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Dreamed Sin

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Thin stretches of moonlight peered through the dusty blinds, seeping onto the old wooden floor panels. Thancred’s head rested on the fortunately comfortable pillow, eyelids drooping as his gaze traced the spot. Fatigue from the day’s travels bogged his mind and would soon drag him into slumber. Hopefully the nightmares that often plagued him would leave him be, because he had just about enough of Minfilia being just out of his reach, not even a hair’s length away.

Trepidation continued to stir within him even after his consciousness left him. It curled around him and even in the darkness, he could still feel it. Ah, wait. Wasn’t he not supposed to feel anything while asleep? Perhaps this was another dream?

Black void wrapped around him entirely, leaving not the floors or walls of the space visible. When he peered down, he could see his hands as though in immaculate daylight. Not the strangest vision his consciousness saw fit to bestow upon him, and certainly not the worst—

As he finished that thought, the ground tumbled out from under his feet, sending him hurtling through the air. Down, down, down. The fibre of his being twisted and turned in a way nostalgic to him, achingly familiar. It’d been much too long since he’d been able to teleport via aether. Perhaps this was yet another self-imposed punishment, taunted with what he could no longer have.

The dark of his surroundings swept away like a curtain at the beginning of a play. It revealed a room admittedly unfamiliar to him. It was lavish, with a carpeted floor. A cushioned sofa lay before a polished wooden coffee table, against the wall, facing a large chair that looked equally comfortable. Reds, golds and blacks seemed to make up the decor, from the cloth curtains on the windows to the canopy bed.

A low moan startled him from his observations. He was no stranger to having wet dreams, but never had one gone quite like this. He took a few steps forward to peer into the canopy bed, and his lungs constricted, breath pushed out of them at the sight that greeted him.


Your chest pressed against the blankets, face contorted in an expression of the utmost pleasure. Your eyes were shut, lips slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed deep. His gaze drank in the slope of your spine to reach your raised bottom, but caught on the large hand curled around your torso, pushing you to the mattress.

A long, blond curtain of hair draped around his face, nearly reaching you. His shoulders were broad, body caked in toned muscles that flexed every time he pulled his hips back and rammed them forward.

The telltale third eye in the middle of his forehead let Thancred know that he was a Garlean. The fog of the dream shifted as his addled mind reached out, attempting to recognize the figure.

Ah. Zenos.

He’d heard the names on the lips of various allies, often spat out like venom.

“How adorably pathetic,” the man’s voice, like velvet, pulled Thancred from his train of thought. The sound of skin slapping against skin seemed to echo through the spacious chamber, “Where have your claws and fangs gone, my lovely beast?” A particularly violent thrust pried a sudden cry from your lips, before you began to wiggle underneath his towering form.

There was little to no escape. Perhaps you might have been able to claw your way out on top if you had more space, if you were armored. But Zenos curled over your entire body like a wolf digging into the flesh of hard-won prey.

You couldn’t escape. You were completely dominated, and Thancred couldn’t suppress the deep flush of arousal that sent through his system. Disgust followed a moment later, prompted him to think deeper about what he was seeing.

Was this his fantasy? Had his mind created this terrible vision?

“Zenos,” your voice wobbled and whined, falling against the mattress, only kept up by Zenos’s tight, unyielding grip.

“Yessss,” your monstrous lover cooed. His eyes gleamed vividly as he stared down at you, expression so obsessed that Thancred’s stomach began to turn. Was this really a dream? His dream?

Revulsion rested with agonizing desire in his gut as his cock hardened against his trousers.

A low moan rumbled from Zenos’s chest as he stood on his knees. The hand that’d been supporting his weight moved to grab the other side of your waist. He effortlessly yanked you back, pace growing faster, more violent. The grin on his face widened, manic as faint streaks of sunlight reached in through the blinds and gleamed off his hair.

“Scream for me, my beast,” he purred as your pleasure-addled limbs thrashed beneath him, hips rolling, fingers curling and ripping into his sheets.

Thancred was somehow horrified when you obey.

Your swollen lips parted around a pleasured so. One of your hands ventured underneath you and Thancred licked his lips, wishing he could do that to you, that he was the one pinning you down and pushing inside you.

Zenos stopped moving. The teasing pulled a whine out of you, your hips grinding upwards in a fruitless attempt to get him to move again. His grip tightened, fingertips biting into your skin, hard enough to bruise. He shushes you, murmured something soft and comforting in an attempt to settle you down, make you pliant.

Then, he lifted his head, staring right at Thancred with that vibrant, piercing blue stare.

And then darkness once more surrounded him.

He gasped as he sat up, chest heaving, dick straining against his boxers. From what he could see, he was still in the inn room where he’d retired for the night. The blinds were still slightly opened. The moonlight still pooled on the floor. It was somehow a comforting and familiar sight.

He flopped onto his back, wide eyes staring up at the ceiling as shame crept over him.