Archive of Our Own

The first time Lohen had been sent to assist the Lightkeepers, he’d been less than enthusiastic. 

It was Varka’s idea of a punishment after all, and all over something that’d been relatively harmless. Just a prank that had gotten out of hand. It was well known that Lohen greatly preferred to work his patrols alone; mainly for one key reason. Group patrols required a degree of restraint he hated. Solo patrols bore no witnesses to his intrinsic lack of it. 

In no mood to argue, Lohen had gone along with it and been assigned to some Lightkeeper squad, expecting nothing more than a tedious day of running around in the cold. Still, he’d shown up, bright and early, and been directed to check in with the squad leader. 

Lohen had immediately been fascinated with Illuga. 

He’d discovered a lot about him on their first day working together, including that they had a lot in common. They were both high-ranking within their organizations, close in age, and very skilled with the use of a polearm. Beyond that the comparisons began to fall apart, but that was neither here nor there. 

Lohen also learned that Illuga was an exceptionally kind individual. The type of person that cared deeply for his squad mates and often fussed over everyone else’s needs before his own. It was very admirable. He’d even cooked Lohen dinner as a thank you for his assistance. 

That had essentially sealed the deal. 

After that, Lohen made an effort to volunteer his help to the Lightkeepers whenever the chance arose. As long as it meant he’d get treated to Illuga’s cooking at the end of the day, Lohen was willing to put up with the monotony of the group patrols. 

Not to mention… Illuga came with the added benefit of being very fun to tease. 

“You know,” Lohen remarks, “I’m kind of surprised you let me come over.” 

Illuga, walking a few paces ahead, tosses a glance over his shoulder in Lohen’s direction. There’s a tiredness in the look he gives Lohen, certainly a result of a long day’s work, before he turns back around with a little sigh. 

“You would have kept asking until I said yes,” he replies, giving a shrug. “I don’t have anything to hide anyway.” 

Lohen can’t argue with that. Though he really had only been joking when he’d originally asked if Illuga could cook him dinner at his actual house. He’d fully been expecting to be told no, but that was where Illuga’s kindness shone through, he supposed. Lucky him. 

Both of them remain mostly quiet as they continue through the streets of Piramida, navigating through the thin foot traffic. The sun was already beginning to set, sweeping in a bitter chill that manages to penetrate even the thick layers of Lohen’s uniform. It’s hardly anything to be bothered by, but Lohen can’t help but think he’ll be happier once inside Illuga’s home. 

It’s not long before a house finally comes into view ahead of them. Lohen doesn’t have time to wonder whether or not it’s their destination before Illuga slowly comes to a stop right in front of it. Lohen trails up behind him, watching as he digs a hand into one of his coat pockets.

“I’ll get the door,” Illuga says, pulling his keys out. 

Lohen hums. “Take your time.” 

It takes Illuga a considerable amount of time to find the correct key. With each second that passes, boredom begins to creep up on Lohen, something he tries to remedy by looking around the outside of Illuga’s home. He finds a mailbox, some plants, a little place to sit… nothing special. All normal things that one might find outside any house, really. 

Lohen tips his head upwards.

There’s a clothesline hanging from the roof of the building, stretching above them and extending to a light pole nearby. It’s not really a surprising sight in such a cramped, towering town like Piramida, but Lohen studies the laundry that’s been left to dry with curious amusement anyway. 

All of it is very ‘Illuga’ in nature—simple shirts in muted colors, well-worn pairs of pants, and faded linens swaying gently with the breeze. 

All of it… except for one thing. 

“You know,” Lohen hums, a smirk tugging onto his face, “hanging your lover’s underwear outside your house is kinda bold.” 

The jingling of Illuga’s keys against the lock stop. Slowly, he turns to face Lohen, bewilderment etched clearly across his face.

“…My who’s what?” 

Hearing such a ridiculous question, Lohen rolls his eyes and points his thumb upwards to the clothing hanging above them. Illuga’s puzzled gaze follows, brows knitting together tighter, until, finally, his eyes lock onto the item in question. The confusion on his face melts away in an instant—only to be replaced by the deepest, pinkest blush Lohen’s ever had the pleasure of seeing. 

Because amongst the sea of boring textiles and practical daywear is an item unmistakably out of place.

A dainty pair of white panties, trimmed with delicate pink lace and complete with a little matching bow, are clipped right in the center of the line. The wind catches the fabric at the same moment Illuga’s eyes lock onto them, fluttering the garment mockingly above them. 

“What, forgot you left those out?” Lohen snickers. 

“T-That’s not—” Illuga chokes. His words catch in his throat. He ultimately gives up any attempt to finish his sentence in favor of trying to swipe the offending item down with a few unsuccessful jumps.  

Lohen can’t help the laugh that escapes his mouth as Illuga tries and fails repeatedly. The closest he gets is a gentle brush of his fingertips against the hem every other hop, his frustrations only mounting with each miss until he finally gives up with a groan. It’s such a sorry, pitiful sight that it almost makes Lohen feel bad about teasing him. 

Almost. 

“You really do get more fun every time we hang out,” Lohen exhales through his laughter. 

Illuga just turns away from him to hurry back to the door, grumbling under his breath as he fumbles with the lock once more. The brief rattling of his keys precedes the soft click of the lock disengaging before the front door swings open for the two of them. He steps inside without so much as looking in Lohen’s direction, too focused on opening his lantern so Aedon can slip free and flap away somewhere deeper within his home.

“You know, it’s not polite to look through people's laundry,” Illuga huffs out, traces of pink still apparent upon his cheeks. 

Lohen snorts, shaking his head as he meanders up behind slowly. “Oh, come on,” he snorts. “You left them up on the clothesline for everyone to see. May as well have flown them like a little flag.” 

A strange noise spills from Illuga’s throat, close to a groan, as he rids himself of his coat and storms off down the hall. 

As much as Lohen enjoys teasing Illuga, he refrains from pushing any farther for now, lest the other reconsider his promise to feed him. Instead, he occupies himself with stripping the bulkier pieces of his uniform off—jacket, capelet, and, most difficult of all, his boots—before he makes his way to the kitchen. 

Illuga is already hard at work preparing their dinner, making quick work of a potato with a small paring knife. Lohen plops down ungracefully at the table, making no offer to help, and lazily swings both of his legs up onto the surface with a tired sigh. Illuga shoots him a look but surprisingly doesn't comment before he turns his attention back to the cutting board.

The steady, rhythmic chop of the knife echoes throughout the kitchen. Lohen quickly grows bored with the silence and tips his weight back in his chair, balancing precariously on the legs. His gaze drifts to Illuga, openly staring while he’s hard at work. Illuga is now very clearly trying to avoid speaking, likely in hopes Lohen will let the whole panty thing go. 

Only…

Well, Lohen’s never been the one to just let things go.

“So…” Lohen begins, rocking back and forth in his chair. “What’s their name?”

The sound of the knife stutters. Illuga stiffens under the weight of his question, though he remains stubbornly fixed on the vegetables before him. For a moment, Lohen thinks he might simply ignore his line of questioning altogether—until his knife resumes its steady rhythm once more. 

“They—” Illuga pauses, swallowing thickly. A hint of the blush from earlier graces his cheeks again. “They’re mine.”

