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Illuga was not into the habit of stressing out about his appearance. Of course, he made sure he was always presentable when in public, Old Pops Nikita taught him well, but anything more than that had never crossed his mind. When you’re fighting for your life, the lives of your comrades, and for the entire Nod Krai almost every day, such thoughts don’t even pass through your mind.
The Wild Hunt was severely weakened after the Traveler, Flins and the others defeated Rerir, but they were still a dwindling threat. And even if they weren’t, the Abyss didn’t sleep. There were still mutated monsters all over Nod Krai, and it was the Lightkeeper’s duty to make sure people were safe.
And after becoming the representative of the Lightkeepers in the League, his workload suddenly doubled.
All that to say, his appearance wasn’t very high on his list of priorities.
It was a big deal for other people, especially in more populated cities. Even in Nasha Town, the ladies walked around with makeup and pretty clothes. During the League meetings, Miss Nefer, for example, always looked pristine, and like she took a long time getting ready. Her appearance made her very intimidating. Until she started teasing him, that is. She was almost as bad as Flins.
Anyway, Illuga just never related to that.
Until, well… Flins.
It wasn’t like the man did it on purpose, Illuga was pretty sure he didn’t, but Flins did manage to make him feel inadequate. Very often.
He was so evasive and gave so many mixed signals that Illuga was almost losing his mind. One moment they were both dancing around each other, and the next Illuga stood all by himself in an endless dark room. Was he delusional?
Flins was a flatterer through and through, although Illuga had already seen behind that mask of his, had glimpsed at the immense walls that were around him. The way he steered conversations away from him with soft-spoken words and discreet smiles, how he distracted people by making them heart-eyed.
Illuga wasn’t dumb, and he made it his personal problem to worry about every single Lightkeeper under his watch, which included Flins, regardless of what the man thought. He was deeply attuned to their emotions and their needs, noticed the smallest of twitches, a sad look, tired eyes, he knew, and he helped as much as he could. The Lightkeepers were his family, and he was theirs.
But when it came to Flins, his own emotions got in the way. Sometimes Illuga feared he was projecting big time, perverting a relationship meant to be platonic and pure. Some days he would lie awake at night, tossing and turning without being able to stop thinking about it. It made for extremely unpleasant morning patrols.
Illuga looked at himself in the mirror, stripped down to his underwear, examining his features closely. He looked young. Would Flins prefer someone taller? Older? More muscular? Maybe the complete opposite, and he’d prefer a voluptuous woman?
Illuga had seen him flatter men and women both, without ever taking anyone home, or even to a secluded room, or anywhere else at all, really. And it certainly wasn’t for lack of them trying.
Did he look too young? Too innocent? Illuga was on the shorter side, sure, but he also had defined muscles, a healthy body fit for fighting. He had a lot of scars, and his hands weren’t soft. His was obviously not a child’s body, The other Lightkeepers often babied him in a joking manner, but that was because he was, in fact, the youngest, and they wouldn’t let him forget about that.
Illuga didn’t mind when it was them, though. But when Flins called him ‘young master’ he was always torn between elation at the overly fond way Flins said it, and digging a grave to bury himself alive. It was embarrassing, it was sweet, and it kinda felt like something you would call someone you don’t take very seriously.
Which was the root of all Illuga’s emotional problems, really.
Maybe he was too naggy? Too persistent? Flins seemed to genuinely enjoy the time they spent together, regardless of what they did, but what if Illuga was, once again, projecting? Stupid Flins. Would it kill him to be open and honest for once?
Illuga let out a heavy sigh, stepping away from the mirror and putting on his sleep clothes. He had another morning meeting with the League the day after, and if he showed up with huge bags under his eyes Nefer would give him a hard time again.
-
Meetings were annoying, but as the days went by, Illuga was more and more comfortable with his place on the round table of the League Meeting Room. At first, any time someone would ask him, “What are the Lightkeepers’ stance on the matter?”, Illuga would have to use all of his self-control so he wouldn’t freeze like a scared animal.
Well, at least he wasn’t the youngest in the room. Aino was, although Ineffa was always with her. Illuga sometimes wished he’d have an emotional support by his side too, frankly.
