Shadows danced upon the dingy walls of the dungeon. As the small party ascended, natural lighting overpowered the dim torches locked in the brackets between cells. Hakoda squinted and recoiled from the brightness, only for a guard to affix a blindfold over his eyes. The shuffling of feet resumed around him, and the warmth of the sunlight faded as they entered another building, overheated and stuffy in its own way.
Perhaps they were in the palace, though he couldn't imagine a reason why — not one that would end well, anyway. His title had once held power and meaning, but those days were long gone. Spitefully and morbidly, he thought to himself that he was not important enough to be here. He and the other prisoners of war hadn't been taken very far following their capture — he knew that much. He had been permitted a shower in the freezing prison water and a decent meal, yet somehow these basic kindnesses had set him on edge more than they'd soothed him.
The group halted again, presumably outside a set of doors that soon swung open. An ominous voice spoke, shaking him to his core, and he knew that it could belong to only one person. The words, their meanings lost in the flurry of fear writhing in his stomach, washed over him as if they were in a foreign language. The tone held and air of grandiosity and smug overconfidence, and instinctually, he hated it. As he should have.
As the guards' footsteps faded away, in an ironic twist of fate he begged silently for their return. To be left alone here was the stuff of his nightmares, and in all of his years of fighting, he had never imagined that he would be so horrifically unfortunate as to come face to face with the spectre behind the war.
The door shut behind him and he quivered in his singed, soiled clothing, bindings, and blindfold. A hand reached forward to ease the strip of cloth off over his head, and it took all of his willpower not to flinch.
Before him stood none other than Fire Lord Ozai. He didn't really know what he had expected even though he'd seen pictures, and of course the narcissistic fuck went around erecting statues of himself, too. He felt less terrified and more… self-conscious, standing before such a well-groomed individual, wearing the dirty clothes in which he had been captured and with cuts, bruises, and burns covering his exposed skin. Ozai wore only an elegant silk robe that clung to his body and accentuated his muscular form. Sleek black hair flowed down over his shoulders, and Hakoda forced himself to study that face. He was surprisingly… normal, if not pleasant-looking.
"Why don't you sit down?" he suggested, gesturing to a cushion upon the lavish bed.
His attention shifted from the man himself to his surroundings. Having been to several himself, he was pretty sure that military negotiations didn't occur in the bedrooms of various world leaders. The predatory gleam in those eyes aroused both him and his suspicions as to what the fire lord's plans were for him. Tentatively, he complied, clumsily clambering onto the bed and seating himself upon the pillow.
"Quite a bold move of you to invade during the eclipse. In fact, I'm impressed that you got as far as you did," Ozai said, joining him on the bed.
"Er, thank you," he stammered, nervously kneading at the cushion, his wrists still tied behind his back.
He hardly refrained from leaping away in panic when Ozai reached around his waist to burn through the rope binding his hands. Now that he was practically on top of him, he was certain of his intentions, but it still shocked him when he voiced them.
"No use delaying things with small talk," said the fire lord, breath hot against Hakoda's cheek. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for a moment like this. There's a reason why I have summoned you. You know, even in your… current state, I'm intrigued. You will soon be a nothing and a nobody, a relic of a bygone age… But I've always wanted to bed a Water Tribe man. And who better than a chieftain to quench my thirst?"
"I'm — I'm sorry, what?" Hakoda stammered. The abruptness of such a vulgar statement was like a bag of bricks to the balls, and he prayed that he had misinterpreted. Alas, he could not deny what he had just heard.
"Did I not make myself clear?" Ozai's palms traced his hips, teasing the waistband of his pants and making him squirm, entrapping him in a confusing mess of terror and burning arousal. A hand snaked around Hakoda's back to pull him up against his body. Distantly, he realized that he'd gotten an erection somewhere along the line, jutting into Ozai's hard stomach.
He choked back his fear — to fight it would only give the fire lord more satisfaction. A lump was forming in the back of his throat, but he lifted a newly freed, trembling hand to touch Ozai's muscular chest, maybe to feebly push him away — or maybe he wanted, needed, to see how it felt. The robe was silky beneath his fingertips, but that wasn't what he was interested in.
