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Sentinels and Guides;

Sentinels and Guides Shipping Meme
A Sentinel!AU Meme

There are special people in the world: Sentinels--whose five senses are incredibly enhanced, sometimes to the point of overwhelming and who can easily lose themselves in fugue states--and Guides, the empaths with the ability to ground a Sentinel and focus them. Meant to be the protectors of the Guides, for every Sentinel there exists a guide that is their perfect match. In some universes, when matches are made, a Sentinel and Guide form a soulbond to fill the feeling of emptiness.

How easy was it for you to find yours? How are Sentinels and Guides treated in your universe? Or maybe you're one of the normal, unremarkable people. Do you fear Sentinels and Guides? Despise them?

Rules
1) Post with your character/canon in the subject header.
2a) Choose whether your character is a Sentinel or a Guide
or
2b) If you don't know or don't care, just leave it blank!
3) Information about Sentinels and Guides can be found here and here. Information on 'The Sentinel' which this meme comes from can be found here.

4) All the tagging! Have fun 8D

Prompts
oo1. The Meeting:
How did you meet? Was it at an event organized specifically for finding your other half? By accident? Did you follow a mystical calling to them? Some other way?

oo2. The Bonding:
Do Sentinels and Guides in your universe soulbond? How does it go down? Is there a ceremony or do you just retreat to the bedroom?

oo3. Rejection:
Sometimes Sentinels or Guides propose a match but it's just not perfect. You don't feel the pull or maybe you think there is someone better or maybe you're already claimed. Maybe you were claimed and someone better came along?

oo4. Protection:
Sentinels are meant to protect Guides, any Guides, but it's even worse when they feel their Guide is in danger. They go feral; blind to anything but stopping and killing whoever threatened their Guide or the bond. Maybe someone attacked your Guide or you haven't bonded yet and you feel threatened or maybe you're the one doing the threatening. Whatever the reason, Sentinels in a feral state are dangerous and only their Guides can stop them.

oo5. Lost:
Sentinels often lose themselves in their senses. Either you're a Sentinel who has lost themselves or a Guide that has stumbled on one or a friend trying to draw them out. Unbonded Sentinels will find it hard to escape without a Guide. Or maybe you're bonded already which means you just need yours to come home.

006. Persecution:
Sometimes normal people or the government fear the power of Guides and Sentinels. Guides are empaths, feeling the emotions and sometimes passing thoughts of others and it can make people feel violated. Sentinels often have enhanced strength, which can make them dangerous. So they scorn them, hurt them or in the case of governments, regulate them.

oo7. Death:
Unbonded Sentinels and Guides eventually lose themselves to the empty cavern inside them. Torn apart from the inside by the feeling of something missing. Breaking the soulbond of a Sentinel and Guide is agonizing and horrifying, leading quickly to death for the remaining partner.

oo8. Old-School:
Guides used to be treated on the same level as slaves. Unable to work unless their Sentinel said. Not allowed out on their own. They used to wear collars and couldn't own land or inherit money. Maybe the old ways haven't completely fallen out of style.

oo9. Unbonded:
Nothing is worse than being an unbonded Guide or Sentinel. Always looking for your other half to fill that empty feeling but you probably have friends that aren't your match or who are trying to set you up with someone. Maybe you're skeptical about the whole love at first sight thing and haven't been looking.

o10. Wildcard: Some mish-mash of the above or anything else you can come up with!

Image from weheartit / original meme by

imadeamistake

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"I could be," John teases back. "I'll tell you now, I like long baths, essential oils, candles, the works. Not often, but they're nice." It doesn't matter if it's a cliche. God knows you have to treat yourself somehow, and John hasn't actually had a bath like that in months. "Might be nicer with two sometimes."

He leaves that thought there, though, not entirely sure how he feels about the reverence Gladio's shown over his scar. It's not unwelcome, it's just... a little peculiar. The doctors at the hospital had joked with him that 'chicks dig scars' to try to cheer him up about it whenever they changed the bandages. But it's something he associates with failure, an inability to complete the mission.

