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“Ew, put it away, lardass!”
“No one wants to see that, you fat fuck!”
Prompto stands beside the Regalia in the parking lot, his body stiff after a long trip and stretching his arms above his head to ease his aching back… and flinches when two voices ring out. He has his eyes shut, but somehow, he knows the comments are directed towards him.
Sure enough, when he opens his eyes, he spies two young women sitting in a convertible a few spaces away from the Regalia, both sneering at him. For a moment, he doesn’t understand what they mean, because he’s fully clothed and he only normally gets shitty comments if he risks going shirtless (such as the last time he ever went swimming). But then the breeze tickles the hair scattered across his belly, something that should never happen (because Prompto would rather die than go shirtless 90% of the time; for fuck’s sake, he even struggles to get his tummy out around Ignis), and he realises his shirt has ridden up above his bellybutton, his stomach hanging out for anyone to see.
Humiliation must show on Prompto’s face, because they burst into cruel laughter. Instantly, Prompto drops his arms back to his sides, but it doesn’t completely solve the problem. Sure, his shirt slides down, but the bottom of his large belly is still visible; usually hidden by always tucking his shirt into his pants, Prompto’s belly instead spills over his waistband, his pale, stretch mark-ridden skin fully on display.
Prompto’s cheeks burn. He spins on his heels, hurriedly tucking his shirt back into his waistband to hide the belly he loathes, the belly he cannot get rid of no matter how much he exercises (seriously, thanks to Noct’s baffling aversion to using the Regalia, Prompto runs for miles every day; and yet he’s as fat as ever. And he knows he doesn’t need to lose weight, because he’s fitter than most skinny guys, and Noctis has never once commented about someone as big as Prompto following him around, but that doesn’t stop his constant insecurity about his size).
“Hey, what’s your problem?!” Noctis yells at the girls. But they either don’t recognise him or don’t care, just swearing and laughing before driving away. Noctis sighs. “What assholes.”
“Tell me about it,” Gladio mutters. “You’d think they’d have better things to do.”
Noctis nods. “I know, right!”
“Are you alright, Prompto?” Ignis asks, putting a hand on his back.
“Um… yeah,” Prompto says, forcing himself to smile. “I, I’m used to that sorta thing.”
He tries to downplay it, to make it sound like being heckled for his body is no big deal—because, really, it shouldn’t be, because he’s faced comments like that his entire life and he should be over it by now. But from their expressions, Prompto knows the other guys can tell he’s lying. They’ve always been able to read him like a book.
(Although, thankfully, there are still plenty of things they haven’t gotten out of him just by reading his expression. Such as his big secret, because Prompto knows that, if they learn the truth about him, none of them would want anything to do with him anymore.)
“Try not to dwell on it, my dear,” Ignis says, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
But it’s easier said than done.
---
Prompto still can’t believe he’s dating Ignis. Seriously, Iggy is, like, the most intelligent, suave and handsome person Prompto knows. Ignis could easily date anyone he wants—he certainly gets flirted with enough by men and women alike. And yet… the one he wants is Prompto. Fat, stupid, awkward Prompto. He still doesn’t understand it.
But he’s so grateful that Ignis chose him. Especially on days like today, when he really needs a reminder that someone loves a man like him.
“I’m here if you need to talk,” Ignis says in their hotel room that night when it’s just the two of them.
“A-About what? I’m totally fine, Igster,” Prompto says, forcing himself to laugh.
But Ignis just sighs. “Prompto… there is no need to put on a brave face. I know you’re upset.”
“Honestly, I’m okay,” Prompto lies. “Really. No need to worry about me.”
Another sigh. Ignis raises an eyebrow. “If this is about this afternoon, I just want you to know that those women were wrong.”
Prompto flinches. “H-Huh?”
Taking a seat next to him on the bed, Ignis covers Prompto’s hand with his own. “They commented that nobody wants to see your stomach. But that isn’t true. You do know that, don’t you?”