Ozai continued to monologue like the treacherous scumbag that he was. "If you're worried that I'm going to force myself on you, then don't." His hungry gaze traveled downwards, raking every inch of bare skin on its way down. "You'll want every second of it. It's much more enjoyable that way."
"Don't — don't you have a country to run?" he stuttered, desperate for an out, but his fear was beginning to transform into anger at those conceited, complacent words.
The robe slipped from his shoulders and fell in a crumpled pile onto the bed, revealing little that hadn't already been obvious. He raised an eyebrow, the look on his face more infuriatingly smug by the second. "I could ask the same of you," he countered.
While Hakoda had never been particularly interested in men, this douchebag was bringing out both the gay and the violent tendencies in him. Fantasies of bending him over the side of the bed and brutally ramming into him began to cloud his judgment.
"So be it," he growled. Sick of the fire lord's self-centered bullshit and eager to get things over with, he seized him by the shoulders and slammed his face into Ozai's. Ozai stiffened from the unexpected, aggressive advance, but he smirked into their vigorous kiss and began to return it with equal frenzy. His mouth tasted like smoke and death, and for a moment, Hakoda feared the consequences of his spontaneity, as making out with his fire-breathing mortal enemy wasn't exactly the most intelligent decision of his life.
But he'd already committed, and he wasn't going to back down now. He tasted blood as Ozai bit down hard on his lower lip, breaking the vicious, hateful kiss to rip off Hakoda's thin shirt and burn it. Teeth dug into his neck as Ozai began on a path down. He tensed and yelped with every bite, blood trickling along his collarbone and down his chest where his skin had been punctured. Hakoda's grip tightened and tangled in his silky locks with every new blossom of pain added to the trail stretching down his abdomen.
Things were not going to plan, and the power onto which he'd foolishly believed he could cling was slipping further and further from his grasp by the second. Ozai teased a nipple between his teeth, the sensation enough to drive him insane. His mouth journeyed from pec to pec, and finally, hands fumbled at his waist and tore away his pants, now having reached the sensitive skin of the his inner thighs. He shuddered and gasped as teeth ruthlessly sunk into his flesh and his tongue lapped up the blood trickling from the bite marks.
Jerking him off with one hand, Ozai reached for his nightstand and fumbled around in the top drawer until he unearthed a bottle of lube. He carelessly spilled it into his palm, and unceremoniously, he rammed a finger into Hakoda's anus, prompting another wave of fear to wash over him. He'd never taken anything more than some fingers up the ass, and despite his limited vantage point, he could tell that Ozai appeared to be slathering his cock in the stuff. His tongue swirled around Hakoda's asshole, the warm mouth counterbalancing the cold of the lubricant.
"Tell me how much you want it," the douchebag purred amusedly, pulling away.
"Suck my cock," he spat. The insult slipped out before he realized that it was a completely reasonable request.
As a matter of fact, Ozai considered it for a moment, continuing to pensively finger his ass. The digit withdrew and Hakoda propped himself on his arms to see him kiss along his length and tongue the head.
He hated to admit it, but the sight was really turning him on. If he got out of this alive, he was definitely going to have a gay crisis, but honestly, in that moment, he wouldn't have minded dying of mortification right then and there. The situation wasn't slaking his anger anymore, and that needed to change — and he didn't care how reckless he had to be in order to accomplish that.
When he sat up far enough, he caught a glimpse of Ozai's prick. "Come on," he taunted. "Show me what you can do with that skinny dick of yours." Indeed, his cock was rather slender, elegant and finely shaped, but average-sized, if he was being generous. As if trying to hide it, he rammed it into Hakoda's ass without any further preparation and gyrated his hips slowly, almost experimentally, to get a feel for his new partner.
Things were finally slowing down, allowing them both to adjust, but that wasn't what he wanted. It felt strange, alien, but with the lube and the underwhelming size of his mortal enemy's dick, he again grew confident in his ability to handle things. Truly, Ozai's real damage-dealer was his mouth, he thought as the bite marks all across his neck and torso stung and bled. Unless he could shoot fire out of his cock. But Hakoda really hoped that he wouldn't have to learn the answer to that question.