The rocking of Lohen’s chair slows to a stop. 

“Oh?” he chuckles, having missed the intent behind Illuga’s admission entirely. “You don’t have to get possessive. You know I’m taken.”

Illuga pauses once more, halfway through splitting a carrot into chunks. Something faint flickers across his face—embarrassment, certainly, but not the kind Lohen might expect from someone trying to keep a relationship secret. Curiously, Lohen cocks his head and bears his weight down until the legs of his chair meet the floor with an audible thud.

“That’s not what I—” Illuga swallows, squeezing his eyes shut. “What I meant was that those were mine.”

Lohen stares, head still tilted, processing his words carefully. He blinks one, twice, when suddenly— the meaning finally hits.

 A grin, far too joyful, splits across his  face.

“Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Lohen says gleefully. “The Captain of the Nightmare Orioles likes to dress up in skimpy little panties?”

The knife in Illuga’s hand slips. Thankfully, he narrowly misses cutting his finger off, but he still jerks back as if he did, nearly dropping the knife in the process. A blush overtakes his face with alarming speed, spreading until even the tips of his ears burn bright red. 

Try as he might to hold it in, Lohen bursts into laughter. 

Oh, this was just too good. Never in his life could he expect Illuga—morally upstanding, overly considerate, dutifully composed Illuga—to be the type with such a raunchy little secret. It almost feels too good to be true. Illuga practically shrinks away with every passing second that Lohen continues to rejoice in his humiliation.

“It’s not funny,” Illuga protests weakly. “They— They’re just underwear.”

“Yeah, underwear with lace and little bows,” Lohen snorts. “Be honest, are you wearing a pair right now?”

“They all come like that,” Illuga shoots back, eyes narrowed. He pointedly ignores the invasive question tacked on at the end. 

Illuga turns his back towards Lohen, now preferring to give his attention over to the cooking pot atop the stove. Rather than get offended that his question went ignored once again, Lohen takes advantage of the opportunity to study Illuga’s backside for an answer instead. His gaze passes over the other’s legs, taking in his thighs, hips, and eventually coming to settle right on the slender curve of his ass. 

Disappointingly, nothing immediately catches his eye, but maybe Lohen should have expected that. Illuga turns back around before he can finish his detailed  assessment. He shoots Lohen a suspicious look when he notices his stare, though seemingly remains ignorant to exactly why he was doing so. 

Lohen straightens up, pulling his grin back into something softer and innocent, before he settles back down into his seat. 

“You know, kudos to you,” Lohen says earnestly. “I just never pictured you the type to walk into a store and buy yourself lacey panties.”

“I don’t really buy them for myself,” Illuga responds under his breath, solely focused on the simmering pot before him. It’s nothing but a breadcrumb of information, mentioned offhand, yet it piques Lohen’s interest instantly. Because if Illuga didn’t buy them for himself, that could only mean one thing. 

“Oh, so someone else does?” Lohen cocks his head to the side. “Should’ve guessed. Who, then?”

Illuga cringes, realizing too late he’s only just baited Lohen further. “You don’t know him, I promise.” 

“Sounds like even more reason to tell me then,” Lohen points out with a smirk.

Illuga hesitates, unsurprisingly. The embarrassment gracing his face slowly gives way to a controlled, practiced expression of neutrality. Almost certainly an act, Lohen thinks to himself somewhat proudly. Sensing that he’s closer to getting an answer than being denied one, Lohen decides to wait him out patiently. 

It doesn’t take but a few minutes of Illuga carefully stirring their stew before he looses a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. 

“Most of them are gifts from Sir Flins,” Illuga mutters. 

Ah. Hardly a surprise. Lohen had heard the rumors. So then the two of them really were seeing each other… Lohen only knew of Flins through word of mouth, but from what Varka had told him, he was a pretty interesting guy. Intelligent, mysterious, pretty adept with a polearm—someone Lohen wholeheartedly believed he’d enjoy meeting.

“You know, you could introduce me,” Lohen teases. “I bet we’d get along.”

Illuga shoots him a mild look. 

“We’ll see about that,” he says. Before Lohen can interject, Illuga is quick to interrupt him. “The food's almost ready. Get your feet off the table.”

With that, the conversation is essentially over, much to Lohen’s disappointment. Normally he might try pushing a little more here, just to see if he can needle Illuga into giving up more information. But for now, he just drops his legs off of the table as requested and lets the other finish up the cooking in silence. 

A thick scent settles over the kitchen as each minute passes, rich and comforting. Few things in Nod-Krai had grown on Lohen as quickly as the food had and Illuga always made the best dishes. For the first time in what feels like hours, Lohen’s stomach growls and reminds him of his long-neglected hunger.

But his thoughts won’t focus on the promise of dinner. Instead, the panties linger fresh in his mind. 

The longer Lohen thinks about them, hanging out there on the clothing line, the more intriguing they become. He honestly couldn’t recall a single time he'd given more than a passing thought to his own underwear. He just wore the same standard issue garments that all the knights on the expedition had received—plain boxer briefs, made to be worn for long periods and easy to move around in. 

Yet Illuga, someone Lohen considered similar to him, adorned the exact opposite.

Which begged the question why.

Deep within his thoughts, Lohen is actually taken aback when a steaming bowl is placed right in front of him. The scent hits him and he bends down to take it all in, inhaling blissfully with a sigh. Before Illuga can even take his own seat, Lohen’s already digging into his own portion way too eagerly, each comforting spoonful warming him from the inside out. 

Illuga, despite all his earlier irritation, eyes him with a smile. “I’m guessing it’s good?”

Lohen barely lifts his head from his bowl, opting instead to give a thumbs up. “Always,” he responds, scooping another spoonful into his mouth shamelessly. “Puts those nasty rations back at the keep to shame.” 

The corners of Illuga’s mouth twitch upward, chest puffing from his praises. A proud hum escapes him as he digs into his own bowl in a much slower manner. 

Gradually, all the tension between the two of them begins to dissipate. Illuga’s blush fades away and he no longer avoids Lohen’s gaze as they eat together. For the first time since they arrived back at his home, Illuga pretty much looks totally relaxed. At peace, even. 

Perfect time for Lohen to strike. 

“So,” Lohen begins, keeping his tone light. “How often does Flins buy you new panties?”

The clattering of a spoon hitting the table follows not a second later. 

Illuga groans weakly, dropping his head to cradle it with both hands. “Lohen, please, let’s just eat.”

“Now, now, hold on,” Lohen continues, undeterred. “I just want to know why he buys them. Do you ask him to?”

“I don’t–” Illuga looks around the kitchen like he’s searching for an answer, literally anywhere but at Lohen. His mouth hangs open, caught at the tailend of his reply, but he’s unable to muster up any words to follow.

Lohen watches it all curiously, tilting his head.

“You don’t what?”

“No– I meant…” Illuga pauses once again, dropping his gaze to the table. He hesitates a moment longer, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. 

Lohen’s not sure how much time passes before the words finally work their way out. 

“Flins… likes it when I wear them,” Illuga slowly admits. “So he buys what he wants to see me in.”

Lohen stares, processing that bit of information slowly. 

“...So they’re for sex.”