"A story for a story. I'd like to know how you got that one over your eye." He closes his eyes again for a moment, gathering himself. "It was a little village in the Shorabak District. We'd gotten word one of the higher ups in the Taliban leadership had been spotted in the area. My team and I were sent in." He takes a deep breath, the sound of gunfire starting up in his head. He can taste the dust and smoke on his tongue, the sun pounding down. "It was an ambush. They'd packed one of the houses with explosives and set it off when a group of my men were moving by.

"Opened fire as soon as that went. Managed to pull a couple of the boys they got into one of the other huts and we set up a barricade in there. Went out for another lad and got it in the back while they were firing on us. I dunno what kind of bullets they were using--someone told me after they think there was some sort of magic infused in them. Whatever they got me with, it wasn't responding to magical healing. My mate Bill, the nurse in our unit, wound up dragging me out of there. Alex grabbed the other lad I'd been pulling. I'd ordered them to radio for back-up as soon as we'd set up the barricade, and command sent in a couple of choppers.

"Everything that happened after that sort of blurred together. Lost a lot of blood. I just remember Bill yelling at me to get down. Woke up back at base with half my body on fire, it felt like. An infection had got in. Went in and out for a couple of days while they got me stabilized enough to fly back to London. Lost a couple of my men... Graham Paxton, Danny Matthews." John takes another deep. "I dunno what I could've done differently. We ran the mission to a T. I'm proud of my men. We could've lost a lot more of them. Still. Y'know?" He'd been in command. He feels responsible for what happened.

[ooc: the thought occurs to me that we could really follow some of the events of the game... an attack back in NYC kills Regis, Clarus, etc.]

"Problem is finding a tub big enough," Gladio says dryly, giving a slide of his hand over his ribs and down over his hip before smirking. 6'6" guys tend not to fit well into most normal tubs. "Remind me to give you a massage sometime. After that, I'll be able to bargain with them." And the smirk grows. With big warm hands like those, with the strength they hold, maybe it's not such a surprise that he can give one damn good massage.

But he goes quiet through the rest of it, listening closely. He could almost see it in his head, taste sand and grit in his teeth. War... he could have easily been sent to war, given his status, if he had been brought up differently. He's seen his fair share of combat, but against daemons, animals. The idea of cutting down people settles sour in his stomach, but he also knows he would do nothing less if someone threatened Noct or one of his group. He knew his father had killed in the name of defense of Regis.

"..." Gladio is silent at the end of the tale, then reaches up with a hand to cradle the back of John's head and bring their foreheads together. Sympathy. He can feel it, the pain that still lingers in John's heart, as their bond cries with it. He doesn't bother with niceties, a 'you did everything you could', just closes his eyes and breathes in time with his Guide, offering something of his own instead silently.

[ooc: Oh! I'd be down for that. Maybe set it after their little weekend adventure for awesome news to get back to.]

John's almost grateful when Gladio doesn't bother with words. He's heard from too many people who have assured him it wasn't his fault, that it was just a shame he was hurt, that he would have a full life ahead of him, even with this, and not to let it get him down. They're meant kindly, he knows. All he hears is 'you failed and you're broken, such a pity, that.'

John's jaw tightens, even as Gladio radiates comfort across the Bond, and his hand on the younger man's waist stills. Just breathe. Just breathe. He forces himself to focus on Gladio, on this moment in this room. It's not Afghanistan, and its not the sterile halls of the hospital ward. He can walk and aim a gun properly. Someone is going to let him fight again, put him back into the action that he's craves.

After a minute or two, the Guide relaxes by degrees. His voice is soft. "Sorry. That got a little heavier than I meant it to." But since they're here. "I have nightmares sometimes. Wake you up screaming and fighting ones. If that happens... it's nothing about you. Just so you don't freak out if we fall asleep together." More like when.

[ooc: Oh my god the guilt that would come that Gladio wasn't there and now his father's dead... it was supposed to be safe damn it! John will get his pay in keeping Gladio from going into an absolute grief-Rage.]

He gives a slightly sardonic smile. "If you can live with the sword coming out until I figure out what's going on? I can deal with screaming and fighting." A point that he outweighs his Guide so he'll be able to physically restrain John if necessary. Not something he'd want to do, fairly sure it'll lead to worse problems, but if it comes to that.

