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Chapter Text

“This is a particular position, don't you think?”

Flins couldn't get past the embarrassment he's feeling right now. The position he's in is more than awkward, but he didn't dare show it on his face. He's trying his best to look as nonchalant as possible, but he knows he's failing miserably.

“Then why are you trembling?”

Rerir stares down at Flins, his visible eye glowing with something Flins isn't too familiar with. His grip on Flins’s thighs was tightening each second he held them, feeling the younger man underneath him quiver in what seemed to be anticipation and curiosity. Maybe even a hint of fear, but Rerir is too aroused to look deep into it.

The area around them was filled with smoke and debris from their battle earlier. The ground was hard underneath Flins, and his neck was getting stiffer by the second. He stares up at Rerir, letting out a soft breath and brushing his hands against the ground to settle. 

Rerir…has him in a position he wouldn't normally be in. His lower body was being held up by Rerir, legs separated. Each second that passed sent shivers down Flins's spine. He was tired and weakened by their battle, and he could tell Rerir was the same. Nonetheless, he could easily escape and manage to get away, but he wants to see how far this would go.

“I'm just exhausted because of our battle. I am not.” Flins lied easily, his yellow eyes boring into Rerir’s. “You…are planning something, aren't you?”

“Damn you, light keeper,” Rerir growls as he pulls Flins's thighs up so his legs are hanging off his shoulders. “You think you can just take my heart away and destroy it? You have some fucking nerve.”

“I only did what I had to do,” Flins explained. “Otherwise, if you had your heart, you would've been—” He couldn't finish his sentence as a sharp gasp left his mouth. His legs began quivering even more as Rerir tore open his pants without warning, the sound echoing in the deserted battleground. His fingers curled into fists, and his instincts kicked in, legs squeezing over Rerir's shoulders. That didn't seem to do anything as Rerir continued tearing off Flins's pants and underwear until his lower half was bare.

Flins let out a small whimper by accident, and Rerir chuckles, tilting his head to the side and inhaling deeply. “Well, would you look at that pretty pussy. Who knew you were born with something so…pure?”

“...” Flins feels his cheeks heat up, and he stutters, feeling weak all over. “This is not something you can just look at. Only special people can.”

“Last time I checked, you stole my heart.”

“Literally or theoretically?”

Rerir frowns. “Shut that shit up. You seriously piss me off, you brute. Thinking you can steal something of mine and get away with it. I'm a Sinner of Khaenri'ah, and you're nothing more than the shit underneath my shoe. But look at you? You have the strength to get away, but no. You're lying here with your clit in my face, and your face as red as jueyun chilies.”

Flins shuts his eyes, struggling to breathe properly. “It's not…”

“It is.” With one of his clawed hands, Rerir drags one of his very sharp fingers against Flins's soft skin, just shy away from his cunt. The mere touch nearly broke skin, and Flins soon realized that this was not about to be enjoyable. His curiosity was killed immediately as he tried backing out, but Rerir's grip seemed to have tightened as he held Flins in place. The sinner clicks his tongue, shaking his head, and chuckling darkly. 

“And where do you think you're going?” 

Fast and hurried, Rerir pushed his finger inside of Flins's cunt, and a strangled whimper left Flins's mouth. The noise was enough to leave Rerir feeling more powerful than he already is. Flins arched his back, biting his lower lip to the point it began to bleed as Rerir pumps his finger in and out without mercy. His pussy began to gush out slick to loosen and ease the pain, but it only made his finger slip in deeper.

Airy gasps began pouring from Flins's lips. Each time he pushed in his sharp finger, the more his cunt gushed out slick and other fluids that ran down his thighs. He couldn't fight back. It was too much on his poor pussy that hasn't been used in so long.

“What? This hurts, light keeper?” Rerir taunts as he slides his finger out momentarily to get a good look at the mess Flins is making. 

“...Mm.” Flins didn't confirm or deny it to give satisfaction to the man above him. The half-assed answer turned Rerir on, and he laughed again, pushing his finger back in, punching another whimper out of Flins. “Whether you like it or not, I'm still going to have my way with you.” Rerir uses his free hand to unwrap the bandages from around his mouth, revealing the scars that plagued there. 

And with that, Rerir leans his head down, capturing Flins's cunt with his tongue and matching the rhythm of his finger currently opening him. Flins cries out, back arching even more and trying to kick away from the sensation.

Fuck. It felt so fucking good. But it hurts so fucking bad. He couldn't get enough.

A lewd, slick symphony of wet noises and Flins' whimpers and short moans. His hips began to move involuntarily, eventually as Rerir worked his tongue deep inside of his cunt, thrusting at the same speed as his finger. His breath began to stutter, and his whimpers got faster and higher. He shakes for purchase on the ground as his nails dug deep into the dirt, looking for anything to anchor him. He was close. He was so close. It feels so fucking good. He didn't want Rerir to stop what he was doing. Fucking him with his tongue, and fingering him so deep, it might as well reach the underlying of his stomach. 

His legs squeeze Rerir’s head as he gasps and cries out, the wet sounds making everything seem so hot. He opens his mouth, drool running down from the built-up spit, and his eyes open wide. “Fuck— you…Rerir— ah! Ah! Ah! Angh!” 

Rerir drags his tongue up his folds, and suck his clit with drool pooling over the sides of his mouth. His breath is hotter than it has any right to be, and for a few minutes, Rerir is eating him out for his own gratification rather than Flins. The loud moans Flins is making turn the sinner on even more if possible, his cock aching to be released and be fucking the submissive man underneath. His tongue flicked eagerly, chasing after Flins’s orgasm like it was his own, the other man grinding against his mouth. Flins urged him to pick up the pace, and Rerir's tongue demanded an orgasm right then and there.

“Fuck!” Flins cries out, his orgasm hitting him harder than Rerir did during their battle earlier. His eyes rolled back as slick spray all over Rerir. The sinner chuckles, slurping up the juices eagerly, pulling his finger out, and tasting how delicious Flins is. The submissive man's body thrashed to and from, grunting with animal pleasure and bucking his hips. The pleasure grabs him in its jaws and shakes him. Flins’s arms go out, his body writhing, and his toes curl until they cramp. His cries trail off into helpless, keening whimpers, utterly unable to keep quiet.

Rerir keeps licking at him, making Flins squirm in oversensitive agony until finally he manages to reach over and push his head away. Rerir surges forward, trying to capture Flins's lips in a wet kiss. Without thinking, Flins tries to turn his head away, not wanting to taste himself, but Rerir grabs his chin and forces their mouth together, smearing Flins's own juices across his lips.

The moment Flins opens his mouth to gasp, Rerir slides his tongue into his mouth to fill it. Flins whines, mouth flooding with the musky taste of himself.

Rerir pulls away from the kiss and unclips the buckle of the belt that is holding up his tattered pants. Flins watches helplessly, unable to move. He catches his breath, but gasps when he sees the sight of Rerir's massive cock.

It was bigger than he could imagine, the tip an angry red. The width scared Flins the most, and he's definitely having second thoughts about this. 

“W—Wait,” He says, his gaze going up to meet Rerir's. “Rerir—”

“Shut up.” Rerir rolls his eye, getting on his knees, and his cock prodding against Flins's cunt.

“It's not gonna fit.”

“I'll make it.”

Fear makes Flins's throat tight, so he tries to breathe out his nose. Rerir's face above him is nothing but evil, but there's no expression at all at the same time. “I've—”

“I didn't take you for being a little pussy.” Rerir snarls as he readies his cock, and keeps Flins steady. “You fought against the wild hunt, killed hundreds, yet you can't take my cock? What a pathetic loser.”

“...”

Still keeping him steady, Rerir counted as he thrust back and forth to build up momentum to be inside Flins. “One…two…” He cackles halfway through the countdown, and Flins desperately shakes his head.

“Wait—!”

“Three!” He shouted as he slammed his cock with tremendous force into Flins's cunt. He felt the barrier give way easily, and he found his cock buried completely inside the light keeper as he fell forward on him, spreading out his legs. Rerir immediately began pumping his cock in and out with abandon, moaning loudly without a care in the world.

Flins thrashed wildly and screamed in pain as his body became inflamed with Rerir's invading cock. He repeated his screams over and over, forced out by the unbearable pain. The ridges of Rerir's cock hit deep inside Flins repeatedly, brushing against a sensitive spot that made Flins's eyes roll back. “Stop! Stop! It hurts! Ah! Augh! Ah! Ah! Ngh—!”

“Fuck, you feel incredible.” Rerir breathed, gripping Flins's hips now. “You were made for this. You were made for ME.” He pulls out, letting Flins have some mercy on his poor pussy, but it wasn't long before he snaps forward in a fluid motion, punching a groan out of Flins. His body loosens, and the pain turns into something a little dull eventually. It wasn't really feeling good, it never was, but it was…still hurting. Just not as much now.

“Touch yourself,” Rerir demands. Flins lets a few tears escape his eyes as he obeys, bringing his shaky hand to his clit and begins rubbing it. He stares up at the man abusing his pussy, each thrust making him grunt and gasp. Flins works his finger around his clit, feeling just how tightly stretched he really is and how Rerir's cock slides in and out without mercy. He can feel the slick and something else beneath his fingertips, the hood pulled back, and the sensitive part exposed.

Rubbing himself while Rerir fucks him makes the sensation a little stronger than before. Flins continues moaning softly, feeling himself get closer to orgasming again. Each thrust feels like a punch, and he's aware of the hard ground underneath him.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Fuck yes.” Rerir growls with each movement of his hips. The smacking sounds could probably be heard all the way to Fontaine, and when Rerir is close, he tenses up on top of Flins, tilting his head back and groaning loudly. “Fuck yeah. This fucking pussy is made for me. Huh? Do you think Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins?! Huh?!”

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Flins could only respond in grunts.

“Fuck yeah. Hah…hah…” Rerir begins to sweat as he fucks Flins even harder and faster. “Cumming…I'm fucking cumming…yes, yes, yes, yes…cumming!” 

Flins is feeling tired from how hard and long Rerir is thrusting. He could no longer feel his legs as they started to feel raw and numb. The ground is scraping against his thighs, the position he's in not making it any better. Though it doesn't seem Rerir will be lasting any longer as his cock swells inside of him, bigger and firmer, and then it starts to pulse. Rerir moans out Flins’s name, eye rolling back as he jerks hard into Flins and cumming inside of him.

Flins's eyes rolled back at the hot seed spurts inside his tired cunt without another warning. He freezes, his second orgasm not as intense as his first one, but still enough that he can feel everywhere. He stood playing with himself as Rerir quickly pulled out and thrust his cock inches from his face. He gave it a couple of pumps with blinding speed and thick ropes of hot cum shot across his face and his hair. Flins tried to turn away, but Rerir held onto his chin, forcing him to let the cum hit his face.

“By the seven…” Rerir groans as Flins’s face was covered in his cum. He sat back, catching his breath, and watching as Flins lay there, legs spread wide open for anyone around to see. It was a beautiful sight for the sinner, and his visible eye rolled down to his spent cunt that was spilling out his sperm.

Flins lay there, dazed, his face splattered with Rerir's cum. He couldn't do anything but lie there in silence, catching his breath as his mind began to drift into spiraling thoughts.

Rerir didn't know what to say at that moment as he simply watched Flins and his heaving chest. He pulls his pants back up eventually and hovers over the light keeper, staring down. “You aren't dead. Stop acting like it.”

“...”

Rerir rolls his eyes and stands up, sniffing and wrapping the bandages back around his mouth. “Pathetic. You're simply pathetic.”

“...”

Flins closed his eyes, letting out a final breath and a tear escaping his eye. Rerir continues to stare before grunting and turning away from the pathetic sight. He had never seen someone so pitiful. “You aren't shit, and you never will be. This is just an example of what I can do to you.”

He doesn't say anything more after that. He doesn't need to. He leaves Flins lying there, disappearing eventually.

And Flins. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. His body was tired, and so was his mind. He could vaguely hear someone shouting his name, and then footsteps approaching at a fast rate. He barely manages to open his eyes to see blonde hair and brown eyes looking down at him, shouting something he couldn't hear. 

It all goes black after that.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Chapter Text

The lighthouse had always been too quiet, but since that night, it had become unbearable. Even with the sea battering the cliffs and the lantern fire shrieking against the storm winds, silence clung to every stone.