Ozai hoisted Hakoda's legs onto his shoulders and gripped each of his arse cheeks, his nails digging into flesh and his hands heating up, almost burning. Hakoda's lower body hung off the side of the bed as Ozai picked up his speed and set a rigorous but steady pace.
But it was not enough. He was pretty sure that the being penetrated was supposed cause some sort of pleasure on his behalf, but it only felt like he was shitting in reverse. "My wife fucks ass better than you, and she's dead! How do you think you can dominate the world if you can't even dominate me?" he screamed.
Ozai growled beastially and shot out a jet of flame that narrowly missed Hakoda's face, its heat intense enough to singe his hair and shock him into submission. Because he hadn't yet met Zuko, Hakoda didn't know that Ozai didn't fuck around when it came to roasting the faces of those who disrespected him, and that he should've considered himself extremely fortunate that he'd gotten a warning shot.
Still caught up in the near-miss, he didn't notice the enraged fire lord pull out his dick and wipe it off on the bedsheets, and then give Hakoda's asshole a similar cleansing treatment. Unprepared for the shitstorm that he had unleashed upon himself, he screamed as Ozai shoved in raw. "Is this what you wanted?" he hissed through gritted teeth, literally fuming.
Immediately, he regretted his decision, but he held back another snarky taunt. Clawing at the sheets like an absolute madman, his arse got pulverized.
"Be a good slut and tell me how much you wanted this," he crooned. As Ozai upped his speed, Hakoda felt something trickling out of him, whether it was viscera, blood, or precum, he couldn't tell. His thoughts became scrambled and unclear and all he could do was to focus on was the faint pleasure hidden behind the agony of taking it rough and raw. He had pushed his control of the situation too far, and it had slid back out of his grip. Words bubbled up in his throat — part of him was enjoying it or was just scared enough to want to fulfill his master's wish, but still, for his pride's sake, he managed to hold out for just a little longer.
His nail bit into Ozai's back, carving claw marks into flesh. Blood welled up beneath his fingertips, and his grip migrated to his neck to pull him down. That merciless gaze, now too close, framed by the black hair that trailed across Hakoda's face, seared into him and judged his every expression, his every sound, his every movement.
"Tell me how much you wanted this," he panted again. His eyes shone with malicious delight.
He could only whine beneath the overwhelming assault of sensation. Desperate for release, he unclasped a hand from around Ozai's neck to stroke himself. Sweat and blood coated his palm and he hastily wiped it off on the sheets before starting to jerk off again.
Ozai came violently. Fortunately, he did not ejaculate fire. Hakoda thrashed uncontrollably beneath him, screaming and grasping at the bedsheets. He pulled out and knelt to lick Hakoda's messy asshole, and much to his relief, moved onto his needy cock.
The sultry gleam in the fire lord's dark, lusty eyes alone was enough to send him over the edge. As soon as Ozai put his lips around his cock and they locked gazes, he came on the spot. He rose from his knees and splayed himself across his fucktoy again as they started viciously snowballing. Blood and cum intermingled as their mouths clashed recklessly against each other, nails raked through his hair and into Hakoda's scalp, scalding hot fingers left burn marks wherever they met skin. He writhed in pain but redoubled his assault. The harsh metallic taste of blood overpowered that of the cum, whether it was from Ozai's or his own split lips, he couldn't tell.
When it was clear that neither of them could get it up again — they weren't exactly young —finally, they broke apart. With post-orgasm clarity returning to his mind, Hakoda found himself horrified at what had just happened. The goddamn fire lord lay limply on top of him, wheezing and wiping the cum from his face. When he slid a sticky finger into Hakoda's mouth for him to suck on, he obliged.
Ozai retracted his finger and sat up. For the first time, he regarded Hakoda with a look of what could've been interpreted as respect. "Mm," he said. "Thank you for that."
"Any time," Hakoda replied hoarsely. It was the first thing that came to mind, and he didn't really know what else there was to say after having violent hate sex with a bizarrely attractive evil dictator.
"I'd like to keep you around, but like you said… I do have a country to run," he mused. "Yes. I think I'll keep you somewhere safe. Until I can transport you… the dungeons will do."
Things could've gone much worse, Hakoda supposed.