"...I wanna know about that stuff. Heavy or not." A shrug, not dismissive, but more not sure how to put those emotions into words, specially for someone he's known for such a short time. Not that it matters, the biological part of him says. This is your Guide. He's meant for you. You've just been waiting for him until now.

"This," a motion down the scar down over his eyes, "isn't nearly as interesting. We all went out drinking one night and some drunk asshole decided to pull a knife on Noct. I got in the way first." Another shrug, this time, dismissive.

"You get into a lot of bar fights, don't you?" John shifts his hand for a moment to brush just beside the bandage hiding Gladio's stitches. He sounds more amused than upset. "S'pose I should be grateful. Wouldn't've met you otherwise." 'Fate' is not something John particularly believes in, but the horribly romantic side of him that's getting a trot out over the Bond thinks there might be a bit of that. That's how it's supposed to be for a Sentinel and Guide, isn't it? Drawn together inexorably.

"I can live with the sword, though," he adds after a quiet moment. "Could learn to live with a lot here, if it comes with this bed." It's a retreat back into humor after the vulnerability. John isn't entirely sure what else to do. "I've never been in a penthouse suite before. Almost afraid to touch anything in here, honestly." There's a very delicate claw of anxiety that he's willfully ignoring that says he doesn't belong in a place this nice, like some tarnished piece of brass in a golden room. Luckily, Gladio doesn't seem to mind and Prompto's been welcoming. Ignis... John isn't entirely sure about, yet, but Noct's been the least accommodating so far. He's the man to impress, though.

"Any other stories for your scars or questions before I hop in the shower?"

Go talk to Prompto, John. You'll get a lot of understanding in the 'doesn't fit in' department.

"To be fair, Noct started that one. I just finished it." There is something in his tone that suggested he had, and possibly the other man hadn't lived to tell the tale. Still, the scar is almost handsome on his face but in the end he's still a body guard and it definitely does the trick on intimidation.

In a lot of ways, Gladio does believe in Fate. Why wouldn't he? From birth, he'd been groomed to be Noct's Shield, been told he would become a Sentinel, knew he would be a man who took charge, who fought, who protected. Fate had even brought him John, now. Things had been dictated his entire life, from the time he was born, but he's never had an issue with it (other than a blip on the radar when he was young... when he had hated Noct so badly.)

"I have a lot of questions, but they could follow you right into the shower. So could I." Smirk.

John can easily see Gladio flying into a Rage over someone attacking Noct, and without a Guide--or with a Guide who seems as uncertain as Prompto about Gladio--that could easily get out of hand. He makes a mental note to ask Prompto about what it's like to feel a Rage through the Bond under normal circumstances, rather than immediately Bonded and incredibly intense, like in the clinic. Or maybe they really will all be like that. It's something to look forward to and dread in equal measure.

At the offer to join him, though, the Guide smirks right back. "Maybe if you and you questions make it worth my while." But he does move to sit up and stretch, rolling his injured shoulder a few times before pulling off his button-down completely. And folding it on habit to set on the bed. The rest of his clothes come fully off and join the neatly folded pile in short order. The military does lend itself to a certain amount of shamelessness, not to mention just having got off with this man.

The Guide offers his Sentinel a hand when he's ready, smiling his most charming smile. "Shall I lead thee to the fabled falls of cleanliness?" It's silly, but Gladio will need to get used to silly with him.

Gladio lays there, his head propped up on his hand, his eyes eagerly taking in John as the other strips down. He's not been in the military like John, but he has exactly zero body shame and it shows in the way his eyes sweep over John's body. When the hand is offered out, he smirks with amusement and takes it, mostly pulling himself up and pulling off a very elegant bow. "As my lady commands." Oh he's being a shit and he knows it, but it shows that he can be just as silly.

But he'll be just as fine in stripping down himself, giving John a fabulous view of his arse as he moves into the bathroom. The bathroom might be as big as John's entire flat, rich and elegant. There's a standing shower, clear glass and huge, and he has no problem going over to the thermostat on the wall outside of it and setting the temperature for the water.

