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There was something in the mist, hidden in the shadows of the pine trees under a shrouded moon. He could feel its presence like cold fingers on his back, urging him along deeper into the dark. The rustle of needle-filled branches sounded behind him and Illuga had a feeling a great wave was rushing at him, but when he spun quickly on his heel there was nothing there. Not a flicker of life in the still marshes. The overwhelming presence was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
Illuga held his polearm at the ready as he stepped sideways to give himself a better view in between the trees, keeping the butt of his spear angled so as to guard his back from an ambush. The Wild Hunt came in many forms, some more wily than others, and he knew better than to trust only his eyes. As he drew closer, the pine trees, lit by the subtle glow of the pine ambers growing from the ground around them, seemed to shift and grow as their shadows enveloped him and Illuga felt the air go still before a puff of breath danced across his nape.
He turned, swinging his pole arm as he retreated into the embrace of the trees, his heart racing, only to be met with nothing once again. Something had been there, something had slipped past his guard and gotten close enough to kiss his neck, but now there was nothing. Had he imagined it? Could the atmosphere of the marshes be messing with his mind, making him see and hear things that were not there? It was not unusual for a Lightkeeper to grow paranoid, but he had hoped it wouldn’t happen to him so soon. Lowering his spear, Illuga relaxed his shoulders and exhaled softly; he wouldn't let himself get so worked up over nothing. But he had taken no more than a handful of steps forward again before something like a hand, icy cold, swept across his neck and he froze. He hadn’t imagined that, he couldn’t have. A trick of the eye, the rustle of branches, could all be explained by natural causes; the darkness made shadows warp and the wind rarely moved soundlessly over the land. But a touch to his skin, a real, tangible touch of hand that slipped past the collar of his coat? That was not something he would imagine.
“Who’s there?” he called out, lifting his lantern. Aedon appeared from inside it and immediately Illuga felt more at ease. There was nothing he couldn’t face while his trusted companion was at his side. The thought had barely crossed his mind when a voice sounded on the wind, low and wispy, speaking a language Illuga didn’t know, and Aedon disappeared.
“Aedon!” he yelled, shaking his lantern to no avail. He was alone again; alone but not really. He knew for certain now that there was something in the fog. And it was following him.
“Show yourself!”
Nothing moved.
He had to get out of the fog, get to higher ground where there were less places to hide, less chances to ambush him the way his stalker had already done twice. If he headed east, he would trap himself in the wetlands; he needed to move opposite the river’s flow and go north, back to Cliffwatch Camp. Mind made up, Illuga tightened his grip on both polearm and lantern and did a quick scan of the scant area around his feet that was visible through the fog. He could hear the slow movement of a river somewhere close and the tall grass growing around him was lilting diagonally to his left; he was facing the right direction.
Illuga took a deep breath as he readied himself; if the shadow he couldn’t see truly was out to get him, then he would have to run fast. They may be playing with him now, but as soon as he tried to escape he was sure that they would interfere. Trying not to broadcast his intentions, Illuga moved one foot slightly behind the other and dug the toes of his boots into the ground. On a silent count of three he pushed off at a run in the direction of home, hoping that he would get to see it again.
Immediately something set chase and as he ran as quickly as he could on the uneven ground and shifting terrain it was always right at his heel but never catching up. One moment he could hear the growl of a wolf and the next the screech of a hawk, but he dared not turn to see what was chasing him as he ran through the moors, sinking into the wet ground with every step, tearing himself free with desperate fear. And all the while, in the corner of his eye, there was a light, flickering in and out of focus as he ran. A light so familiar yet it inspired such fear in him that he could barely keep his legs moving, but he knew, could feel it with such certainty, that if he stopped running he would die.
The ground sloped ever upwards and the strain of his urgent flight burned in his calves and thighs and he knew he was slowing down but still the specter at his heels didn’t overtake him. It lingered behind him, urging him on, fuelling his fear with its presence. He had no idea what was chasing him and that was more frightening than anything else. How long had he been a Lightkeeper? How many times had he patrolled these lands? He knew the ins and outs of this place from Piramida to Kipumaki Cliff; knew the crevices in the mountain and which areas of the marshes to avoid after a rainfall; he knew the beasts and birds and all their haunts but he had never encountered a being like this.
Just as the fog lightened and he could see the top of the hill, could see the light of the moon glistening on wet rock in the distance and he dared believe he would get away, the being slipped past him and knocked him aside, forcing him back down the hill, away from home. He stumbled along as the creature knocked him around, getting in his way every time he tried to change direction, but never revealing itself. He couldn’t stop, but running now meant running into the creature’s trap and Illuga would rather die standing than allow himself to be so ensnared. As the shapeless form of the shadow chasing him swirled around him, trying to force him onwards to whatever prison it had envisioned, Illuga skidded to a halt and threw his polearm around in a wide arc.