Illuga’s expression turns unreadable. Maybe he looks exhausted, or even a tinge regretful he ever invited Lohen over to begin with. He drops his head once more, pinching at the bridge of his nose tightly before he exhales a deep sigh. 

His fingers release his nose and he finally looks back up, resolve written across his face— because this conversation was obviously happening whether he liked it or not. 

“Yes,” Illuga replies in a clipped tone. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Yes, Lohen, I wear panties while my boyfriend fucks me.”

Well, Lohen wasn’t expecting a confirmation that explicit, but it’s not an unwelcome admission. Satisfied, he gives Illuga a nod, sliding his bowl to the side so he can fold his hands together on top of the table. Because he’s still far from done.

“I actually have a few more questions,” Lohen continues. “How often do you wear them?” 

Illuga shrugs. “Every time.”

“Every time,” Lohen repeats. Wow. “Alright. Do you enjoy wearing them too?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wear them the whole time? Or do you take them off before he—”

Illuga slaps a hand over his face. “Lohen.”

“Alright, too much,” Lohen contends, settling back down into his seat. “That’s all, then.”

Illuga only responds with a huff through his nose, mouth shoved so full of food now he couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to. Not that it matters much to Lohen anyway. His curiosity had been thoroughly satisfied and then some. He reaches for his bowl and slides it back in front of him, content to finish the rest of dinner in silence. 

Though his mind is far from quiet.

Sexy underwear wasn’t some strange, foreign concept to Lohen. Honestly, the idea had just never really crossed his mind. Being on the expedition already left him with little free time to indulge his desires, let alone go shopping for special underwear to don for the occasion. Sex was less about what you wore and more about being naked in his eyes anyway—who cared what anyone was wearing if it was coming off?

Whenever Lohen got the opportunity to roll into bed with Varka—something that’d been happening with increasing frequency—it was always a rush to strip off their clothing as fast as possible. No mind was paid to their undergarments except for getting them out of the way before they’d fuck, redress, and go about their merry ways until the next time. 

The idea that someone might prefer to see their lover in something dainty, wrapped in silk and lace, even getting excited by it… Lohen can’t help but find the idea strangely appealing. Romantic, even. Arousing. 

It begged the question if Varka might enjoy it too. Sex with a little fanfare; something pretty to admire before getting to the grand finale. It’d be like unwrapping a present he could stick his dick into, and Lohen would get to play the part of the prize. 

He didn’t need much. Just a pair of panties. And, just his luck, he conveniently knew someone who had more than enough to share. 

Before the thought even fully settles, Lohen pushes his chair back and stands from the table. 

“Illuga, can I use your bathroom?” 

Lohen was a criminal. 

To what degree remained unclear, though he would assume underwear theft likely didn’t rank too high in Nod-Krai. And in any case, he did intend to give them back. At some point.

In Lohen’s defense, Illuga made it too easy. He’d just left his bedroom door wide open, like an invitation for anyone passing by to just walk right on inside. Lohen had walked by on his way to the bathroom and decided to pop inside, just for a look around. It wasn’t his fault he happened to notice the big basket of laundry on top of Illuga’s bed with a single pair of panties sitting right on top. 

Soft white cotton. Blue lace trim. Matching silk bow.

They were essentially the same pair he’d seen out on Illuga’s clothesline, just with a different color lace. All Lohen had to do was pluck them from the pile and safely tuck them away in his pocket. It was easier than going shopping and Illuga wouldn’t miss them anyway. 

Despite not even finishing his dinner, Lohen decided his idea had to be put into action as soon as possible. He’d hastily invented some excuse to Illuga about needing to leave, one that almost certainly wasn’t believable, before immediately departing back to the keep. 

He returns under the cover of night.

Lohen wastes no time enacting his plan. He threads through the keep at an alarmingly quiet pace, avoiding detection as best he can. The last thing he wants is to be stopped and questioned—so, before anyone can take notice of him, he quietly slips into his tent. 

The panties are produced from his pocket not a second later. Lohen gazes down for a moment longer than necessary before he comes to his senses. 

It was time to see what all the fuss was about. 

“Hm.”

Lohen angles the pocket mirror in his hand downward, carefully studying himself. 

Judging from an appearance standard alone, he can immediately see the appeal. Comfort wise, they left a few things to be desired. Illuga was probably a size smaller than him so the panties fit a big snug, but not in any way that made them look bad. In fact, the tight fit maybe works in Lohen’s favor with the way the fabric stretches taut over his skin, leaving so little to the imagination. 

Watching his movements in the mirror, Lohen runs a hand down his exposed stomach until his fingers brush gently along the top hem of the panties. The thin edge of lace sits along a healed scar that runs from hip to navel, looking all too soft against his marred skin. 

He looked good. Sexy. Fuckable, even.

Satisfied, Lohen snaps the mirror within his hand shut.

He collects his pants from the floor, smoothing out the wrinkles as best he can before he pulls them on. Doing up the buttons, Lohen notes that his pants fit somewhat looser overtop the panties, almost like he’s wearing nothing beneath at all. No wonder he couldn’t notice anything when he’d looked at Illuga’s ass earlier.

There was, Lohen supposes, nothing to be discovered by wearing them alone in his tent all night. With his boots laced, he departs through the flap in his tent and into the night.

At this late hour, there’s only so many places Varka might be. Lohen can guess that he’ll find him either drinking, already drunk, passed out in his tent, or working towards one of those three options. Starting with his tent seems to be the smartest place to begin.

As Lohen draws closer to the tent in question, it becomes apparent that his target of interest is inside and very much awake. However, what also becomes apparent is that said target is not alone. Hushed voices drift through the thick canvas, one of them clearly Varka’s and the other too muffled to discern. 

How annoying, Lohen decides as he approaches the entrance. He’d been lucky enough to catch Varka right where he wanted him, only for someone else to have gotten there first. Hopefully whoever it was would have the sense to hurry up and scram quickly.

However, pushing open the tent flap, it becomes clear that things could never be so simple.  

“Lohen, perfect timing. I trust you’re here to turn in your patrol report?” 

Ah.

“Cardinal Seamus,” Lohen greets through his teeth. “Greetings. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m still working on it.”

Seamus sits rigidly beside Varka’s desk—a desk which can only be described as buried under paperwork. Anything and everything from patrol logs, performance reviews, to incident briefs are stacked atop, all awaiting review and signature. From who is without question. Varka sits slumped at the helm of the desk, quill in hand, looking nothing short of miserable while he pinches a document between two fingers. 

 Fantastic. 

“Still working on it?” Seamus repeats, pushing up his glasses with a single finger. “I’m sure you are… since I’m still waiting on your last two reports too.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes is a battle. Had Lohen known Seamus would be here, he would have simply put himself to bed and just done this some other night. His only consolation comes from the fact that Varka at least looks happier seeing him. The miserable expression on his face softens ever so slightly when Lohen catches his gaze. A small change, but one that leaves Lohen feeling unexpectedly pleased. 

“Hey, c’mon, Seamus,” Varka tries interjecting. “He told me he’ll have those reports to you by Friday. Right, Lohen?”

Varka shoots him a look that makes it clear he is to agree, despite both of them knowing no such promise was ever made. While Lohen has no plans to write any of the reports himself, he at least considers delegating the task to whoever performs the poorest in drills that week. 