It didn’t help that most of those people were Flins’ friends. Knowing that made Illuga so tense in the first few meetings that he went back home with his entire body aching. The urge to impress, to show that he was competent and good enough.
After a while, though, it was impossible to not open up to that lot. As days passed, Illuga spoke more without almost throwing up his heart, he was more comfortable to make suggestions and more confident in the decisions he took as the representative of the Lightkeepers. One day after a particularly long and exhausting debate, Lauma approached him with a kind smile on her face, and told him he did well.
He would visit Flins after most of the meetings, and relay the important parts. Sometimes Flins would give Illuga his undivided attention while he was there, sometimes he’d be tinkering with his collections, sometimes he’d ask Illuga to go fish with him. Illuga liked the days they would sit together at the table and silently write their reports. It was nice, having permission to be relaxed and quiet with someone.
However, time and time again Illuga would look between them and see a huge chasm. He followed Flins’ lead and pretended it wasn’t there, enjoying their time together without making a mess of it. But truth was that the chasm got progressively bigger the more insecure Illuga felt. If he let the onus fall on Flins, Illuga is sure that chasm will fester like an open wound, making their presence together feel like a heavy weight in his chest.
The thing is that when it came to the secret Flins carried, the man was the least subtle person in the world, at least in front of Illuga. He was so obvious that Illuga caught himself in the mirror once, after realization hit, and just whispered ‘Am I stupid?’ to himself. Especially considering that he was good friends with Linnea, a fae, how did he allow so many of Flins’ little habits and avoidances to get past him?
Illuga was tired of this whole dance, this stupid game of emotional cat and mouse that they had going on. Never knowing if he was alone, or if Flins was there with him.
“I can’t believe you have all these things going on and you still manage to get yourself into a situationship like that,” Linnea had told him, not too long ago.
Illuga had heard the term get thrown around when he was in Nasha Town for one of the League meetings one day. A girl talking excitedly with her friend about the new (and apparently quite scandalous) imported light novel from Yae Publishing House.
“It’s not a situationship,” He regretted it the second the words were out of his mouth. Sometimes he wished he had Flins’ composure and way with words. “We’ve never–” Oh gods. “–done–” Illuga’s cheeks burned furiously. “–anything. So…”
Thankfully, she hadn’t commented on his blush, although he knew she had noticed. “That’s even worse.”
And honestly, Illuga couldn’t argue with her.
It was time for his scheduled visit to bring Flins more supplies. It was a quiet day, no meetings booked, no patrols for him, so there was no reason to delay. Among the supplies were some basic ingredients for nutritious meals, even though Illuga knew they would all end up unused and probably buried somewhere, or just thrown in the trash.
He was pretty calm that day. Things were going well with the last steps of the rebuilding, logistics and supply routes for all factions in Nod Krai were pretty much figured out, meetings didn’t have to be held as often as they had to months ago, when their efforts were enormous.
Illuga wasn’t going to get angry. It would take a lot to get him angry on that day. Surely he could enjoy some leisure time with Flins, and go back home just as relaxed as he arrived.
He was watching Flins put away the supplies Illuga brought him, surprisingly organized for someone who lived alone in an almost abandoned lighthouse in an isolated isle. Flins was an interesting creature, for sure.
Illuga moved to help him, but Flins just held out his hand, lips curled in that sweet talker smile of his. Illuga stopped in his tracks.
“Young Master shouldn’t bother with such meaningless tasks, I’m almost finished.”
His eye twitched. “It’s just putting away a few things. No big deal.”
“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t do it.” With everything in its place, Flins turned to him. “How was Master’s day?” He put his hand on Illuga’s lower back, guiding him to the modest table in the room.
“Calm,” Illuga answered, a certain feeling twisting in the pit of his stomach that he had become quite familiar by now. “No meetings or patrols. The League is finally finishing up all the nitty gritty bureaucracy. Felt like it was never going to end.”
