a/n - i am absolutely enraptured by this prompt, so i had to fill it. i don't know how i feel about veth's characterization here, and it's a little heavier on the hate than the fucking, but i hope you enjoy!
on ao3 here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30914855
--
A mage hand wraps around his hair, and tugs him downwards, stumbling onto his knees, breaking the spell that keeps him afloat. “Now you’re on my level,” Veth says, practically growling, forcing the mage hand to draw his head even lower, so she can look down at him.
“You think you’re so better than us,” she says. “I’m a wizard, I’m so smart. You’re not the only one with magic. And we both know you’re not better than us.”
“No,” he says, breathy, head twisted up at an angle too sharp to be comfortable in order to meet her eyes. “I’m not.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.” She releases the mage hand. “I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you, and I don’t like you getting involved with Caleb.”
“No, you’d rather he get involved with a volstrucker,” Essek shoots back, and that gets her to step forward, hands gripping at Essek’s ears, using them to twist his head to her.
He hisses, at the pain, but doesn’t break eye contact. This certainly isn’t the apology that he had intended, but he has no interest in losing ground. They stand there, close, her eyes angry, mouth twisted into a frown, and then-
Then she kisses him.
It’s a rough, biting kiss, and he lets her push him back against the door, even as his legs go sprawling, awkwardly placed. She steps closer to straddle over him, hands moving to grip at his hair, pushing him closer.
“I fucking hate you,” she growls, as she pulls her mouth off of his. Her fingers aren’t claws anymore, but the nails are still sharp as they trail against his neck.
He meets the gaze she offers, and can’t help the smirk that comes across his face. “Prove it.”
She slaps him, across the face, and it takes him a moment to realize that it wasn’t just a slap, the tingle of electricity lingering against his skin. She waits a moment, for his reaction, before doing it again.
“He’s mine, you know?” she says, pulling his mantle aside and pulling open the clasps on his tunic. “He was mine first. I claimed him.”
“You should tell him that,” Essek retorts, which gets a shocking grasp from both hands, trailing up his sides, and then a sharp twist on a newly exposed nipple.
“He knows,” she growls back. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt him, especially not you.”
She bites into his chest. Halfling teeth are rounded, like humans, and it isn’t with nearly as much force as it could be, but it still stings. He presses his head back against the wall and shuts his eyes.
“You hurt so many people, and you didn’t even care, and he’s not going to be one of them,” she says. “He’s my boy, and I’m going to protect him.”
“He can protect himself - he doesn’t need you.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She pulls him off the wall, twisting him down to the floor so that she can sit on top of his chest. Her hands press lightly against his throat, and he leans into the contact.
“Beg me to stop,” she says, and the light hands become a firmer presser, on each side of his neck. The blood rushes to his head, and the air stops, all of his focus going to the pulse in his neck beneath her hands.
He doesn’t beg.
“I’m the reason your home burned,” he says, as her grip loosens. Her hands pull off of his neck, to grip onto his ears again, and when she casts shocking grasp this time, he arches into it, pushing up off the floor at the sensation.
“Do you think I’m going to forgive you?” Veth asks.
“I tortured your husband,” he says. “I knew he didn’t know anything. I knew the results of his experiments. I didn’t care. I tortured him to keep up appearances”
She looks, in that moment, as if she could murder him. Her hands, set on either side of his face, spark with electricity, and her eyes are cold and narrowed. He thinks he might be crying, but it’s hard to tell.
“I don’t forgive you,” she says, and presses herself into his mouth.
The force of it is all from her, grinding up against him, and he doesn’t try to control her, lets her use him however she sees fit. It’s tough and unrelenting, and his jaw aches from being pushed open.
“They might forgive you,” she says. “They might trust you. He might trust you. But you don’t deserve it. Not after everything you’ve done.”
She summons the mage hand again, she must, because there’s a pressure against his balls, sharp and hard and enough he groans into her, at the pain. It isn’t nearly as bad as it could be, but it’s still ringing in his head, even as it relents.
When Veth comes, she siezes up, before falling back, sliding off of him to sit upon his chest. The concentration on the mage hand fades, and he lies still, reeling.
“He doesn’t trust me,” he says, into the deafening silence of the room. “He’ll never trust me.”
“He’s always been smart,” she says, still sitting on top of him for a moment. “That was-”
She goes to wipe the tears away, but he stops her, brushing them aside himself. She rolls off of him, so that she’s sitting by his side.
“Do you want help with that?” she asks, looking down at where he’s still hard.
“You hate me,” he points out.
“Yeah, but you’re still fucking hot,” she retorts.
“I’ll deal with it myself,” he says, which is probably a lie, all things considered. “I don’t think this is what he intended, asking me to come apologize.”
“Yeah, well.” She looks over at him. “You’re one of us, now, which means that even though I hate you, I love you too.”
He meets her gaze again, and more than any of the looks she’s leveled at him before, it burns.
“Beg me to stop,” she says.
“Stop,” he asks, the word choking at his throat.