“Get away!” he yelled and did it again, his movements reckless and lacking any finesse, his training having left him in what he thought would be his final moment. Unaware of where he was standing, with the third swing of his weapon Illuga stumbled and slipped on the wet grass and fell, not to the ground but through the ground and into a small cave, lit a gentle blue by the reflection of kuuvahki on water. Everything went silent. Illuga scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall of the cave. His eyes moved frantically back and forth between the two entrances to the small cave and the opening above his head that was barely large enough for him to fit through. That he hadn’t hit his head in the fall was a miracle in itself. But he had lost his weapon, and his lantern was nowhere in sight. He had nothing to defend himself with but his own shaking hands. And it was cold. He was so cold. And so tired. And there was no sign of his pursuer, for whatever reason they hadn’t followed him into the cave. He looked at the kuuvahki infused plants swaying gently at both entrances and wondered if they were what was keeping the thing at bay. Had he fallen into the only place that could save him from the monster? And if so was it a coincidence or had some power of fate led him there? Caught in the soothing movement of the glowing plants as they swayed back and forth to a tune all their own, Illuga felt his fatigue catch up to him and his eyes grew heavy, his breath whistled coldly through his chest as his body sagged against the stone at his back. Just as he was about to drift into unconsciousness a cold touch swept across his nape and a voice sounded in his ear, deep and amused and hungry.
“Caught you.”
He knew that voice, he loved that voice, but he still attempted to flee as survival instinct kicked his heart into high gear and rejuvenated his frozen limbs. Illuga attempted to roll, to get on his front so he could push himself upright but his body wouldn’t move. A band of iron laid across his waist and no matter how much he struggled he could not break loose.
“Illuga,” that beloved voice said, soft and soothing. “Illuga it’s me.” He was pulled sideways to lean on something far warmer than the wet stone of the cave, but it made no difference. The fear wouldn’t release its clawing hold on him and continued to stir in his body like a disease even as he slowly came to accept who he was with.
“Kyryll?” he asked in a whisper.
“Yes it’s me.” That warm voice in his ear, the brush of soft lips against his skin, a gloved hand cupping the back of his neck and holding him close. All things that he loved, things that he knew.
“Pine amber,” the voice said and Illuga finally slumped against Flins with a muffled sob. Pine amber was the words he had chosen that was meant to keep him safe, a way for them to communicate that couldn’t be misunderstood. Flins wasn’t meant to say it, he had his own word that Illuga had memorised, but he must have known it was the only thing that could reach Illuga in that moment and calm him.
“Kyryll,” he said again when all other words failed him. He clung to the name like it was his only lifeline in a storm; this name that only he ever used wrapped around him like a warm hug.
Flins tilted Illuga’s head back against his own shoulder and pressed his lips to his exposed neck, caressing him with parted lips and hot breath and the gentle rasp of teeth across his skin.
“I made you afraid of me,” he murmured but it didn’t sound to Illuga like he felt particularly bad about it.
“Yes,” he replied and swallowed another sob. Flins had made him afraid, intentionally, something he had agreed to not long ago, had given Flins his full consent to do what he wanted, but somehow he still hadn’t expected it. Illuga wasn’t afraid of the dark; the monsters of the Wild Hunt didn’t scare him, only what they could do to his friends; he had walked the path to and from Cliffwatch Camp on his own a hundred times and he had never been so afraid. So it had been Flins, using his strange powers, getting under his skin and terrifying him, so that he could then do this.
Flins’ mouth moved over Illuga’s vulnerable neck as his gloved fingers came up to pull his sweater aside. The touch that had before felt cold was now scorching hot, searing a path across the scar that stretched from Illuga’s neck and down his left shoulder, a path Flins’ mouth soon followed. His other hand moved slowly underneath Illuga’s coat, pushing the fur-lined flaps aside, tugging on his purple captain’s sash and catching on the holes in his sweater, before it moved with purpose down, down and further down. It cupped him firmly through his trousers, less of a caress and more like Flins was using his grip to hold Illuga in place. Illuga gasped and clutched Flins’ arm with his shaking hands, reflexively rutting against his hand as pleasure spiked and mixed with the adrenaline still flooding his body. He felt himself harden under Flins’ hand, but the other man seemed content to simply hold him for now as he continued to press kisses to Illuga’s neck and shoulder, the side of his face, sucking his earlobe into his mouth and flicking it back and forth with his tongue until Illuga felt he was losing his mind. The constant stimuli of Flins’ mouth on him tipped his body over the line of mortality and euphoria. A mangled gasp of his lover’s name was all he managed, but Flins knew what it meant and hastily tore himself away from Illuga’s neck, removed his hand from Illuga’s crotch and Illuga sobbed again from the sudden cold of a touch denied. But Flins was not so cruel. With both hands he pulled at Illuga’s trousers until they opened for him, until he could push his pants aside and wrap his hand around what lay underneath. At the touch of warm leather to the most sensitive part of him, Illuga yelped, back arching and legs spasming as he came hard and sudden.
