"I've not made your chocolates, yet." The utterance is murmured at Noct's pulse, folded as Ignis is into Noct's frame on the park bench; he can feel the warmth of the sun but, gods, Noct's liveliness will always be the warmest beacon to him. Gently, he lavishes gentle kisses against the hollow of his King's throat and listens to the idle noise of nature and idle conversations held a fair distance away. "I intended to have them done by today but time was unfortunately scarce."
He's drifting a little, snug between the press of the sunlight and Ignis’s warmth. It takes a second for the words to sink in, distracted by the way Ignis’s lips move over his neck. “Forget it,” he mumbles, after another moment, and tilts his head a little so as to let Ignis kiss further along his skin. “You cook desserts for me all the time.”
He doesn’t need chocolates just because it’s Valentine’s Day. This is better, anyway.
Shifting his hand up from where it’s been resting against his shoulder, he gently threads his fingers through Ignis’s hair and turns his head to yawn.