There were some papers scattered across the table, probably reports Flins was supposed to be doing. The man put them all together in a neat stack. “Ah, caught red-handed,” he sighed dramatically. Illuga rolled his eyes, and Flins gave him a naughty smile. “I promise they’ll be on time.”
“They better,” Illuga said, even though they both knew he was way too lenient on Flins.
“Then I guess congratulations are in order.” Flins set the stack of papers aside and leaned against the table, his eyes shimmering with that habitual, soft amusement. “See, you need to give yourself more credit. We knew you were the best for the job. People respect you and want to hear what you have to say.”
Flins leaned in, invading Illuga’s space, and put a stray lock of silver hair behind his ear. Illuga’s heart started hammering in his chest. It wasn’t the first time Flins had done this, as well as other casual, lingering touches that could easily be brushed off as platonic. Hands on his shoulders, his lower back, sweet little things that screamed at Illuga that he might not be crazy, after all.
But the what if was always so much louder.
“Do you?” Illuga found himself asking, words coming out of his throat without a single thought or permission behind them. When his brain caught up, his eyes widened, looking straight into Flins’ own. The hand in his hair went away, and Illuga didn’t know if he was sad or relieved by that.
“What?” Flins asked, his yellow eyes intense. Illuga started calculating the chances of survival if he jumped out of the window.
“I–” he stuttered, which just made things even worse. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut? After a few moments of silence, Illuga averted his eyes, wanting to see anything but Flins’ startled expression right now. It’s fine. He wasn’t a coward. “Sometimes I think you don’t take me seriously at all.”
Flins was silent for a long beat before speaking. “That’s a serious accusation to make, Master Illuga.”
There it was again. Master Illuga. The shallow attempt at humor that Flins was usually much more refined at. Like a wall between them that only Illuga was trying to break down.
“Not an accusation,” he said, although it very much was. His eyes were still looking outside the window, at the sea outside. Illuga was good at swimming, he’s pretty sure he’d be able to swim back to Piramida if he minded his pace. He could deal with the cold, whatever. Then he would simply never look at Flins again out of sheer embarrassment. No big deal. “Just an observation.”
Flins straightened his posture, giving Illuga the exact space he needed to breathe properly again. Although having Flins over him like this was also distracting. If he bolted right now, would Flins run after him? And if yes, would Illuga be able to outrun him? So many questions…
“You are respected, and capable. I trust you with my life, as I know you’d take good care of it.” His voice was soothing and honey-like. “You carry so much weight on your shoulders, more than anyone your age should, and you do it gracefully. It’s impossible for me not to take you seriously.”
Illuga chanced a quick glance at Flins’ expression before averting his eyes again. He looked like he always did, fond and slightly amused.
“You say that,” Illuga started, heart beating fast in his throat, “but you never tell me anything real. You say all your niceties, you listen to me talk, you tell me your stories and never finish them, as if you want me to be curious enough to come back, and sometimes you touch me in a way that confuses me. And then you refuse to talk about yourself, you mock me whenever I try to make you open up, and you lie to me. All the time.” Now that the words were coming out, he was getting more irritated than embarrassed. That gave him the courage to look at Flins again, not shying away this time.
Flins’ expression was carefully neutral now, and Illuga knew he had caught the man off-guard. Good.
“I don’t lie to you,” Flins said.
“That’s the only part you focused on?!”
“Yes, because it’s not the truth.”
“I’m pretty sure I can point out a few instances.”
“Not in quite a while.” Something passed through his expression, but Illuga couldn’t tell what it was. “I stopped with the lies, even the harmless ones, when I noticed how much they hurt you. I didn’t want to erode the trust between us just to be capricious.”
Illuga’s breath hitched. Now that he looked back, he really couldn’t point out the last time Flins told him a straight lie. Careful diversion, sure, which was still a problem, but not a lie.
“Alright, I concede that.” Illuga sighed. “Aside from that, though, you also address me like I’m some kind of child. Or… a student you’re indulging. Like you’re always humoring me.”
Flins reached out again, this time for one of his hands. He was gripping the corner of the table so hard his knuckles were white. Flins put his own hand on top of Illuga’s, slowly prying his fingers from their tense position.