“How delicious,” Flins said into his ear and guided Illuga’s head down so he could see his own lap and the tent in his trousers where Flins hadn’t even had time to pull Illuga’s cock out before he came. A blue glow emanated from his open trousers and Illuga gasped, mortified, as he realised what it meant.
“Stop,” he gasped and defied Flins’ hand on his cheek to turn his face aside so he wouldn't have to look.
“Stop?” Flins asked but Illuga bit his lip and kept quiet. He closed his eyes and clung to Flins’ arm as the other man devoured his spend all while licking at the curve of his jaw, occasionally humming like a satisfied beast.
“Your fear is intoxicating, my love,” Flins murmured and bit down on the curve of his clavicle and it was then Illuga noticed, as the pleasure ebbed, that his heart was still racing, and there was a part of him that wanted to flee from the man he loved.
“Stop,” he begged softly, pressing himself against Flins to counteract the instinct that told him to run. He didn’t want to be afraid of Flins. But it had felt so good. The fear and pleasure that swirled through his body like equal forces at play, mingling then repelling each other only to leave him balancing on a precipice and unable to control which way he would fall.
“No,” he gasped and clutched tighter to Flins’ arm, pushing against his hand still in his trousers. He could only hope Flins would understand. A hand dug itself into his hair and gripped tight and Illuga followed its firm guidance and turned his head upwards, angled towards Flins, perfectly positioned for Flins’ kiss.
It felt like an eruption, like powder kegs going off in the back of his head. Flins kissed like he couldn’t get enough, like Illuga would leave him any moment and he would never taste him again. Illuga couldn’t keep up, could only hold on tightly to Flins as his lover claimed ownership of his mouth, his body, his soul. That’s what it felt like. Flins had taken a hold of his body and he had taken hold of his soul and he wasn’t planning on ever letting either go.
Illuga wanted him to say it. He wanted Flins to put words to what he clearly thought, what he must know Illuga thought as well. Why else would he give himself over to Flins the way he did? Why else would he welcome all of his aspects if he didn’t want Flins all to himself? It was why he agreed to the chase, it was why he made himself prey. For Flins.
Flins turned him around and pushed him against the moss-covered floor of the cave. Illuga clutched at the spongy plant underneath him as his knees scuffed against the stone, protected by his knee pads, and Flins bent over him, his larger body covering Illuga completely. He buried his nose in Illuga’s neck, breath huffing from behind clenched teeth as his hands grasped and clawed at Illuga’s clothes, tugging his sash free and lifting his sweater up his stomach. He was so quiet, no sound but his panting breath leaving him. An audible inhale. A quiet growl.The crackle of blue flames licking at Illuga’s skin.
Flins had done that only once before, the first time they had lain together. He hadn’t said a word about it but Illuga had inferred the truth of it either way. It was a satisfaction of a primordial need that had nothing to do with Illuga, and so Flins neglected it, up until the moment he couldn’t anymore. But this, the predator’s chase, the collection of a winner’s prize, that was what this was all about. He was Flins’ prey and he had been caught.
“Don’t hold back,” he said, ensuring his voice was clear, that Flins would know without a doubt that Illuga wanted everything.
A growl, low and rumbly, began in Flins’ chest and Illuga felt it vibrating through him. A pair of dark gloves fell with a quiet twap on the moss beside him and Flins’ heat disappeared from his back. Hands, now bare, settled on his hips, fingertips digging under the waistband of his trousers and pants and pulling both down his thighs, just far enough. Illuga shivered as the fur of his coat tickled his naked skin. Warm breath fell on his skin as Flins laid his cheek against him, brushing over his innermost sanctum, and Illuga tried the best he could to hold still and not push but Flins was so close and he wanted it so bad.
“Kyryll, please.”