Flins has not spoken much in days. He never really did, only giving his colleagues a few words as they passed by during patrols, but he was quieter than usual. The apprentices muttered among themselves when he passed outside the areas of the normal patrol routes, his boots crunching with their usual precision yet empty of their old command. It was better to work until there was no room in his head for anything else. Better to polish the brass, to mark the tide tables, to pace the graveyard rows beneath the watchful beam until his body nearly gave out. 

Better to be nothing but the Lightkeeper, and not a man who still felt the phantom of another’s hands on his skin.

Yet Rerir lingered.

Every time Flins closed his eyes, he remembered. The violence, the shame, the way his own body has betrayed him, torn between revulsion and…hunger. He despised himself for it. He despised Rerir more for planting the seed, and he despised how intrigued he was in the beginning, before he was brutally violated. And yet—yet—his throat tightened when he thought of him, when he remembered the gleam in Rerir's eye as if daring him to speak.

Flins dropped his quill suddenly, ink spattering the map of the shoals. His hands trembled, and he gave up trying to mark the map of Nod Krai and the patrol route he took that night. He shoved the papers off the small table by the lighthouse, the weight of his long coat settling around him like a shield. He needed the sea air; the graves would keep him honest.

The night was bitter, the wind slicing through the iron ladder as he climbed down to cross into the burial ground. Lantern light haloed the headstones, each one tilting beneath centuries of storms. Flins let his fingers trail across the granite, grounding himself in names and dates long forgotten. At least they did not think. At least they did not remember most of their mortal lives before perishing to the Wild Hunt.

Flins suddenly stilled, a shiver running down his spine. His yellow eyes followed a line as he looked ahead, his breath nearly giving way. A figure stood at the far end of the path, half shadowed beneath the turning light. 

Rerir.

Flins' heart clenched painfully, and so did his lower half, painfully traitorously alive despite what had been stolen from it. His first instinct was to turn back to the safety of the lighthouse, and his second was to strike. His third, most shameful, was to step closer.

“...You,” Flins breathed, words barely audible over the wind. His voice cracked, courtly composure crumbling. 

Rerir stood between the crooked stones like a specter dredged from a nightmare. Pale skin half swallowed by the dark wrappings, shoulders bristling with ornamental armor that seemed torn from some forgotten war. His eye found Flins, the pink iris and slit pupil glowed in the sweeping light.

“You look smaller,” Rerir said, voice muffled by the bandages but still clear with venom. He began to walk forward, shoes crunching on gravel, the weight of him filling the silence like a storm front. “A few days, and already you've withered. Do lightkeepers like you rot so quickly? Pathetic.”

Flins’s breath caught in his throat. He forced himself to straighten, to smooth his coat and lift his chin with defiance, but his hands would not stop trembling. “You dare trespass here,” He said, voice wobbling. 

“I dare?” Rerir laughs. “I have already taken what I dared. And you—” he gestured with a bandaged hand, armored plates gleaming with gold trim. “You still think you hate me, but I can see it in your piss-colored eyes. The lie tastes sour even from here. You missed having your pussy fucked.”

Flins swallows hard, every muscle in him torn between the urge to flee and the pull that dragged him closer. He hates Rerir. He hated him for the shame, for the ruin of his composure, for making him feel like a slut instead of the untouchable Lightkeeper. He remembers the day the traveler and Paimon found him in such a state. How Rerir's cum dripped out of his pussy without care, how he passed out, and he woke up to be in the Frostmoon Scions territory, his ripped pants restored thanks to Lauma. 

She has said he had been out for a while, her eyes and voice gentle, her troubled all at the same time. The traveler, Aether, and his companion, Paimon, soon arrived after he had awakened. Lauma had made him some tea and told Flins that she had informed the other lightkeepers that he was alright and had been attacked badly. 

That…was the truth in some way. Flins could barely hold his cup if it weren't for Lauma softly grabbing his hand and offering comfort. He knew what she was trying to say, but he didn't want to hear it. Aether was offering comfort as best he could, but his words went through one ear and out the other. He can remember how Rerir's tongue explored his folds, his sharp finger deep inside his cunt, and how wet it was. 

Flins shudders, finishing his tea and thanking Lauma and Aether for their hospitality. But he really needed to get going. 

That was a couple of days ago, and this is now. Rerir stood in front of him, cracking his head to the side and tilting his head. “I came for more. Not just revenge anymore. You. I came to fuck you. You made me hungry, and now you will feed me. Or shall I take you apart again until you remember how to beg?”

The lighthouse beam turned again, falling across Flins’s face. He drew a sharp breath, forcing steel into his voice. “You mistake shame for desire. I want nothing of you.”

Rerir's step did not falter. He came closer, much slower this time. “Your mouth lies prettily,” He said while shaking his head. “But your body. You don't need to lie like a fucking whore to me.” 

“Silence!” Flins snapped, but it broke too quickly. He stepped back and collided with a headstone, the granite sliding against his foot. Rerir was directly in front of him now, his height towering over Flins by more than a couple of inches. His exposed eye glowed, slit pupil widening as though savoring him.

“You tremble. Don't waste the effort of denial. I know you, Lightkeeper. I left my seed inside you, and every breath you take now remembers me.”

Flins turned his head aside, lips pressed thin. He hated that his chest rose too quickly, that his cunt was already dripping for him. He wanted to spit in his face, to strike him, yet his legs would not move. He only grew hotter.

“You hate me,” Rerir went on, his words and tone surprisingly tender. “Good. Hatred is honest. Hatred binds stronger than love ever could. Let it keep me alive in you.” His fingers ghosted along Flins’s jaw, not quite touching, but close enough to burn. “Heh. You'll curse me, you'll despise me, and when you wake in the dark, it will still be me you crave.”

“Stop—” Flins’s voice broke, thin and desperate.

Rerir's smile curved under the wrappings, evil and uncaring. “Then make me.”

Flins's hands shoved at his chest, against the exposed skin that is hot with seething energy. He expected resistance, but Rerir had let him push him. Rerir staggered one step back, letting Flins feel the illusion of victory, the taste of power.

It lasted a heartbeat.

Rerir suddenly seized his wrist and pulled him forward, their bodies colliding. Flins cries out a little, hating how weak he's become. 

“Fight all you like, bitch.” Reris whispered, breath brushing his ear. “I want you to fight. It makes the breaking more…sweeter.” He cackles as Flins gasps. His mind screamed against it, dignity, hatred, shame, but his traitorous body arched into the heat, begging without words. And in the turning light of the tower above them, his Shadow clung closer to Rerir's.

No. He couldn't be tempted into this again. He remembers the pain as he had to fuck the cum out of his pussy when he went home after Lauma and Aether took him in. He remembers how good it felt to have his fingers pump in and out, watching the creamy liquid splatter on the ground. It turned him on even more, and his fingers weren't enough to satisfy him the way Rerir's cock did. 

The graveyard wind howled louder as if the ghosts knew trouble was stirring. Flins gritted his teeth, pushing away Rerir once more and snatching his wrist away. In less than a heartbeat, Flins summoned his polearm, and it shimmered into being, cold steel snapping into the night, the haft solid in his trembling grip. With a surge of will, Flins drove the blade upward until the point rested sharp under Rerir's chin. So close it nicked the bandages, pressing against the faint glow of the flesh underneath.

For a moment, a blessed moment kissed by Celestia above, Flins felt like himself again. But it left just as quickly. Rerir didn't even blink, his lips smiling even more. A low laugh came from his mouth, then rolled into a cruel, unbridled cackle that carried across the graves. 

“Put that away, we all know you aren't going to use it.” He purred between chuckles, tilting his chin into the blade so it could bite deeper. “So you still do have some dignity left. Finish the job. Or you can't.”

Flins's grip tightened, but his hands shook. He wanted to drive the weapon through, to end this phantom that haunted him, but something inside wrenched taunt. His mind goes back. 

“Pathetic,” Reris growls, leaning closer against the blade until blood soaked his bandages. “All that ceremony, all that polish, and in the end, you can't even strike.”

And then.

Rerir moved. His hand swung with force, the crack echoed as palm met cheek, and Flins was sent reeling. He slammed sideways into a tombstone, the impact shattering his breath, and his voice carried out a cry. His weapon slipped from his grasp, clattering uselessly against the ground. The world tilted as his head spun, the dark sky and lighthouse beam turning in a sickening spiral. He managed to get on one knee, holding his cheek in pain, and supporting his weight on the tombstone. Humiliation trickled into his bones as his body shook like a wet dog.

Above him, Rerir loomed. His broad shoulders lit up by the beam, cape flaring in the wind. His laughter rang sharp, rattling through the silence until it seemed the very dead stirred in their graves. “Look at you,” he taunted, voice rich with savage delight. “Brought to your knees before the dead you guard. Is this the great Lightkeeper’s strength?! What a worthless sight!”

Flins forced his head up, vision still spinning. He hates Rerir. He hates him, hates him, hates him. And still his body quivered, begging for more, strung tight between loathing and something far more damning. Rerir crouched down to Flins’s level, sighing. “You don't need to fight my cock, Flins.” He said, almost tender. “You only need to yield. And I promise…” His hand reached, brushing along his chin, tilting his head up. “...the grave won't be half as gentle.”

Flins's polearm flickered out, dissolving into motes of light on the cold earth. His fingers dug into the stone of the tombstone he's holding onto, trying to steady himself, but Rerir was already moving again. A fist came down hard into his ribs, pain bursting through him hot and sharp that tore a cry from his throat. Before Flins could gasp in another breath, the second blow smashed into his jaw, snapping his head back against the stone. Stars exploded across his vision as Rerir laughed, kicking Flins to the ground and watching as he rolled.

His laugh thundered, cruel and exultant. “There it is! That weakness! That crack in the marble mask you try so hard to wear. Pathetic! Just pathetic!” He grabbed Flins by the collar of his coat, hauling him up, then drove his knee into his stomach. The air fled from his lungs in a strangled gasp as saliva flew out of his mouth.

“Decisive? Courtly?! Untouchable?” Rerir spat the words, hurling Flins against another grave marker. Stone splintered under the impact, the engraved name shattering as he collapsed in front of it. “You're nothing but shit, Flins. And I—” He strode closer, shoes grinding over the broken granite. “—I will remind you of it until you can't even stand.”

Flins coughed, blood smearing his lip. Every instinct screamed to rise, to strike back, to reclaim even a shred of dignity, but his body lagged, sluggish with pain and shame. He pushed to his knees, swaying, but Rerir seized him by the hair, jerking his head back so their eyes locked.

“You hate me just as much as I hate you,” The sinner hissed. “You'll dream of breaking free, but you'll come crawling back. Because deep down—” His other hand brushed against Flins's split lip, smearing blood. “You want this. You want me.”

“...” Flins couldn't say anything more. Defeat and submission beat into his posture as he goes slack in Rerir's grip. Rerir chuckles, still holding Flins by his hair, and reaches down to unbuckle his belt from his pants. Their eyes never left each other, both sharing similar negative emotions for each other. Hatred. 

Rerir works his hand to pull down his pants until his large, raging cock is free from its confinement. It hits Flins's nose directly, causing the Lightkeeper to grunt. That thing was inside of him a couple of days ago. It was inside him, fucking him without mercy. Rerir redirects his cock in front of Flins's lips, rubbing teasingly. 

“Open.” 

“...”

Rerir yanks on Flins's hair. “I said fucking open your mouth.” He yanks again, harder, and Flins cries out. The sinner takes that opportunity to shove his cock deep inside of Flins's mouth, causing him to gag loudly and choke. Flins struggles against Rerir's grip, trying to pull away as he gags on the thick, hard dick in his mouth. His eyes water as he's forced to take it deeper, feeling the head hit the back of his throat. “Gmph... mnph...!”

“Fuck…” Rerir grabs Flins's hair tightly with both hands now, using it to control the pace and depth of his thrusts. He starts fucking Flins's mouth roughly, not caring about the muffled gags and chokes. “Fuck…you were made for this. Holy shit…” He tilts his head back, groaning loudly without a care in the world.

Flins had no choice but to take the cock, swallowing every inch. His eyes stung from the tears that gathered and fell down his face from the stretch of his lips. His eyes couldn't focus on anything but Rerir, his mind reeling from the fact that he's being deepthroated by a Sinner of Khaenri'ah. The taste was disgusting, and the smell was putrid. Still, he found himself…enjoying this a little? 

“That's it. That's much better…ah…you wanted this, haven't you?” Rerir asked, hips working forward and backward in Flins's plush mouth. Heat pooled like lava in Flins's stomach as his nose brushed the small patch of hair on Rerir's torso. He inhaled the best he could with his entire throat full, still making a choked noise. Rerir's other hand tucked a piece of hair behind Flins's hair before pinching his nose with his thumb and index finger. 

