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“Ah, this’ll be perfect. Thank you so much!” Varka smiled as he deposited a small pouch of mora into the bartender’s hand. “You can keep the change.” He picked up the bottle of liquor, fiddling with the bow that kept its velvet container shut. He held it tenderly close, not unlike if it were his baby. Well, he supposed he would have to treat it like that for the time being, considering the lengths he would have to travel to find the person he was giving this to.
A few weeks ago, a dark-haired, well-mannered Ratnik by the name of Flins offered him shelter at his lighthouse during a storm. Varka had met many kind people offering assistance during crises before, but none provided company as enjoyable as Flins. He was as polite as he was witty, and the two hardly found time for rest in between their late night conversation and the rising sun. Bringing the man a small, thoughtful gift was the least he could do to return the favor.
However, the Ratnik was elusive. Although Varka assumed he would be home at the lighthouse, his intel said otherwise. Apparently, he was on some kind of special mission, one that dragged him all over the three southern islands. For most, the task of finding the fellow would be a wild goose chase, but Varka’s endless inquiries eventually pinpointed the man’s whereabouts. Perhaps it was in poor taste to interrupt a man on a mission, but Varka was hellbent. Whatever occupied Flins couldn’t possibly be so important as to forbid a little gift-giving between friends.
Were they friends? Varka surely hoped so. He hadn’t even treated the guy to a proper drink at the Flagship yet!
…
The last vestiges of sunlight settled beneath the horizon. The moon, so important to the people of Nod Krai, rose to light Varka’s path. His sources led him to a forest of thin, pale trees, replete with fall foliage scattering the moonlight. Apparently, the creatures that were the subject of Flins’ work often approached at night. Considering they were likely Wild Hunt-related, Varka would be stupid to not keep his guard up and a wary hand on the hilt of his claymore.
The locals were right; the forests did get spooky at night. The buzzing of cicadas and various animal noises that Varka was accustomed to, both at home and abroad, were absent tonight—only the sultry whisper of a breeze and the crunching of Varka’s footsteps. The grandmaster tried to chalk it up to rational things, like seasonal changes or perhaps his mind playing tricks on him. But another paranoid part of him wondered if this was a sign of the Wild Hunt. Whatever the case may be, it was his knightly duty to protect himself and others at all costs.
Eventually a new sound bubbled forth: a babbling stream. Varka would have paid it no mind, were it not for the distinct variety of sounds he heard trickling from it. Yes, the fluid rush of water over pebbles was present, but so too was the gentle sound of splashing. Sounds only a human could make.
Varka smiled; he may just have found his favorite Ratnik. He continued following the stream to the source of the human noise, and found an unfamiliar figure silhouetted by moonlight.
At a first glance, Varka thought they were human, but their many strange features made that impossible.
They stood naked in the water, tall and slender, wringing out the damp ends of their long, dark hair. Despite the hair length and supple hips, their generally squarish build erred on the side of male. They—or presumably he—appeared as pale as the moon. Even stranger, he glowed. A shimmering effect as delicate as the skin of a butterfly’s wings and as dazzling as Rainbowdrop crystal glinted off every inch of skin the moonlight kissed. Strangest of all, azure wings that blurred and wavered like flame protruded from his back, flickering and twitching with every drop of water that trickled down from their tips.
Varka had only heard whispered tales of these creatures before. Of the fae. Meek creatures characterized by pointed ears and wings so dainty they could be mistaken for an illusion. But shimmering under moonlight? That was a new one.
Varka blinked hard and swallowed the lump in his throat when he realized he was staring. How could he not? Here he was, just trying to deliver a bottle of booze when he stumbled upon one of the most alluring creatures he had ever seen. It must have been his lucky day. Another part of him worried that this creature could get caught in the crossfire of Flins’ work. As a knight (something he must’ve repeated internally a million times by now), it was his duty to keep all innocent parties out of harm’s way. He stepped forward carefully, trying not to spook the fae. Varka cleared his throat.
“Hey there, friend—” The figure’s head whipped around to reveal two glowing azure eyes. Within a blink, he disappeared like a ghost. A chill ran up Varka’s spine. He glanced around. Wispy, vague human shapes danced between the trees.
“Hey, you don’t need to be scared, I’m not gonna hurt you— woah!” Varka stumbled back, the armor covering his forearm sparking as it collided with the pointed blade of a polearm. Before him stood the menacing fae, eyes and wings burning with roaring flame. An expression between bloodlust and focus transformed into one of confusion. The azure flames fizzled out until his wings were gone and his irises melted into a dusty amber like Flins’.