He wants to argue, but Prompto knows Ignis is right. Ever since they started dating, Ignis has been very vocal about his love of Prompto’s body. And when they fuck, Ignis’ hands always find their way to his belly, just holding the area of his body that Prompto hates the most. He holds him there after sex too, just rubbing gentle circles as they cuddle in the afterglow. So, even if every other person on the planet thought his belly is disgusting, that woman’s comment would never be true. Because Ignis always wants to see every single part of his boyfriend. Even the bits that sometimes make Prompto want to fuck with the lights off just so Iggy can’t see the disgusting blobby mess Prompto really is.
“I, I do,” Prompto mumbles. “It’s just… it’s the way they said it, Iggy. L-Like I’m disgusting.”
“You will never be disgusting, Prompto,” Ignis says. “I know how hard it is for you, but please try not to take those cruel words to heart. They were just bullies spewing insults.”
“I know.” Prompto swallows hard. “It’s just hard when… when part of me agrees with them.”
“Oh, Prompto…” Ignis sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He reaches his hand towards Prompto’s abdomen, but stops midway. “May I?”
Part of Prompto wants to refuse, to argue, to never let anyone ever touch him there again. But he can’t. After what happened this afternoon, he’s craving the gentle touches of his lover. So, he nods his head.
Slowly, Ignis’ hand drifts closer, settling on the clothed bulge of Prompto’s belly as it rests heavily his thighs. Prompto’s breathing hitches, but he doesn’t pull away. No matter how intense his insecurities can get, he always loves the feeling of Ignis’ large hand on his even larger belly, almost like Ignis is protectively cradling his paunch.
“Your stomach is perfect, Prompto,” Ignis whispers, kissing his lips. “You are perfect.”
I wish I could believe you, Prompto thinks, aware that speaking those words aloud would do nothing except upset his boyfriend and make Prompto feel even worse. But it’s true. He has never loved his body, and he still can’t quite believe that this relationship is real (and more than once, he’s had horrible dreams about Ignis cheating on him with someone skinny and hot, cruelly revealing that he was only with Prompto because there was no one better at the time, because he just wanted a hole to fuck and Prompto was needy and desperate and easy. Because Prompto would never be someone’s first choice).
Instead of voicing his negative thoughts, Prompto whispers, “Thank you, Iggy.”
Ignis lets his hand move, rubbing Prompto’s belly in slow, gentle circles. He kisses Prompto again, soft and gentle.
Letting himself slump against Ignis, Prompto says, “Hey, uh, Iggy…?”
“Yes?”
“Can you… cuddle me?”
Ignis smiles. “Of course. Anything for you, my love.”
Prompto shifts to lie on the bed and rolls onto his side, watching Ignis over his shoulder. Knowing exactly how Prompto likes to be held, Ignis lays down behind him, his front pressed flush against Prompto’s back. Ignis drapes his arm over Prompto’s side, his hand once against settling on Prompto’s belly. Squeezing Prompto gently, Ignis presses a kiss to his neck.
“Is this comfortable?”
“It’s perfect, dude,” Prompto says, letting out a contented sigh. “Thank you…”
---
Even after cuddling with Ignis all night, his partner holding his stomach the entire time, Prompto can’t quite work himself up to taking his shirt off around Ignis. He was doing so well with it before, but what those girls said… it set him back.
And it’s hard to think about sex when his negative thoughts about his body flare up. It’s so stupid, because Ignis always reminds him how attractive Prompto is to him, but sometimes he just struggles to believe it. Like, he can believe that Ignis wants to kiss and cuddle with him, but how could anyone possibly find a man who looks like this sexy? Surely someone would only want to fuck a fat loser like Prompto if they were desperate and couldn’t find anyone better.
And yet… that’s not true. Ignis finds him incredibly attractive—he says so every time they have sex. Whenever they are alone, Ignis struggles to keep his hands off Prompto. Iggy loves looking at him too. He really does love everything about Prompto. And when he feels like this, Prompto just can’t understand why.
About five days after that incident, all these thoughts run around Prompto’s head, keeping him awake. They’re back out in the wilderness, having spent the whole day hunting dangerous creatures, and he would love to sleep… but his negative thoughts won’t let him. So, Prompto sits on a chair outside the tent, staring at the smouldering remnants of their campfire.