“I didn’t know it bothered you,” He let go of Illuga’s hand, but only to lift it, palm up, as if offering something Illuga couldn’t see. “It’s hard for me to not treat you like you’re something precious.”
Illuga froze, taken aback by the words. Precious. That sounded too much like– “I’m not fragile,” he said instead, before his mind could run away madly holding Flins’ words and never come back.
“I know,” Flins answered. He kissed the palm of Illuga’s hand softly, just a brush of his lips. A shiver went down his spine. This was Flins’ revenge for all the meddling and nagging, it had to be. He was trying to kill Illuga.
The heat from Flins’ lips lingered on his skin, and he felt stupid for having a whole wildfire burning in his chest over something so simple and innocent. Illuga’s brain, usually so sharp, could barely form thoughts. He stared at his own hand, covered in thin white lines from the rough work of a Lightkeeper. The word “precious” was running laps across his brain.
”Stop that,” Illuga managed, though his voice came out far less steady than he intended. He didn’t pull his hand away, though.
”Stop what?” There was something different in his voice now, no more of his usual playful veneer. His yellow eyes were fixed on Illuga with suffocating intensity. Did Flins step closer at some point? Illuga couldn’t tell if his senses were just messed up or if Flins truly was standing way too close.
”This,” Illuga said, gesturing vaguely between them with his free hand. “Whatever game you’re playing. I can’t–” He swallowed hard. “–I can’t keep doing this. It feels like–” The words died in his throat. He couldn’t put a name to the feeling that had been plaguing him for so long.
Flins’ gaze had become quite weird at that point. It made something electric run through him.
“Like what?” Flins asked again.
“Like you’re stringing me along.”
Flins smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile. This one was a little twisted, a little wrong. He let go of Illuga’s hand, but before Illuga could miss his touch, his hand was slithering up his shoulders, until it stopped at the nape of his neck. Oh, there were the little shocks again, leaving a trail of warmth wherever his fingers touched. Was he doing it on purpose? Or was Illuga so out of it that his body was making up sensations to drive him insane?
“I would never do that to my Young Master,” Flins said with a quick airy chuckle.
“Then stop running from me.” Illuga held his head high so he stood at least a little taller. Not that it was useful considering Flins height. He probably looked like a brat more than a grown man worthy of respect.
Flins held his neck tighter, making him gasp. It didn’t hurt, but Illuga would have a hard time getting out of his grip if he wanted to. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Flins said, in a dangerous tone that made Illuga want to melt against him. His eyes flickered down to Illuga’s lips, and then back.
Oh.
Illuga got him.
So many of his insecurities had been in the way that he wasn’t able to notice, but it was clear as day now. This is what he had been unable to define all this time, the kind of expression that Flins had in his face whenever he looked at Illuga and thought he wasn’t looking back (which was a stupid notion, Illuga was always looking at him).
It was hunger.
With Flins towering over him like this, his firm grip and those yellow eyes boring into his, Illuga felt like prey. It was exhilarating. All that time scrutinizing his appearance, and for what? What a waste of time. He felt dumb.
“I am well aware,” Illuga said, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate cadence. “I can make my own choices, thank you very much.” When Flins opened his mouth to retort, Illuga talked first. “You’re a fae, aren’t you?”
Flins’ eyes widened for a moment, before morphing back into the expression that made Illuga’s bones sing. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t let this matter escape your attention.”
“I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Illuga said, ignoring the way his stomach was turning at the prospect of Flins sinking his teeth into Illuga’s skin and tearing it off. It was fear. But it was also something else entirely.
“You should be,” Flins said, or groaned, more like. His hand started moving from the back of Illuga’s neck to the front, applying the same strength as before. Illuga gasped again. It wasn’t enough to block air from coming through, but it was more than enough to make unbearable heat spread to his entire body. “I certainly am.”
Illuga was having trouble following the conversation, but he was doing his best. “Why?” He licked his lips and Flins zeroed in on the tip of his tongue. So this is what people meant when they talked about being desired. It really could put someone at the top of the world. No wonder they talked about it so much.
