain.
The only thought that happened to remain was the fact that *it* was very good.
Too good.
Probably the best you had ever had.
And what was more… Prompto was absolutely enjoying it. “Fuck… you’re so damn good. Knew you would be.” He groaned against your pussy, wiggling his tongue deep inside your opening so that you could ride his face that his hands insisted of you. He was insatiable. Couldn’t get enough of your taste or the way you sounded while he took care of you. This was how it was meant to be.
Sucking in a breath and casting your hazy eyes down to the sight happening between your thighs, all you can see are tufts of blond locked between your fingers and every now and then, sultry eyes filled with delight. “Oh… oh Gods Prom!”
“Yeah…” He hums against you, sucking one of your lips into his mouth the same moment he slips two fingers inside of you to roll and press against. HE certainly didn’t plan to keep you waiting for your gift. Even if he could stay between your thighs for hours and not get tired. “Gonna come for me?” It was a pointless question once he began to flick and suck at your clit with firm motions, because not long after your orgasm hit you like a runaway freight train.
A scream shattered through the quiet night air, followed by a drunk groan that came from the man perched between your thighs. He only stood up when he was sure that you were steady, and offered his hand to help you into a sitting position. HIs face was covered with your juices and pride. “Happy birthday, beautiful.”
You laughed freely for the first time in months and slid down onto your feet. “I thought…”
“That I’d fuck you in the bar?” Prompto asked in mock surprise, clutching at his nonexistent pearls. Then he sobered and shook his head. “I meant what I said. I want to go for something with you. Not some quick fuck… If I’m going to have you… then I’m going to make love to you properly.” His fingertip trailed down the edge of your jaw to tilt your head up so that he could look into your eyes. “But if tonight is all I get, then I wanted you to remember it as a night that someone gave something to you… just for you. You’re special… and even if those idiots you have dated couldn’t see it, it doesn’t mean I haven’t.”
He released his slight hold on you and gave you the space to think, no matter how hard that way standing pantless in Cor Leonis’ bar while his son tried to romance you. And was succeeding no less.
Truly… what would trying something out with Prompto hurt? You couldn’t deny that you hadn’t noticed him over the past few years and the fact that he had grown into a responsible young adult, and after tonight you were pretty damn sure that he was being sincere with his own feelings toward you.
A blush fills up your cheeks but you don’t let that dissuade you from giving him an answer. “Alright Prom. We can try this… “
With a triumphant pump of his fist in the air and a shout of “Yes!” You break out into giggles and let him pull you against him for a tender kiss. “Promise… you won’t regret it.” He nuzzled into your neck and held you with a warmth you had been missing inside.
Naturally these were words you had heard before but strangely enough, this time you were positive you could actually believe them. Once the bar was tidied completely, you walked out and waited for Prompto to look up. He pocketed the keys with a wink and stepped up to take your hand. “How about I order us some take out and we go watch a movie, birthday girl?” Of course he would invite himself over, not that you were complaining. It felt nice to not be alone.
“Sounds good.” You smiled at him, linking your fingers with his for the short little trip across the street where your apartment was waiting.
Surprisingly the best part of your evening wasn’t the orgasm you had been given, but the honest laughs and companionship shared with Prompto well into the early morning when sleep finally demanded some attention.
This was by far the loveliest birthday you had ever had.