“Prompto?”
He jumps, turning his head. Ignis peers out of the tent, squinting through the darkness.
“Oh, hey, Iggy.”
“What are you doing out here? I woke up and was unable to find you.”
“Sorry, did I worry you? I just… can’t sleep.”
Ignis steps out of the tent and zips it back up behind him, before wandering over and taking a seat next to Prompto. He drags his camping chair closer, leaning forward in his seat. “Is there something on your mind?”
Prompto wants to pretend that everything is okay. But it isn’t, and he’s sick of trying to fool everyone into thinking it is. Instead, he sighs and mumbles, “It’s dumb.”
“I assure you it isn’t,” Ignis says.
“Okay, maybe not dumb, but it’s something you’ve heard before,” Prompto says, because he has voiced his insecurities around Ignis many times. Honestly, he sometimes wonders why Ignis hasn’t gotten sick of Prompto and his issues by now.
“Well, there isn’t a limit on how many times I can listen to you, now is there?” Ignis says gently. He looks at Prompto’s hands, which he twists together in his lap, and covers them with his own.
Prompto keeps his gaze fixed on their joined hands, unable to look at Ignis as he says, “I just dunno why you’d ever want to have sex with me.”
Another man would roll his eyes or call Prompto an idiot for dwelling on something so vain, but Ignis just sighs and pats his hand. “Because I find you incredibly attractive. It really is as simple as that.”
“But… why?”
“Because I love you, Prompto. And that means I will always love your body. By now I am sure you’re aware of what you do to me,” Ignis says, and he slowly, carefully, places a hand on Prompto’s thick thigh. He smiles gently, and his voice is soft, but an unmistakable glimmer of desire shines in his eyes.
“I, I do,” Prompto says, swallowing. “I just… I wish I…” He closes his eyes, and splutters, “I wish I could look in the mirror and see myself even half as sexy as you do.”
“Insecurities cannot be healed overnight. I know how deep your struggles go, my dear.”
You don’t know the half of it, dude, Prompto thinks, focusing on the wrist he always keeps covered.
“I’m such a fucking mess, huh?” Prompto says with a wet laugh.
“You are not a mess, Prompto. For a man whose brain spends so much time working against him, you are incredibly strong.”
Those words pierce him to his core. “Iggy…” he gasps. Prompto looks down at the hand on his thigh, and imagines it sliding higher, touching his cock and bringing him the pleasure he has avoided for five long days.
Something must show on his face, because Ignis gives him a kiss, and then whispers, “Prompto, may I show you how much I love your body?”
Prompto gulps, understanding the implication. “Gods, yes…” he breathes.
Iggy’s hand leaves his thigh, and for a moment, Prompto wonders if Ignis is about to slide a hand down his pants right here. But then he remembers that Ignis is not a fan of having sex out in the open, so of course that doesn’t happen. Instead, Ignis stands and offers Prompto his hand.
“Follow me, my love,” he says, the term of endearment making warmth spread through Prompto’s chest.
And Prompto does, taking his boyfriend’s hand and letting Ignis lead him away from the tent.
Obviously, wandering away from the Haven would be suicidal, so it doesn’t surprise him when Ignis stops by the Regalia, which is parked close enough to the Haven to keep them safe. Prompto swallows at the thought of having sex in here; he’s often imagined it, but it has never happened. Until now.
“Is this okay?” Prompto asks. After all, it’s Noct’s car.
“Nobody will find out, I promise.” Unlocking the door, Ignis opens it, and sits down in the middle of the backseat. He pats his thighs. “Please, take a seat, Prompto.”
“But… I’m heavy…” Prompto mumbles. He was 270lbs last time he weighed himself, which is far from light.
“When has that ever bothered me?” Ignis says gently. And he has a point; Ignis always seems very into it when Prompto gets on top of him. “Please don’t worry yourself.”