Flins's grip Rerir's thighs helplessly, desperate for air as saliva runs down the sides of his mouth, building up underneath his chin. He hollowed his cheeks, cheeks flushing red as he squeezed Rerir's thighs, pleading with his eyes. He gags so loud, his throat began to hurt.

“Hmm? Need to say something?” Rerir teases before tilting his head back again, growling lowly like an animal. “Fuck. Your mouth feels so good…” 

The praise made Flins feel somewhat good, and his cunt responded by squeezing together. Rerir had stopped thrusting into his mouth and stayed there, pinching his nose to withhold air and watch as he struggled to breathe with both airways covered. 

With his eyes rolling back from lack of air, Rerir released the grip on his nostrils and pulled away to give him air. Flins immediately takes deep breaths through his nose, tears streaming down his face, greedy to inhale the oxygen he needs. 

“Fuck.” Rerir pulls his cock out of his mouth as well, watching as Flins takes deep breaths with his mouth now, pools of drool collecting on the broken granite. The sinner watches the Lightkeeper for a moment, relishing in the moment of power he has. “I'm going to fuck you now.”

With clawed hands, Rerir flips Flins on his stomach and raises his lower half. Flins gasps, struggling, but Rerir yanks his head back by his hair. “Behave if you know what's good for you.”

Flins grunts, throat burning from the deepthroating, tongue numb. He looks back in fear, eyes squinting and skin red. “No, no, please—”

Rerir doesn't listen as he pulls down Flins's pants instead of tearing them like he did the first time he fucked him. His underwear was pulled down, and he lowered his head to get a whiff of how wet and heated Flins's cunt is. 

“Look how wet you are,” Rerir said in disgust. “From my cock being down your throat and nearly killing you. You enjoy that shit. Ha, I should've known.” Rerir pushes down the bandages from around his mouth, licking his lips.

Flins opens his mouth to speak, but a sharp breath takes as Rerir pushes his tongue deep inside his pussy, not before licking the folds. His hips shuddered at the sensation, the familiar feeling leaving him weak in the knees. Letting out a loud moan above the broken grave, Flins buried his face in the ground, fists clenched as he trembled with pleasure.

“No need to hide your face,” Rerir said as he yanked Flins's head up so he could get a good look at the crumbling tombstone he broke after crashing into it. “Look at you disrespecting the dead with your nasty sounds. Disrespectful little bitch.”

Flins's face was so, so red. It was incredibly hot. Rerir takes pleasure as he dips his tongue back inside Flins's cunt, slurping loudly and burying his face, his nose touching his ass. Rerir's tongue felt hot, wet, and heavenly. Flins couldn't help but roll his hips, wanting more of his tongue to be deeper inside him. 

He's close. He's so close to cumming.

“Ah…ah…ngh…” Flins gasped as Rerir thrust his tongue deeper than ever. He fisted the ground, holding onto the broken tombstone for purchase as he thrust his hips back even more. A cry tore from his mouth as he finally released, his pussy spurting out slick from his shaking body. 

“Mmmhh…” Rerir grunts, slurping up the fluids and licking like a dog would with water. He finally pulls away, a string of saliva and slick sticking to his mouth as he is delighted at the sight of Flins's whimpering and trembling with aftershock. “Fuck, look at that pussy. So wet and fluttering for me.” Rerir drags a finger inside, Flins surging forward a little from overstimulation as he whimpers.

“You were fucking yourself against my tongue just now. Does this mean you actually enjoy getting your cunt touched?” 

“Ah…” Flins shuts his eyes, unable to process his words. 

“Pathetic.” Rerir shakes his head, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment. He gets on his knees, pulling up Flins's hips and lining his cock up to his entrance. “Has anyone told you what an amazing ass you have?” 

Flins feels himself blush at the sudden compliment, exhaling slowly and then closing his mouth. Rerir runs his hands over his cheeks almost softly, rubbing the pale skin with such gentleness. He runs his hands all over his ass, groaning with lust. Then, without warning, he pushed his cock against his cunt, groaning even louder as it invited him so openly. The cock head began to disappear inside. Flins screamed, gasping and clawing at the ground.

So good. It felt so fucking good. He never felt something so…

In one great thrust, Rerir slams his hips forward, surging Flins forward, barely managing to stay on his knees. The sinner immediately started sawing his cock back and forth, bucking his hips as he let out massive groans throughout the graveyard. Flins cried with each thrust, yelling and moaning as the cock was hitting his g-spot each time. His head turns back, vaguely aware that he's still technically on patrol and he shouldn't be having sex on someone's grave. A grave from someone who died while fighting the Wild Hunt.

Flins couldn't be doing this. He began to grow anxious, his ass smacking against Rerir the only sound he could hear aside from the crashing waves. “Ah, ah, someone…might see us.” 

“Who fucking cares?” Rerir groans. “Everyone already knows you were fucked the last time someone found you. You belong to me.” The last few words brought a chill down Flins's spine. If he thought he was going too hard right now, the second Rerir steadied himself and angled his cock upwards just a bit, it shoved his cock even deeper. Flins couldn't do anything but take it, moans coming out high, scrambling to hold onto anything.

His pleas were coming out short and breathless. “Ah, wait! Ah, ah! Ah!!!”

“Rerir! Please—no!”

“Hgnnn!!!” Flins cums again, his creamy liquid spilling out like a wave as it covers most of Rerir's cock that was abusing him so well. His tongue laps out of his mouth as he pants, one eye shut, and he only one barely managing to stay open. Sweat clung to him like a second skin, his body convulsing from the second orgasm that was so powerful.

“Right. Fucking. There. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He grabs Flins's hips, filling him over and over with his cock, sending his cunt to react with spasms. “Good boy, Flins. Good fucking boy. Taking my cock so well. So fucking well. You like this, huh?” Rerir said breathlessly. “Yeah, you like this. Look at your cum. So fucking thick.”

“I can't! I can't!” Flins wanted to get away, his orgasm making everything so sensitive. He can feel the rawness of Rerir's cock, hitting against that one spot over and over. “Slower, ple— please—!”

Rerir didn't listen to Flins. He never really did to begin with. The sinner shut his eye before pumping his load inside his tight cunt. Flins thrashed in Flins's orgasm at that moment, the sticky cum coating his insides, painting everything white. “Fuck!!!!”

Having pumped his sperm, Rerir slowly removed his cock from Flins's cunt, watching as the Lightkeeper groaned in either pain or relief or both. He stands up, stances a little wobbling but otherwise okay as he watches his cum spill out of his cunt, running down his legs, almost to his feet, and on the ground. 

Rerir moves without another thought, helping Flins pull his pants and underwear back up despite the leaking cum and sit him against a large rock. He had pulled his bandages back up, the winds howling around them. The lighthouse beam cut arcs of pale light over shattered stone. Flins lay half sprawled against the rock, body bruised and aching, heart a fractured drum in his chest. 

Rerir crouched beside him again, bandages shifting as he reached out, not with a fist this time, but with something far gentler, far crueller. Fingers touched Flins's face, brushing against his split lip that was still smeared with blood. 

“You're beautiful like this,” The sinner murmured, voice ragged but soft, as though confiding a secret. “Fucked out…battered…broken…and still breathing. Still mine.”

Flins shuddered. He wanted to recoil, to reclaim his dignity, but his body betrayed him, leaning ever so slightly into the warmth of that hand. His throat tightened with something he could not name, shame and longing twisting together until they were indistinguishable. Rerir's eye glowed, pupil dilating as he studied him. Then with care, he pressed his forehead against Flins's, hot with the faint crackle of energy.

“Fight me. Hate me. Dream of ending me. It only binds you tighter.” Rerir paused, then chuckled. “And the truth, Lightkeeper? You'll crave this again. You'll crave me.”

Flins closed his eyes, a ragged breath escaping him. He despised the words, despised how deeply they burrowed into him. Yet in the secret hollow of his chest, the ruin and rage, something twisted in agreement. When he opened his eyes again, Rerir was already riding, cape flaring. He looked down one last time, cruel smile hidden. 

“Remember.” He said simply. 

Then, he turned and vanished from the graveyard, laughter fading into the wind. Flins remained in the graveyard’s silence, trembling. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The graveyard was silent again; only the sea’s roars were left behind. 

Flins dragged himself upright, each step a war between pain and will. His ribs ached where Rerir's fist had found them, his jaw throbbed, and cum continued to leak from his wrecked pussy. Even the earth seemed to cling to him, clotted in his gloves and hair.

And yet beneath the bruises, beneath the sting of blood, something deeper lingered. Rerir's words, whispered like a curse, clung to his thoughts as surely as the salt air. Still mine.

He hated how they burned and earned him in equal measure. By the time he reached the base of the lighthouse, dawn was already smudging pale gray across the horizon. He leaned against the heavy door, catching his breath, preparing to disappear back into solitude—

“Flins!”

The voice startled him, and he turned, limping, to find Aether striding up the path, Paimon fluttering close at his shoulder. Their faces shone with concern, so startlingly earnest against the bleak morning.

“We thought we'd check on you,” Paimon said, hands on her hips. “After we found you the other day, Paimon was worried! And now you look even worse! What happened?!”

Aether’s gaze softened but did not waver. “What's wrong? You don't seem well.”

For a long moment, Flins said nothing. His body screamed, his heart twisted, but the memory of warmth against skin, of a whisper too tender to be real, surfaced unbidden. His lips curved effortlessly into a courtly smile.

“I'm fine,” He said smoothly. “Truly. There's nothing to fear.”

Neither of them looked convinced, but he offered a shallow bow. Aether's sharp eyes linger on the way Flins is holding his sides and raising an eyebrow.

“Flins,” Aether said firmly, folding his arms. “You're holding your side. Did you get hurt in battle with the Wild Hunt?”

Paimon floats closer, her eyes equally wide. “Yeah! You look like you just fought ruin guards nonstop!”

Flins chuckles softly at that, shaking his head. “You two worry too much. It's nothing I can't handle.” 

“...” Aether and Paimon look at each other, having a silent conversation. “You know, you don't have to hide anything from us. We won't judge you. Paimon promises.” Paimon said.

For a moment, Flins falters. His fingers twitch around the door frame. Rerir's words echoed in his mind—You belong to me. The twisted intimacy of their coils. So, he straightens, hiding the tremor in his legs, ignoring the cum that was rolling down his legs, and meets Aether's gaze with another smile. 

“Really, I'm fine. You two should head back into town, you've got better things to worry about than me.”

Paimon frowns, and Aether lingers, reluctant to let it go. But in the end, Flins slips inside the lighthouse, closing the door with a soft finality.

Inside, in the silence, he presses his back against the door, heart pounding. Not from fear but from the lingering ghost of Rerir's touch, Rerir's words. He smiles, his hand sliding down to his stomach where he presses down lightly, humming.

Chapter Text

His polearm whirled in sharp arcs, every strike against the Wild Hunt precise, decisive. He fought like a man chasing silence, desperate for the rhythm of combat to drown out the thoughts in his mind.

A creature lunged at him, close, the impact driving him back a step. In that instant, the weight pressing him down was not the enemy; rather, his mind betrayed him. His chest constricted.

Rerir.

Flins's hand twitched, memory blooming hot and unbearable across his stomach. He drove the polearm home with unnecessary force, scattering ash into the wind. He takes a deep breath, standing up straight and looking at the spot where the creature he killed stood. He's grown used to the killing, the horrible smell, and the late nights where he prefers to work alone. However, it's becoming increasingly difficult to do. 

Dawn is about to break soon, and he'll need to report to his leader for the details of the mission. Then, he'll have the day off. He asked for the day off, his body more tired than normal. 

Flins does just that, reporting back to his leader and clocking out. By the time he made it back, it was early morning, Nasha Town bustling as usual, and the familiar scents of bread wafted through the air. He wasn't very hungry (he never was), so Flins went to his small home just outside the graveyard he patrols. It wasn't much, but it was his home where most of his things are.

The day was his own. No Wild Hunt to fend off, no graves to patrol, no messages to deliver across the windswept isle. Just quiet and solitude.

Flins loathed it, though.

As soon as he settled with a soft sigh, he began moving through his quarters with mechanical precision, folding linens he had left lying around, dusting shelves he had kept putting off, and polishing the brass fittings of his oil lamps until they gleamed, as they needed to. Every corner of the small house demanded his attention; if his hands were busy, perhaps his mind could be still.