"How 'bout this? What got you into the medical field?" He still has things he wants to know, even standing there in the buff. John wants questions? Sure.

The 'lady' comment gets a sharp, short bark of laughter. Oh, Gladio might find himself paying for that when his lady orders Gladio onto his knees to suck him off... or maybe to bugger him. But John can bide his time on those and wait for when the Sentinel is least expecting it. And also for when they're a little more familiar with each other. Gladio had seemed keen on part of those ideas... and then turned around and thrown John down on the bed.

He's a little in awe of the bathroom, so any actual indignation falls by the wayside as he looks around. God, he does not belong here.

"Hmm? Well, I've always liked biology, and I knew I wanted to do something to help people." He likes to think that's just him and not his nature as a Guide rearing its head. Harry ended up breaking her leg bad when she was about sixteen doing something stupid. I got her to A&E and it was just... cool watching the doctor's there. It was like a dance the way they worked the emergency room.

"I applied for med school after that. Watching my first surgery, I knew what I wanted for my specialty."

John steps into the shower. "Is this what you always wanted to do, or did you ever think about going another direction?"

Edited 2017-04-13 19:28 (UTC)

There would be a lot Gladio would think when John has him in the position he wants, mostly a lot of confusion about how much he wants it when everyone and everything in his life has told him that it's exactly the position he isn't supposed to be in. And it's not as if there isn't a part of him that deeply enjoys being able to throw John on the bed or the idea of taking him until he unravels.

"Good to know you like watching us bleed," he says with a chuckle, but John's question just gets a shrug. "This is what I was born to do. I like my job. They're my friends. Get to travel the world, got it good. What more could I ask for-" He pauses, grins. "Well, now I've got the Guide I always thought I'd get."

"Well, you're easy to please. Think I can manage this." He laughs quietly and... isn't actually sure which buttons to press to turn on the water. John hesitates, the sense of being more than a little overwhelmed clawing its way back in. He'd managed to shove it down in the loo at his bedsit. It's been lying in wait for a while. What is he doing here?

The Guide takes a deep breath and turns around to face Gladio, trying to force the sense of unease back down as he turns toward his Sentinel and flashes a smile, consciously sending out pheromones to make himself seem more confident and draw the other man in. John puts his back against one side of the shower and makes a 'come hither' gesture. He's not going to be able to mask everything, but he hopes he can mask this.

"Get it going, then. And let me see your backside again while you're doing it. Not a bad view. So, I do have to ask... exactly how much can you bench press?"

With Gladio so unused to a Guide affecting him like this, normally he can tell when someone is trying to get into his head but John has an in none of the had ever had before, there's only a momentary pause in his step, a pinch of his brows, before John's skilled abilities soothe over that worry. Gladio's teasing smirk returned and he came over to the shower, getting it going without any effort, at that perfect set temperature.

"I work hard to keep this view 'not bad'." Gladio has no issue in making sure John gets a fantastic shot of said view before answering his question.

"My best so far has been a little over six hundred and fifty pounds."

[ooc: alright so this number might be total bullshit, but after some googling around, given him hoisting around those columns in Episode Gladio, and the 'elite' category of a 310 strong man being able to bench 508 pounds...? I dunno. This is what I'm going with.]

"Bloody hell." John gives an appreciative whistle. He can manage around 140 lbs... or he could before going into hospital. That's dropped off now, and he'd have to build himself back up. The idea that Gladio can lift close to five times John's personal best is mad. Hot, but also mad. "Remind me not to get into a lifting contest with you."

While Gladio's turned, the Guide decides to take advantage of that view and move in behind him, wrapping his arms around the Sentinel's waist from behind and resting his head against his back. John closes his eyes briefly when the water comes on, somewhat mystified at it being the precise temperature it should be instead of having to work it to the right setting. This position isn't terribly conducive to actually getting cleaned up, so he pulls back a little after a moment, but it's only to settle his hands on Gladio's hips.

"Hand me the soap. I'll take care of you." John's voice is lower, and the confidence is more genuine as he falls back into the moment. Getting to run his hands all over his Sentinel is a very appealing prospect. He'll need to change that bandage when they get out, as well.