Wait. That was Flins! Varka sputtered, unable to believe his eyes.
“F-Flins?!”
“Varka, it’s you! Oh goodness, m-my sincerest apologies. I thought you were a figment of the Wild Hunt—“
“Oh Barbatos, I just realized you— Flins, you’re naked. I-I gotta look away,” The grandmaster shielded his eyes and turned his head like a child watching something that was “too adult” for them. “Why are you naked? Weren’t you out here on some special Ratnik mission?”
“I-I completed tonight’s task not too long ago. I was simply taking a dip in the stream to clean myself up and relax before I returned home…” Flins stammered, suddenly flushed and covering his genitals—as if Varka weren’t already looking away. “If I had been expecting company, I wouldn’t appear before them so indecently.”
“No, no! Don’t feel bad about it. You didn’t know I was coming.” Varka smiled, finding it in himself to lower his hand, only to get an eyeful of Flins’ ass as he collected his clothes piled on the riverbank. His heart shot up to his throat.
The trees shifted and the moonlight shone once more, casting that alluring glow over the Ratnik’s bare back. The phenomenon appeared stranger the second time around. Within that moment, the creature Varka witnessed and his friend (who he thought was human) melded into the same person. Now that he could contemplate on it, a lot of Flins’ quirks made perfect sense now.
“So you’re a fae, huh?” Flins stiffened in the middle of pulling up his pants. His tired yellow eyes met Varka’s.
“Considering I was just in the form that made it most obvious, I suppose I have to say yes.” Varka’s gaze examined his skin closer. His brain still couldn't make sense of it. His hand hovered, wanting to touch but didn’t, knowing it would be impolite.
“I thought fae were elusive Snezhnayan creatures, not caring to meddle in the lives of humans. I’ve also heard their wings look more like cellophane than, well, whatever you’ve got going on.” He peered over the man further, the heat from his body no doubt radiating into Flins’ skin. He was trying to see where his wings came from, but was left with no answers and a light pink flush pricking at the tips of the fae’s ears.
“We have changed much over the years. Some of us meddle, while some of us remain hidden in the wilds,” Flins spoke with a melancholy nostalgia, gazing off into the trees as if peering into some faded memory. He glanced back at Varka as he buttoned up his blouse. “As for your second question, the appearance of fae varies. As a spirit of blue flame, my features are more… incendiary.” Varka’s gaze fell to the lantern wrapped up in the Ratnik's trenchcoat; another puzzle piece fell into place.
“That explains your lantern, too. I was wondering about that.”
“I hope you can forgive me for my deceit. This is a secret I share with only my closest confidants. Even my fellow Ratniki do not know.”
“No big deal for me, Flins. I’ll have you know I’m a bit, er, accustomed to knowing immortals hiding in human skin. So your secret is safe with me.” He winked, flashing a toothy grin. Flins’ lips quirked up. He fastened his lantern to his belt and shrugged his coat over his shoulders.
“That is a relief. Seldom do I meet people who are acquainted with other immortals. Considering your standing, I now realize I should have assumed this of you from the start.” The fae chuckled.
“Now, answer a question of mine. Why in the abyss are you out here this late?” He tilted his head. Varka straightened the bow on his liquor bottle again.
“Well, it’s to give you this,” he presented his gift. “The finest firewater from The Flagship! Now you can enjoy a shot of it without hours of travel.” The Ratnik’s eyes widened. He gingerly took the bottle from Varka, looking over its velvet shell, embroidered in gold. He smiled.
“My, this is… exquisite! For what reason do I merit such a gift?”
“Think of it as a ‘thank you’ and a proposition,” Varka patted the shorter man’s shoulder. “For that night you took me in during the storm, and to mark the start of a friendship.”
“Why thank you, Varka. This bottle will be deeply cherished, and I would love to be friends with you. That stormy night was one of the most enjoyable I have had in recent memory.”
“Ha! Same here,” Varka smiled. A beat of silence passed between them. A chill filtered through the forest. “We should probably head back toward civilization, before we’re no longer alone.”
“Agreed. I take it you have lodging at The Flagship? Perhaps we could retire there for the night.”
“You bet. Although, I hope you’re alright with only one bed.”
“It is no problem. You’ll find my nature makes me amenable to that.”
The two walked side by side out of the forest. Nasha Town grew lively at this hour with the day markets having closed and the vibrant night life littering the streets. However, Flins and Varka felt simply bone-tired, as tempting of a prospect The Flagship’s bar was.