His fear fading, Prompto smiles and gets into the car, closing the door behind him. Then he somewhat awkwardly shifts to straddle Ignis’ much slimmer thighs, settling with his knees either side of Ignis’ legs. He must be so heavy, but Ignis doesn’t care.
“Wonderful,” Ignis says. “Now, may I take your shirt off? I want to see you. And touch you.”
“S-Sure,” Prompto says, his cheeks flushing.
Carefully, Ignis’ strong hands find the hem of his pyjama shirt, and pulls it up over Prompto’s head, leaving Prompto shirtless. It’s a little chilly, but Prompto doesn’t shiver. Truthfully, with the way Ignis looks at him, he instead finds himself running hot.
Ignis kisses him, soft and passionate. And then, as his hands touch the fat on Prompto’s upper arms, he begins to talk. “Everything about you is beautiful, Prompto. Even the things you believe are ugly. Your arms, for example,” he says, gently squeezing, “are gorgeous.”
“Why?” Prompto blurts out. He hates how they flap when he gestures with his arms.
“Because they belong to you,” Ignis says, kissing him. His hands travel Prompto’s entire upper body, lingering on his droopy chest, the rolls and stretchmarks of his belly (that once again spills over his waistband, always there and getting in the way), and the mounds of fat on his hips. The entire time, he keeps talking, calling Prompto things that bring happy tears to his eyes. “You are beautiful,” he says, thumb stroking one of Prompto’s dark pink stretchmarks. “Utterly divine,” Ignis whispers, placing both hands on the bottom of Prompto’s belly and lifting a little, letting the weight of his stomach rest hot and heavy in Ignis’ hands. “There is nobody more perfect than you, Prompto,” he says between the kisses he places along Prompto’s chubby cheeks and double chin, pulling a moan from Prompto’s throat.
The noise must turn Ignis on, because his words soon become more sexual. “You have no idea how difficult it is to keep my hands off you, Prompto. No lover of mine has ever done this to me before. I have found others attractive, but none as much as you. You are the most attractive man on the planet, and multiple times a day, I find myself thinking about how much I want to touch you. To make love to you.” His hands slide down Prompto’s chest, tracing the outline of the fat that covers his pecs, resembling small breasts (much to Prompto’s embarrassment). As a thumb brushes Prompto’s nipple, provoking a gasp from Prompto, Ignis says, “You speak about your size like nobody could desire you like this. But I cannot overstate how incredible sex with you is. I love when I make love to you on your back, and your belly bounces along with your cock with every thrust. I love the feeling of your body weight when you lie atop me; I adore how much of you there is, how much of your body I can touch. And the way your erection presses against the underside of your belly…” Ignis sighs contentedly, his hands stroking Prompto’s large stomach again, and when Prompto looks down at Iggy’s hands, he realises Ignis’ cock is straining against his pyjama pants, “is the most incredibly attractive sight in all the world.”
And after days without sex (a long time for a couple who usually fuck every single day—sometimes twice if they’re especially horny that day), listening to Iggy talk about how much he desires his body and spying Ignis’ erection has Prompto getting hard too. Just like with Iggy, it’s extremely noticeable in these flimsy pants. And when Ignis dedicates himself to kissing the crook of Prompto’s neck (a spot Ignis knows drives Prompto wild), it barely takes any time for Prompto’s cock to become rock hard and desperate.
“Iggy… can you touch me?” he asks, his hips rocking automatically in a futile attempt to get some stimulation. “Gods, I… I need your hands on me.”
Ignis smiles, sliding a hand down the curves of Prompto’s belly and finding his waistband. “I thought you would never ask.”
They fumble for a few seconds as Ignis eases Prompto’s pants and boxers down, encouraging Prompto to lift himself up enough to tug them down his thighs. But then Prompto is settled comfortably again, and just like Ignis pointed out, his cock is unable to fully stand to attention, his belly in the way and the head of his cock leaving a damp patch against the underside of Prompto’s paunch. And then, finally, Ignis wraps his hand around Prompto’s cock.
