A/N: Inspired by the fact that Zil is crazy and creepy and seems to have some sort of power fetish.
Michael Grant owns this crazy dweeb, not me.
Zil Sperry loved beautiful things. He loved the trickle of blood, the soft glow of fire and the way it seemed to spread infinitely. He loved the sure curve of Lance's jaw, the flawless expanse of his skin, the power of his convictions, the tightness of muscle beneath his skin and the way he always smelt faintly of seawater and aftershave.
He loved Lance's ferocity. His ability to rule. Lance was an adonis. A god. He could command an army with a cleverly flashed grin.
And he was hopeful that some day Lance would notice him that way too. Surely, he would take notice of his unwavering loyalty. He would see how strong he could be. He would take him gently, strongly, surely, and burn him with his kisses. They would rule side by side under a siege of fire.
Most nights, he dreamt of Lance; the curve of his leg or the way his hair seemed to turn to gold in the sunlight, his strong hands as they made their way up his back, the heat in his eyes and the quick pulse of his breath against his skin.
Zil was confident that one day, their reign would come. He would be his king, and together they would burn down the world.