Flins leaned down, and for a glorious moment Illuga thought they were going to kiss, but he went straight for his neck, burying his nose into the small patch of skin that wasn’t covered by the sweater. On top of his scar. His brain was reeling. If Illuga’s legs failed, would Flins hold him up by the neck?
“You must’ve read about us,” He nosed at Illuga’s ear, hot breath making every hair on his body stand on end. Flins didn’t need to breathe, he was doing this on purpose. “So you know how we are. It’s not pretty.” His hold was tightening. “You make me feel urges that I have never felt before. I don’t know my limits when it comes to you and that scares me.”
Illuga couldn’t silence the moan that tore through his throat when Flins bit into the underside of his jaw. What were they talking about again?
“Now you’re the one who’s not giving yourself credit.” Wow, a whole sentence. Illuga could barely hear his own voice on top of all static in his brain, but he was sure it must’ve sounded embarrassing. “You won’t hurt me.” His eyes rolled back when Flins sucked the scarred skin of his neck hard. That was certainly going to bruise. A problem for future Illuga. “Not unless I ask you to.” He made sure to add. Just in case.
Flins stopped putting his mouth all over Illuga to look at him again. His eyes were dark like Illuga had never seen before. The restless energy he was giving off was heavy in the air. There was no way Illuga could ever think this creature in front of him was wholly human.
“Illuga,” Flins whispered, eyes locked on his lips. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to devour you,” he said, solemnly. “I am not joking around.”
Illuga was so done with this whole thing. By the gods. “Mister Flins,” he said, voice so wrecked that someone would think they had been at it like rabbits for hours. But no, they hadn’t. “I think I soaked through my underwear, and if you don’t ravage me right now I’m going to–”
Illuga didn’t have to finish his sentence. Flins was on him immediately, all lips and tongue and teeth, kissing Illuga like he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time. Flins hoisted him up and sat him on top of the table, sending papers flying. Illuga didn’t spare the to-be-done reports a single thought. He spread his legs and Flins fit between them perfectly. As if he was made to be there. Their height difference was much more comfortable like this.
Flins’ tongue was wet and hot inside his mouth, and the kiss was both messy and perfect. He didn’t know which moans belonged to whom at that point. The lighthouse was dead silent, as always, which made all the noises they were making much louder and dirtier. They could have been doing this for months now. Well, better late than never.
He started clawing at his own coat, the fabric becoming more constricting by the second. Flins took it off, exposing Illuga’s sleeveless sweater underneath. He barely felt the cold, the scorching fire inside him keeping him warm, too warm. Flins kissed down his face until he was again at the small exposed skin of his neck, all teeth and tongue making Illuga shiver.
Flins’ hands were everywhere. Clutching at his thighs, at his back to pull him closer (there was no space left between them), short nails skimming gently up and down his arms so Illuga had goosebumps all over them. It was overwhelming, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Illuga was grasping at Flins’ coat so hard that he really hoped he wouldn’t tear a hole in it. This coat looked so nice on Flins.
The fae lost his patience with the sweater, though, because he groaned, letting go of Illuga’s neck and pulling back just enough to take it off of him. Once Illuga’s upper body was naked, Flins took a moment to look at him, all the hurry melting away for a few seconds.
“Such a pretty master,” Flins whispered, letting his hands roam through all the new exposed skin. “So responsive.” Illuga was pretty sure he was mumbling to himself, but he heard it just fine, and the words made him want to cover his face in embarrassment. Flins stopped him immediately, taking his arms away from his face and biting Illuga’s lower lip, tugging at it and making it hurt so good that Illuga couldn’t help but let out a wanton moan. Flins smiled at that. “Do not hide from me. I want to see every expression you make.”
Flins scratched up his abdomen, his chest, and then took a detour for his nipples. Rosy nubs stood at full attention in Illuga’s small chest. He wasn’t entirely flat, but there wasn’t much in there either, thank the gods. Flins cupped one, and he looked fascinated. There truly was no place for insecurities with the way Flins was looking at him, and the way he touched him. Illuga was being adored.
