Chapter Text
It’s a stupid thing to say, really.
Noctis is Prompto’s best friend. That’s their dynamic, and that’s how it’s gonna be. Prompto has long since accepted that. And okay, even if he has a little bit of a crush – just a little one- it’s not going anywhere. It can’t. Noctis is the prince, and that means he’s going to be king, that he’ll have way more important things to do than hang out with his best friend.
Prompto will probably get to join his guard or something, but still—that’s all he can hope for. A lifetime of friendship and not getting outright totally left behind.
Still, sometimes he manages to confess way more than that without even trying, and it’s always awkward and embarrassing as all hell.
They’re sitting at one of their usual haunts, a greasy old burger joint not too far from school. They’d planned for the evening to go their favourite kind of way, with Prompto heading over to Noct’s afterwards, so that they could curl up on the couch together and play a new video game they were both excited about.
Naturally, Ignis – Noct’s forever-loyal advisor – had swiftly put an end to those plans, with a sinister text telling him that he had homework to attend to, and royal duties, and something about studying notes from a board meeting the week before, things that made Prompto’s head spin and his stomach drop.
“Fuck that,” Noctis grumbles, as he reaches across the table to steal one of Prompto’s fries. It’s a pure evil little annoyance, of course; Noct has plenty of his own fries left. (He always says Prompto’s taste better, in a stupid, dorky way that makes Prompto’s stomach flutter.)
“Price you pay for bein’ the prince,” Prompto replies, as brightly as he can to mask his own disappointment. The last thing he wants is for Noctis to feel guilty about it all. It’s not his fault. It’s just—with how busy they’ve both been lately, with how fucking haywire Prompto’s hormones have been, they haven’t seen each other that much lately.
A good deal of that is Prompto’s fault. Most days, he doesn’t mind being an omega and having a (ridiculously gorgeous) alpha best friend, but… it makes things like heats tricky. Especially since he already has the world’s biggest crush. His stomach does another flutter at the mere thought, and quickly, he’s reaching out to swat Noct’s hand away.
“Dude, I don’t want to be the prince,” Noctis retorts, his brow furrowing, as if they haven’t had this conversation a million times already. They have. But, venting seems to help Noct cope, and that’s all Prompto ever wants; to help.
“You say that,” Prompto teases airily, and he returns the favour by sneaking his own hand across the table to snag a handful of Noct’s fries. His best friend rolls his eyes; under the table, his toe nudges into Prompto’s shin. Fuck. His belly does a flip, and Prompto’s pretty sure his cheeks are flushing, beneath the freckles.
Breathe deep, Prompto. Don’t betray anything.
“Just think, Noct,” Prompto continues, his voice – thankfully – even. “You weren’t prince, you wouldn’t have the fancy condo, or all the nice stuff, or that amazing car…”
Noctis rolls his eyes. Admittedly, he’s spoiled rotten, and they both know it. Even with Noct’s slightly hedonistic streak, though, he’s a good person. He can be bratty at times – he’s such a sore loser – but at the end of the day? They both know he’s paying a price for everything he has. It’s just easier to tease, to make light of the subject.
Normally, Noctis would respond with a biting comment about how he wished Ignis would actually let them drive his fancy car more often.
Instead, Noct’s sighing, chewing thoughtfully on his fries. Then, head tipped to the side, chin resting on a hand, he admits. “… you know what it means, though. I’m gonna have to marry some random person I don’t care about. Being king means I gotta make heirs someday, Prom. I repeat this stupid cycle, and I don’t want to have kids with some person I don’t even know—”
He breaks off, and just as he does, Prompto says about the dumbest thing he could possibly ever say. He blurts out the first thought that comes to mind, as he so often does, despite his careful concealing of that stupid, massive crush of his.
“Hey, I’m an omega. How ‘bout you just have babies with me?”