Varka shut and locked the door of his room. Flins sat cross legged in a padded armchair, setting down the jug of firewater on the adjacent table. Moonlight filtered through the window, reaching barely to the tips of Flins’ boots. Varka found himself staring again, a hard lump formed in his throat as the vision from earlier overlaid his view of the man before him. So easily were leather boots and dark linen replaced with milky flawless skin and lithe muscle. The memory was making Varka’s heart race.
“So, is it off to bed for you?” Flins spoke up in a tone that Varka found sultry, just for a moment, before he shook his head and returned to reality.
“Ah, well… I was thinking of sampling a taste of that firewater I got you.”
“Oh? Taking back your gift so soon?” Flins chuckled. “But of course. What good is good liquor without good friends to enjoy it with?” Varka rifled through a cabinet and pulled out two shot glasses. He set them on the table as Flins untied the bow of the firewater’s velvet bag. Varka sat down in the opposite chair, watching as Flins’ slender fingers pried gently to loosen the folds of the bag’s drawstring top.
As if on command, a vision of those hands not wrapped in leather appeared in his mind. Those fingers were smaller than Varka’s, but they were deft and precise. They nimbly worked the bag open with little struggle, plunging and spreading until the bottle was revealed. Flins ran his fingers over the gilded engravings upon the glass.
“My, my. How much did this set you back?”
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Varka pushed his shot glass next to Flins’. “All that matters is how it makes you feel.”
“Appreciated? Is that it?” Flins’ fingers wrapped around the bottle’s neck. Its girth was similar to that of his polearm. Varka bit back a sigh as he imagined what those fingers would look like wrapped around something else. He cleared his throat.
“O-Oh yeah, but I was more alluding to the effects of drinking it, actually.”
“I see. Firewater, and this brand especially, is very good at—” his eyes flicked to his lantern, then back to Varka, as he grinned with soft pink lips. “—Fueling my flame.” Varka failed to conceal the blush pestering his cheeks.
Flins poured the liquor into the shot glasses, one after the other, and left not a single drop spilled. With trepidation Varka had never taken to drinking before, he picked up the glass and held it with such tenderness, maintaining the delicate tension of the liquid—as if letting even a drop fall were a disrespect to Flins. Their eyes met. Amber to lake blue.
“Shall we make a toast to our newfound friendship?” Flins asked, tilting his head. Varka hesitated. There were more newfound feelings than friendship stirring within him right now. Nevertheless, he nodded.
“Yeah. Let’s.” Their glasses clinked together. Varka chugged the shot down, trading savoring the taste for reveling in its burn. The liquor fueled his feelings for Flins, and both heated him to his very core. The grandmaster wiped away the sweat on his temple. When he looked back at Flins, the man sat smiling gently, tongue working in his mouth to move the liquor around. He made a small sound of enjoyment as he savored. Varka’s heart skipped a beat. He knew his face was flushing red, clear for anyone to see.
“Is something the matter? You once told me you were quite the heavyweight drinker. Alcohol even of this caliber should not be affecting you after the first round.” It’s not the firewater, it’s you, Varka wanted to yell.
“Aha… I don’t know. M-Maybe I’m just tired, don’t really know what exactly is… uh, going on with me,” he swallowed back some drool pooling in his mouth. With it, he stuffed the thoughts of Flins—sitting just as he was now but as nude as he was in the river—deep into the back of his mind. He snatched the bottle. “Fuck. I need another drink.” His pour was not nearly as precise as Flins. A few drops sank into the wooden tabletop. Even still, Varka quaffed it down with the same efficiency as the first shot.
“Varka.” Flins spoke low. When the grandmaster’s eyes met the fae’s, they were dark. Perceptive. The faded hint of his pupils stabbed right into Varka’s very soul. The two sat silent for another beat. Flins, with movements smooth like water, pulled off the leather glove from his left hand. Varka’s heart caught in his throat, as if the Ratnik had shown him a live explosive. His exposed hand gently slithered across the table, their fingertips sliding with a featherlight touch up to Varka’s second knuckle.
“You seem uneasy. Tell me, is there something stronger than firewater burning within you right now?”
“I-I…”
“I’ll have you know that savoring the burn is the best approach,” imperceptibly, Flins intertwined his fingers with Varka’s. “Let it melt on your tongue,” He leaned over the table. So close that the aroma of firewater and smoke on his breath hit Varka like spring rain. “Close your eyes and feel.” The knight did so, letting his breath even out. He heard Flins’ chair scrape against the floor as he stood up. Then, the searing warmth of the fae’s breath against his ear.