But it wasn't.

Every time he paused, he found his palm pressed against his stomach again. A thoughtless motion, unconscious, yet undeniable. The warmth seared through cloth and gloves alike. He yanked his hand away with a sharp breath, only for it to return minutes later, as though compelled by something not entirely his own.

“Enough,” he muttered, slamming the cupboard closed harder than he meant to. The sound echoed through his chamber, accusatory. He tried again—tidying the books stacked on his desk, sweeping the floorboards, even scrubbing down the teapot though it was already clean. But Rerir's voice lingered in every silence, haunting him so. The phantom touch, the cruel laughter, the words that licked his ears. He couldn't help but shudder.

It's only been a couple of days since Rerir's last visit, where he had fucked him on top of a grave. Flins asked for forgiveness over and over to the dead, begging the gods above to forgive him for such a heinous thing he had done. Nonetheless, he returned to work that night, mind pleasantly buzzed, and body as light as a feather. Though the guilt and disgust were pushed back for a short amount of time, they all came crawling back in an instant, leaving him to gag. 

How can he let this happen? Rerir hates him just as much as he hates him.

So why?

Why does he enjoy this so?

Why does his body and mind betray him each time Rerir is so close? Was Rerir doing this just to fuck with him? Was he enjoying this as well?

By afternoon, his chest was tight. He leaned heavily on the table, one hand pressed against his stomach, the other braced against the polished wood. His breath came ragged, not from exertion but from the war raging inside him.

Fear. Lust. Both tangled.

He hated him. He yearned for him. He needed—

The thought struck like lightning, nearly buckling his knees. Flins staggered, catching himself against the wall, eyes wide with the enormity of it. 

I need him.

Flins pressed harder against his stomach, but it did nothing to ease the ache. Nothing silenced the gnawing truth that in his attempt to master the memory, he had only deepened the hunger. He slid down the wall until he was seated on the floor, legs spread out wide. He couldn't take this heat. 

He needed to feel something—anything at this point.

Rubbing his thigh, Flins pressed his back against the wall more, keeping his head down and shakily reaching for the hem of his pants, sliding them down along with his underwear all in one go. His breath shakes with his hand as he uses his other hand to cover his mouth. There was no need to do that, as Flins lives isolated from others, but he feels like he needs to do it. 

He takes off his gloves as well and tosses them somewhere, dainty fingers sliding down to his wet pussy that ached for touch. He nearly moans out loud as he begins rubbing it. It was slow at first, almost savoring it. He tried to keep his voice down, but his hand could only do so much. He props his legs, pushing with the heels of his feet to thrust away from his fingers that are rubbing so, so good. 

His fingers were dry, and Flins rubbed harder, slipping in to insert a finger into his hole. He imagines Rerir fingering him with those sharp claws. 

“Ngh—” Flins tilts his head to the side, whimpering as that sends heat up his body. He pulls away his fingers to spit on them before bringing them back. It was much easier sliding in now, spreading the lips of his pussy, rubbing the sides of the labia, a light pink color he could see. Flins jumped with every hard rub, panting heavily and moaning. He felt the suffocating ache in his chest, tears making his vision blurry until the first drops trickled down his cheeks.

Every motion and glide of his fingers sent him over the edge, body twitching with need. It wasn't enough. Rerir's fingers were much larger than his. He began to stroke harder, inserting two fingers that barely accommodated the stretch that was left an impression by Rerir. Even so, Flins's mind went blank as his fingers went in and out. He uses his thumb to tease his clit, plunging three fingers in with no comfort. Pathetic cries left Flins's mouth as he twisted his fingers, angling them. He arches his back, removing his hand and sobbing out loud, pussy spurting out slick. 

Rerir. Rerir. Rerirrerirrerirrerirerirerir—

Flins gasp loudly, crying out as he squirts all over his fingers, forcing out his orgasm. His legs tried to steady him, but it was too much. His toes curled and extended, sweat building up. Tears fell his face along with saliva that dribbled down his lips. He can imagine Rerir watching him, rubbing his cheeks, and whispering in his ear.

“There you go…such a good boy for me.”

The praise sent Flins over the moon as he slid his fingers out, sticky and dripping from his juices. He wordlessly brings his fingers to his mouth to have a taste. Salty, but…delicious at the same time. 

Flins catches his breath as his arm collapses on the ground, shutting his eyes and not really feeling satisfied like he wanted to. It wasn't Rerir's fingers, so he didn't feel the sharp sting. His fingers didn't reach nearly as deep as Rerir's fingers did. 

He was…unfulfilled.

His breath came in ragged gasps, the feeling pooling in his stomach. Nothing stilled the pounding in his chest, the relentless chant inside his head.

Need him. Need him. Need him. Need him. Need—

The room tilted as his vision swam. Flins shut his eyes against the shameful thought as he sat in a pool of his liquid. He couldn't be thinking this. He shouldn't—

Flins opened his eyes, preparing to get up, when a shadow fell across him. It was so quick and quiet, he didn't even sense the presence.

His heart skips a beat, and he immediately closes his legs, gasping. 

Rerir.

He stood there as though he had always belonged there, towering over Flins, his pink eye burning like embers. His sheer presence filled the chamber, making the air heavy and suffocating. Flins's pulse lurched, throat growing dry, body freezing. “Rerir—”

“Look at you,” Rerir's voice slithered through the silence, low and mocking. “Fucking your own pussy while thinking of me.”

“...” The words struck, but Flins barely heard him. He didn't even register that he was half naked in front of the sinner. Half of him wanted to fling himself forward, bury himself in that monstrous bulk, to feel that suffocating weight again and never let go. The other half recoiled, sick with revulsion, bile rising sharp at the back of his throat.

“You aren't going to continue?”

Flins looks away, ashamed. He couldn't say anything. And even if he could, he wouldn't do so. 

“What? Feeling embarrassed? You were fucking your pussy like a slut, yet you stopped when I arrived. And here I thought you would put on a show as compensation for taking something that isn't yours.”

Flins's lips parted, but no words still came out. Only ragged breaths. Only the trembling was between hate and hunger that burned him. Rerir's hand shot out, a blur of raw strength. Flins gasped, his wrist being painfully squeezed as he was forced up off the ground and slammed against the wall, the impact rattling his teeth. In an instant, Flins's arms were wrenched behind him, wrists crushed together in one massive hand. Rerir's bulk pressed forward, sealing Flins against the cold wall, leaving no room to breathe. Flins twisted, trying to find leverage, but the effort was half-hearted. His body betrayed him once more, body surging where there should have only been resistance.

Rerir bent low, his voice curling hot against Flins's ear. “You don't even struggle, do you? Not really. Because your horny ass likes this.”

Flins hissed, face turned to the wall, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. “I—I despise you.”

“Mm,” Rerir purred, tightening his grip, pinning him harder. “Which part of you is lying? Your mind? Or your pussy?”

“Ngh…” Flins squeezed his eyes shut, shame burning hotter than fear. His hands flexed uselessly in Rerir's grip. He could summon his polearm, he told himself. He could break free. He could—

But he didn't.

Because somewhere in the churning chaos of hate and horror, another truth pulsed like a wound he couldn't close. 

Flins needed Rerir.

A sharp cry escaped his lips when a mouth came into contact with his ear. Sharp teeth nipped the skin, pulling and pushing, a hot tongue slithering the inside so carelessly. It leaves Flins shuddering for more, and his back arching involuntarily. 

“Fuck…” Rerir grunts, pulling away from Flins and shaking his head. “You're so horny for me. You can't even deny it anymore. This is more of a pleasure for you than a punishment.”

Flins turns his head, panting a little and pressing his back against the wall once more. His legs wouldn't stop shaking. He couldn't stop trembling. He didn't want to. “...I can't stop…” He hangs his head, laughing brokenly. “I can't stop thinking about you.”

Rerir loomed over him, white hair messy but glowing in the dim light. “Don't tell me something I already know. You're pathetic like this,” He drawled, standing closer to Flins again. “All that fire you had when you took my heart—” Rerir cracks his fingers, momentarily angry at the memory of Flins taking his heart. 

Flins shivers, looking away.

And of course, Rerir noticed. Of course he did. He always noticed.

“Look at you,” he laughed, grabbing Flins by the chin and forcing his face up. “Shivering like a puppy.” His thumb brushed over Flins's trembling lips. “Don't even deny it. I just watched you fuck your cunt with your fingers.”

“...” 

A fist connects with his stomach, and Flins coughs, doubling over in pain. The brutal punches mostly struck his stomach, chest, and sides. Each one knocked the breath out of him, leaving him gasping, reeling. But worse than the pain was the voice, Rerir's voice, low and taunting between every strike.

“You can't fight me.”

“You'll never win.”

“You belong to me.”

Over and over, the pain wouldn't stop. Flins couldn't stop. He couldn't. He couldn't.

Eventually, as the blows slowed down, Flins's ears were ringing. He couldn't register Rerir talking to him. His vision was blurry, and he was swaying from side to side, watching as Rerir walked towards his bed and lay down on it, a bulge evident.

Was he…

Was he supposed to approach Rerir now? Is this what Rerir wants?

He could barely feel the pain from the beating he had just received. 

Rerir. He could only look at Rerir.

He needs Rerir. 

To satisfy this feeling. To feel. To want. To need. 

Rerir. Rerir. Rerir!

Flins didn't feel like himself at that moment. His body was calling to him, and his feet obeyed his heart and mind. Flins…couldn't control himself. Not any longer. He needed Rerir. Needed his cock to be deep inside and satisfy the feeling in his stomach.

Flins climbs on the bed, taking in the sight of Rerir's hard bulge, and touching it, mouth growing more wetter.

“Suck it,” Rerir said simply.

Flins obliges.

Mindlessly, the Lightkeeper unbuckles Rerir's pants and pulls them down, the cock popping up half eagerly. Flins glanced up at the sinner, watching his eye as he gave the cock a few pumps from the base up. A satisfied grin spread across Rerir's revealed mouth, a sigh pleasantly exhaling from his nose.

“That's right. Do the thing you're only good at doing.”

Opening his mouth, Flins's mouth stretches wide as he takes Rerir's cock slowly, sinking his head down until he gags. He was trying to breathe through his nose as the tip of the sinner’s cock slid back and forth on his tongue, growing firmer with every stroke of his mouth.

“Mm…yeah…” Rerir shuts his eye, groaning softly and humming. “Just like that. Keep sucking my dick.” He thrusts his hips up once, and Flins gags, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. 

“Imagine how much cum I pumped into you.” Rerir growls, watching as the Lightkeeper inhales most of his cock, his nose nuzzling against his pubic hairs. “I only fucked your throat once, and you're already a pro. Archons…” 

Tears welled in Flins's eyes as his jaw began throbbing. He could taste the saltiness of precum on his tongue, and he could already feel how his body was responding. 

“Beautiful…” Rerir praises. Flins looks up from his work, blushing at the compliment. Was this true? Rerir was complimenting him for his work? Was he sucking good? The sinner was feeling good because of him?

Flins pulled away from the cock just then, gripping it with both hands, and then pressed a soft kiss against the tip. He lingered there, lightly teasing with gentle licks, circling his tongue before taking the head into his mouth as his tongue continued swimming around. His hands stroked slowly as he licked, causing Rerir to groan even louder. He rolled his hips, pushing his cock deeper until the tip hit the back of Flins's throat again. The lightkeeper gagged, sending vibrations through Rerir's length. The pleasure was maddening, and it was making the sinner rethink his life choices almost.

Almost.

“Get off. Off, off.” He pushes Flins's mouth off of his cock, adjusting himself on the bed. His cock is painfully hard now, coated in spit that wasn't his. It was so incredibly hot.

“Pl—Please…” Flins whispers after a moment of him catching his breath.

“Please what?” Rerir raises an eyebrow.

“I—I…” Flins swallowed thickly, hazy eyes meeting Rerir's. His hands were still gripping his hard cock, almost squeezing it. “I need you. Please. I can't stop…your cock. I need your cock inside me.”

A wicked grin spreads across Rerir's face as he chuckles. “What made you so eager, now?”