“Oh gods, Iggy…” he moans as Ignis strokes his cock from the base to the tip, dragging his fingers along Prompto’s length with the perfect amount of pressure. His hips rock greedily, and Ignis chuckles as he picks up the pace. “You… you’re so good with your hands, dude.”
“I suppose all those years of cooking have given me strong hands,” Ignis muses, his free hand slipping between their bodies to massage Prompto’s balls. “My goodness, you are desperate, aren’t you?”
“Been too long,” Prompto gasps. “I… I felt so… gross about myself I didn’t even jerk off.” It’s humiliating to admit, especially when he spies the sympathy on Ignis’ face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring the mood down. Just wanted to explain why… why I’m being so needy.”
“Well, I find it incredibly attractive to see you so needy, my dear,” Ignis says. “Although I wish there were a happier reason for you being so pent up.”
Prompto’s gaze drifts to Ignis’ clothed erection, and he can’t help the spike of guilt he feels at the thought of Prompto getting the gloriously exciting experience of being jerked off in the Regalia, but Ignis being left out. So, he lets his hands slide down Ignis’ clothed shirt, feeling his deliciously toned muscles through the fabric, and lets them hover mere inches above the bulge in Ignis’ pants. “Hey, Iggy… don’t you wanna join in?”
Following Prompto’s gaze, Ignis flushes a little as though he only just noticed he’s so hard. “Oh, well… I was planning on just focusing on you, to be honest.”
“And I love you for that, dude, really,” Prompto says, so grateful to have a boyfriend who loves him enough to neglect his own needs just to focus on Prompto, “but I bet I’d feel even better if you have some fun too.”
“Well, then, how about we do this?” Ignis says. He quickly frees himself from his pants, not bothering to pull them down as far as he did with Prompto’s (now he thinks about it, Iggy probably did that to get a good look at Prompto’s thighs, because he loves them), and presses their cocks together.
And Prompto sees stars. It’s been so long since they did something this simple, and he forgot how incredible it feels. “Oh, fuck…”
Ignis smiles. “If you wouldn’t mind taking over, Prompto. I would love to keep touching your body throughout.”
“Sure thing,” Prompto says, enamoured by the thought of Iggy touching him all over during this.
So, his hand replaces Iggy’s, pressing their lengths together, and Prompto begins to somewhat clumsily rock his hips, allowing him to thrust against Ignis. Doing this feels a bit unsteady, so Prompto puts his free hand on Iggy’s shoulder to keep his balance, allowing him to move faster.
As Ignis lets his hands roam again, first holding onto the fat that bulges on both Prompto’s hips (love handles, he believes they’re called, and he gets why), he whispers, “Come closer, Prompto.” And Prompto understand why when, upon having their faces only an inch apart, Ignis presses their foreheads together. “There we are,” Iggy says against his lips, hands resting on Prompto’s belly, which jiggles with every roll of Prompto’s hips. “You feel incredible, Prompto. You are incredible.”
Prompto kisses him, the words of praise running around his mind, loving this man so much it hurts. He thrusts harder, desperate to make his wonderful boyfriend feel good.
When Ignis’s hands slide around his back, dipping low enough to cup Prompto’s ass cheeks, Prompto lets out an embarrassing little gasp of surprise. How did it not occur to him before that, with his pants tucked around his thighs, his ass (an ass he always hears people mocking him about from behind, an ass he hates almost as much as his belly) has been fully on display this entire time? He’s always been sensitive here, and Ignis knows it, chuckling when Prompto moans louder than before, the noise echoing around the car.
“I love the sounds you make, my darling,” Ignis says, their sweat making their foreheads stick together, but Prompto doesn’t really care. “I love everything about you. You are perfect, Prompto. Absolutely perfect.”
When he feels water trickling down his cheek, Prompto can’t place the sensation. It’s only when he sniffles that he understands. He’s crying.
“Prompto?” Ignis says, clearly startled. “Are you alright?”
A sob escapes him, more tears spilling down his face. Prompto understands the concern, because he’s never cried during sex before (well, not with Iggy; and those tears back then were different: tears of anguish as his ex-girlfriend kept commenting on his weight during sex, leaving him feeling disgusting and wrong and not remotely sad when she later dumped him), but there’s nothing to worry about.