“Do you crave more of that burning? I can give it to you.”
“I don’t want firewater.”
“That’s what I thought,” Flins smiled. “Is it me you desire, grandmaster?” Their eyes met. If Varka wasn’t healthy as a horse, perhaps he would have gone into cardiac arrest by now.
“Oh Archons, Flins…” his eyes flickered from the fae’s own dark gaze to his lips and back again.
“You’ve been smitten ever since you saw me in the river, haven’t you?” His bare hand cradled the knight’s jaw, scraping the stubble. “I can see it in your eyes. You’ve already undressed me in your mind a hundred times. In the river, I was little more than a picture for you to ogle, but now,” his thumb moved to caress his bottom lip. “You can touch. You can fulfill… other fantasies. Is that quite right?”
Varka’s whole body vibrated with desire. His pants tightened with arousal, proving every word Flins said to be true. He wet his throat, finding the wherewithal to speak coherently again.
“It’s not just your body I’m attracted to, Flins.” The Ratnik’s expression shifted. It was small—a slight falter to reveal disbelief, or perhaps relief. Whatever it was, he had not expected the knight’s confession. The corners of Varka’s lips quirked up.
“You’re wise, you're funny, you’re kind. You invigorate me in a way no one else has in a very long time,” Varka’s hand brushed back a lock of the other man’s hair.
“What I’m trying to say is,” he brought Flins’ face closer to his own, letting their breaths mingle. “Your body is far from the only reason I want to have my way with you tonight.” He pressed a gentle, tentative kiss to the older man’s lips. “If you would have me, of course.”
Flins stood still for a few seconds, stunned and flustered. Then, he elegantly straddled Varka’s thighs and sat down.
“Oh, Varka. I wouldn’t ever dream of saying no to you.” Their lips met again, kissing harder and with more passion. Muscled arms wrapped around Flins’ backside, bringing their bodies flush. The fae smiled, feeling the tent rising in Varka’s pants. He ground into the bulge.
Varka choked out a gasp. Flins’ tongue invaded his mouth. He reciprocated the older man’s movements, until they ground against each other like it was second nature.
The two men parted, panting and hot with desire. Varka, with newly invigorated confidence, yanked the collar of the Ratnik’s blouse down as far as it could go without tearing the fabric. His lips descended like a wolf to ravage his beloved fae. Flins gasped and sighed as the other kissed and sucked all along his jaw and neck, ending with a lilac mark blooming to life under the knight’s passionate attention. Varka leaned back to admire his work, a thumb pressing into the fresh bruise. Flins moaned, low and needy.
“Heavens, it’s been so long; centuries, even… this all feels so…”
“It’s a lot now, isn’t it?” Varka caressed his jaw.
“Yes. Forgive me if I seem a little rusty.”
“I don’t mind at all. As long as you’re feeling good.”
Flins smiled. It dazzled as genuinely as it did the night when they first met—when they were both laughing so hard over nonsense that their stomachs hurt.
“I believe this is the part where we continue on the bed,” Flins began unbuttoning his blouse. “Unless you wish to take me elsewhere?”
“Nah, that’s for another time.” Varka’s hands wrapped around Flins’ behind, hoisting him into his arms as he stood up. The fae found himself suddenly clinging to the knight. With a short walk across the room, he was deposited onto the bed. Varka caged him in with his large size alone; his fingers crept to his blouse to continue unbuttoning it. However, Flins stopped him.
“Wait.” A beat of silence. “Varka,” the fae gulped. “I would prefer it if we evened our playing field a little.”
“Oh, how so?”
“Strip for me,” His amber eyes glowed with desire. “I want to experience how you felt when you saw me in the river.” Varka stood still for a moment, heart beating out of his chest. How could he say no to those precious amber eyes? He stepped back and began unfastening his armor.
“Well, I didn’t expect you to uh, want me like that.” He chuckled, a nervous flush spreading across his cheeks.
“Your face is a sight for sore eyes, Varka. I can only assume your body follows suit. Surely you cannot blame a man for being curious?”
“I sure cannot.” The knight smiled. He let his clothing fall to the floor one after another. His armor, his gloves, boots, shirt, pants. Each discarded layer bared not only skin, but a kind of vulnerability that Varka had not exposed to anyone since he was young. With trepidation, clinging onto the trust he had in Flins, he peeled off his underwear and let it join the rest of his clothes. The knight stood as confidently as he could manage, trying to hide the shaking in his breath.