It’s a total tease, but is it really? Immediately, Prompto’s stomach leaps into his throat. His fingers tremble and he drops the fry he was holding delicately. Eyes widening slightly, cheeks flushing, he sits back in his chair.
“… I mean. Haha, funny. Gotta be better than a stranger, though, huh?” Prompto laughs awkwardly, as if that doesn’t make things even weirder.
Noctis doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes dark and narrowed, intent as he scrutinizes his best friend. Fuck, Prompto’s thinking, his inner-monologue frantic, you’re an idiot. He’s gonna realize what’s up and he’s going to leave and you’ve lost your only friend—
“Y’know,” Noctis replies, after a moment, though, and his voice is light, like he’s trying to dismiss it, to laugh it off. Prompto knows his best friend, though, and he recognizes a hint of something in that tone, though. “… we’d probably be pretty good parents. We get along. We’re best friends, we like all the same stuff…”
Noctis hesitates, before adding, quietly, “… we both know what not to do.”
Prompto’s having trouble breathing, because in his mind, he’s trying not to justify this as a real confession. It’d been a joke, but suddenly, it doesn’t seem so bad. Even if Noctis can’t, even if he’ll need a partner who is of proper status to be married to the crown prince—well, his best friend hadn’t thought it was totally weird. That means something, right?
“Well, when you’re thirty and rejected every potential suitor in the whole world, I’ll be here!” Prompto teases, chipper, and thank fucking god, they laugh it off and things go back to being the normal level of weird, with Prompto’s lingering crush, and a few meaningful glances exchanged.
If only.
---
Prompto hates how obsessive he gets, especially about anything involving Noctis.
Noct had inevitably ended up going back to his place, and reluctantly, Prompto had headed home for the evening. His parents are away on business. When aren’t his parents away on business? Prompto used to resent them, but he has Noctis now, and he doesn’t quite feel so lonely anymore. Besides, he’s at the age where having the house to himself, constantly, is a very nice freedom.
He knows, in theory, that male omegas can get pregnant. They glossed over it in health class, though, and further research tells him, it happens but… it’s rarer. Well. That’s a bit of a downfall. There’s still some stigma surrounding being a male omega, too, but Insomnia is progressive. Noct has never cared about that. He’d realized it before Prompto himself even had – he’d been a late bloomer – and one day, they’d been particularly close, cuddled up on the couch, when Noctis had leaned over, buried his face in Prompto’s neck, and admitted, “… fuck, you smell good.”
His heat had come not so long after that, and Prompto’s been very pointedly ignoring Noctis for a couple of days during his cycle ever since. It’s too risky. He’s harbored that pesky crush for so long, and the hormones just make it unbearable. The last thing Prompto wants is to force anything on Noctis, and a fully hormonal omega, in the midst of heat cramps, presenting themselves and begging for a knot… well.
He’d die if he coerced Noctis into something he didn’t want.
It’s not even his heat right now. That had been last week, but Prompto can’t get the idea out of his head. It’s possible for his body to carry a royal baby. Unlikely, and he’s pretty sure it’s all a huge joke anyway, but Noctis hadn’t been entirely grossed out by the idea.
It’d be doing Noct a favour, right? He didn’t want some stranger having his heir.
“I have some fucked up fantasies,” Prompto murmurs to nobody in particular. His cat, curled up at the foot of the bed, lifts her head and meows irritably. She knows what’s coming, and she daintily hops off the bed and slinks away.
Prompto makes himself comfortable in bed. His laptop’s open in front of him, and… well, he’s curious, okay? His research had led him onto his favourite gross porn site, and he’d flushed and sat on the home page for a couple of moments before typing ‘pregnant male omega’ into the search bar with trembling fingers.
Somehow, the internet knowing that weird thing he can’t get off his mind solidifies it. Even if he deletes his search history, just typing the words in… fuck, he’s weird, isn’t he?