Lohen nods his head in affirmation. “Yes, by Friday. You have my word, Cardinal.”

Seamus gives him a hard look of disbelief. “Well, I look forward to it, Lohen,” he grumbles. “Now, as you can see, Grand Master Varka is occupied with his overdue paperwork. If it’s not an emergency, I’d ask you to return in the morning.”

Lohen generally found it easier to just do as Seamus asked. Refusing him only seemed to create additional work for everyone involved, himself included. Tonight, however, Lohen is less inclined than ever to just leave. He tucks his arms politely behind himself and takes his chances approaching the desk, his steps echoing throughout the tent until he comes to stand right at the helm.

“I actually need to speak with Grand Master Varka,” Lohen says. “Alone, preferably.” 

Seamus quirks an eyebrow up in mild curiosity. 

“Well,” he replies evenly, “if it concerns the Grand Master, then feel free to discuss it in my presence as well.”

Annoyance faintly flickers across Lohen’s face. He suddenly wishes he’d had the foresight to be present for dinner so he might’ve slipped something into Seamus’ drink. Just a sedative would have been enough. 

An increasingly wary expression begins unfolding on Varka’s face as the scene plays out.

“It’s not work related. I’d like to discuss a private matter,” Lohen insists. 

“Oh?” Seamus flicks his gaze towards Lohen. “Then it can certainly wait until morning, can’t it?”

A palpable silence falls over the tent. 

Lohen’s hands curl tightly behind his back. Seamus looks back down to his paperwork, unbothered, gingerly thumbing through a thick report. His intent wasn’t hard to discern. Seamus’ insistence to remain present had very little to do with paperwork and everything to do with the fact that he didn’t want to leave the two of them alone. 

The reply that forms on the tip of Lohen’s tongue is less than friendly. Downright cruel, actually. For a moment, he considers speaking it, weighing whether the satisfaction would be worth the inevitable punishment that followed. 

He doesn’t even get to make the decision for himself. Varka, having sensed the spike in tension, stands from his seat abruptly before Lohen can open his mouth.

“Seamus, we’ve been at this for hours,” he cuts in, rubbing at the back of his head. “Go get some rest and I’ll, uh…” A pause while he looks around his desk warily. “I promise I’ll have all this done by tomorrow at noon?”

A sense of smug satisfaction settles within Lohen’s chest. It pleased him much more than he’d like to admit whenever Varka yielded for him with such little effort. 

Seamus lifts his head with a pinched expression, clearly wanting to argue, but ultimately Varka did get the final say. He looks back to the mountain of paperwork hesitantly before he concedes with a click of his tongue.

“Alright,” Seamus says, rising from his seat. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Seamus collects his belongings at a deliberately slow pace, taking much longer than either of them liked. He hardly looks upset about leaving—more tired than anything, really-–but his apprehension is apparent. Lohen offers him his best attempt at an earnest smile when the man passes by on his way out, though he receives nothing in response but a stern look. 

The flap flutters shut behind him once he exits, all the tension going along with it.

Lohen waits a beat longer, just to ensure he’s really gone, before he speaks. 

“...He’s gone,” he confirms at last. One of his hands comes to rest on his hip, smirk tugging at his lips. “You know, I wasn’t even going to say anything that bad.”

Varka’s body visibly relaxes in his seat and he raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“Yeah, right. I would have gotten my ass chewed out the minute you opened your mouth,” he grumbles, “Now I have to get all this done by tomorrow too.”

There’s too much fondness in his tone for the words spoken. Lohen carefully observes Varka’s desk with mild curiosity, noting that it looks more disorganized than usual. Seamus must have really been particularly thorough about what he’d need to get done tonight. Too bad Varka was more than likely going to miss that deadline. 

“Show me some appreciation,” Lohen chuckles. “I got you off the hook for tonight, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but what about tomorrow?” Varka huffs through a laugh. 

Lohen grins. “Eh, you’re on your own.” 

Laughter follows once more, this time from both of them. A quiet hum slips from Lohen as he rounds the corner of the desk slowly, dragging his fingertips over the piles of paper as he moves. He comes to stop at the far edge, waiting until Varka extends an arm and beckons him closer. 

He ambles forward without hesitation, fitting himself comfortably into the open space. Within reach now, Varka rests a hand at the small of Lohen’s back, brushing gently along the dip in his spine. It’s subtle, almost absent minded, but so familiar that Lohen can’t help but lean into his touch for more. 

“So, what’s this ‘private matter’ you wanted to discuss?” Varka asks, running his fingers lightly along his back. “Or was that just some excuse to get me all to yourself?” 

Always so perceptive. Lohen places a hand on Varka’s chest, toying with the pendant from his necklace absentmindedly.

“Both, actually. Or neither,” Lohen smiles unassumingly. “I have a surprise for you.”

Varka blinks. He suddenly looks gravely concerned. “I don’t usually like your surprises, Lohen.”

Lohen supposes he’s earned himself that reputation. Still, if he’d had any intention to drug him, he never would have been stupid enough to tell Varka that straight to his face. Lohen chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. 

“It’s not that kind of surprise,” he says. “Just… close your eyes for me?”

Unsurprisingly, Varka doesn’t look convinced. Suspicion flickers across his face and he studies Lohen a moment longer as if searching for any tells. Lohen only offers him a welcoming smile in some vague attempt to reassure him that he’s being truthful. Though, the nefarious thought that an aphrodisiac could’ve made this more fun does cross his mind. 

Another time, perhaps. Varka, unable to glean any insight, finally rolls his eyes and closes them. 

“You put anything in my mouth and I’m spitting it out,” he grumbles unhappily.

“Don’t worry,” Lohen tugs at his necklace teasingly. “You have my word. Just no peeking.”

With that last instruction, Lohen peels himself off of Varka and begins to strip. 

The boots are the first to go, followed quickly by the intricate top pieces of his uniform. It’s always a very tedious process getting undressed, but Lohen was used to it by now. With his torso nude, his fingers move to the waistband of his pants next, slipping each of the silver buttons through their loops with practiced ease. One by one, the tension in the fabric begins to give way, allowing him to push his pants down his thighs. 

The creases in Varka’s forehead deepen with each passing minute. 

“You’re kind of making me nervous,” he mumbles.

Lohen chuckles, midway through folding his uniform to avoid getting it wrinkled. “Almost done,” he reassures, setting aside each piece as he finishes. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Varka exhales an exasperated noise. But, like he always does, he obeys Lohen’s instruction.

Once he’s done, Lohen takes a second to observe himself with a quick look down. The blue lace wraps around the tops of his thighs, contrasting nicely against his pale skin, while the thin white fabric offers just enough in the terms of modesty. Lohen can’t help but think they look even better now that he’s fully stripped.

Taking in the sight of himself, adorned in something so alluring, sparks a throb of arousal between his thighs. And to think he’d initially only gone forward with this on Varka’s behalf. 

“Okay,” Lohen finally says. He takes a step back, placing his arms behind his back. “Open your eyes.”

Varka mutters something incoherent under his breath before allowing his eyes to flutter open. 