Flins, on the other hand, was breathless. Though his pupils were cloudy, Varka could tell they were blown with arousal. His legs squeezed together, failing to hide a growing bulge. He wet his lips and his eyes raked over every inch of Varka’s body.
Varka felt a little dumb standing there. Physically speaking, his body was built for his duties, not for another’s gaze. He was handsomely broad and muscular, but imperfect as a human was wont to be. Pudgy fat sat stubbornly around his stomach and thighs, alongside stretch marks and countless scars that marred his body. Age had also tainted him, causing wrinkles and spots galore. How could a creature as flawless as Flins possibly desire him to this degree?
“Well, uh, there you have it. Sorry if it's not what you were expecting, I-I looked a lot better when I was younger-”
“Beautiful.” Flins interrupted. Varka’s heart shot up to his throat.
“W-what?” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. Flins stood up, gaze transfixed on his body. Bare pale hands cupped his chest.
“You are absolutely beautiful, Varka.” Flins spoke, soft and calming as a misty morning. The knight’s blush spread to his shoulders.
“Y-you sure?”
“Entirely sure. Just look at you… this musculature is stunning under lamplight. Your scars and freckles are like a map of the stars, and this…” Varka choked when the fae’s fingers brushed the base of his cock, still standing proud between his legs despite the cool air. “You failed to mention how well endowed you are.”
“W-when was I supposed to tell you that?!”
“I’m not sure. But had I known this was what you were hiding in your trousers during our first meeting, that night would have ended much differently.” Flins smiled, gaze adoring.
“Well, shucks. Thank you, Flins. I-I didn’t think you would like my body this much.”
“You sell yourself short, grandmaster. Tonight I shall show you just how beautiful I find you to be.” They met in a gentle kiss, hands roving over bare and clothed skin. When they parted, Flins sank to his knees. His gaze met Varka’s cock. “I suppose I shall start here.”
“Oh…” Varka bit his lip. The sight of Flins between his legs was better than he ever could have imagined, but before he could wrap his lips around the tip of the knight’s member, he was stopped.
“Wait. I also want you to strip before we start. I don’t want you to hide your pleasure from me.” Flins blushed again, nodding slowly. Just as Varka had done, but with much more grace, Flins undressed himself. Boots, blouse, pants, briefs. They all lay tangled with Varka’s clothes.
The light of the lamp, while not making Flins glow as the moon did, still offered a breathtaking sight. Every plane of pale muscle, every dip of skin over bone, all was accentuated in excruciating detail by golden light. This Flins was not the cold, mysterious fae wading in the river. Instead, he was a dear friend, who desired him and him alone. A desire so strong that he would open his heart and body to someone again, something he had not done in centuries.
“Oh, Flins. You’re gorgeous in all kinds of light, aren’t you?” Varka smiled down at him, cupping his cheek. Flins smiled, pressing a kiss to his palm.
“Shall you let me taste you?” Was the only thing he said. The knight nodded.
“Just a taste. I don’t want to come yet.” Flins hummed an agreement and turned his focus to Varka’s aching member.
He started with open mouthed kisses, first at the tip then following a prominent vein down the length. His hands caressed gently up Varka’s thighs, feeling out the strong muscle up to his chubby love handles and back down again. The younger man sighed a moan, trying his best to keep his footing. The fae’s lips closed gently around the head of his arousal, suckling tentatively. The knight carded his fingers in his dark hair, urging him carefully to take more into his mouth.
The older man took about half of his member into his mouth, the increased wet heat of his mouth combined with his glassy eyes gazing up at him made Varka squeeze his eyes shut. Gods, he was far too close to coming already.
“Oh Flins,” he smiled. “You’re doing great, sweetheart.” Despite his pink lips being stretched around cock, Flins mustered up a semblance of a smile. His tongue passed over the slit of his member again, savoring the salty taste of his precum. A moan was punched out of the taller man and his hips bucked further into the fae’s mouth. His tip hit something spongy but firm, the back of Flins’ throat.
The tingling of an oncoming orgasm fizzled from deep within his core. Varka threw caution to the wind, grabbing a tighter hold of the older man’s scalp and thrusting slowly into his throat. Moans spilled from him, his thighs quivered with anticipation. Flins’ faint gagging and the sting of his nails digging into his hip melted into the cacophony of pleasure that overtook Varka. He looked down, and found Flins with tears and spit streaming down his face, amber eyes rolling back as he choked out another moan. Below that was the sight of Flins’ hand stroking his own member, equally as lost in pleasure.
