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A soft breeze set nature in motion where Gladiolus laid on grass and wildflowers.
He heard the twigs and leaves of the trees around him moving, felt the stems of delicate flowers tickle his skin while his eyes were focused on the night sky and the uncountable stars. Gentle fingers were trailing through his hair and the warmth of the man behind him, the man in whose lap Gladiolus’ head was resting, was flooding through him in small waves.
He had introduced himself as Prompto, but Gladiolus was quite sure that wasn’t his real name. It sounded so different to the other people he had met so far, and in the local tongue it sounded off, just as his own name.
It hadn’t been long since they had met. Gladiolus, split off from his troop during an attack from the Cherusci, had been left behind after the fight, no familiar face in sight, heavily injured, lost in the deep woods, ready to die.
But then this young man had shown up. Definitely with the tribes, for he looked nothing like Gladiolus’ people, all fair hair, milky skin and clear blue eyes, which had been filled with worry.
He had carried a few trinkets Gladiolus recognized as parts of roman attire, a scavenger.
But then he had run off and returned with another man, fair skin as well, but darker hair, who had squinted at him. Together they had carefully carried Gladiolus through the woods to a small gathering of huts, one of which he had been laid down in, all through a litany of urgently mumbled words, foreign and harsh to Gladiolus’ ears. Quickly after, he had passed out from the exhaustion and the blood loss.
Prompto had taken care of him.
He had made sure Gladiolus ate, drank and didn’t move more than necessary, and slowly he had gotten better. It turned out Prompto knew some basic Latin, enough that they could communicate a little with each other. He didn’t know how long he had been in Prompto’s care by now, and at some point along the way, it had stopped mattering. He wanted to stay.
Ever since the incidence with Noctis, his charge, the empire had nothing to offer anymore. He had lost his purpose, and thus had returned to the troops, willing to keep his ancestors proud by serving his emperor, fighting for the Holy Roman Empire.
He had expected to die in battle at some point, especially in the borderlands of Germania, controlled by various savage clans not bending to roman control.
He had not expected to fall for one of them.
But here he was, in the lap of a man who had nursed him back to health and who yet did not trust Gladiolus enough to tell him his real name. They would come to that, at some point. For all Gladiolus knew, if any of his troops had survived, they surely thought him dead, and one way or another, word of it would make its way back to Rome.
He had all the time in the world to get to know Prompto.
A gentle finger stroke down his nose and then along his jaw, and he looked up. Prompto’s eyes were dark in the absence of light, but still twinkling down at him, a lovely smile on his face. He wanted attention.
Gladiolus smiled. “Tell me about your gods,” he said, keeping his words slow and clear. He was aware his people had renamed the Germanic gods and goddesses with the usual Roman names. He was also aware that didn’t change the gods as they were. People in these lands might call Iuppiter now, but they were still worshipping their own god.
Prompto’s smile widened and he slowly moved, thinking, then raising a hand to point up at the night sky. At the moon.
“Mani,” he said, “ is god of moon. Like Luna.” Then, after a pause, “Bil and Hjuki are… circles.”
They were struggling with the language again, and Gladiolus tried to figure out what he meant.
“Circles?”
Prompto huffed, and pointed at the moon again. “Circles,” he said.
Gladiolus furrowed his brows. “They go around?” He made a circling motion with his hand.
Prompto shook his head, and pointed at the moon again, then, after a moment of hesitation, to his own face, pointing at some of the freckles painting his skin. “Circles, on moon.”
Gladiolus looked from Prompto up to the sky, and then he understood. “Mani is the moon,” he said carefully, waiting for Prompto’s nod, “and Bil and… Hju- ki,“ the word felt weird in his mouth, ”are the spots on the moon?”
Prompto nodded with a satisfied smile, and Gladiolus pulled him down at his neck to give him a kiss.
“Tell me more,” he whispered, making Prompto bite his lip.
He sat up again and looked around, apparently thinking of what else he could use to explain. He hummed to himself and then pointed to a young oak, not too far from where both of them were settled against each other in the grass.
“Donar,” he said. “Is your Iuppiter. He is greatest god. He… fights for us.” He shook his his head suddenly. “No, not fight. He…”
Prompto brought his hands together in the air and then drew an oval shape with them, then used the flats of his hands to duck behind them. A shield?
“Protect?” Gladiolus suggested. That wasn’t so different from Iuppiter indeed.
“Yes,” Prompto said, satisfied.
Gladiolus smiled and pulled him down again, pressing another kiss to his lips, then several more all over his face, making Prompto giggle.
Their lips met again and suddenly everything was very quiet around them. Gladiolus felt Prompto’s tongue on his lips and opened his mouth, letting the kiss become deeper, Prompto setting the pace.
His breath came in harsh puffs through his nose, a sudden hotness washing over him and making him shiver.
Their lips parted with a soft smack and Prompto looked down to him, cheeks deliciously blushed. He smiled.
Gladiolus suddenly felt his shoulders being pushed up by Prompto’s legs and was momentarily confused until the weight of the other man dropped on him and he felt Prompto’s warm breath on his face.
They smiled at each other and Gladiolus couldn’t resist to put his hands on Prompto, letting them wander over his sides, his back, down to his backside, grabbing the muscular globes and pulling the other man closer to his body, letting him feel Gladiolus’ excitement, and feeling Prompto’s in return.
Prompto laughed breathlessly and then ground his hips into him.
“Freya,” he murmured, “goddess of… this.” He moved his hips again, hard, and Gladiolus pulled him down flush against his body to give him a searing kiss.
Prompto moaned and yes, this was it. He shuddered, grinding into this man he still knew nothing about, and yet enough to fall desperately for him.
They shuddered against each other, Gladiolus holding him like he was the most precious thing he had ever touched in his life, and Prompto whined into his open mouth, one hand sneaking between their bodies, pulling first his and then Gladiolus’ pants down.
The feeling of their hot, hard skin against each other felt amazing, and Gladio gasped desperately at the wetness from their precome as they slid against each other, Prompto’s hips doing small swivels, his hard stomach further pressing them together.
Prompto moaned and kissed him again, Gladio kissing back hotly, desperate for more, more of their passion, more of this man.
He pushed one of his hands under the loose fabric of Prompto’s pants, over the velvety skin of his buttocks to the juncture of his thigh, where he grabbed the supple flesh again and pulled Prompto hard against him.
Prompto mewled, mouth fallen open, Gladio feeling the muscles under his hand moving, the perineum he felt at his fingertips contracting. He pressed it with two of his fingers, grinding his hips up hard.
Prompto tensed, shouted his name and Gladio felt wetness spreading between them. Heat rushed over him again and he groaned deep, shoving his face into Prompto’s neck and inhaling, licking and biting his skin.
Within seconds he was there as well, emptying himself onto his stomach, adding to the mess Prompto had already left there. He moaned at the feeling and hugged the smaller man closer to him.
Prompto pressed kisses to the side of his face and hair, both of them slowly calming down as the wind set long grass blades and little flowers dancing over their exposed skin, seemingly wrapping them into natures embrace.
Gladio turned his face around and pressed another soft kiss to Prompto’s lips, holding him loosely, but close. Here was where he belonged.