He whined when all Flins did was laugh and set his teeth to him, sharp canines indenting his soft flesh. A rush of feeling swept through his body, starting in his heart and spreading outwards, settling like anxiety in his throat, sharpening his mind in the midst of a pleasured haze. He recognised the symptoms of fear, but he didn’t feel afraid. But Flins groaned loudly and swivelled his head, mouth catching on Illuga’s hole, tongue swiping its circumference, and Illuga sobbed in relief.
Flins’ tongue was a beast all its own, hungry and nimble as he licked at Illuga’s hole, moaning quietly while he lapped and suckled and pushed at the puckered opening until it gave. He pushed inside little by little, retreating to caress the sensitive skin and coax the muscle to relax before he pushed inside again. Over and over he repeated the sequence, licking at Illuga until he was sobbing on shaking limbs, unable to fully feel the pleasure from the fear Flins was instilling in him, and unable to feel afraid from the pleasure his lover was giving him. Flins sucked it all in, growling softly as he fed on the juxtaposed feelings radiating from Illuga as he ate him out. It was too much; Illuga couldn’t control the sounds escaping him as he curled his fingers into the moss, barely feeling it as water seeped into his clothes because the feeling of Flins licking him, fucking him with his agile tongue, was just too much.
“I can’t,” he gasped, but didn’t know what else he had meant to say. Blood was rushing through his ears making him dizzy and he wanted to come, he needed to come so badly, needed it to stop because it was too much. But Flins didn’t let up. When he retreated it was only to push an oil-slick finger inside Illuga and he continued to lick around it, massaging the rim of Illuga’s hole with his tongue while he delved deep inside him for the one spot that would push Illuga over the edge. He found it quickly, curled his finger and pushed against it and with a sound that was barely human Illuga came again, clenching around Flins’ finger and burying his face in the wide sleeve of his own jacket, muffling himself. Immediately Flins had a hand in his hair, long fingers wrapping around his scalp and turning his face out of its hiding spot.
“Every sound you make, Young Master, is mine to hear,” he said and it was so close to what Illuga wanted to hear, but not close enough. His body still shaking with the aftermath, all he could do was moan, whine, beg.
“That was enough?” Flins asked, presumably in response to something Illuga had said, he didn’t know, and Illuga shook his head hard.
“I didn’t think so.” The words were soft, the growl that succeeded them was not. Held in place against the wet cave floor, Illuga couldn’t move even had he wanted to. Even when Flins pushed inside him and it was too much, he wasn’t prepared, not widened enough, and it burned. Not even then did he want to move.
“Too much,” he gasped and slumped face first onto the ground; Flins’ fingers pressing into his mouth the only thing stopping him from eating moss. He bit down in retaliation and Flins laughed, his mouth pressed to the side of Illuga’s face, dragging dryly over his skin, along his hairline, the shell of his ear, his throat, jaw, cheek, catlike in the way he rubbed against Illuga’s face. Illuga imagined he was being marked; a beast showing ownership of its captured prey, ensuring Illuga would never belong to anyone else. The thought made him warm and he moaned around Flins’ fingers as his lover pushed inside him even more, so slowly he seemed almost unaffected by the hot vice of Illuga’s body.
“More … please,” he moaned and tried to push himself backwards, to spear himself on Flins’ cock so he would finally have all of him. Flins didn’t let him. His hold on Illuga grew hard as iron and his fingers in Illuga’s mouth retreated, swiping wetly over his lips before dipping back inside, deep enough that Flins’ palm curved under Illuga’s chin, another hand to hold him still.
“Behave.”
Illuga was sure even his heart froze in his chest and for a moment everything went quiet. His eyes swam as he held his breath and grasped for the words, the words, what were the words they hadn’t talked about this.
Pine amber.
But he didn’t say it, instead he gasped for air, suckled softly on Flins’ fingers and said, muffled by his makeshift gag, “yessir.”
When Flins pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his face it felt like a reward. When Flins moved inside him again, Illuga moaned and begged shamelessly for more but held still and allowed Flins to take him like he wanted.
It wasn’t long before Flins was fully inside him, having opened him up slowly with the width of his cock, so gentle and kind it didn’t matter that Illuga had been tense, not prepared, barely even wet enough. Flins had made it good. He had claimed his prey in a brutal way and he had been kind about it. Now he buried his face in Illuga’s throat and fucked him slow and hot. The water seeping through Illuga’s clothes was no longer cold and the air he breathed turned foggy, damp with heat as Flins’ flames flickered around them. With every thrust, every slightest movement, Flins’ cock caressed his prostate and hit so deep inside him he could feel it in his stomach. He moved a hand to press against his lower abdomen and moaned wildly around Flins’ fingers every time he felt his hand move as his stomach distended.