“Fuck!” Varka came on the spot. He shoved his cock entirely down the Flins’ throat, spurting cum again and again until his body shivered. The Ratnik cried out in turn, his release spilling onto his hand and the carpet below.
Quiet panting rang out in the aftermath. Varka’s cock slipped from Flin’s mouth. The knight stood bent over, trying his best to keep his balance and mumbling out near unintelligible words of praise all the while.
“So much for ‘just a taste’, huh?” Flins rasped. He wiped away the cum that dribbled from his lips.
“Yeah, sorry,” Varka chuckled. “About that and fucking your face. You just felt so good I couldn’t stop.”
“No need to apologize. I enjoyed myself as well.” he gestured to the mess he’d made of the carpet.
“Awesome, awesome,” Varka moved past Flins, falling back first onto the bed. He patted a spot beside him. “C’mere. You should rest those legs before I make ‘em shake.”
“Oh? What exactly are you proposing?” Flins raised an eyebrow as he walked over. He lay next to Varka, limbs curling around him and savoring his warmth.
“Making love to you, of course.” The knight pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Flins pulled his lips to his own. Their tongues intertwined again, the salty taste of Varka’s seed mixing with their saliva. They parted so he could rifle through the nightstand’s drawer. He pulled out a tiny bottle of slime condensate lube. Flins raised an eyebrow.
“Did you bring that?”
“Nah, this and condoms are given out by the inn, in that little box at the end of the hall. Weird but pretty convenient, right?”
“I suppose. Perhaps more people copulate in these rooms than I thought.” The fae grimaced. Whatever second thoughts he had were quickly smothered by Varka kissing him and his now oiled fingers slipping between his spread legs. He let himself lay bared as calloused fingertips massaged his rim. He breathed slowly, trying his best to loosen up despite centuries without so much as baring his skin to another person. Gently, slowly, Varka pushed a single finger past his rim. Flins sucked in a breath.
“Breathe, sweetheart. Relax for me.” Varka cooed, pecking kisses on his cheek. Flins moaned softly, letting his body fall limp in the knight’s hold. Varka slid his finger in and out, searching for the spot that would set off sparks behind Flins’ eyes.
“Oh!” Flins cried out; Varka grinned. He stroked his finger over that bundle of nerves a few more times, watching with delight as the fae’s cock twitched on his stomach with every touch. He added a second finger, plunging deep and spreading them apart. More sweet noises dripped like honey from Flins’ lips. Every last saccharine cry made Varka throb with desire.
“Fuck, Flins. You’re something else. So perfect.” He kissed him, tangling their bodies further amongst the sheets. Flins whimpered in response when Varka added a third finger.
“As are you… you’re incredible. I could do this for hours… but my body begs for you to be inside of me, Varka.” Doe-like amber met sky blue with a warmth that melted Varka’s heart. Like a dog on command, he nodded and slipped his fingers out. He positioned himself atop of the older man, whose pale legs lay open, draped over Varka’s hips.
“Anything you wish, gorgeous.” He lined himself up with Flins’ entrance. Flins let out a relieved sigh, looking down at where they were about to be connected. Rosy lips gently parted, and lashes batted against flushed cheeks. Varka’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of a man so eager for him. His large, calloused hand met Flins’ and intertwined their fingers. Varka brought their foreheads together. Their breaths, still tinged with the faint undertone of alcohol, mingled into a hot, heady miasma.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Stay relaxed for me; keep breathing slo-ow… oh…” The last word hitched in Varka’s throat as he finally penetrated Flins. Despite the prep, he was still deliciously tight. A gasp was punched from the knight’s throat as the tip all pushed the way in.
“Keep going, beautiful. I’m feeling amazing.” Thin fingers weaved through his blonde locks, interlaced with whispers of praise and desire. If Varka was any less wracked with pleasure as he was now he would laugh at the fae’s absurdity, as if he wasn’t the one being speared open. Varka still nodded wordlessly, continuing to ease into the fae. His thighs trembled, his back bowed from the pleasure, and eventually his hips kissed Flins’ ass.
It was as if they had done this a million times before with the way their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Varka’s limbs further caged Flins in, holding him in a gentle embrace as they kissed once more. For a moment, the searing pleasure abated to a gentle thrumming that vibrated every cell in their bodies. Something that made every movement more tender, more sensitive, more unforgettable. This memory would be forever etched into their minds and bodies, far longer than was expected of a simple hookup.
