His Need
by Meimi
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Namco or anyone who hold rights to Tales of the Abyss. It isn't mine, I'm just playing with it.
Spoiler Warning: Uh, mid-game I guess.
He couldn't blame it on narcissism. At best he disliked his looks, at worst he loathed them. Being pretty had garnered more unwanted attention in the Order than he would ever care to recall. Still, at times it had been a useful tool and he wasn't above using whatever he had at his disposal to achieve his goals. Within reason, of course, there were still things that even he wouldn't do, not for anyone. Unfortunately, those instances where his looks were useful to him were few and far between. The rest of the time they ended up being more of a hindrance to him than anything else. But he had quickly learned that regardless of how pretty a face might be, if it was covered in blood the populace generally viewed it as something repugnant. Being "Bloody" did have its uses, after all. He might ultimately prove to be the fool in Van's little twisted game of chess, but it would be through his own actions and choices, not anyone else's.
Not that Van and his countless lunacies were much of a consideration at the moment. This wasn't Van. And while he might thoroughly detest the fact that there was something more than just mirrors out there to reflect his features back at him, it could still be tolerated. There were other things to spark his interest asides from looks, after all, and he knew how to indulge himself in them when the unexpected opportunity arose. Besides, every gasp and moan and choked cry of his name was a little victory to cherish even with the inescapable knowledge of his own eventual defeat still burning like an eternal brand in his mind. It wasn't narcissism which drove him to this, but there was most definitely arrogance in it.
He was not gentle. He didn't care to be. What gentleness he might have once possessed had long been forgotten, not that it mattered much in the long run. His touch was not meant to coax. It was meant to claim. His kisses weren't meant to entice the uncertain. They were meant to overwhelm, to sear him into his mind and make everything else fade away into nothing until all that was left was him. For one instant he would be the entire world to someone, nothing else would matter. The sex was merely a tool to aid in that endeavor, though he certainly wouldn't deny its attraction. His replica was proving to be very enjoyable. Luke was hot and slick and wanting, and whenever he drove back in to that delightful, tight channel every answering breathless whimper made it so much more than just sex.
He wanted to taste everything. How could he not? The moans, the cries, the sex, the need, he was more aroused than he had ever been in his entire life. How ironic that it took a person whose face he utterly loathed to get him to such a point. Not that he would ever admit to it, but for this singular moment he couldn't find it in himself to hate the fucking moron. The fool had unwittingly stolen everything from him: his family, his friends, his loves, his life; but damn if he wasn't turning out to be the best lay he'd ever had. Asch chuckled low in his throat as he leaned down, grazing his teeth along his replica's skin, leaving a smattering of marks behind here and there.
This was what he had really needed, what he could never truly admit to craving. He didn't need to be wanted, not as a jealously guarded tool in a madman's schemes of one-upping the Score and certainly not in any sort of misguided capacity as a friend. He didn't need people trying to get through to him, to break down the barriers he had so meticulously built up over the years. They had been constructed for very specific reasons, to try and remove them now just smacked of inconsideration on their part. No, he didn't need to be wanted by anyone or for anything at all. What he needed was a memory, just one memory would be enough. He needed to be remembered by someone for who he was, not for who they wanted him to be. His replica, surprisingly, served that purpose better than anyone else. Luke had no true preconceived notions about him, only experience. And experience was what he would give the ridiculously naive brat, more experience than he could ever hope to forget.
That would be more than enough for him. Everything else was just a tasty bonus.