Naturally, several videos come up, and Prompto’s entire face goes bright red, even though he’s alone. He’s alone and nobody can possibly know, but…
One video looks particularly enticing, probably because the omega’s young, slender-waisted and blonde, a pretty thing that looks… decently like Prompto himself. In the thumbnail, he’s got his face in a dark-haired guy’s lap, probably going to town on sucking his dick, and that’s a nice mental image. Prompto only hesitates for a split second of guilty reflection, then he clicks the link.
The video starts. Prompto sits back against the bed. He reaches behind himself to adjust the pillows, and then leans to the side, fumbling through the drawer next to his bed for a bottle of lube and his favourite toy. It’s modest in length, primarily designed to help relieve heat cramps, with a thick knot at the base.
(Prompto’s long given up pretending it’s not Noct’s cock he’s fantasizing about when he jerks off, when he fucks himself with a stupid toy. This, really, is just another step deeper into hell.)
He probably won’t even need the lube, either. Already, he can feel the beginnings of arousal stirring in his belly. He’s still got his underwear on, but his cock is twitching to life in its confines, and there’s that familiar warmth that comes with the first trickle of slick sliding down his thighs.
The omega in the video is definitely pregnant. There’s no denying it. If Prompto squints, if he doesn’t look at the guy’s face, he can almost imagine it’s himself instead. The guy’s built similarly, with wide hips and a slender waist. The omega in the video has a softer chest than Prompto, the swells of his little breasts perky, nipples heavy and dark and swollen. And… oh.
Prompto can’t help it. His fingers drift down over his belly. It’s flat, defined, trembling a little with each heaving breath. But it’s so easy to imagine it swollen, a nice, smooth, round curve, full of Noct’s baby. God, the intensity of it hits him so fucking hard, he wants this. The idea is hot as hell. It’s going straight to Prompto’s dick. His erection’s twitching to life, filling out fully and already straining against the front of his boxer briefs. Thighs shifting together, Prompto can already feel the hot-wet slide of slick. God, he gets so wet when he’s turned on, and already, he’s so deep in this gross fantasy.
The alpha in the video doesn’t quite look like Noctis, but it’s easy to pretend. Already, Prompto’s paying less attention to the porn and getting deeper into his own fantasy, anyway.
Fingers dragging down his belly, Prompto tries to imagine how it’d feel. So full, so heavy and claimed and utterly owned by Noctis. Maybe that’s what’s so hot about this. He wants to be owned by his best friend, claimed and fuck, he wants to be marked by Noctis. If he was stuffed full of his baby, he’d surely having a scarred mark on his neck to solidify the bond, right? There’d be teeth marks mottling his neck, his throat, his shoulderblades, right…?
Those slender, clever fingers slip under the band of his underwear, and Prompto moans as he curls them loosely around his cock. He’s nearly fully hard. In the porn video, the alpha is kissing and doting on the pregnant omega’s stomach, and Prompto has to admit—that’s nice. It’s… tender, intimate, more than he expected from gross porn.
He tips his head back and closes his eyes, though. As he shimmies out of his underwear, it’s Noctis he’s seeing. It’s Noct’s lips trailing down over his belly, the hot puff of Noct’s breath against the swell of his stomach, pressing kisses into sensitive skin—
“Noct…” Prompto’s shameless, he doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s not moaning his best friend’s name, as his fingers tighten around his cock. His other hand works down between his parted thighs, his hips lift, and oh, he’s definitely wet. There’s slick wetting the insides of his thighs. He’s relaxed, already so ready…
Prompto tends to get impatient in everything in life and jerking off is no exception. He’s watched a lot of porn. He tried taking it slow once, but he’d been squirming and desperate and given up way too fast. The concept of doing it slow, fingers ghosting over the underside of his cock, teasing the sensitive head, it’s appealing, but… he always gets just so needy, starts trembling and squirming and rushes headlong into orgasm. He’s got barely any refractory time anyway—might as well enjoy it, right?