“You okay?” Varka mumbled against Flins’ lips.
“Amazing. I’m doing amazing. Feels so full…” he sighed, grinding gently against Varka’s hips. The knight buried their faces in another kiss and ground his hips in return.
“More…” Flins muttered, muffled by gnashing lips. Varka didn’t have to be told twice. He pulled out of Flins, catching his tip on the rim, then sheathing himself once more all in one motion. Their kiss broke as the pleasure made their bodies arch. An embarrassingly high-pitched moan slipped from Flins’ lips, to which he clamped a hand over his mouth. Varka grabbed his hand and slammed it into the sheets.
“No. I said don’t hide your pleasure from me. Show me everything.” The knight slid home inside his lovely fae once more. The next moan escaped uninhibited. The sound washed over them like a warm shower. Varka couldn’t help picking up his pace, punching out more and more sweet noises from Flins.
Varka eventually found a mind-melting rhythm to subject the fae to. Fast enough that his thighs burned, but slow enough that Flins could feel every inch split him open again and again. The whole motion was as smooth as the knight could make it, hips swinging back and forth like the tolling bells of the church back home.
It was in that rhythm that Flins fell apart. Fingernails that sharpened like claws tore into Varka’s back and the sheets. Toes curled with every brutal thrust that rearranged the deepest part of his core. His pointed ears twitched at the same time. A fresh layer of sweat made his body shine almost as beautifully as the moon did.
The precipitous descent into pleasure had Flins wavering like a mirage, the flames within him licking at the seams of his body. They heated him, not so much as to burn, but enough for Varka’s head to nestle in the junction between Flins’ neck and shoulder, groaning loudly like he was the one being pounded into. Azure glowed behind his eyes, and little wispy wings threatened to fight their way from between the fae’s back and the sheets.
Varka seemed to notice that vision from the river returning once more. He slowed his movements and sat supported on outstretched arms, taking in the sight of a ruined fae writhing beneath him. He appeared just as ethereal as he was in the river, with a sheer beauty perfected in a way no human could possibly achieve. All smooth paleness and curves, now sweaty and flushed, with hips forming lilac bruises from Varka’s grip. Flins whined at the loss of stimulation.
“What is it…?” Flins whined, hips grinding slowly into Varka’s.
“Turn off the lamp for me, would you?” The Ratnik did as he was told, momentarily bathing the room in darkness, save for the pale grey flickers of the moon through the bedside window. It was then that Varka leaned back to grasp the curtains. He wrenched them aside, nearly tearing them off. Moonlight flooded the room, silver and magical. Flins gasped as his skin shimmered in an instant.
That precious memory and the lightkeeper he adored coalesced into one. Flins was no man, nor was he a beast. He simply was, and oh how Varka loved him for it. The love he felt for him was tender, protective. He wanted to shield Flins from a world that threatened to rain on his flame. The cruelty of time and fate that caused him to hide a beauty, both inside and out, away beneath the earth for centuries.
Varka made a silent vow. From there on, Flins was no longer allowed to smother himself, to wither away in the dark corners of the world. Varka would fuel him, stoke his fire until he was an all-consuming blaze. He would be his lightkeeper.
“Archons, you’re everything to me, Flins.” Varka panted, fingers caressing his jaw. The Ratnik leaned into the touch.
“Kyryll.” Flins breathed. Varka cocked his head to the side, confused.
“Flins is just a surname. Kyryll is my given name. I want to hear it on your tongue.” Their world fell silent for a few beats, melting away into just the two of them.
“Kyryll.” Varka repeated, turning its syllables over in his mouth like chewing gum.
“You’re everything to me, Kyryll.” Flins’ eyes rolled back when Varka slid home as he said it.
“And you are my moon and stars, Varka.” He whined. His nails dug into the knight’s back. “Please keep going. I’m so close.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart.” Varka’s hips picked up the pace. His thighs burned, but for this fae he had grown to adore so much, any pain was worth the price of witnessing his pleasure. He shifted his position, pushing the smaller man’s legs further back and angling his hips until he was hitting the Ratnik’s sweet spot with every thrust (with his size, it was rather easy to do).
With that they fell even further into pleasure. Sharpened fingernails drew angry red marks into the knight’s back. Their foreheads met, their breathy moans and exhales mixing alongside cries of their names.