Flins played with the tip of the nipple, using his nail to flick at it and then sucking and biting, exploring every possibility of Illuga’s body, studying his reactions. Illuga leaned back on his forearms, arching to give Flins better access. At a particularly hard bite, Illuga tightened his legs around Flins’ hips, pulling him closer and– oh.
Flins was rock hard, and the bulge was now pressed right at Illuga’s core. They both gasped, but all Flins did was change to his other nipple, giving it the same torture as the first. Illuga couldn’t resist grinding against that hardness, looking for at least a little bit of relief, but it wasn’t enough. He was throbbing, his underwear was gross and uncomfortable and sticky, and his pants were too rough in all the wrong ways.
Illuga let himself fully lay down on the table, and grasped at Flins’ long hair, pulling him away from his chest. “I need these pants to be gone.” The request was supposed to be authoritative, but it came out whiny.
Flins gave his nipple one last bite, and then got to work undoing Illuga’s shoes and unfastening his pants. “My master’s wish is my command,” he said, cheekily but truthfully. It was overwhelming for Illuga to think he had any amount of power over this man.
Finally, finally, his pants were off. He gasped at the cold air hitting his wet and hot, burning cunt. Illuga was a disaster down there, his slick having soaked through the underwear and making a mess of his inner thighs. When he glanced up, it was to the view of Flins licking his lips while staring it, ravenous.
Fuck. Illuga was going to pass out. He spread his legs wider, presenting himself fully for Flins, the ruined underwear doing nothing to hide what was underneath.
“You look like you’re about to eat me whole,” Illuga said, shocked at how raspy his voice sounded.
Flins let one lone finger travel from Illuga’s ankles up to his calf, his thighs and then inner thighs, swiping his finger at the slick there, and then bringing it to his mouth, licking at it in a curious way. Then he looked back at Illuga, his smile showing teeth. Had Flins always had fangs like that? Illuga was pretty sure he didn’t. They were fangs suited for predators to tear their prey apart.
“I will,” Flins answered. Illuga shivered in anticipation.
His talented mouth went straight to the slick spread outside his underwear, licking at it as if to clean up his precious little master. Illuga arched his back, begging for Flins to get on with it already, but the fae was in no hush. He was sucking so many marks, making an even bigger mess than before, like an overenthusiastic dog.
When Flins deemed his thighs clean, he went back to tracing them with the tip of his finger, but he didn’t stop at the hem of Illuga’s underwear this time. He ran his finger right in between Illuga’s folds on top of the underwear, from his clit to his opening, and Illuga shouted, trying to grind against it, but it was already gone. He whined loudly, not minding if he sounded like a brat at all. He was so wound up it hurt.
“Please, please,” he begged, voice so thin it was almost inaudible.
“Young Master,” Flins said, his eyes not leaving Illuga’s body, “looks like you’ve made a mess.” His gaze turned to his face. “Do you think naughty boys who make a mess deserve to be rewarded?”
Oh, shit. Illuga’s body tensed like a bowstring ready to fire, a new gush of slick coming out of him. Flins teased a finger against his clit again, the fabric useless to make it any less overwhelming. This time Flins didn’t move fast enough, and Illuga could grind his clit at least once, eyes rolling back and a silent moan falling from his lips.
Flins slapped his inner thigh, not very hard, clearly testing the limits (Illuga didn’t really know if he had any when it came to Flins). He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Answer me.”
What was the question again? Something about rewards for boys who made a mess? Illuga was going to be on the naughty list for ages.
“N-No, sir, they don’t,” he answered, the title rolling naturally off his tongue.
That pleased Flins, who cooed at him in a patronizing way that would drive Illuga up the wall (in a bad way) any other day. Right now, though, the cooing made his chest tighten in pleasure and the need to please. Flins raised a hand to comb through his silver hair, sickeningly sweet.
“So you’ll take what I give you,” he said, planting a quick kiss against Illuga’s mouth and going back to playing with his nipples. Fingers wandering everywhere except where Illuga needed the most.
Illuga glanced down, and noticed how exposed he was in contrast to Flins, who was still fully clothed. It was an absolutely indecent picture they were painting.