The omega on the screen is tossing his head back as the alpha’s head delves between his thighs, and god, that’s nice. From this angle, if Prompto squints, he can pretend that’s him, that it’s Noct’s face between his thighs, his best friend’s tongue lapping at his entrance, tasting his slick. It’d get everywhere, cling to Noct’s chin, shine on his cheeks.
Prompto’s messy, and god, he doesn’t care.
Two fingers press past the slick ring of muscle so easily. His body is pliant, opening up already, and he’s practically dripping slick. Prompto groans, his hips lifting, thighs parting further as he tries to crook his fingers in, to hook them deep and drag them against his inner walls. This part is hard to do alone; he can’t get the angle right, his fingers aren’t thick enough.
Already, he’s a hot mess, and already, he needs to feel full.
The omega in the video has one hand tangled in his alpha’s hair. The other hand is playing with a swollen breast, tugging at one of those dark, swollen nipples. Prompto wonders, idly, if his own chest – just slightly plush, nipples pink and cute – would fill out, if he was carrying Noct’s heir. Research for later, he tells himself, and that thought alone betrays just how much he’s into this fucking stupid fantasy…
Prompto’s fingers crook deeper, just barely brush over the sensitive gland inside of him, and he outright moans, head tipping back against the pillow. His cock twitches, drools a thin pool of precome against his – flat, but in his mind, curved – belly.
“Noct… fuck, breed me…” Prompto groans, and there’s no shame there, not anymore. He’d gotten over most of the hot burn of shame the first few times he’d jerked off imagining Noctis was with him. This is just another step in a direction he’s been barreling headlong into for ages now. It’s his safe little fantasy, it’s okay, right?
Prompto’s fingers are wet, and there’s a hot, wet rush of slick coating his inner thighs and the firm swell of his ass as he pulls his fingers free. He’s still idly stroking his cock, thumb tracing the heavy vein that runs along the underside, as he reaches for the toy.
He’d barely worked himself open with two fingers, and Prompto knows, even with the slick and with how fucking hot and needy he is, it’ll be a bit of work to get the girth of the thing inside. It’s easy to pretend it’s Noct, though. Bright blue eyes shifting, Prompto’s attention drifts back to the porn video playing on his laptop in front of him. The omega and the alpha have switched places now. If he looks closely, he can see the glisten of slick on the alpha’s chin. Fuck.
The omega’s the one with his mouth full now, and Prompto groans. He lifts the toy to his lips, drags his tongue over the smooth silicone. It fits in nicely into his fantasy. He wonders, vaguely, what Noct’s dick is like. He’s seen it, of course… they’re best friends, they’ve changed in front of each other multiple times. Prompto’s never seen that alpha cock fully hard, though, and he wonders how big it is, how thick Noct’s knot would be, all locked inside of him, holding his seed in place, filling him…
Knocking him up.
Oh, he likes that, a full-bodied shudder wracking Prompto’s body as he closes his lips around the thick head of the toy, suckling lazily. He wishes it’s Noctis, that instead of unyielding, cool silicone, it’s a real cock, blood-hot and throbbing, leaking salty precome onto his tongue…
The toy pops free from his mouth with a wet, lewd sound, a strand of saliva connecting the rounded head to parted, slightly-flushed lips. Prompto groans; he’s impatient. He needs Noctis, needs his alpha, but fuck, he can’t have that. All he has is this fantasy—and it’s gotta be enough.
The thick head of that cock nudges against his slick entrance, and Prompto shifts, eagerly pressing down on the weight of it. He’s tight, even with the finger-fuck he’s given himself. If this really was Noctis, he’d have to go slow. Fuck, Noct would have to brace himself on one arm while he nudged his thick cock inside. Knowing Noctis, he’d distract Prompto with kisses, with playful little words, whispered in that breathy, teasing voice of his.
Prompto can hear the dirty words falling from Noct’s lips way too easily.