“Your cock…it's so good. So good for my pussy. So good for…ah…” Flins doesn't know what he's saying anymore. He straddles Rerir, taking off the rest of his clothing until he's bare on top of the sinner. His chest was large. Really large. His uniform made it seem like he was lacking in the chest area, but Rerir was proved wrong. Flins's nipples were rock hard, sticking up and looking pretty. His breasts were full, painfully full of…

Rerir's eye widened. No way…

Before Rerir could comment, Flins reached to grab his cock and press it against his wet entrance. Hearts form in his pupils as he pants heavily, rubbing the head and wetting it even more. “Your cock…it feels so good. So, so good. Please…please let me fuck you.” His voice goes up an octave as he shakily presses the organ inside of his own, moaning feverishly.

Rerir huffs at Flins's words and bucks his hips up, burying his cock deep inside. Flins arched his back, tongue sticking out as he cried out. “Look at how wet your pussy is. All for me.”

“All—All for you. For you, for you, for you.” The Lightkeeper shudders as he sits down on the cock completely, shaking and crying. He looked down at his stomach, smiling brokenly as he pressed down on it. “C—Can you see it? Feel it—it?” He mewled as the bulge of Rerir's cock inside his stomach was seen. Rerir couldn't help but grow harder at the sight, the instinct to take over and fuck Flins stupid prominent. But he holds back, intrigued by Flins's sudden change in behavior. He was acting like a cock slut. A needy one at that.

“You like this?” Rerir asks with a grin. “Need my cock? Want it like the whore you are?” 

“Yes. Yes, please.” Flins moaned as Rerir reached around to grope his ass. “Need it. Need it.” Flins began to raise himself and slam back down on the cock, keening. Though it was clumsy at first, Flins got the rhythm so Rerir would hit the spot that felt so good the most. Waves of pleasure crashed over him as he was filled time and time again by the cock his body grew to love in only a short amount of time. His thighs trembled with every moment, moan after moan leaving his lips like a prayer. 

Rerir grunts with Flins's whoreish moans, sweat rolling down his open skin that wasn't covered in bandages. He thrusts his hips up carelessly, eye nearly rolling back as it felt so good inside the fae. He pulled his hands away from Flins's ass and brought them up to his neck, bringing his upper half down. He began thrusting up fast and hard into Flins, grunting as the Lightkeeper cries and whimpers at how fast he's going. His balls slap against the skin each time, both of them panting, chests rubbing against one another.

“You are meant for me,” Rerir said, bringing their lips together in a rough kiss. Flins kissed back immediately, pushing his tongue into his mouth desperately like he was chasing after something. There was no hesitation in Flins as he pulled away from the kiss and nodded quickly, heart pupils dilating. 

The pace of their fucking increases, and Flins feels like he's going to burst at the seams. Everything is simultaneously too much and not enough. Sensations overwhelm him, pleasure building in the base of his pussy as Rerir pulls him infinitely closer and closer, his body trapped and his hole being fucked so thoroughly. The drag of Rerir's cock was like torture to him, the underside catching on sensitive muscle, but each time he thrust back in, it was like Celestia was kissing him.

Flins choke out Rerir's name as they kiss sloppily, panting so hoarsely, drool was falling out of his mouth. “You're gonna break—gonna break—me—me—meeeee!!!!!” Flins sobs even louder than before, his hips stuttering as Rerir wouldn't let him go. Rerir doesn't stop fucking him; instead, his arms slide down to his waist and secure there. His prostate is so sensitive that the sinner continues to pound against it, and Flins couldn't do anything but take it. 

“Cum for me. Cum, cum!” Rerir roars, going faster if that was even possible. Flins's eyes rolled back as he struggled, his orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave.

“I can't! I can't! I need—” Flins doesn't know what he's saying, delirious with pleasure and heat. His body kept thrusting against Rerir's cock despite cumming. His hips were moving on their own at that point, thighs lifting every time he tried moving. His unfocused fade shifts to Rerir's lips, and he licks his lips, squirting all over the place.

“Fuck….” Rerir groans, about to cum himself. “You…ngh—” Rerir growls soon after, using one hand to move around Flins's neck and squeeze. He firmly grasps his throat, and Flins let out a series of loud whimpers and cries, his squirting never ending. 

“Need it! I need it! Your cum! Please! Please!” Flins begs, choking as his airways are being restricted. 

“Patience, you bitch. I'll…fuck…give you…ah…” Rerir was approaching his own limits now, hips still thrusting up, deeper now. “You're taking me so well. Fuck…look at you. Squirting all over my cock—” Slick gushed all over their hips. 

“Rerir….ah, ah, ah, ah, ahhhhh—HGN—!”

“Uh, uh, uh—”

“Feed me! Feed me your milk! Please, please, please—feed us your cum—!”

Flins sees stars as Rerir pushes inside one final time, pumping him full of cum. Flins has another orgasm right then and there, and wails his name, choking on his own breath as Rerir squeezes his neck even tighter. It only took a second too late for Rerir to notice that Flins had relieved himself along with cumming. So he's covered in slick, piss, and cum. He didn't fucking care, though. He kept pumping Flins full of his seed, groaning in his ear and releasing his neck.

His hips slowed to a stop, both of them trying to catch their breath from their fuck session. Rerir holds Flins close, panting in his ear. He uses the remaining strength he has to roll them over so he's on top, and Flins is beneath him. The movement makes his cock slip from inside, and Flins shudders at the emptiness. The rest of Rerir's cum mixed in with his pee spills out all over the bed. 

Rerir stares down at Flins for a moment before leaning down and licking his sweaty neck, groaning and rocking his sensitive cock against his skin. 

 Neither of them spoke, Rerir gently caressing Flins's hair and making love bites all over his neck, covering him so people can know that Flins is taken.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Rerir sat at the edge of the bed, adjusting the bandages around his mouth. The room was thick with sex and a weird, damp smell—only broken by the sound of Flins's shallow breaths. The Lightkeeper lay sprawled across the sheets, hair damp, chest rising and falling weakly, and body mottled with bruises. His left hand was resting on his stomach, and Rerir stared, a little puzzled, before shrugging it off.

He should feel triumph, power coursing through him at the sight of his enemy reduced to this. And part of him did—his lips up in a satisfied sneer. This is what Flins get. For stealing his heart. For taking something that wasn't his. For ruining his plans.

But…another part lingered.

His eye slid up Flins's body, narrowing. Why did he look so fragile? So breakable? Today only proved that Flins can be broken. Rerir's hand twitched before he realized he was reaching towards him, the urge to brush a stray strand of hair from his face gnawing at him. He jerked his hand back with a scoff.

“Tch. Pathetic little fool.” He said harshly. This wasn't supposed to feel like this. He had taken what he wanted. Dominated, humiliated, and carved his vengeance into the Lightkeeper’s both. He should leave now, drunk with victory. 

So, why did it feel hollow?

Rerir's gaze lingered a little longer before he finally stood up, rolling his shoulders as he made his way towards the door. He doesn't look back, feeling conflicted. 

Don't look back. Don't look back.

He doesn't look back.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Chapter Text

Nasha Town was alive with its usual hum of voices and chatter of wares. Flins moved like a ghost among them, his gloved hands trailing over baskets of herbs, jars of honey, bolts of cloth, and many other items that didn't interest him. He didn't need any of it — not really. Human food never sat right with him, and he didn't need to eat, but browsing filled the silence—anything to keep his thoughts at bay.

It had been a week since Rerir's shadow had crossed his path. A week of restless nights, of aching loneliness that pressed tighter than the sea fog. He told himself it was a blessing, that he was finally able to breathe and do his work. Yet, his hand started again, pressing to the flat line of his stomach under his coat. The knowledge of what he carried there no longer shocked him. It didn't really matter when he found out. It was simply…a fact. A fact he bore alone.

A week without Rerir touching him. A week without breathing in Rerir's scent. He couldn't properly think without Rerir. He needed to feel his touch, his hot breath against his ear, his presence alone filled a void inside Flins that he didn't know he had.

He…misses Rerir.

He was about to pass the stalls entirely, finally deciding to go home altogether since he came into town to get away from his thoughts, not be consumed by them. He only glanced up once and immediately made eye contact with her.

Lauma, the moonchanter. She stood with two scions at her side, antlers aglow in the pale sun, offering bread and fruits to passing townsfolk. She moved with a serene grace, her voice gentle as snowfall, her smile warm and soft. People lit up just by standing near her.

And then her eyes met his as soon as he looked at her. Flins froze mid-step, the weight of her gaze pinning him in place. There was no malice in it, no outward hostility — but it was too steady and piercing as though she saw straight through the layers he wore.

Her smile didn't falter, but something in her expression shifted. 

Flins's throat tightened. For a moment, he felt exposed, as if the crowd had fallen away and left him standing bare in the middle of the square. His hand twitched, and shame prickled down his spine. Lauma inclined her head ever so slightly, acknowledging him, not as a passerby, not as a Lightkeeper, but something else. Something…wrong.

Flins forced himself to move, tearing his eyes away, the hustle of the market rushing back into sound and color as if he'd broken free of a spell. 

As he reached the edge of Nasha Town, the voices and footsteps faded behind him as he slipped into the quieter paths leading to the open area of plain land. He adjusted his collar, feeling the bruises from the love bites Rerir left still lingering. It was healing, and most of them were gone, but a few refused to heal quickly. His golden eyes glanced back once, not because of paranoia, but because he already knew.

He simply closed his eyes, exhaling. “Another heartbeat stirs the silence I want to claim.” He said flatly, turning on his heel before he could take another step. Sure enough, the moonchanter stood several pages back, her long hair like a veil of moonlight in the dusk. The two scions who had accompanied her earlier were nowhere in sight; she had followed him alone.

For a moment, she looked unsure as her hands were folded neatly in front of her large chest, and her shoulders were tight as if bracing herself against his presence. “I…” Her soft voice washes over Flins so easily. “I didn't mean to startle you,” she said softly. “But I couldn't ignore it any longer.”

Flins's jaw clenched. “Ignore what?”

Her gaze lowered briefly, respectfully, before lifting to meet him again. There was no malice in her turquoise-pink eyes, only concern. “You carry more than yourself now,” She whispered. One of her hands stayed at her chest while the other lifted towards him, a small gesture of empathy. “And I fear what lingers around you. The child in your womb…they feel it, too.”

Flins narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. The silence between them stretched until Lauma finally stepped closer, her antlers crowning her head, catching the light. 

“The wind carries whispers,” She continued. “And the earth recoils when he walks near. I can feel the shadow of him clinging to you still.”

Flins froze, his hand twitching near his stomach before he could stop it. Lauma's gaze dropped down to his stomach again. “You resent him.” She said, shifting on her balance, voice melodic like a chant. “But resentment binds as tightly as devotion. Hatred, fear, longing…these threads weave snares stronger than chains. If you do not cut them, they will cut into you. And into what grows inside you.” Her eyes gleamed, unblinking. “The child senses more than you realize. Innocence does not shield them from sorrow carried in silence.”

She tilted her head, the softest crease of sadness in her expression. “If you let him stain you further, you will not be the only one to bleed.”

Flins opened his mouth, shocked by them. How does she…? 

He couldn't say anything because nothing would come out of his mouth. Instead, he continues to stand there silently, staring at her. Her voice wasn't accusatory by any means, nor condemning. It was just unsteady.

She lifted her hand slowly towards him, even more, a faint shimmer of green light clinging to her fingers, sparkling pale before dissolving into the wind. “The sinner cannot bind what does not answer,” Lauma murmured. “When he presses against you—mind or flesh—close your eyes. Breathe as if you are being watched by the moon goddess herself. Feel the earth beneath your feet, the rhythm within your chest. Anchor yourself to what is yours, not his.”

She closes her eyes, humming a melody that leaves Flins confused. He shifted his gaze to the ground, then looked at her. “Remember what grows within you only answers to you. Not him. Not the shadow. Hold fast to that truth, even if it is all you can hold.”

The air between them seemed to hum with quiet power. “I just gave you the energy you and your child need at the moment. If you ever need…assistance…I'll be here.” His voice wavered as she took a step back, walking away from him.

“You will be tested again, Flins. Whether you falter or not…is no longer only your choice.” 

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Flins walked the road back to his home, Lauma's words circling his head repeatedly. Anchor yourself. The earth. The stars. The child. What belongs to you.

He bites his lip until it nearly bleeds. What belonged to him? What had ever belonged to him? His hand found its way to his stomach again, almost of its own accord. He can feel it now. The faint swell, the unnatural warmth as he pressed harder. A child is growing inside of him because of Rerir. No doubt it's Rerir's. Lauma had seen through him immediately. He knew she was weary of him because Aether told him so. He doesn't mind that; it didn't bother him.