“Varka, I’m gonna come. ‘M gonna come!” Flins cried, azure eyes rolling into the back of his skull. Varka’s arms brought them closer together; he picked up his pace even more. Kisses were pressed along that perfect, shimmering pale skin. Then, Varka’s canines brushed along Flins’ ear.
“Come for me then. Come for me and me alone, Kyryll.” Varka sank his teeth into the fae’s flesh.
Flins came apart in an instant. His body arched off the bed. A wrecked cry was ripped from his throat. His body flickered with blue flame, rippling from the tips of his wings to the ends of his toes. Pearly spend spilled hot over his and Varka’s stomachs. He burned and pulsed around the grandmaster, melting him entirely. With one more sheathing of himself into the fae, Varka spilled deep inside of Flins with a groan.
The world spun. Varka’s heartbeat thrummed in his ears. The two men fell limp upon the bed, caring little for how uncomfortable their position may be. After an indeterminate stretch of post-orgasmic bliss, Varka’s senses slowly returned. What came first was Flins hugging him. Fingers carded through his hair; his nose nuzzled into his neck. Varka mustered the strength to lift his head up and capture the fae in a kiss. He reciprocated lazily, groaning quietly.
“Heavens… that was…” Flins rasped, throat sore.
“I sure do hope that was as good for you as it was for me.”
“Of course, my dear knight. Was I too hot at the end? I didn’t mean to lose control of my own form that badly.”
“No, no, don’t worry about it at all! I’m just fine. More than fine actually. It felt amazing.”
“That’s a relief.” Flins sighed. They gazed into each other’s eyes through a beat of silence. Varka could feel the fae’s rapid heartbeat matching his own. He was brought back to reality with a start, shifting onto his knees so he could pull out.
“I’ll get us cleaned up.” The knight patted Flins’ thigh before getting up from the bed and entering the adjacent bathroom. The Ratnik lay there breathless, eyes grazing over the moonlit room, down to his own cum-stained torso where he still glimmered. Seldom had he felt so human, despite looking anything but.
Varka came back with a wet rag, his own body damp but clean. He silently went to work, gently cleaning their combined fluids from his stomach, groin, and inner thighs.
“Anything else, darling?” Varka caressed Flins’ face.
“Perhaps a little more of that firewater? It quenches my thirst better than water.”
“Oh yeah, stokes your hearth doesn't it?” Varka smiled. Flins nodded. The knight discarded the rag in the bathroom, then picked up the abandoned firewater bottle. Both sitting on the edge of the bed, Varka watched Flins gingerly take the bottle and gulp down a shot’s worth of clear liquor. With his inhibitions gone, his skin rippled as he swallowed, whatever fire that lay within him crackled with pleasure.
Flins’ eyes met Varka’s. “Want a taste?”
“Sure! Bring it here.” His hand reached out for the bottle, but he was met with Flins’ lips capturing his. Slowly, the burning firewater streamed from the fae’s mouth into his. Heat exploded into his body as if a bomb had been set off. Slender fingers threaded through his blond locks, bringing him closer. The two men groaned softly, tongues slipping against one another, relishing their taste paired with the liquor.
They broke apart with a string of saliva. Varka rubbed a hand over his tomato red face while Flins put the cork back in the bottle and set it on the nightstand.
In silence, the fae nestled himself back between the sheets. His slender arms caged around his knight, coaxing him beneath the blankets and into his embrace. Varka could do little in response, due to his burning throat and thrumming heart. He simply let Flins maneuver them into an intimate cuddle. Skin meeting skin. The Ratnik nuzzled the junction between Varka’s neck and collarbone, leaving a tender kiss there.
“Are you alright?” He whispered, but it still sounded so loud in the silent space.
“I hope so.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I just,” Varka wrapped his arms around the smaller man. “I don’t know what we are anymore. I said we were friends earlier, but after this…”
“It’s alright. If you don’t want to commit to a relationship, I understand. I have to admit, I feel the same way.”
“But that doesn’t mean we will stop being friends or having nights like these again, right?”
“Of course not. I remember this term the younger Ratniki used, what was it called… ah! ‘Friends with benefits’”
“Oh, yeah. I guess we could be that,” finally the two men’s eyes met. “If you’re alright with changing the terms of my proposal.”
“Of course, Varka.” Flins smiled.
“Then it shall be so, Kyryll.” Varka grinned. They shared a final kiss before letting sleep fall in a blanket upon them, cradling them like the gentle glow of the moon.