Gladio looks over his shoulder and winks. "Most people don't try." He's solid muscle, with very little body fat. The solid, strong core of a man who is truly strong, not just wants to look impressive. The wings of the eagle tattooed into his skin, which now John can see sprawls the width of his back all the way to his waist line, curling around both arms, is somehow twice as impressive with so much space to spread across.

The hug from behind makes him still, but his hands come down to John's arms around him, smoothing his palms slowly across the skin before he can pull away. His Guide. He barely knows this man, but it feels so damn natural already. There's a brief hesitation, the idea in his mind that Sentinels are supposed to take care of their Guides, not the other way around, but the hesitation is short. He snags the soap (something American, not the hotel soap, smells strong and fresh) and offers the bar over, but it comes with a 'price'. "Only if I get to do the same." With a bit of heat to his voice. He wants to feel the other under his hands, not in a sexual way, but... to touch. Their scents vanish slowly under the water, but there's more to it than that.

John doesn't mind the smell, whatever it is, but the brand isn't something he's familiar with. He takes it and reaches for a nearby washcloth to wrap the bar around and lather up. At Gladio's condition, the doctor chuckles. "You drive a hard bargain, mate. What if I said 'no' and had my way with you, anyway?" His wicked, soaping way.

But the heat in Gladio's voice is more than enough to win him over to the idea. John isn't above teasing, though. And when he'd done that on the bed it had led to a rather exciting response from the Sentinel. Again, the thought occurs that he shouldn't be pressing a Sentinel's buttons quite this much, but what better way to feel things out? It might end up offending Gladio, but John's fairly certain he can bring the man around again with a little soothing.

"That's quite a threat, little Guide. Wonder if I should be worried." His tone is playful at least, leaning forward with his forehead braced on a forearm against the shower wall so John has free access to all of him and he can relax a little as well.

Is he imagining that he can sense John behind him? Is the Bond already that subtle when it's this new? Almost like another sense, a string that he could pull on or follow back to the other man. With the water running, the bright scent of the soap, he can no longer smell John but it isn't quite as overwhelming to replace as it was before. Is that purely because of their hormonal rutting minutes ago?

"...Got a question for you." There's a moment of pause to his voice, as if he isn't sure how this will come across. "You said I was your first Sentinel... but you've Guided other Sentinels in the past. Did you feel a connection to them?"

There's something inside that both bristles and preens at being called 'little Guide.' John has certainly been called worse, and he knows full well that it isn't meant as an insult anymore than 'lady' had been. "Maybe you should be," he teases back as he reaches down very briefly to grope Gladio. "Think I've got you in a compromising position at the mo."

John leaves off of that after offering a kiss between Gladio's shoulder blades. The Guide sets the bar of soap aside and begins at the top, shifting his hair aside to massage the Sentinel's neck through the washcloth. There's certainly a connection John can feel, something stronger than the usual empathic link he's felt around other Sentinels.

Gladio's question has him quiet for a moment, debating how honest to be. He doesn't particularly want to make the other man jealous. But honesty is probably the best policy here. It's not like anything happened with James. "Just one. He was my first commander in Afghanistan." Gladio might be able to almost hear the wry smile in John's tone. "Accidentally outted myself as a Guide to him, and that's when everything sort of changed over there for me and my unit. Didn't have to hide completely anymore.

"He'd already had a Guide and lost her, though. It wasn't gonna happen between us. Regs about fraternizing with subordinates, for one thing. Him not really wanting to go through losing another Guide. Me not particularly wanting to be Bonded to someone out there when something like what did happen, happened. If I'd been shot and actually been Bonded to any of the Sentinels in my unit? That mission might have ended worse than it did.

"Major Sholto and I talked about the situation and we came to an agreement about what my role would be under his command. And that was that." He moves the washcloth to rub across Gladio's shoulders. "No one else caught my attention, particularly... until you." Maybe that's a little cheesy, but as things go.