“Oh gods …. it’s too much too much oh nonononono it’s too much.” He barely felt it when he came a third time, only knew he had when Flins licked at his mouth and cooed softly as his flames wrapped around Illuga’s cock like they had before, tasting him in that strange way only Flins could do. Flins was still moving inside him, still hard, but his pace was growing sloppy, slow and deep one moment then shallow rutting the next and Illuga turned his head and captured Flins’ mouth in a kiss, biting at his lower lip until Flins growled and drove inside him with a ferocity he only sometimes managed to tease out. He hadn’t felt his own orgasm, but he felt it when Flins came, scorching hot and filling him to the brim, a muffled yell against his mouth as Flins fucked into him one last time, hips smacking audibly against his ass.
The aftermath was hot and wet and as his heartbeat slowed the aches set in. The moss had cushioned him somewhat, and his knee pads had certainly helped, but they had just fucked inside a cave and Illuga was only human.
“Hurts,” he grumbled and shifted demonstrably on his knees. Flins hummed but only moved to dig his nose into the soft part underneath Illuga’s jaw. He seemed perfectly content as they were. Illuga huffed and lifted his head up so he could look around them then said, sternly, “pine amber.” Immediately he was pulled off the ground and tipped backwards along with Flins until he was sitting in his lap, still on his cock and with Flins’ nose still pressed into the same spot at the top of his throat. Some of the ache lessened, but an uncomfortable, electrical feeling shot through his body as Flins’ cock rubbed against his oversensitive nerves. But that flavour of discomfort was one he enjoyed.
“My apologies,” Flins murmured into his ear and Illuga’s mind went hazy again at once. By the gods he loved Flins’ voice.
Flins placed his hands on Illuga’s knees, softly caressing under the rim of his knee pads, the back of his knees, the underside of his thighs. He took hold of one of Illuga’s legs and lifted it, gently folding it towards his chest then stretching it out, doing this five times in a row before moving on to his other leg. Illuga wrapped his arms around Flins’ neck, grounding himself so he wouldn’t slip off Flins’ lap as he worked to soften his aches. He felt it when Flins’ cock finally slipped from his body and the spill of fluids that followed and knew that both their outfits would need a thorough wash before they could show themselves in public again. Hopefully they weren’t too far from a Lightkeeper’s hut. Hopefully it wasn’t already occupied.
“I hope you know where we are,” he said when Flins had carefully lowered his leg to the ground and moved on to his hands, tugging off his wet gloves.
“Mm,” was all he said, not that it could be counted for words.
“There’s probably a hut nearby we can take shelter in.”
Again Flins replied with only a sound of agreement. Illuga slowly extricated himself from Flins’ arms and pulled his underwear and trousers back on before he turned on Flins. Illuga didn’t know how much Flins had undressed while they had sex, but he sat there now looking as put together as ever, if ever so slightly scuffed and stained. Illuga knew him well enough however, to see the turmoil underneath. He crawled back into Flins’ lap, facing him this time, to give himself a slight boost and minimize their height difference as much as he could.
“Are you alright?” he whispered and cupped Flins’ face. Flins didn’t answer, but wrapped his arms around Illuga under his coat, one hand sneaking past his sash and under his sweater to press firmly against his naked back, slightly to the left of his spine, right on top of one of his most egregious scars.
“I enjoyed that,” he said and dipped his head to place a light kiss on Flins’ lips, then another, then one on the corner of his mouth and another on the soft flesh of his cheek.
“And I love you.”
That seemed to finally rouse him as Flins smiled and turned his head to capture Illuga’s mouth in a lengthier kiss, but one that was still as soft as the petals of a Frostlamp Flower.
“You are too good to me, Illuga,” he said and Illuga immediately protested.
“No,” he whispered and pressed several more kisses, brief and quick, on Flins’ mouth. “I love you. There’s no such thing when I love you.”
Flins laughed softly and dipped his head, pressed his forehead to Illuga’s chest and sighed heavily.
“How am I supposed to argue with someone as genuine as you?”
“You could try doing a little less of it!” Illuga retorted and they both laughed.
“Where would be the fun in that?” Flins cajoled and Illuga huffed and let his head fall to Flins’ shoulder. Flins could claim Illuga was difficult to argue with as much as he wanted, there was no one more infuriating than him.
“Shall we look for warmth and someplace dryer than this?” Flins asked softly, kissing Illuga’s cheek. Illuga sighed in content and smiled at the touch.
“Yes, let’s.”