He tried to remember Lauma's frost-lit hand, her steady voice, her calm aura. But the memory of Rerir fucking him returned instead, leaving his cunt clenching at nothing but the ghost of his cock. He remembers how broken he became, the way his mind cracked open, and how much of a slut he acted. How fear blurred into yearning, hatred into hunger. And when he had finally broken completely helplessly, he remembered the shameful sounds that had torn from his throat.

Flins shivered hard enough to stumble, bracing himself against the tree. Rerir…

He hated himself for it. Hated how much he needed it, how much he still needed it. And now the product of his needs was placed inside him. No amount of grounding would save him from that truth.

He pressed both hands against his stomach, shutting his eyes. “Rerir…” The name slipped out before he could stop it.

“Where are you?”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Flins was back in town before he knew it. It's only been a couple of days, but time seems to be dragging longer than it should be. It's noisy and bright that day, but Flins barely saw any of it. He drifted from vendor to vendor, eyes tiredly glazing over trinkets and fruits he didn't need, hands brushing past fabrics he would never buy. Nothing caught him. Nothing filled the gnawing hollow that grew worse by the day. 

He told himself it was the pregnancy. His body is straining because of the life he created. His strength wanes with each battle he fights against the Wild Hunt. But he knew the truth. He knew what he craved.

Rerir. 

That name will be the death of him. It's a curse he didn't want. Time blurred without Rerir. The air was always a little too thin, and the times he fed his flames, Rerir's face would appear. It was like he couldn't breathe properly without the sinner.

It hurts. His heart hurts so bad. Rerir. Where was he? Did he leave him alone? Did something happen? Did Aether manage to defeat him? Flins still remember that battle. Where Rerir managed to gain only ten percent of his strength from the cannon Aino made. How…delicious he looked at the time. Flins didn't think about that thought until now.

Was he…always attracted to Rerir? 

No, that's impossible. He should hate the sinner for killing Sousi, for nearly killing Aether, for creating the Wild Hunt. He should hate that man for everything he's done.

But—

Flins stops at what he was doing. He pauses, his foot frozen in the air as he is about to take another step. 

A pull.

It coiled in his gut, sharp and certain. His breath hitched, pulse kicking wild as his feet began to move on their own without warning. It was instinct, compulsion. His body betrayed him, carried him down winding streets, and last curious glances. The pull grew stronger, hot and tight, until he stumbled into an empty alleyway.

Flins froze, chest heaving. He searched the shadows, eyes darting for the source of this unbearable magnetism. It was nothing. 

It was nothing.

He turned, feeling disappointed—

A clawed hand wrapped around his throat, strong enough to steal his breath in an instant. His back slammed into a chest broad as a wall, the heat searing through his thick clothes. The scent hit him next, iron, smoke, something feral and dark as his stomach lurched.

A deep voice purred against his ear.

“Miss me?”

The grip around Flins's throat tightened even more, cutting off his words until he finally reacted, clawing at Rerir's wrist and shoving with all the strength he could muster. Somehow, impossibly, Rerir let him go.

Flins staggered a step back, dragging in harsh breaths, yellow eyes flashing with rage. He turns around to see Rerir standing there, cracking his neck and knuckles. “You…” His voice caught in his throat. “Where the hell were you?!”

Rerir chuckles low, still cracking his neck from side to side as if stretching after a long nap. “Tsk. Look at you. Pathetic without me. That's expected from whores like you.”

The words lanced through Flins, piercing deeper than he wanted to admit. His glare faltered, body betraying him by stilling in place. 

That was all the opening Rerir needed.

Quickly, Rerir's hand slammed Flins against the stone wall, the force rattling the air from his lungs. The sinner’s fingers curled mercilessly around his throat again, pressing until stars picked at the corners of Flins's vision. He struggles, kicking his feet and choking.

“Is this what you wanted?” Rerir hissed against his ear, hot breath sharp with amusement.

Flins writhed as he cried out. “—Rerir! Stop—please! Be careful!”

That single word. Careful. It snapped Rerir's sneer into a confused line.

Flins's eyes fluttered toward his own body, his stomach and chest straining against his clothes, a faint soreness that had been worsening each passing day. He couldn't hide it anymore. Couldn't keep pretending.

Rerir's pink slit eye narrowed, following the motion of Flins's eyes, then widening with dawning recognition. “You…” His grip loosened, not from mercy, but from shock. “... You're carrying something.”

Flins swallowed hard as the sinner gently put him back on the ground. His lips trembled as he forced himself to stand up straight, grabbing his throat to soothe the pain. “Not something…yours.” 

Rerir blinks, startled. He takes a step back, still in shock, and before he can respond, Flins keeps going, words tumbling out of his mouth. 

“My—My body isn't…” He broke off, swallowing hard again as his nails scraped against the wall for balance. “I'm not like humans, Rerir. Faes don't…follow gendered rules. I chose the shape of a male, yes—but my body, it can still…” His voice cracked. “...still carry life.”

Rerir didn't laugh. He didn't even sneer. He looked uncertain for the first time since Flins had known him. Flins pressed on, almost desperate. “The first night…when that night happened…I already knew. I felt it, the change inside me. My body doesn't lie to me, Rerir. It's yours…this child—this—this piece of you.”

The silence is louder than ever. Louder than when he spoke to Lauma the other day. It rang out louder than Rerir's cruelest laughter.  His grip loosened completely, hand hovering uselessly at Flins's neck, fingers twitching as though unsure whether to strangle or cradle.

Flins could see the confusion in Rerir's eye. The predator was speechless. 

“...Rerir?”

Rerir simply shut his eye before opening it again. “...So…this is yours?” He asked, voice melodic, as though tasting the words. He reached a tentative hand towards Flins's stomach, then pulled back like fire burned him. 

Flins stood there, trying his best to keep calm. “Please…don't—”

Rerir smiles, a shadow of amusement on his half-covered face. Mockery edged his tone. “Pathetic,” He said, yanking Flins forward. The fae stumbles forward, catching himself while grunting. Rerir circles him, eye never leaving Flins's body. “Weak. You are to carry this…thing inside you, and you still stand before me? How quaint. How…useless.”

Flins glared at Rerir. 

Rerir's voice dropped deeper and possessive as he stopped behind Flins, mouth close to his ear. “But…no. You don't get to hide this from me. At least not anymore.” His hand grazed Flins's arm, then reached down to linger over his stomach. “It's mine…all of it. You and…this.”

“...” Flins hung his head, turning to Rerir and staring at his face. “You—” He couldn't finish his sentence as Rerir pulled down his bandages and captured Flins's lips into a heated kiss. It's a collision more than a kiss. Rerir's hands grip Flins's hips and hold him close. Flins tasted sweet, almost like he was eating honey or fruit. Rerir couldn't get enough of it, triumphing over the fact that he successfully got Flins under his control. He had a sneaking suspicion about the pregnancy, but gave it no thought. What Flins just told him confirmed his suspicion, and now he feels…

Possessive. More possessive at that. Flins is his, whether the Lightkeeper liked it or not. He took over not only his mind, but his body. He long accepted the fact that he was no longer doing this out of vengeance; rather, he's doing this for control. Flins is someone Rerir has never met. During his time in Khaenri'ah and before the cataclysm, Rerir was always quite bored with his romantic interests. They didn't excite him as much as Flins excites him. Especially in terms of their bodies. Never had he fucked a pussy as wet as Flins's.

Everything he needs, wants, and takes is Flins's. He doesn't give a shit if the fae likes it or not. 

Rerir kisses up Flins's cheek and jaw, trailing up to take the lobe of his ear between his teeth. Flins gasp, and it's such a pretty sound, so honest. Rerir's hands wander up Flins's chest, pushing him back towards the stone wall, and gripping his chest. Flins arched his back, gasping sharply. Rerir's lips closed over Flins's neck, sucking and licking soundly. The lightkeeper trembles beneath him, gasping softly now. He couldn't help but worry that someone might see them, but they were in an abandoned part of town, so his needy moans weren't heard. 

Rerir's hands roam Flins's body, from his swollen chest, down his slightly plump belly, and stop back at his chest. Flins let out a long moan, leaning his head back and face scrunching up in pain.

“Mm. Seems sensitive here, don't you think?” Rerir asks with a grin. He cupped his chest with both hands. “Need any help with that?”

Flins nearly begged yes, but he held it back and nodded simply. 

“Strip for me, then.”

Flins finds himself removing his coat, gloves, and unbuttoning his shirt, dropping them in the drop by their feet. He stands there, a little embarrassed, as his chest is standing there all swollen and hard. His buds are so swollen, even the skin around them is red. Rerir stares, mouth watering at the delicious sight of the pair of boobs so full of milk. “Fae pregnancies are different then?”

Flins nodded, looked away with red cheeks. “Mm. It's much shorter than humans. And it depends on the relationship the parents have…whether it be happy or negative, the child grows through their bond.”

Rerir listens, but not really. He cupped both his tits, weighing them in his hands before slowly massaging them. Flins struggled, puffing out hot air as a pained whimper hummed out of his mouth. 

“By the seven…” Rerir said gently. “You wanna get fucking bred, and you did. Look at you…swollen with milk.” He looked into Flins's eyes, smirking. “Was this your plan? To baby trap me because you can't stand the thought of me leaving your sorry ass?” He plays with one nipple, pulling and stretching it, which causes Flins to cover his mouth to cry out. His nipple started to leak, and both men watched as a drop of pearly white milk seeped out and dripped on the ground, staining Flins's coat. 

“Holy shit. That's so hot.” Rerir groans, growing rock hard at the sight. He brought his thumb to wipe away the warm liquid, bringing his hand to his mouth and tasting it. 

It was so good. It was delicious.

Rerir looks into Flins's eyes to see arousal plaguing his senses. He was going back to his mindless self, and it was a pleasant sight to see. How easily Flins can switch to being his obedient cock slut.

“Do it again…” The heat rose to Flins's cheeks even more, his senses muffled, almost as if he were underwater. Rerir placed both palms under each breast and was surprised that they almost filled the surface of his hand, warm and heavy under his touch. He squeezed them firmly, causing Flins to mew and whimper. 

“Good boy. That's it. Let me taste your milk.” Rerir bends down a little, kissing the beauty mark he had found near Flins's collarbone (huh, when did Flins have a beauty mark? Rerir didn't notice until now) before laughing onto the nipple he was pulling. 

Flins gasp sharply, hands immediately grabbing Rerir's hair. “Ngh—!” His gasps calm down into soft noises as Rerir suckles on him so gently, so freely. 

So beautiful. Flins look down at the sinner, eyes softening at the sight. Rerir is being so gentle with him despite their history. It's uncanny. Yet, Flins wants more.

Rerir begins to suck a little harder. He sucked with hunger and abandon, while grabbing Flins's other tit and kneading it. Flins gasped in a breath of air and let his eyes fall shut, surrendering himself to the sinner’s need. The lightkeeper pulls on Rerir's hair, his pussy leaking out slick and staining his underwear. Milk pours out of each nipple, and Rerir swallows eagerly, slurping. 

Once the nipple became too sensitive, Flins would whine and yank his hair, signaling the other to move on to the next. He did the same thing, slurping and drinking the milk that is meant for the baby fae. Neither of them spoke a single word. Flins simply guided him, still making soft noises and occasionally whimpering at a particular hard tug when Rerir would tease and bite. It felt weirdly intimate, both of them melting into an embrace.

Rerir's suckling slowed down as he hummed and pulled away. No more milk remained inside Flins's tits for now, and the nipples weren't as hard. Rerir placed a gentle kiss on both of them, and he took a step back, wiping his lips and smacking his lips. “Can't fucking believe you're carrying my baby.” He's more than happy for the news.

Flins squints his eyes, leaning back against the wall, catching his breath. His chest feels much better now, more than he liked to admit. It wasn't as heavy, and he can move around more freely. 

A deep feeling settled in his guts. 

Flins presses his thighs together, grunting. “Rerir…I have to…I have to…use the bathroom.”

Rerir raises an eyebrow, pulling his bandages back up over his mouth. “So?”

Flins frowns. “I need to go and…” He grunts; the need to pee is much stronger. He had heard from other faes in his past that during pregnancies, their bodies go through significant changes to make sure the baby is safe when it's ready to come out. Unfortunately, the changes are…extreme.

A full bladder is one of them.

Flins has to use the bathroom, so, so bad. 

“Please…”

Rerir smirks even more, pushing Flins to the wall and securing him there. “No. You can do it right here.”