“I, I’m fine, Iggy. I’m just… happy,” he says, smiling through the tears. “E-Everything you’ve said, it’s so nice. And I just… I love you so much, dude,” he splutters, sobbing harder even as he keeps grinding their cocks together. “I-Is it weird?”
“No, not at all,” Ignis says, kissing his tears away. “I’m just glad you are happy.”
Smiling and sniffling all the while, Prompto rocks his hips harder and faster, aware his vigorous movements make the car rock in a way that would give away exactly what they’re doing if someone could see, only made more obvious by his weight surely making the suspension bounce and creak even more than if a skinny guy was on top of Iggy. With their foreheads pressed together, Prompto closes his eyes, so close to coming and frantically chasing his orgasm.
“Fuck, Iggy, I’m so close,” Prompto moans, another sob escaping him when Ignis’ hands touch his face, cupping his chubby cheeks and wiping tears away with his thumbs.
With his forehead still pressed against Prompto’s, Ignis whispers, “Then come for me, my love.”
With those words lingering in his ears, Prompto doesn’t last much longer. He comes with a sob, telling Iggy how much he loves him as he cries out and spills all over his hand.
“I love you too,” Ignis gasps, and he comes only seconds later, moaning into Prompto’s mouth.
And then, like a puppet with its strings cut, Prompto goes limp, slumping heavily against Ignis. They sit there motionless, the car silent except for their panting breaths and Prompto’s sniffles, foreheads still leaning together.
After a few long seconds, Ignis strokes his tearstained cheeks again and whispers, “Did I prove to you how much I love your body?”
“Y-Yeah. Fuck, Iggy that was… amazing. Thank you so much,” he says, thanking Ignis for more than just the sex.
“You are welcome,” Ignis says. “Although, you worked hard too.”
“It was kinda hard not to. All your words and touches, they got me so worked up,” Prompto admits.
“As I intended. All I wanted to do was prove to you how desirable you are.” He reaches into his pocket (because of course Iggy has pyjama pants with pockets) and retrieves a tissue. And, as Prompto sits limply in his lap, Ignis says, “Now, just relax, and let me clean up.”
Prompto does just that, eyes closed as Ignis wipes his face for him, and then cleans up the mess they made. He pants for breath, unable to remember when sex last made him this exhausted afterwards. And he wonders if the emotional weight of the last few days contributed to how tiring this personal time with Iggy has been.
“There we go,” Ignis says when he’s done. “Would you like to head back to the tent, my dear?”
“M-Maybe in a minute,” Prompto says, noticing how much his thighs tremble. “I think I’ve got jelly legs.”
“Very well,” Ignis says, touching his thighs and feeling the muscles tremble beneath all the skin and fat. “Whenever you’re ready.”
When Prompto finally feels like he can move again, Ignis helps him back into his clothes, and they get out of the car. His legs still feel a bit wobbly, so Ignis keeps his hand on Prompto’s back as they walk back to the tent. They manage to get inside the tent and back into bed without waking Noctis and Gladio, who were hopefully oblivious to their absence, because Prompto doesn’t fancy coming up with a lie for where they went.
Once they’re settled under the blankets, Prompto kisses Ignis and whispers, “Thanks for tonight, Iggy.”
“You’re very welcome,” Ignis says.
After one last kiss, Prompto rolls onto his side with his back to Ignis, a silent invitation for his boyfriend to be the big spoon. Ignis obliges, pressing himself against Prompto’s back and wrapping an arm around him, hand on Prompto’s belly. But it’s so different to they way he touched Prompto in the car; those touches were full of hunger and need to feel Prompto’s body, but now, the hand on his stomach is gentle and protective. Prompto reaches for Iggy’s hand, covering it with his own and interlocking their fingers.
It doesn’t take Prompto long to fall asleep in his boyfriend’s arms, content and relaxed. And just before he drifts off, he realises that, for the first time in days, he’s happy.