‘Put a baby in you already, and you’re still thirsty for this cock, huh Prom…?’ he’d whisper. Prompto whines, whole body jerking with an intense shudder. He’s barely paying attention to the video in front of him now, though the alpha’s definitely about to fuck the pregnant omega on the screen.
“Noct, wanna feel full,” Prompto whimpers, as if the fantasy is real. As if, instead of a thick silicone toy nudging past the tight ring of his ass, it’s Noct’s real, alpha cock. As if instead of lying in bed alone, watching gross porn, he’s got Noct’s weight settled heavily over him, those deep blue eyes watching him. He’d be so good for Noct, wouldn’t he?
He’d carry Noct’s heir. Fuck, Prompto will do anything for his best friend. When he’s this deep, when he’s letting himself get carried away by fantasy, it’s so easy to see what’s right in front of him.
He’s fucking in love with Noctis.
The toy works inside, bit by bit, inch by inch, and Prompto moans at the intrusion. It’s slow, and it burns, working him open, but god, he even loves this part, too. He loves feeling his body shift and adjust to the fullness, he loves his much it stretches him. He loves imagining the look on Noct’s face, the dark possessiveness in his eyes.
Sometimes, when it’s just the two of them, and Prompto does something cute, when he gets brave and cuddles in and breathes in that musky, spicy alpha scent… that same look crosses over Noct’s face, that same darkness burns in his eyes. Fuck, Prompto can see it too well.
“Please…” Prompto gasps. The thick toy fills him up, until the knot of it’s pressed against his rim. He shifts, groans, lifts his hips, and feels the toy rub against his insides so perfectly. God, it feels good. Prompto’s erection is fully hard, and his fingers flex, curling tighter around his cock again, giving a lazy, slow jerk.
Pleasure shoots down his spine, and even though he always wants to take it slow, he can’t.
Noctis would take it slow, Prompto thinks, but he’s not Noctis, as much as his fantasy wants to pretend his alpha best friend is here. His hips lift as he grinds them down on that thick toy. The head is curved slightly, and it rubs into his prostate as he fucks himself on it. Each drag over that sensitive gland is a burst of euphoric bliss, one that has Prompto gasping and needy. He’s wet, slick dripping down along the length of that toy, pooling at the thick knot that’s teasing his entrance.
‘You want this knot?’ Prompto can hear Noct’s voice in his head. He’s imagining it’s Noct’s cock grinding into him, Noct’s swelling knot teasing his stretched-open hole. Prompto’s so wet for him, and he’s so obedient. It’d be Noct’s hand settling possessively over his belly as he fucked him, too, fingers splayed over the physical evidence of how fucking owned he was. Prompto shivers, he loves it, he needs it—
“Need your knot!” Prompto gasps, and his whole body shakes, his thighs tremble violently. He lets go of his cock to slide his other hand down between his thighs. It’s always so much effort to get the thick, knotted part of the toy inside of him when he isn’t in heat – when he’s in heat, everything is a frantic haze, the hormones replace all coherent thought and he’s so wet and pliant and open – but god, he needs to feel it.
Both hands work the toy inside, and god it burns, but his cock’s twitching and drooling heavily against his belly the whole time. There’s the hot flare of burning pain as Prompto’s rim is stretched, as his ass is opened up further, but he works the toy in, slow and steady, and it’s so wet with his slick, it presses in, bit by bit, until it pops.
And fuck, it’s the perfect combination of pleasure-pain, it’s damn near unbearable.
Prompto can practically feel Noct’s come spurting inside of him, filling him up, spilling so deep within. He whines, his eyes are wet with tears and shining with desperation. He’s not watching the porn on his laptop anymore, but if he was, he’d be treated to the sight of the needy little omega begging for another baby, begging to be filled and bred.
And god, Prompto wants just that.