Flins gasp, shaking his head. He struggles against the grip, wanting to get away. The more he moved, the more he needed to go. “Don't do this to me. Please, Rerir. I can't—”

“I just sucked milk out of your titties, and you draw the line at pissing yourself?” The sinner rolls his eye. “Pathetic.”

Flins whimper. “I need to go! Please!”

“No.”

It is coming out now. Much faster than he anticipated. He knew he wouldn't be able to make it at this rate. The feeling was overwhelming him, his thighs still rubbing together. “Ah…ah…” It feels like he's about to cum. “Ahh….”

He could no longer hold it in. A spasm hits him, sudden and urgent. Flins hissed, moving his hand to grip something—Rerir’s shoulder as he can feel a torrent of liquid pressing right at his edge, threatening to spill. “Rerir, please. I can't. I will have an accident if I don't move—” A moan cuts him off, agony mixing with heated pleasure as Rerir rubs in between his legs to stimulate his pussy. He bucks against his hands, chasing more of that pleasure.

“So needy, aren't you?” Rerir murmurs. “Beg. I want you to beg for it, Lightkeeper.”

Flins cries out helplessly, his body slipping out of his control as his bladder pushes out pee, gushing out of him like a flood. “Ah—!” A desperate sob leaves Flins's lips. His hips back against Rerir's hands that continue to rub despite getting wet by the urine. The sensation is intense, leaving the fae shuddering and hiccuping as tears rolled down his face from embarrassment and relief. He shivers in relief as the hot fluid stains his pants and trickles down his legs. 

“Good boy. So good, Flins. Such a good boy for me.” Rerir praises as he removes his hand from between Flins's legs. Flins falls to the ground in a puddle of his pee, still shaking and shuddering as he hangs his head low. Rerir crouches to his level, cupping both of his cheeks and rubbing with his thumbs, offering whispers of comfort and praise. 

"Look at you, my good boy. All used up and leaking already." Rerir's thumbs rub soothing circles on Flins's flushed cheeks, contrasting with his rough earlier treatment. "Did my pretty boy finish it all up?" He leans over and presses a soft kiss to Flins's forehead. "Look at me, baby." He waits until Flins lifts his head before continuing. "You were so good for me…”

Flins hiccup even more, leaning into the touch and sniffing. He opens his mouth, saliva dribbling from his parted lips, exhaling. It was a rush of emotion from Rerir's gentleness. He can feel the baby flutter in his stomach, and it sends a buzz down his spine. 

Rerir. Rerir is being so kind. Rerir is caring for him. He needs Rerir. Rerir will protect him and the baby. 

Rerir Rerir Rerir.

“I have to go.” Rerir suddenly says, making Flins look at him wildly. His whole body stiffens, breath catching in his throat. The warmth of Rerir's hand feels like it's being ripped from him even before it's gone.

“Go?” Flins's voice cracks. He reached out without thinking, clutching weakly at Rerir's arm. “No, no, you can't—you can't leave me. Not now. I—I just—”

“What am I saying?”

The feeling in his gut stirs, fluttering like panic made flesh, and it makes Flins move forward protectively, the desperation in his chest spilling over. “Don't you understand? I need you. We need you. You—You need to—”

“Why am I saying all of this?”

He hiccups hard, nails digging into Rerir's arm as though terrified he'll vanish if he lets go. His lips quiver around the next words, whispered and hoarse. He ignored the smell of his piss staining his clothes. He doesn't look away from Rerir, not even for a second. “If you go…I can't…I need you…”

“Why am I crying?”

Rerir immediately snarls at Flins and his sudden clinginess. His jaw sets, and with a harsh tug, he yanks his arm free from Flins's trembling fingers.

“Pathetic.” He spits, wiping his arm and standing up. His voice, once soft, now cuts like a blade. “Do you really think clinging to me will change anything? I don't exist to cradle your weakness.”

Flins jerks back at the venom, the sob caught in his throat choking him. His chest heaved, breath coming shallow, and he shook his head wildly as if refusing the words themselves. 

“Rerir, I thought you…cared—”

“He never cared to begin with. Why are you crying?”

Rerir lets out a humorless laugh, eye flashing with disdain. “Cared? Are you fucking serious? Don't delude yourself. You're nothing more than a vessel for that thing you're carrying. A burden that cries and begs.” He grabs Flins by his hair and yanks him up to his knees, causing him to cry out. Their faces are close now, just enough for Flins to see the cruelty in Rerir's expression. The exact opposite of the comfort from moments ago. “You need me. Don't fucking forget that.”

With that, Rerir releases his hair and straightens up, towering over the Lightkeeper. The echo of his footsteps faded into the day, swallowed by the shadows of the alleyway. Flins sat frozen, shuddering so hard his teeth chattered. He wrapped his arms around himself tight as though he could pretend it was Rerir's embrace.

But it wasn't.

His chest burned, throat raw, yet no more tears would come. His body was exhausted, and the ache didn't stop. 

“Rerir…” He whispered. His stomach ripples once more, as if responding to his desperation. He pressed his hand there, the sensation sending a sharp pang through his heart. The baby was responding to their energy, to their toxicity. 

“He'll come back,” Flins whispered to himself, rocking ever so slightly. “He—He has to. He…he touched me. He cared. He…He has to.” Flins look down at the puddle of piss that is smelling horrible now. 

He doesn't move. Not yet. He basks in the humiliation of pissing himself, thinking of Rerir. 

He has to come back. He always does. 

Flins just knows.

“Who am I…without Rerir?”

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹

Chapter Text

The night air was cold enough to sting, but Flins hardly noticed. His breath came in heavy gasps, white clouds swirling into the darkness as he lowered his polearm. The last monster of the Wild Hunt collapsed into the dirt at his feet, its body already dissolving into motes of dust and shadow. For a moment, there was silence. His chest heaved, sweat damp at his collar, and his other hand clutched at his stomach, a slight swell that isn't visible because of his clothing.

The plumpness was now faint but undeniable. A truth he couldn't escape, even on the battlefield. It was growing. They were growing. Because of him. Because of Rerir.

Flins swallowed hard, pushing the thought down as he exhaled shakily, ready to return home already. Once again, Rerir disappeared for a week, which left Flins anxious and worried constantly. He did his job, sure, but it was getting harder by the day. The baby was growing faster than he expected, but he should've known since fae pregnancies are faster than humans. Seven months to be exact. It's only been a month since they conceived, and his body is changing rapidly for the baby. He does not know about fae pregnancies all that much, so he's going in blind. 

Would he be able to support this baby? He doesn't want to get rid of them, but it's the product of his toxic relationship with Rerir. What should he do? Rerir was on board with the idea of the baby, so he supposes that's good. To a certain extent. Flins couldn't get a good grasp of Rerir's personality. On one hand, he's cruel, constantly hitting him, but on the other hand, he's shown he can be nice and even gentle. 

His unpredictability scared Flins. He's a goddamn Lightkeeper for crying out loud, yet he's scared like a baby. This was his fault. For destroying his heart. He deserved this…

Flins takes a step forward, moving onward to the next area he's patrolling when a shout cuts through the still night.

“Flins!”

His head snapped up. Aether and Paimon were running towards him, or in Paimon’s case, she was floating in a frenzy. Even in the gloom, he could see the panic etched across Aether's face.

“There you are!” Paimon’s voice cracked, breathless. “We—We saw him! Rerir! He's fighting against the other lightkeepers and Lauma right now! They need help, and they sent us to find you!”

Flins froze, his blood turning cold. “What?”

Aether skidded to a stop in front of him, sword in hand, but his body was already tense. “They said he's hurt, but still very dangerous. We won't let him slip past us again.”

Flins couldn't breathe. His grip tightened on his weapon, though his palms were slick under his gloves. Aether's golden eyes burned, fixed on him as if gauging his reaction, waiting for him to fall in line. But all Flins could hear was the frantic pounding of his own heart. Rerir…here? Now? 

His hand pressed against his stomach again. He felt sick and dizzy, but he nodded. If Aether found him…If Aether fought against Rerir seriously…

“Come on!” Paimon urged, tugging at Flins's arm. “If we move fast, we can still corner him before he vanishes again! We only got away last time because Columbina teleported us away!”

Flins forced his feet to move. “Let's go.” 

Every step was heavy with dread. He didn't want to see Rerir. He needed to see Rerir.

And that was the problem.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The fight was near Starsand Shoal. The three of them darted through the empty area of grass and fields that can be seen for miles. Aether led with practiced swiftness, Paimon at his side, floating close behind. Flins followed, slower than them, but still keeping up. His eyes burned at the back of Aether's head, watching his braid fly in the wind. The further they went, the stronger that pull inside him became—like invisible threads winding around his ribs, dragging him closer, closer, closer.

Then. He heard it. The clash and crack of magic colliding with one another. There was a sharp scream, strained and furious.

“Come on!!” Aether yells, running even faster. They burst into the clearing, and Flins's heart stopped. 

Lauma stood at the center, waving her arms as arcs of green light emitted from her hands. Bodies of his coworkers lay on the ground, either unconscious or dead. Lauma's hair was wild, and she looked exhausted as she fought against…

Rerir.

He loomed like a shadow made flesh, eye blazing, a growling sound rumbling low as he deflected her strikes with brutal ease. Even weakened, stripped of his heart, his sheer presence was suffocating. His movements were jagged, but relentless, each blow like a storm beating down on her.

“Lauma!” Aether's voice rang out, and he was already moving, blade drawn in a streak of light. He kept in the fray, intercepting Rerir's next strike, the clash of steel and sharpened claws sparking across the night. Lauma staggered back, clutching her side, her breath sharp. But her gaze lifted and met Flins's. For a moment, it wasn't just pain in her eyes—it was something heavier.

Flins blinks, frozen at the edge of the battle. He was standing there, ready, but his legs wouldn't move. He should step in. He should fight. He should help Aether end this. But when his eyes fell on Rerir, his wild, monstrous glare, the raw ferocity that hadn't dimmed in the slightest—his body still didn't move. His knees locked, throat clenched, chest ached with something he couldn't name.

“I could kill him right now.” He told himself. “It would be so easy, with Aether here. It could end tonight.”

His stomach lurched at the thought of killing Rerir. The baby didn't agree with it, either. The reminder he carried life made him gasp. The thought broke him.

He couldn't kill Rerir. Couldn't even hurt him. Not anymore. His breath hitched. 

I can't do it. I can't do it.

Because no matter what Rerir had done—no matter what he would do—Flins needed him. So badly, he needed him.

The fight raged on before Flins as he watched with startled eyes. Lauma couldn't keep her eyes on him forever as she joined Aether in the fight. Her lunar light lashed out in arcs, her movements slowing with each passing breath. Aether was fluid and precise, hardened by the many battles and experiences he gained. His blade sings in the air as it collides with Rerir's strikes. It was obvious Rerir is also a little hurt, but he was better at hiding it.

Every clash rang sharp in Flins's skull. Every blow made him tremble. At his side, Paimon tugged on his coat, voice frantic.

“Flins! What are you doing?! Help them! Rerir will destroy them if you don't help them! Hey! Are you listening to Paimon?!”

Flins wasn't listening to her. His eyes were on Rerir. Rerir didn't seem to notice him, but even if he did, he wouldn't say anything.

Right?

Another clash of Aether's blade slammed Rerir back, sparks scattering. Lauma pressed forward, teeth gritting despite her bloodied side. For the first time, Rerir staggered, a guttural snarl humming from his throat. Flins's vision blurred as he felt weightless right then and there. 

Rerir is hurt. My Rerir is hurt. You're hurting my Rerir.

He wasn't sure when his feet began moving. By the time he blinked, by the time the fog cleared from his mind, he had summoned his polearm, the blade caught the downward arc of Aether's sword, steel screeching against steel.

Aether's eyes widened, while Paimon shrieked, her high voice piercing the air. “Flins! What the—what are you doing?!”

Lauma's warning echoed in his head from their previous conversation a couple of weeks ago. “You carry his shadow with you. If you do not resist, it will claim every corner of you.”

Flins steadied himself, feeling the best of Rerir's breath, the weight of his presence. Rerir's chest, solid and heavy, pressed against his back.

Flins realized, with a shudder that tore through him, that he was shielding Rerir.

Aether's eyes widened between Flins and the sinner at his back, disbelief hardening into anger. His sword wavered in his grip, hesitation in his stance, and more opening and closing. “Flins! What….what are you doing?!” His voice cracked with confusion. 

“I…” Flins opened his mouth, startled himself. 