Edited (a billion typos later) 2017-04-14 22:27 (UTC)

The grope pulls a hiss from Gladio and his hips move into John's hand, not afraid despite the 'threat' but more disappointed in the loss of that hand as he groans quietly. Cruel, his Guide, so cruel. Still, the feeling of John's hands on him puts away any real disappointment and he let his body relax with them, just enjoying the simple feeling of the physical connection between them. He is certain that with every passing second, there's something more there, something he knows has to be the Bond logically but it is so alien and so familiar he doesn't quite know what to do with it, only the knowledge he wants more of it.

Despite John's thoughts, there really isn't a jealousy. There's a lot of time he hadn't been around in John's life. John's... he thinks about it, debating how old he thinks the man is. Forties, is his guess. ...Shit. John could easily be two decades older than him. There's a distinct confusing mix of feelings there of wanting to protect John, to care for him, and the respect he knew automatically give to those older than him, in particular the ones with greater time in combat.

(Maybe it's part of why there's a part of him that is enjoying John's heavier hand on him.)

"I'm glad it worked out, in the end. Sounds like a good man, if he managed to make such an odd situation work." He grunts, flexing his shoulders slightly under John's washing. "I haven't really worked with Guides, much. I've got a pretty decent handle, normally, on the Rages. Once Prompto became a part of our group, it just sort of happened naturally." He pauses, then looks over his shoulder towards John.

"Think you two should have a good talk. ...He needs someone like you."

"He's one of the best men I've ever known." The response is immediate, and there's clear respect in the Guide's tone. Nothing sycophantic, but the admiration of a subordinate for a commander... and a friend. "You wouldn't know it reading the papers, though." John works his way down Gladio's back in slow, massaging circles. "He led a group of crows into battle--standard procedure, break the new boys in. Routine night scouting mission. There was a roadside bomb in an area they thought they'd cleared the day before... and an attack by daemons. He was the only one who made it out alive. Lives off in the country somewhere now, does a little daemon-hunting. Gets a lot of death threats from anti-war people who blame him. He doesn't deserve it."

John's continuing his downward trajectory, edging closer to Gladio's arse. "Glad to hear you can mostly handle yourself. If that Rage in the clinic is a taste of what happens when you're out of control, I think I should be able to handle it once the Bond's settled." It's settling at the moment, but there's still the pang inside of him that says he doesn't want to be anywhere out of this man's sight or more than a few feet away, even when that's ridiculous and clingy in a way he's never felt before.

"Tell me about Prompto. You said he's enthusiastic, a talker. Seems like it. What does he actually need help with? I can try to focus."

"Doesn't deserve the shit he gets," Gladio says with a rumble of distaste. He respects the men of the military deeply, people who understand combat. They may have different places, but he can understand some of their mindset in a way that civilians can't. He's been on the front lines against daemons, lived through some of that terror. (Perhaps a piece of the reason he keeps finding himself deferring to his Guide, even though everything in society tells him he shouldn't.) "Daemons don't fuck around. They don't care who or what you are."

Muscle flexes under John's hands as he moves further south, his slow breath out a sign that he's not going to carry the anger in his voice for more than those few seconds under John's attempts to feel along his skin. "Guess we'll have to see." He isn't about to say that Ignis and Prompto combined couldn't handle him at the bar when someone had threatened Noct, another Sentinel or not, but since then he can't remember another true Rage. Oh, there's the thrill of combat, the pull of anger in a fight that makes him angry and snap, but nothing like the utter loss of himself in a true Rage.

Prompto, huh? He tries to think about it, but answers honestly. "Probably better to ask Noct about it, but from what I've seen? He had no idea he was a Guide until he met Noct, and caused a hell of a storm about it. Everyone thought Noct'd end up with someone else." Oh how they worked to keep that under wraps from the media. Not really his story to tell, though. "Kid's not exactly scared of his own shadow, he's got a lot of guts when he puts his mind to it, but he's got so little idea of what the hell he's doing half the time. Works all on instinct but sometimes I think he's got precious lack of it. In the end though? It's hard to fault him. You'll rarely find someone who you feel more at ease around. You'll see if you get to talk to him for a bit. Not sure if it's a natural instinct as a Guide or not but he's able to make friends with damn near anyone. Other Guides, Sentinels... everyone. Problem is he ends up shying away from anyone's Rage, Noct's included. Not sure if it's a lack of skill or his personality or what."