At first, Varka looks to his desk like he’s expecting a gift of some sort. When the surface is noticeably empty, sans his paperwork, his head turns in Lohen’s direction. There’s confusion on his face when their eyes meet. It lasts all but a second when Varka slowly comes to understand that Lohen is now missing all of his clothing.  

“What happened to your…” Varka begins to say, slowly trailing off.

He never finishes his thought. 

His eyes are too busy dipping down Lohen’s chest and stomach. A lump visibly forms in Varka’s throat when his gaze finally settles on the slender curve of Lohen’s hips—and the delicate pair of white panties he’s wearing. 

Silence follows. 

Varka doesn’t speak, doesn’t laugh, nor does he immediately fling himself at Lohen with desire. Whatever emotion settles on his face is much too vague for Lohen to put a name to. But Lohen surely doesn’t miss the subtle flush that begins to slowly creep up his neck, nor the slight tremor that wracks through his body. 

Carefully, Varka pushes upright, bracing himself on the arms of his chair.

“I— Lohen,“ Varka stutters out. “What… Where did you get those?” 

Lohen cocks his head to the side innocently.

“Illuga let me borrow a pair,” Lohen tells his half-lie all too convincingly. “I thought maybe you’d like them. Do you?”

There’s a yes waiting on his tongue, one that Varka doesn’t speak. His mouth just opens, closes, opens again, before getting stuck there unhelpfully. Lohen can’t help thinking that there’s something so entertaining about watching Varka unravel like this. The way he freezes, how he stutters every other word, slowly losing his composure little by little. 

“They’re…” Varka trails off, barely able to form a full sentence. “Fuck, I can see everything.”

“Oh?” Lohen hums, “My bad, let me fix them.”

Slowly, he slips his fingers into the waistband of the panties like he’s trying to adjust the fit. He pulls at the fabric, tugging the panties taut around his crotch. Each tiny adjustment leaves less to the imagination than before, the fabric clinging to every dip and curve hidden beneath.

A strange noise pitches from Varka’s throat as he watches.

Lifting his head back up, Lohen’s greeted by the all too satisfying sight of Varka looking rather strained. Both within his expression, and within his pants. Lohen eyes his growing bulge with interest, taking a small step towards him to close the distance between him. 

Varka tracks every tiny movement like he’s in a trance, hands twitching, so eager to touch him.

“Did you say something?” Lohen asks quietly.

He receives a headshake as a response. 

“No?” Lohen hums, head cocking to the side. “You sure?”

Normally, Lohen might tease a little more here. Maybe try to get Varka to beg for it. See how far he could push. But the sight of Varka already getting so hard, all over a simple pair of panties… It pulls at Lohen to do something. If not just for himself. 

Wordlessly, Lohen swings one leg over Varka’s lap to straddle his thighs. 

Varka accepts him without hesitation. His hands come to rest at Lohen’s slender waist, squeezing him tightly until his thumbs nearly touch in the front. A groan rumbles from his throat when he nearly succeeds, hands sliding lower to gently finger the blue lace resting at his hips. 

“You look good like this,” Varka finally mumbles. 

Varka’s thumb dips into the waistband of the panties teasingly, stroking his thumb gently over Lohen’s hipbone. Such a soft gesture that it’s entirely a surprise when, suddenly, he drags Lohen forward and seats him right onto his crotch.

“You think so?” Lohen breathes, leaning in so their chests touch. “I’m glad.”

Varka attempts a laugh that comes out closer to a growl. “Fuck yes,” he groans, grinding Lohen forcefully onto his cock. “Gonna fuck you so hard in these.”

The promise leaves Lohen feeling dizzy, even more so when Varka ruts up against his clit and sends shockwaves of pleasure up his spine. Even through all of the layers of clothing, Lohen can feel the thick outline of his cock clearly as he slides back and forth. He splays his hands out on Varka’s chest, steadying himself as he rocks down shamelessly over his bulge. 

“G-Gonna… hold you to that,” Lohen chokes out.

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. Each grind of Varka’s cock against his crotch is so perfect, stimulating his sensitive clit until he’s practically shaking. Lohen twists his hands tightly into Varka’s shirt, just chasing the sensation that slowly begins to build within his abdomen.

It becomes apparent that he’s going to cum like this. It’s too soon, Lohen’s not ready to cum so fast, but his hips refuse to stop moving. Varka's vice-like grip on his waist only tightens, guiding Lohen down into his lap with a steadily increasing speed. The panties he’s wearing are now soaked through with his own slick, only adding to the maddening sensation each time Varka thrusts up against him.

“Fuck,” Lohen whimpers. He drops his head down, hiding in Varka’s chest while he squeezes his eyes shut. “Gonna–”

The words refuse to come out, but they play through his mind like a mantra. 

Gonna cum, gonna cum, he’s gonna cum, he’s-–

Lohen’s orgasm hits him hard, fast, so sudden with a shattering cry. His hips stutter, body jerking wildly as the pleasure crashes over him. Varka squeezes his hands around his waist so tightly that it feels as if he’s trying to rip him apart with each wave. Moving is too much for him but Varka refuses to let it end, pulling Lohen down onto his clothed cock and holding him in place while he thrusts up. 

His orgasm feels like it lasts an eternity. Lohen just rides every wave, blissed out of his mind until he comes down from the high with a shaky moan. 

Blearily, Lohen opens his eyes once it’s passed, still trying to catch his breath with his head resting against Varka’s chest. The afterglow leaves him feeling just slightly embarrassed. Cumming so easily over a little grinding… It's rather juvenile. 

He hesitates to look up at first, thinking he’ll find Varka staring down at him with a smug expression. Bracing himself for the teasing to begin, Lohen raises his head…

…only to be met with an unusual sight: Varka with his head thrown back over the top of his chair, eyes closed and heaving deep, stuttering breaths. 

Almost like he had…

“Did you just cum in your pants, old man?” Lohen snorts. 

Immediately, he looks down at Varka’s lap for the proof, though he’s unable to discern anything from the state of his pants alone. All of the grinding has essentially left the front drenched in slick, after all. Lohen tries shifting his position instead, purposely rubbing against Varka’s crotch again for a reaction.  

Varka immediately jerks, hissing loudly from overstimulation. “Stop,” he insists through clenched teeth. 

Lohen’s lips twitch upwards mischievously. Bingo. 

Varka looks positively debauched. Red in the face, struggling to catch his breath, sweat beads forming in his hairline. It’s a delightful sight that Lohen tries to engrave forever in his memory.  And it’s all because of a little dry humping. Hilarious.

Well, Lohen could hardly call himself even the slightest bit embarrassed now. What was juvenile for him was just downright ridiculous for someone Varka’s age.

“Can’t believe the Grand Master cums in his pants like a virgin,” Lohen teases. One of his hands slips down towards his pants, ghosting his fingers over the sensitive bulge. “Was it the panties? You liked them that much?”

“Y-You’re teasing me like you didn’t just cum too,” Varka bites back, though his face blooms a shade darker. Definitely the panties.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” Lohen chides in amusement. “But I have to ask… still up for keeping your promise? Or is this all you can handle for one night?”

Varka’s jaw visibly clenches. He shifts his gaze downward, meeting Lohen’s gaze. 