It was too much, so Illuga closed his eyes, but that only heightened every sensation. He arched his back so his chest was even closer to Flins’ mouth, grinding against his clothed cock in a way that was so unsatisfying he wanted to explode.
“You–” Illuga could barely speak, his breath coming out fast as if he was just out of a battle. “You’re enjoying tormenting me–” Flins chuckled against his skin as he spread kisses and bites down his stomach. Illuga hissed when he sucked an obvious hickey underneath his navel. “–Way too much.”
He grasped at Flins’ soft hair, pulling at the strands without mercy, looking for the faintest amount of control he could take. Flins didn’t look like he minded, if the way he paused to gasp against Illuga’s skin for a second whenever he tugged hard was any indication.
Flins kneeled on the floor in front of the table, Illuga’s thighs resting on his shoulders. He licked at the center of Illuga’s core, still over the underwear, and Illuga couldn’t do anything but thrash around when he put more pressure against his clit.
“Hm, you’re so wet. I think I could fit anything I wanted inside of you without much trouble,” he mused out loud.
“Don’t you dare,” Illuga cries out. Not because the image of Flins playing with him like that was unpleasant, but not right now.
Flins moved back just enough to take off Illuga’s underwear. “I would never, young master.” And he was so obviously lying it wasn’t even annoying. He held both of Illuga’s legs, spreading them as wide as he could (Illuga was nimble and flexible, it often came in handy), displaying Illuga’s pussy like a piece in a museum.
Flins pushed a single finger inside, all the slick making it effortless. One of Illuga’s hands let go of Flins’ hair in order to pull on his own, the feeling of having his entrance breached made all the more overwhelming due to who was breaching it.
Of course, he had fingered himself before. A shameful amount of times, really, imagining it was Flins’ fingers instead of his, and that it was Flins he was grinding his clit against and not his poor pillow. But his fingers were never long enough. He could not possibly hope to come close when everything about him was so small compared to Flins.
Flins took his time, as if not hearing Illuga’s pleading or noticing the tears in his eyes. His finger teased at Illuga’s walls, changing the angle of his hand until he hit something that made Illuga scream. He had only a second of warning, a hot whisper against his pussy, before Flins sucked into his clit, assaulting with both his finger pistoning against that spot inside of Illuga and tongue right where he needed.
Illuga couldn’t even hear his own voice, every sound muffled as if they were underwater. The only sensation was the almost painful pleasure Flins was fucking out of him. It was better this way, because he would probably die from shame at his own moans.
And to think he was such a slut… Illuga was finding new pieces of himself every day when with Fins.
Flins inserted a second finger in, still going on with the absolute torture. And oh, yeah, ok, Illuga was about to come.
His orgasm hit him like nothing else he had ever experienced. At that point he was mildly aware that he was pretty much riding Flins’ face, chasing the overwhelming feeling. He had probably shouted way too loud, and thank the gods Flins lived isolated, so there was no need to worry about neighbors.
When he came back down from his high, Flins’ face was close to his again, a dark look on his eyes as he seemed to be documenting each twitch. Illuga kissed him, tasting something that was definitely his own slick. Flins had slowed down the pace of his fingers, but he didn’t stop. Actually, when he noticed Illuga was conscious again, he increased their pace again. Illuga whined.
“Too much,” he said, “it’s too much.”
“Young master is very strong. I’m sure he can take it.” Flins wasn’t smiling at all, his voice deep and yellow eyes predatory. It shot a spark of fear down Illuga’s spine, the kind of fear that made him wetter.
He hissed as Flins inserted a third finger and used his thumb to flick at his oversensitive clit each time. Flins licked the tears running down Illuga’s face. Each one of his nerves was alight with fire. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Flins!” He was grasping at Flins desperately, pulling him closer. It hurt so bad that it was good, or the opposite, Illuga had no way of knowing anymore.
“That’s it,” Flins cooed at him, “what a good little master.” His next bite was at the junction of Illuga’s neck and shoulder, and he sank his teeth into the skin there, drawing blood. Illuga cried out. It wasn’t deep at all, wouldn’t even require care, but fuck.
