Gladio wouldn't have wanted this. Gladio... well, it would be questionable how he would handle this when the venom finally ran its course. He had no conscious concepts, definitely not a chimera needing a mate or even that it was Ignis under his hands.

The hand at his neck remained, a constant and immediate threat, as his other hand grasped the material of his pants at the waistband. The fatigues were strong, leather, and magicked to resist tearing, but the belt at his hips was proving to be more difficult to get down. It was a bruising pain at those hips as Gladio, or whatever had Gladio's mind, pulled down hard at the waistband.