Lohen’s grin only widens. No words are spoken in their quiet standoff, yet it’s clear a challenge is being conveyed. The button of Varka’s pants yields to Lohen with little effort, popping open so that he can slip one of his hands right inside. Lohen’s hand finds Varka’s semi-hard cock in his damp boxers, cupping him tightly before he massages him with slow, deliberate squeezes.

“We can always just go to bed,” Lohen continues. “I’ll just take care of myself.”

The tension within Varka’s jaw spreads to his entire face. Lohen knows there’s only so much teasing he can get away with before he can make Varka break. His hands gripping at Lohen’s waist begin to dig into his soft flesh harder, ensuring dark purple bruises will blossom there later. 

Lohen just tilts his head, feigning innocence. Egging him on. Urging him to act.

The tension finally breaks. 

“You’re such a brat,” Varka groans, voice thickened with arousal. 

Without warning, he launches from his seat, lifting up Lohen effortlessly along with him. 

Exhilaration rushes through Lohen as he’s all but thrown on top of the desk. He lands on the surface unceremoniously hard, the impact so rough that it sends stacks of the unfinished paperwork flying off in every direction. Lohen only giggles wildly, beside himself with delight despite the ache in his back from his landing. 

Varka looms over him with a darkened, lustful gaze, eyes observing Lohen’s lithe body laid out before him. 

“What’s wrong, big guy?” Lohen purrs, spreading his thighs wider to draw Varka’s eyes down. “Hungry?” 

He may as well be considered fully nude now. For the thin, white cotton underwear is now soaked through with his arousal, leaving absolutely nothing hidden. His cunt is prominently on display through the sheer fabric, every pink fold obscenely outlined. Varka stares down, taking it in, looking much like a starving dog being taunted with a scrap of meat.

Lohen deviously snakes a hand down his stomach, dipping between the apex of his thighs with a sultry grin. But when he dares to try playing with himself by ghosting his fingers along the seam of his cunt, Varka finally jerks out of his stupor.

His hand aggressively wrenches Lohen’s wrist away from his pussy.

“You seriously think I’m gonna eat you out?” Varka scoffs. His eyes narrow, amused. “After you just called me old?”

Lohen writhes, squirms, pulls back on his arm, making a show out of his resistance despite it being futile. Ultimately, he thinks Varka gets off on the sight of him struggling; a belief supported by how fast his cock has hardened within his pants.

Lohen huffs a laugh, throwing his head back against the desk. “I was just offering, old man, why don’t—”

His words cut off in a strangled gasp. This time he doesn’t even have time to think, let alone play up a struggle, before Varka grabs at his hip and flips him over right onto his stomach. Lohen tries to catch himself with his elbows against the surface of the desk, but a heavy hand bears down on his upper back to knock him flat before he can manage.

“Thanks for the offer,” Varka remarks, fingers tracing up Lohen’s spine until he can grip the back of his neck. “Think I’ll do things my own way, though.” 

A shudder ripples through Lohen’s body with such an impressive show of strength. He tries grabbing at the desk, searching for something, anything to hold onto while Varka relentlessly manipulates him into the exact position he wants. Varka yanks on his hips, uses his knees to forcefully spread his legs apart, while Lohen remains ever pliant to his demands.

The final position comes together with no attention paid to how uncomfortable it may be. Lohen cares little for comfort most days anyway. His hips hang off the desk, legs dangling, while his cheek is kept crushed against the surface by the hand firm on the back of his neck. Lohen’s cunt throbs with the thought that he’s like a mere toy now—nothing but a thing to be used and fucked. 

Lohen’s eyes roll upward, no longer in the mood for teases. “Varka,” he moans. “Hurry, please–”

“Quiet,” comes Varka’s snarled reply.

Varka smoothes one hand over Lohen’s panty-clad ass, teasingly slow, before dipping down between his trembling thighs. Lightly, his thumb strokes down the crotch of the ruined panties, pressing and rubbing over each sensitive, slick fold. It’s too gentle a touch to bring Lohen any true relief, but he still sobs a moan when Varka flicks at his clit through the fabric. 

“Look at you,” Varka remarks, tone low. A single finger hooks into the hem of the panties, pinching the elastic lace. “So wet for me.” 

Lohen trembles shamelessly, his breath hitching in anticipation. 

“Fuck me,” Lohen begs, beyond caring what he sounds like. “N-Need your cock, fuck, please–”

Suddenly, Varka wrenches the panties roughly to the side and exposes his glistening cunt whole. 

Varka chuckles a laugh, using two fingers to spread Lohen apart. “Dunno,” he drawls painfully slow. “Maybe I am getting kind of tired. Didn’t you say you could take care of yourself?” 

Bastard, Lohen thinks to himself. He tries growling, but Varka shuts him up fast by digging a thumb into his clit, rubbing him in languid little circles. Waiting any longer feels like torture. He needs to be fucked, to be filled, to be bred—

“I-If you don’t fuck me soon, old man,” Lohen spits out venomously. “I’ll go find someone who will.”

Varka’s thumb rubbing his clit stops, hesitating momentarily, before pulling away. The loss leaves Lohen more agonized, so unsatisfied that he opens his mouth to whine—only for Varka’s hand to come back down on him in an open-handed slap. The sudden impact rips a strangled cry from his throat while his pussy throbs through the delicious, hot sting.

“You won’t,” Varka growls above him. “I won’t let you.”

His hand slaps Lohen’s cunt again, and again, and again until, without warning, an orgasm wracks through him painfully fast. Lohen seizes with a keen as he cums messily, drenching the hand on his pussy with slick. Varka just keeps smacking him through it, never once letting up until the last wave passes and Lohen collapses forward onto the surface. 

Varka pulls off him entirely, hand on the back of his neck included. Lohen is far from being able to escape anyway, not that he’d want to, his legs essentially useless following such a brutal orgasm. 

“See? Didn’t even need my cock,” Varka muses, stepping back to admire his work. 

Lohen’s too fucked out of his mind to reply. He manages a weak moan as compensation.

The tent goes quiet. As he lays face down on the desk, Lohen’s vaguely aware of rustling from behind him, but he’s too tired to lift his head to see where it’s coming. His throbbing cunt just yearns to be filled now, clenching around nothing, still raw from his searing orgasm. 

Surely that wasn’t the last of it. Varka wouldn’t just leave him like this. But Lohen begins to doubt himself with each passing second, all of it slowly building into what feels like an eternity of waiting. 

He has to say something. A breath shudders out of Lohen, his mouth opening to beg once more—

—only for his words to be stolen by the thick, hot press of Varka’s cock shoving inside him. 

“T-There we go,” Varka sounds like he’s grinning. “That what you wanted?” 

It’s too much for Lohen to muster up anything more than a frantic nod. Every inch of Varka’s cock splits him open, filling his aching cunt beyond its limit until his stomach bulges with the intrusion. The stretch never gets easier. No matter how often they fuck, there’s just no way his body can get used to this. Even so, Lohen doesn’t ever want it to stop. Not for anything. 

A guttural noise spills from Varka’s lips, rough and involuntary, when he bottoms out in one final push.

“So tight,” he remarks with a groan. One hand slides underneath Lohen, stroking his distended abdomen.“Feel that? I’m in your fucking stomach.”