He can’t pull the toy out, that knot is too thick, stretching him so open. Prompto’s grinding his hips down, frantic and desperate, rocking so fast and deep he can’t even think. His other hand’s on his cock again, jerking it hard and fast, and—oh, his orgasm doesn’t take long. It’s explosive, that knot putting perfect, unrelenting pressure on his prostate, his thumb teasing the head of his cock, digging into the slick, dragging the precome around--
“Noct!”
Prompto’s gasping out his best friend’s name as he comes, as he spurts white over his stomach. His abdomen is clenched, his chest is heaving, he’s clenching and dragging down on that thick toy that’s stretched him so painfully open. It’s an intense orgasm, and head thrown back, eyes clenched shut, Prompto’s imagining Noct collapsing onto him, milking him through it. He’d keep touching, keep stroking Prompto’s cock, keep fucking into him until that knot deflated, until the omega was needy and spent and begging him to stop—
Noctis would own him entirely.
Fuck, Prompto loves it.
Slowly, he comes down. The porn’s still playing, and the sound of foreign voices moaning is what drags him back into the real world. Eyes opening, blinking blearily to clear the tears and lust-haze away, Prompto’s vision focuses. The omega’s on all fours now, his belly heavy and hanging, breasts bouncing a little as he’s pounded from behind.
Prompto’s cock gives a weak, appreciative twitch. He’s spent, but… he’s always had a fast recovery time. If he wants to go again, he’ll be ready soon.
“… what the fuck is wrong with me?” Prompto groans, though, as he leans forward to click out of the video with shaking fingers. He slams his laptop shut and collapses back down. The toy’s still buried deep inside of him, and oh, he’s oversensitive, his insides twitching and aching as the thick, unyielding knot of it grinds into his overworked, swollen prostate.
Damn intrusive thoughts. Prompto knows exactly what’s wrong with him. He’s an omega, he’s Noct’s omega, even if his best friend has never really made any move. He belongs to his best friend, through and through, and Prompto knows he’s probably cursed to an existence of living on the sidelines, watching from a distance.
Idly, though, a hand’s drifting down, over his belly, and he can still imagine it… being full and pregnant, giving Noct everything. Prompto hates how badly he wants it.
He’s debating if he wants to work the toy out or if he wants to try for a round two, when next to him, his discarded phone vibrates. Nobody texts Prompto, really. Occasionally, Ignis or Gladio send him messages, but it’s usually when Noctis isn’t answering his own phone—and otherwise?
Frantic, sticky fingers reach for his phone, and Prompto nearly drops it on his face as he lifts it up and swipes past the lock screen. God, he’s spent, weak and exhausted, and probably in need of a few more good orgasms to get this gross fantasy out of his head.
Naturally, it’s Noct. Who wouldn’t it be? Prompto’s heart flutters, and his cock twitches at the same time, a strange dichotomy existing within him. Lust and affection are so entwined when Noct’s involved; it’s not even fucking fair.
‘iggy was boring af. Guess who snuck out?’ the messages reads.
Simultaneously, horror and excitement is mounting in Prompto’s belly. He sits up – the toy shifting inside of him almost painfully – and glances around his room. It’s a mess. The thick scent of omega pheromones is hanging heavily in the air. His sheets are sweaty and wet with his own slick.
‘where r u?’ Prompto texts back.
‘be there in 5’ Noctis texts back, almost immediately.
Fuck. Prompto groans. ‘gimme 10 to shower’ he types out frantically, and then throws himself down on the bed. Getting that toy out is always a time, and god, he’s a mess, and…
Well, he’s not sure how much he can handle seeing Noctis right now. But the alternative – sending his best friend away – just is not happening. It pushes the thought out of his mind, at least. It’s hard to picture his belly heaving and full of Noct’s baby when he’s faced with the imminent threat of his best friend walking in on his jerk-off fantasy.
It’s a thought that’s forgotten, momentarily—but not for good. Because, god, Prompto’s neck might be unmarred, and his belly might be flat, but in his mind? He’s been claimed a long fucking time ago, and there’s no going back from this.