This time his orgasm came faster, and crashed onto Illuga violently. He was conscious for just enough time to see the way he was gushing slick down Flins’ hand and arms. Illuga would be embarrassed if he wasn’t about to pass out.
His eyes rolled back and he lost conscience.
When Illuga woke up again, he was clean and tucked into a bed that he knew was Flins’. It didn’t have his smell, though, because Flins didn’t need sleep, so there was nothing to appreciate. He sat down, and noticed that he was wearing a shirt that was too big on him, and this one did have Flins’ scent in it. Illuga allowed himself a moment before getting up.
He was sore in between his legs, even if nothing but fingers were used to fuck him. Illuga shivered when he imagined how it would feel if they had gone all the way.
Illuga shook his head and slapped both hands in his cheeks. Now was not the time!
There was a toothbrush in the bathroom for him, and fluffy towels. Illuga smiled, the inside of his belly fluttering at the consideration.
Flins had done most of the heavy work of cleaning him, by the looks of it. Illuga’s cheeks burned remembering how messy he had been, and how he passed out before giving any pleasure back. Ugh, that was terrible of him.
Illuga found him sat in the couch, eyes closed and head resting on the back of it. He opened his eyes the second he heard Illuga’s steps, though. Illuga was feeling daring and decided to sit on his lap, legs spread on either side of him.
“Hi,” he said, a silly smile brightening his face.
Flins’ gaze was so immeasurably fond that Illuga wondered how he had ever doubted this. “My young master is in bright spirits,” he said, hands settling on Illuga’s hips. If he wrapped them around his waist, his fingers would probably touch…
Stop thinking nasty thoughts, Illuga!
The “young master” nickname no longer bothered him. Now he understood it as purely affectionate, and not condescending. Instead, the words made Illuga want to crawl inside Flins’ ribcage, burrow past skin and sinew and settle into his new home. Illuga would never, ever leave that place.
“That’s because I am,” he gave Flins a soft peck on the lips, and the man smiled.
“Would you like a glass of water?” he asked, softly kissing his cheek.
“Sir Flins,” Illuga said, looking at him with a feigned air of accusation, “you aren’t trying to bind me to you by sneakily offering me things, are you?”
Flins gave the same cheek he was just kissing a bite, making Illuga squeal. “Doesn’t bind if I don’t put intent behind it,” he whispered against his skin.
“You should do that next time, then,” Illuga said, aware from his readings on the fae folk that he was playing with fire.
Flins gave him a look, and Illuga had trouble discerning if it was a good or a bad one. Perhaps a mix of both? The look lingered for a few seconds, but then…
Flins laughed.
It was quiet, almost startled, more air than sound. His thumbs were sweeping slow arcs in Illuga’s hips over the thin fabric of the borrowed shirt.
“You,” he started, voice deep but soft, “are going to be the death of me.”
“I sure hope not,” Illuga said, biting his lower lip, and loving the way Flins’ eyes dropped to watch.
“Young Master speaks of fae matters very lightly for someone who has read about them.”
“I just don’t think they need to be a heavy burden. Not when it’s you.” Illuga framed Flins’ face with his hands, and those eyes were fixed at him again. “I trust you.”
Flins stopped the repetitive motions on his hips, and didn’t say anything else for a while. It was a rare occasion indeed, for him to render Flins speechless.
His expression turned into something more intense, older. Hands tightened around Illuga’s hips, not enough to bruise, although Illuga hoped one day they would get there.
“Trust is not something that should be offered to a fae if you have a modicum of sense.”
”Good thing I’m not offering it to some random fae, then,” Illuga said, thumbs brushing along Flins’ cheekbones. “I’m offering it to you.”
Flins closed his eyes, sighing. “My beautiful master is such a handful.”
Illuga smiled. “I am, and you love it,” he said, and then froze, because he didn’t mean to drop the L-bomb so soon. Flins didn’t seem to find it weird, though, because he just kissed Illuga’s neck.
“I do,” Flins answered, so easily it made Illuga’s heart grow three sizes bigger. “Gods help me, but I do.”
Illuga gave him a kiss for his troubles.