His hand caresses Lohen’s bulging abdomen obsessively, attempting to distract him from the stinging pain that zaps through his body. Varka always wants to wait after the initial push inside, like he’s trying to give Lohen’s body time to adjust, despite Lohen always just wanting to get right to it. 

Lohen whimpers, trying to rock back. “Varka–”

“That’s it, good boy,” Varka soothes him. “So good at taking my cock, aren’t you?” 

A whimper catches in Lohen’s throat with each word of praise. He nods. Yes, he always takes Varka’s cock so well, always will, even if it was his last purpose served. 

“N-Need—” Lohen tries gasping out. “N-Need you to move, please—“

Varka chuckles behind him. The hand on Lohen’s stomach drops away, sliding up along his hip until Varka can grab a handful of his ass instead. His other hand braces on the side of the desk firmly, bending over Lohen with his cock still buried to the hilt in his sopping cunt. 

“Don’t worry,” Varka reassures him, lowering himself until his mouth is mere inches from Lohen’s ear. “That’s the plan.”

He draws back slowly, sliding out of Lohen at an obscenely slow pace until only the tip remains. 

Lohen doesn’t get the chance to speak, let alone moan, before Varka slams his cock back inside of him.

Stars explode in Lohen’s vision with the intrusion, momentarily blinding him. Every thought in his mind is erased as Varka squeezes tightly onto his ass, holding him in place, before he sets an absolutely relentless pace. His cock drives into Lohen in deep, brutal thrusts, so rough that the desk begins to shake noisily with each impact. 

“F-Fuck, Lohen,” Varka curses through clenched teeth. “Feels so good inside you.”

Lohen feels the sharp sting of nails digging into his flesh, hard enough to mark him with deep, crescent shaped impressions. Not that he cares—Varka could tear at his flesh until he bled and Lohen would just ask for more. He relishes in the pain, biting onto his bottom lip with sharp teeth as Varka grips his ass and drags him back to meet each thrust. 

“H-Harder,” Lohen rasps despite being in no position to demand. “‘m not gonna b-break, fuck me harder—“

Varka tries to laugh, but the noise leaves him strangled. He bends over Lohen, angling his thrusts up, driving in harder just as requested. Each pump is followed by a sinful noise; obscene, wet squelches that fill the tent alongside their desperate moans and the rattling of the desk. Lohen falls apart through it all, clenching his cunt tighter around Varka desperately.

“S’that what you wanted?” Varka growls, punctuating his question with a harsh smack on Lohen’s outer thigh. “G-Gonna cum for me again?”

The impact shocks Lohen enough that he shouts a moan and jerks back. 

“Yes, yes—” Lohen moans shamelessly. 

Yes, yes, yes, it’s what he wants, he’s going to cum— Lohen repeats the word, voice raw, until Varka silences him with another smack, this one firmly aimed right against his ass cheek.

The grin is audible in Varka’s voice when he speaks. “G-Good,” he breathes. “Me too. G-Gonna fill you up nice and full.”

Varka’s promise sends shockwaves through his body. Lohen can’t help but whimper, vision slowly but surely blurring at the edges. The pressure that’s been slowly building within his abdomen starts to become unbearable, pulsing through his cunt and up his spine. It’s coming—way too strong and way too much, but Lohen can’t stop it now. 

“Oh, fuck,” he sobs when it dawns on him that he’s close. “V-Varka, gonna cum, fuck–”

Varka’s thrusts refuse to slow, but Lohen notices that they’re steadily growing sloppier. His breathing becomes heavier too, curses falling from his lips as a sure sign he’s right not far behind. Selfishly, Lohen wants them to cum together. As the pressure within him reaches a precipice, his vision whiting out, Lohen squeezes onto Varka’s cock as tightly as he can manage. 

The orgasm that engulfs him is far from merciful. Lohen seizes as it takes hold, a helpless noise spilling from his throat as pleasure consumes him whole and throbs through his body. It has to be the strongest orgasm he’s ever had, so intense, so good and— Oh, Varka is cumming too, cock reaching deep enough to strike his cervix as he absolutely floods Lohen’s needy cunt with pump after pump of hot cum. Just as promised.

Lohen moans weakly when he realizes he’s achieved his goal of cumming together. He rides the last little dredges of his own orgasm blissfully with that in mind until everything slowly gives way to overstimulation. 

“Shit,” Varka chokes above him once he begins to reach his limit not long after.

His hips stutter and the hand gripping Lohen’s ass finally lets go to brace against the surface of the desk again. Slowly, his thrusts come to a stop, cock still buried to the hilt inside of Lohen. Moving suddenly feels like too much, leaving both of them frozen as they desperately try to catch their breaths in the afterglow.

Lohen isn’t sure how much time passes before he tries moving. He twitches a leg at first, trying to stretch down so he can steady himself against the floor, only to jerk back when his foot touches something wet. It takes him a minute to realize that what he’s touched is actually of his own making—a literal puddle from the egregious amount that he’s squirted. 

Well, Lohen thinks to himself, better Varka’s floor than my own. 

As Lohen comes back to his senses, it dawns on him that everything on Varka’s desk is kind of wet now, whether it be from sweat, slick, or cum. The papers he’s currently lying on stick uncomfortably to his skin and his sweat-dampened hair clings to his neck and forehead. It all begins to feel rather gross relatively fast. Lohen tries lifting his head but a wave of dizziness forces him to drop it right back down onto the desk with a groan. 

“Shit— Don’t move,” Varka finally says, his voice raw and gravelly. 

Lohen blinks the sweat from his eyelashes. It wasn’t like he could have moved even if he really wanted to anyway. Instead of voicing this catty thought, he merely nods in agreement and lies still.

Varka fidgets above him briefly before he steadies his hand firmly on Lohen’s tailbone and draws his hips back. His cock inches out little by little in one long, agonizing drag until, finally, it slips free. Lohen flinches once Varka’s fully pulled out, his empty cunt clenching involuntarily around nothing following the loss. 

“C-Could you go any slower?” Lohen bites out, wincing when something soft begins to wipe down his legs.

Varka hums a humored noise. “Sorry. Trying not to make a mess here.” 

Lohen rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath. “Think it’s a little late for that.” 

Varka continues to clean him as best he can with a towel, though nothing will truly make up for the bath they both need—a bath that will most certainly have to wait for the morning at this late an hour. It’s all Lohen can do to keep his eyes open at this point anyway. After opting to strip the ruined panties off of Lohen, Varka finally scoops up his naked body into his arms with ease and carries him over towards his bed. 

“Can’t believe you kept all your clothes on,” Lohen remarks on the way over.

“Didn’t really give me a chance to strip down,” Varka replies easily. He settles Lohen onto his mattress and drags the blankets up to cover his nude body before he works on undressing himself. “Plus, all the focus was kind of on what you were wearing, anyway.”

Lohen smirks despite his heavy eyes. “Hm? So that means you liked them?” 

“Never said I didn’t,” Varka says, shooting him an amused smile. 

After stripping down to nothing but his boxers and shirt, Varka climbs into the blankets as well, settling in comfortably beside Lohen. Instinctively, Lohen scoots as close as he can, burying his face into Varka’s chest and wrapping his one leg tightly around his thigh. He inhales deeply, eyes closing, while a sense of calm washes over him. It’s such a peaceful contrast to their aggressive sex just a short while earlier, but it's not unwelcome by any means. 