"Mm... sounds like it might be a confidence issue if he came into his powers and was Bonded immediately during that. It's overwhelming enough when you're dealing with one of those things, let alone both." As John can now attest to. "Dunno how Noct is, but if he was anything like you, that's a lot to try to push back against to maintain any kind of control or... sense of self." He reaches Gladio's arse and starts all but kneeding them with his hands. At least one of them still has the washcloth as a pretense of this being to clean up.

"It's easy to get lost in a Sentinel's scent if they're a strong one." John licks a stripe up Gladio's back along his spine and nuzzles between his shoulder blades again for good measure, just rubbing his cheek across the other man's skin. It's going to get washed away, but the urge to both scent and be scented is still strong.

Abruptly, the Guide pulls back and pushes down his instincts again, shifting to run the washcloth down between Gladio's thighs. "And if that happens the first time, you might not figure out the defenses you need to deal with it. I can talk him through a few things I've figured out."

"Noct's..." How in the hells do you explain Noct? "Kid's got it in him to be everything his father is but if he doesn't get some focus in his life, he ain't gonna get there. I know he can, though. It's the whole bloodline thing. He couldn't get a Guide anywhere near him even long after everyone knew he was a Sentinel. Eventually, he pushed back, hard. Prompto's got a lot on his hands with Noct." He does stand there, braced and strong, maybe even pressing back slightly into John's hands. It's not exactly like it's subtle, what his Guide is up to.

In particular when said Guide licks straight up his spine, making Gladio gasp despite himself, arching his shoulders and wanting more. Hells, John is going to drive him mad. He wants more than anything to turn around and take him right here and the feeling of a nosing Guide does nothing to help that. So he only rumbles, breathing through his desire but unable to stop the rousing below the belt.

He shouldn't tease, but Gladio is making it very hard not to with how he's responding. John washes down along the other man's thighs, marveling at the muscle in them before sliding his hands around to Gladio's front. He washes around the Sentinel's groin, but doesn't actually touch where he knows Gladio wants most, just presses himself almost flush against the other man's back. It's too early for John to be ready for another round, but his mind is ahead of his body by leaps and bounds. And if nothing else, he has a perfectly serviceable hand to work with... maybe a mouth. Although, that would be a first on John's end.

"Sounds like everyone has a lot on their hands with him. Not sure I'll be making it any easier, but I can try. I'll just make sure to impress him, hmm? Maybe I'll impress you, as well." John rolls his hips against Gladio in a mock-thrust as he leaves the Sentinel's groin with his cock untouched and moves up to washing his abs.

"...don't even think I'm missing what you're up to," Gladio growls quietly as John's hands slide away from his interested cock. It's still a playfulness in his voice, luckily, but there's instincts threatening that don't care as much about taking things slow. He's got them in hand (UNLIKE JOHN) right now, but John certainly isn't helping. "You don't need to impress me, you know. Like what I've seen so far." True, they've still got a long way to go and even if instinct says he has his Guide, everything's good, the real world doesn't work as neatly. They've already come across an issue or two, things they need to discuss and not try to fuck away, but they're managing. So far. Hasn't even been a day.

"Just testing your resolve," John teases back. If Gladio's going to take it in good humor, the Guide will keep going. "You're passing with flying colors at the mo. There's a lad." His washcloth works its way up to Gladio's chest where John does take some necessary care around the bandage on one side. For the other, though, he's probably an absolute irritation as he strokes tenderly, slowly, and lays his head against Gladio's back again to work up to his collar bone.

The deed 'help' is nearly done, and John's fully aware this treatment of the Sentinel may come back to bite him, but he continues to draw it out, pulling back only when he has to, finishing up Gladio's arms. "Glad you like what you've seen. Can't say I'm terribly disappointed, either."

There are some things, but it's easier not to think about them in the moment and just deal with what's physical. That's a terrible communication strategy for a new couple, but it's only the first day. There will be time. Maybe when there's less heat... Maybe when Gladio's beating his arse in a sparring match.

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hello irish spring soap? XD

It's a good smell, at least. XD

He needed something manly XD

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HE'S ON TO YOU JOHN

Onto what? He is an innocent lamb.