“Never,” she says, and her laugh is sharp and pointed, and it’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.
our hate is electric (Veth/Essek, E, hate fucking)
on ao3 here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30914855
--
A mage hand wraps around his hair, and tugs him downwards, stumbling onto his knees, breaking the spell that keeps him afloat. “Now you’re on my level,” Veth says, practically growling, forcing the mage hand to draw his head even lower, so she can look down at him.
“You think you’re so better than us,” she says. “I’m a wizard, I’m so smart. You’re not the only one with magic. And we both know you’re not better than us.”
“No,” he says, breathy, head twisted up at an angle too sharp to be comfortable in order to meet her eyes. “I’m not.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.” She releases the mage hand. “I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you, and I don’t like you getting involved with Caleb.”
“No, you’d rather he get involved with a volstrucker,” Essek shoots back, and that gets her to step forward, hands gripping at Essek’s ears, using them to twist his head to her.
He hisses, at the pain, but doesn’t break eye contact. This certainly isn’t the apology that he had intended, but he has no interest in losing ground. They stand there, close, her eyes angry, mouth twisted into a frown, and then-
Then she kisses him.
It’s a rough, biting kiss, and he lets her push him back against the door, even as his legs go sprawling, awkwardly placed. She steps closer to straddle over him, hands moving to grip at his hair, pushing him closer.
“I fucking hate you,” she growls, as she pulls her mouth off of his. Her fingers aren’t claws anymore, but the nails are still sharp as they trail against his neck.
He meets the gaze she offers, and can’t help the smirk that comes across his face. “Prove it.”
She slaps him, across the face, and it takes him a moment to realize that it wasn’t just a slap, the tingle of electricity lingering against his skin. She waits a moment, for his reaction, before doing it again.
“He’s mine, you know?” she says, pulling his mantle aside and pulling open the clasps on his tunic. “He was mine first. I claimed him.”
“You should tell him that,” Essek retorts, which gets a shocking grasp from both hands, trailing up his sides, and then a sharp twist on a newly exposed nipple.
“He knows,” she growls back. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt him, especially not you.”
She bites into his chest. Halfling teeth are rounded, like humans, and it isn’t with nearly as much force as it could be, but it still stings. He presses his head back against the wall and shuts his eyes.
“You hurt so many people, and you didn’t even care, and he’s not going to be one of them,” she says. “He’s my boy, and I’m going to protect him.”
“He can protect himself - he doesn’t need you.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She pulls him off the wall, twisting him down to the floor so that she can sit on top of his chest. Her hands press lightly against his throat, and he leans into the contact.
“Beg me to stop,” she says, and the light hands become a firmer presser, on each side of his neck. The blood rushes to his head, and the air stops, all of his focus going to the pulse in his neck beneath her hands.
He doesn’t beg.
“I’m the reason your home burned,” he says, as her grip loosens. Her hands pull off of his neck, to grip onto his ears again, and when she casts shocking grasp this time, he arches into it, pushing up off the floor at the sensation.
“Do you think I’m going to forgive you?” Veth asks.
“I tortured your husband,” he says. “I knew he didn’t know anything. I knew the results of his experiments. I didn’t care. I tortured him to keep up appearances”
She looks, in that moment, as if she could murder him. Her hands, set on either side of his face, spark with electricity, and her eyes are cold and narrowed. He thinks he might be crying, but it’s hard to tell.
“I don’t forgive you,” she says, and presses herself into his mouth.
The force of it is all from her, grinding up against him, and he doesn’t try to control her, lets her use him however she sees fit. It’s tough and unrelenting, and his jaw aches from being pushed open.
“They might forgive you,” she says. “They might trust you. He might trust you. But you don’t deserve it. Not after everything you’ve done.”
She summons the mage hand again, she must, because there’s a pressure against his balls, sharp and hard and enough he groans into her, at the pain. It isn’t nearly as bad as it could be, but it’s still ringing in his head, even as it relents.
When Veth comes, she siezes up, before falling back, sliding off of him to sit upon his chest. The concentration on the mage hand fades, and he lies still, reeling.
“He doesn’t trust me,” he says, into the deafening silence of the room. “He’ll never trust me.”
“He’s always been smart,” she says, still sitting on top of him for a moment. “That was-”
She goes to wipe the tears away, but he stops her, brushing them aside himself. She rolls off of him, so that she’s sitting by his side.
“Do you want help with that?” she asks, looking down at where he’s still hard.
“You hate me,” he points out.
“Yeah, but you’re still fucking hot,” she retorts.
“I’ll deal with it myself,” he says, which is probably a lie, all things considered. “I don’t think this is what he intended, asking me to come apologize.”
“Yeah, well.” She looks over at him. “You’re one of us, now, which means that even though I hate you, I love you too.”
He meets her gaze again, and more than any of the looks she’s leveled at him before, it burns.
“Beg me to stop,” she says.
“Stop,” he asks, the word choking at his throat.
“Never,” she says, and her laugh is sharp and pointed, and it’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.