Just as Lohen feels like he might slip off to sleep, Varka suddenly speaks beside him. 

“You think Illuga would let you borrow more of those?”

Lohen instantly snaps his eyes back open. Right. He had told Varka he’d borrowed the panties from Illuga. It’d probably be best to clear that up before Varka made the mistake of mentioning anything about this to Illuga the next time they crossed paths. 

“About that,” Lohen says. He pauses for just a beat. “I may have borrowed them without Illuga knowing.”

The silence is all too telling. 

Lohen almost starts to believe Varka’s fallen asleep until he heaves a heavy, exasperated sigh.

“Okay,” he mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Lohen, that’s— You know what, let’s… just go to sleep.” 

Lohen would be stupid to argue against that. 

“Sounds good to me,” he hums. 

Lohen lifts his head, stealing a quick kiss from Varka before he settles back down against his chest. Varka, despite his reservations about the whole theft thing, indulges Lohen regardless and wraps an arm around him.

Right before sleep can take them, Lohen yawns. “By the way, don’t forget.” 

“...Forget what?”

“Your promise to Cardinal Seamus.”

Varka freezes.

“Fuck.”

epilogue.

As it turned out, theft carried some rather hefty consequences in Nod-Krai.

Fines. Community service. Extradition, if one happened to be a foreign national.

Lohen, as a foreign national, did not wish to be extradited. 

So, the panties needed to be returned. Fine. That had always been a part of the original plan anyway. His main issue arose when he’d made the mistake of telling Varka he planned to return the underwear before Illuga noticed it was missing. 

Because, apparently, returning used underwear was gross. 

Lohen had argued. He would wash and dry them. He would make sure they were cleaner than when he’d taken them. He would even fold them. 

All to no avail. Which left only one other option. 

Lohen would need to replace them. 

Wherever Flins purchased the underwear he gifted to Illuga had to be located overseas, because finding such a shop in Nasha Town had not been easy. After Lohen had spent the better part of half a day searching, he’d only managed to find one shop with a very limited stock. Because of that, replacing them with the exact same pair had been out of the question. He’d had to make the decision on what Illuga (and Flins) might like most from the available selection.

He arrives at Illuga’s house with a gift bag that same day. 

“Surprise!” Lohen greets when Illuga’s door finally swings open. “Special delivery for you.” 

Illuga’s eyes widen in shock upon seeing him and he automatically takes a step back. It’s his day off—Lohen had checked before coming—so his surprise morphs into utter confusion as to why Lohen is standing at his front door. 

“Lohen?” Illuga questions nervously, furrowing his brows. “I didn’t know you were planning on coming over…?”

“I wasn’t. That’s why I said surprise,” Lohen replies flatly. He waits all but a second before he lifts the tiny gift bag within his hands and holds it out for Illuga. “I’m not staying. I just came to drop this off.” 

Despite being totally apprehensive to seeing Lohen just seconds earlier, Illuga’s eyes light up with childlike wonder upon seeing what is presumably a present. He hesitates a moment, looking back up at Lohen to ensure it’s not a prank before he gingerly accepts the bag. 

“You got me a gift?” he asks, sounding all too endeared.

Lohen snorts, shaking his head. “No, no, it’s not a gift,” he explains. “More like restitution.” 

Illuga’s expression falls flat all too fast. 

“Restitution?” he repeats back with growing unease in his voice. 

Lohen smiles, tucking his arms behind his back. “Yes. Just open it.” 

Illuga looks hesitant to do so. But, with nothing left to go off aside from Lohen’s vague explanation, he carefully reaches inside the tiny bag. He pushes the black tissue paper out of the way, rifling around to the bottom… until his fingers brush against what’s inside. 

Illuga freezes instantly. His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, color rushing across his face, before he promptly drops the bag to the ground.

Lohen frowns. 

“Hey, not nice,” he scoffs, bending down to pick it up. “I paid extra for the gift wrapping service, you know—“

“What is wrong with you!” Illuga whispers frantically. “Why the hell did you buy me panties!”

“I just said it was restitution—“

“Restitution for what!”

Lohen exhales deeply, tipping his head back in exasperation. This was all going so much more poorly than he’d originally envisioned it. While he’d had hopes they’d be able to get through this entire thing without the detailed explanation about his crime, it was very apparent that Illuga wasn’t willing to make it that simple. 

“So, about that,” Lohen begins casually. “Remember when I was here last week for dinner? And we had that long talk?”

A grave look passes over Illuga’s face. He swallows a visible lump forming in his throat and nods. 

“Okay, so, I may have borrowed a pair of your panties to see if Varka might be into the whole thing too,” Lohen averts his eyes for the next part. Because Illuga sure wasn’t going to like it. “And we may have fucked… while I was wearing them.”

Silence. 

If Illuga looked upset before, Lohen now thinks he looks genuinely disturbed. He just stares at Lohen, wide-eyed, with some vague expression akin to abject horror on his face.

Lohen finishes his explanation despite it all. “Now, in an effort to atone for my crime, I’m giving you a replacement. Ergo, restitution.” He holds the bag back out. “They’re not the same as the ones I took, but I think Sir Flins will like them.”

More silence. This time, for much longer.

Eventually, Illuga opens his mouth. 

“You…” He struggles to speak. “You stole my underwear and… and used them? Had– Had sex in them?”

“Yes. The white pair with the blue lace,” Lohen confirms regretfully. “But I got you a nicer pair. These ones are black and have a hole in the crotch. You know, for easy access.”

For some reason, that detail makes Illuga groan loudly and drop his face into his hands. 

Really, Lohen thinks he’s being a bit dramatic over the entire thing. It wasn’t like he and Varka had sex in the same bed Illuga shared with Flins. Though… When Lohen thinks about it, that idea is also not unappealing. Might even be fun with all parties involved.

Lohen shakes the thought from his head. Another time. He waits for Illuga to be finished with the theatrics, keeping his arms outstretched with the gift bag in hand.

Illuga eventually lifts his head from his hands. His eyes meet Lohen’s, leveling a stern, narrowed gaze. Finally, he snatches the bag back, crushing it flat to his chest like he’s trying to hide it.

“Okay, fine,” Illuga rushes out, stepping back through the threshold of his front door. “You’re forgiven. Let’s just never talk about this again.” 

“Sure,” Lohen hums. “I should get going now, but tell Sir Flins I hope he enjoys those.”

Illuga glares back at him. “I won’t.”

Lohen doesn’t take any offense to the rude reply. With his debt repaid now, nothing more weighs on his conscience and–better yet–Varka will probably praise him for a job well done when he gets back to the keep. Lohen offers Illuga a smile in lieu of a goodbye, turning on his heel to begin the trek back home once more. 

Until one final thought gives him pause.

Lohen turns back around just as Illuga begins shutting his door. 

“By the way,” he says, slowly easing into his words. “Thanks for such a great idea. If you and Flins were ever interested in, I don’t know, maybe joining Varka and I sometime, maybe we could—” 

The door slams shut in his face.

Lohen turns back around with a shrug.

“Worth a shot.”