Work Text:
Thancred hates him. He continuously repeats it to himself, over and over.
“I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.”
This man is his enemy. A Garlean Emperor. An Ascian. The ones responsible for the Calamities. Mortals are no more than mere pawns in his eyes, those all-consuming, golden eyes that carry a weight Thancred refuses to admit he sees and understands.
Thancred hates him.
Even as he slams the man against the wall of an alley of the Crystarium, late one night, hands digging into shoulders so deep that it will leave bruises through the robes he wears. Even as he glares him down, spitting out threats to stay away from the others, to not even dare to think about bringing them harm while they sleep, as Thancred will be watching and waiting.
Even as the mocking smirk curls upon the man’s angular face, eyes narrowing like a predator and seeming to glint in the newly-returned moonlight. Even as that grating voice, oozing like forbidden nectar, flows from his lips in response.
“You’d like to think you could stop me.”
Bodies scrape against the brick wall. With a grace foreign to his outward appearance, the Ascian switches their position, Thancred now the one trapped.
The presence in front of him is stifling, oppressive, truly a man who has brought nations to kneel in subjugation. The streak of white in his hair seems to reflect the moon above, giving it an otherworldly glow. Thancred’s heart quickens.
This being in front of him is Ancient, a dark, deep magic from long ago pulsing through his veins. For underneath the guise of a conquering emperor lies something even more . A power the gunbreaker could never come close to wielding, a gaping chasm that could swallow him whole.
Thancred hates him.
“You poor thing,” the man croons in his ear, lips brushing faintly against skin. “You seem to think you’re in charge~ As if I can’t recognize what lies beneath the hatred in your eyes…you might be a raging river on the outside, but inside you are naught but a trickling stream, yearning to be of use.”
Thancred sees red. He tries to respond, to open his mouth and deny the words, but the Ascians' lips are against his before he can utter a word. Biting, crushing, devouring his soul, a kiss of death.
A trail of spit hangs between them when he finally pulls away, a lingering connection. The man’s smirk is back, as he trails one gloved hand from Thancred’s shoulder to his chin.
“Shall I take another sip?~” Lithe fingers tilt the Hyur’s face up to face him, the thumb smearing the remains of the kiss against his parched lips. “Or have you no more to give?”
Thancred hates him.
A moment later, and they’re on the ground. Thancred’s outburst of rage is enough to catch the Ascian off-guard and fall backward. He’s kneeling on his chest, the collar of the fine robes balled in his fists. Seams snap and tear from the rough treatment.
“You vile , wretched ,-“ Thancred begins, but soon breaks off, the fury burning away any words he wants to say before he can form them.
The Ascian just smirks in response, a faint trickle of blood from the side of his head where he hit the pavement.
“Are you talking about me…or yourself?”
Thancred’s on his back again, the Ascian now the one looming over him. The same suffocating presence from before pins down the Hyur, sending jolts down his spine.
The next kiss is a war. Thancred’s shirt is torn open as lips are once more forced against his, but he’s the one biting this time. Royal Garlean buttons pop off and clatter down the alley as his hands search blindly for brunette hair to twist themselves in. He’s fighting to stay adrift in the storm, desperately clinging to a lifeline as the Ascian’s mere aura sucks him down and drowns him.
Teeth find collarbones. Nails find skin. Blood mingles with sweat. Thancred isn’t quite sure if clothing is taken off or ripped off.
Eventually, both pause in the battle, taking a moment’s rest to gaze at their opponent. Thancred’s eyes trail across the pale, smooth skin of the other, his meager victories reflected as red welts lining his chest. He knows he should walk away, but he can’t now. The intoxicating poison has already been drunk, the forbidden fruit already bitten. He has already fallen.
“I hate you.” Thancred snarls up at him.
A mere smirk returns.
“I know.”