Besides Aether, Lauma stilled, her hand pressed against her chest. Her face betrayed only the faintest flicker of surprise. Her eyes softened into pity, as though she had seen this ending in visions long before it came to pass. Flins pressed his free arm outward. He stepped back, closer to Rerir, instinct taking over before his mind could question it. The force between him and the Traveler stretched like a charm.

“Flins…” Rerir's eye widened, shocked just like everyone else.

Aether's gaze went past Flins, settling on Rerir with venom. “Release him!” He snarled, teeth bared. “Whatever spell you've put him under—it ends now!”

“What nonsense are you speaking of?” Rerir tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. Flins's pulse throbbed in his ears as he straightened his posture. He wanted to scream, to deny and hide, but the truth ripped itself from his throat before he could stop it.

“I'm not under a spell.” 

The silence fell sharp. Paimon gasped, tiny hands flying to her mouth. “W—Wait…Paimon doesn't understand…Flins, what are you…”

Aether gasps. “What…?”

Flins shuts his eyes. He can feel Rerir staring at the back of his head. He can feel his breath, hot and savoring. His own chest burned with shame and longing. “I…I know what I'm doing, Aether.” He lifted his chin. “Stand down.”

Rerir begins to laugh right then and there. He threw his head back, and the sound was jagged and triumphant, scraping at the edges of Flins's ears. “Ahh—finally!” His voice rumbled in delight. “At least, you've stopped pretending, little fae! Look at you—choosing me!” His hand clamped on Flins's shoulder. “Do you feel it? The truth in your blood? You can't escape it!”

Flins's heart stuttered, a shiver running up his spine. His cheeks warmed despite himself, but he swallowed it down, forcing his face into composure. Lauma pushed forward, eyes glowing faintly under the moonlight, sorrow etched in their depths. “Flins,” she called, voice steady and calm. “Heed my words. Do you remember them? That he will consume you if you let him? This bond you're forging—it is poison. You must resist before it devours everything you are.”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about? Lauma? Flins?” Aether grunts. “Flins, don't tell me you're actually…defending him.”

“...” 

Aether's confused expression turns into a glare. “If you don't mind, I'll have to tear him away from you myself!” Steel whistled through the air as Aether lunged, Paimon shouting after him. Instinct roared in Flins's veins. He swung his polearm up with startling speed, the clash of metal ringing like thunder as he intercepted the strike. Sparks rained between them. 

“Flins! Snap out of it!” Aether yelled.

Flins's own eyes hardened. He struggles to push Aether back. “I won't let you hurt him. Not anymore. Stand down, Traveler.” 

Aether jumps back, grunting before surging forward. He summons anemo from his fingers and shoves it towards Flins, who dodges easily, one arm behind his back. Paimon squeaked as she and Lauma hung back, watching the battle. 

“You're making a mistake!” Aether barked, his sword meeting Flins's polearm again. He pressed harder, eyes searching the Lightkeeper's face, desperate for some sign of hesitation. “This isn't—he has to be twisting your mind! We fought alongside each other to get rid of him! You did!”

Flins gritted his teeth, shoving back with surprising strength. “You don't know me, Traveler. No one really did. I know what I'm doing.” His chest rose and fell sharply, breath unsteady. He could hear Rerir laughing behind him.

“Ahh…look at you, Lightkeeper. Defending me with such passion. How…beautiful.” His words were posed with pride and hunger, each syllable making Flins fall for him more and more. Lauma staggered closer, panting. 

“Flins! He applauds because he owns you! Don't you see? Every swing of your place in his name tightens the chain around your soul!”

Flins shakes his head at her words, the push of doing the actual right thing forcing him to seize. She was…right in a way. But, he couldn't fight against Rerir anymore. The need of the sinner is basically his entire life. Without Rerir…who will…

Aether takes the opportunity in Flins's hesitation to strike, sword grazing dangerously close to his side. Rerir's laugh cut through the night again, low and commanding. “Stay sharp, Lightkeeper! Don't you dare falter! Show them. Show me.” 

The command hit Flins's spine. His body reacted before his mind could resist again, parrying Aether's strike with a desperate, vicious swing. More sparks rained, and this time, it was Aether who stumbled back. Rerir clapped once. “Yes! That's it! That's my Lightkeeper!”

“So, you betrayed us?!” Aether asks, sneering at him. “After Rerir killed Sousi, your boss! After everything he's done, you decided to side with him at the end?!”

“I don't need to explain my reasons to you,” Flins said coldly, eyes glowing a light blue. Aether continues to strike him, his movements steady and disciplined, fueled by resolve. And Flins's counters were sharp, but his movements dragged just enough to slow him down just a tiny bit. The subtle weight of exhaustion strained against his stomach. 

Paimon notices, gasping. “Aether, wait! Something's not right with Flins—!”

Aether grits his teeth at Flins's stance. “Forgive me, Flins, but I can't let you do this!” He jumps back a couple of feet before dashing quickly, sword aimed low.

Low towards his stomach.

“STOP!” Lauma cries sharply. “Aether, stop! He carries life inside him—he’s pregnant!”

Aether froze mid-strike, eyes going wide and his cheeks turning the slightest pink. His blade wavered just enough for Flins to deflect it. The silence rang out louder than the clash of steel.

“Enough.” Rerir has finally had enough of this battle. Before Aether, Flins, Lauma, and Paimon could recover, maroon shadows erupted like a storm. Smoke billowed from all around them, curling thick and choking across the battlefield where the dead and unconscious Lightkeepers still lay. The moonlight was drowned, the world swallowed whole by the suffocating dark. 

“Ahh!!! Aether! Lauma! Flins!” Paimon's shrill voice cracked in panic as she darted around through the haze. “Where are you?!”

“Aether!” Lauma shouted, using her own power to push back the fog. 

Through the chaos, Flins suddenly felt strong arms scoop him up effortlessly. His breath caught as Rerir held him close in a brutal parody of gentleness, bridal style, the smoke wrapping them both. 

“Mine,” Rerir whispered into his ear in a half purr, half growl. “And now, our child too.”

Before Flins could protest, the world lurched. 

“FLINS!!” Aether's voice bellowed after him, desperate and enraged.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

When Flins opened his eyes again, his lashes fluttered as consciousness crept back slowly. His body ached all over—his arms heavy, and his ribs throbbing—but it wasn't the battlefield he saw when his vision cleared.

He was lying against Rerir's chest, carried like he was weightless. The air was colder here, filled with the distant cries of night creatures. The twisted arches of Nothing Passage loomed above them, ancient stones swallowed by moss and silence. Flins blinked, realization sinking in. Rerir had taken him, stolen him away while he was helpless. He remembers the smoke that was emitted everywhere. He couldn't see anything; his surroundings were confusing him.

His mouth parted, breath catching, words trembling at the edge of his tongue. “R—Rerir, I—” He was cut off by a pair of lips crashing against his. The kiss was deep and consuming, fierce enough to steal what little air Flins had left. One bandaged hand cupped his jaw, tilting his head back, while the other pressed firmly to his back, keeping him locked in place.

Flins froze, shocked. His mind screamed for resistance, but he quickly gave in. His lips parted eagerly, fingers curling helplessly on Rerir's arm that held his jaw. A shiver ran down his spine as his stomach fluttered in approval from the kiss. The baby, their child, was welcoming this. 

Rerir finally drew back, smiling as his visible mouth was shown. “Mine. Always mine. Even now, when the world turns against you—you chose me.”

“...I had to.” 

Rerir's grin broadened, almost proud of Flins. “Mine.”

Rerir sat Flins on the ground on his feet, and Flins stood, wobbling a bit for balance. He looks up at Rerir, not knowing what to say. Rerir's hands traveled to his ass and gave his cheeks a gentle squeeze. “Has anyone ever told you what an amazing ass you have?”

Flins shook his head, cheeks burning red. It never occurred to Flins that Rerir liked his ass.

Rerir led Flins to get on the ground on all fours. The Lightkeeper grunts, realizing they were gonna do it right then and there. Out in the open. He couldn't help but feel even more embarrassed as Rerir takes off his clothes, leaving him bare. “Ah—wait. Here? Now? But…”

“Don't worry,” Rerir said, his hands all over Flins's ass and legs, groaning in lust. He had dropped to his knees, facing his ass and spreading his cheeks with both hands, still grinning. 

“The—The baby…we can't hurt the child.” Flins gasp, suddenly whimpering as Rerir jams his tongue into his asshole. “Agh—! Ah! T—There?!”

“Mm.” Rerir pulls away, moaning in pleasure. “We have to be careful with the baby, right?” He said mockingly. “This is your reward. Your reward for doing the right thing.”

“Ah…” Flins shakes, exhaling shakily. He didn't seem to understand the situation until he could feel Rerir's cock sliding up and down his crack. “Wait…Rerir…don't tell me…”

“I'm going to fuck your ass.”

“No!” Flins yells, trying to crawl away. “It won't fit!”

“It will.” Rerir pulls Flins back, holding him on all fours and his hard cock prodding against his ass hole. “I'll make it fit.”

Flins began to panic. “No, please! Not there! Fuck my cunt, hell, even suck it, but not in my ass! Please!” The lightkeeper begs, tears forming in his eyes.

“This is your reward,” Rerir said again. “Your screams are only turning me on.” With no further prompting and Flins trying to struggle free, he held him firmly and began to push his cock against his untouched asshole. Flins screams, eyes so wide you couldn't see the pupils. His mouth was open so wide, drool fell freely, soaking the grass underneath them. Rerir groans at the tightness, forcing his cock further in despite Flins's protest. 

“No! Take it out! It hurts! Hurts!! Ahhh!!!!” Flins wails, bucking his hips in pain. Rerir had to readjust his grip on Flins, groaning softly. His cock was halfway inside, but it felt so tight and so, so good. One more push, and he'll be inside Flins all the way. Just one big push and he'll—

Rerir grips Flins's waist again and gives one big heave into his body. Flins's screams tore through the air as the cock was successfully all the way inside. 

“AGH! NGH—! Hurts!!! Take it out!” 

Rerir didn't listen. He didn't want to take it out, but Flins's screams were so hot. He pulled out at least two inches and shoved back inside, throwing his head back and moaning. “Fuck! So fucking tight!” He starts thrusting his cock back and forth, hips hitting his cheeks each time. Flins cries as Rerir holds him close. He couldn't struggle anymore, only take it. The pain was too much, and his body was having a hard time adjusting.

“Ah—ah—” groans of pain spilled from Flins's parted lips as he panted. A sickening wet sound displays in the air as Rerir begins thrusting faster. Flins's body jolted forward from each thrust, strangled cries coming from his throat. Rerir puts his full weight on Flins, lying down on him completely. 

Flins sluggishly lies there, blank eyes staring at seemingly nothing as Rerir destroys his ass. He can barely feel the pain anymore, his body numbing everything. His gaze slowly travels up to the sky as it is nearing dawn. Crescendos of “uh, uh, uh” from Flins made Rerir lose control over himself.

“Fuck…yeah. Yeah…fucking yeah!” With one final thrust, Rerir pumped his load into Flins's ass. Flins thrashed in forced orgasm at that moment, but going still after, his tears falling into the grass. The sinner kept fucking with a pleased groan, his creamy white milk still shooting up inside the spasming body underneath him. “That's it, take it.” His voice crooked, voice seeping with praise. “Good boy. Such a good boy for me.”

The words floated off of Flins's ears as he shuddered. The fight in his body left, and he lay there even as Rerir finally pulled out. His eyes slid to the side, exhaustion washing over him. He pants slowly, barely hearing Rerir talking to him, his body turning over on his back. 

“The child,” Rerir breathed, voice shaking with excitement. “Our child. Do you realize? Do you know what this means?” He didn't wait for an answer as his words rumbled out, carried by the fervour that seemed impossible for someone branded as a sinner of Khaenri'ah.

“This child will never know despair. Not like I did, and not like you have. No, they'll be stronger. They'll carry both our blood…proof that we endured.”

Flins stared, eyes half-lidded. 

Rerir laughed, a sharp and disbelieving sound, while pressing his forehead to Flins's. “Perhaps…this is a new being. They will carry out my legacy.”

Flins shuts his eyes, whimpering. He wanted to tell Rerir to stop, but didn't have the heart to. The words burned in his throat and died there because Rerir was smiling.

Actually smiling. 

A sinner of Khaenri'ah, damned by the world, smiling like this child was salvation itself.

Flins couldn't take that away from him. He owed this to Rerir. He forced a small nod, voice fragile and broken.

“...Yes, Rerir. We'll…we'll raise them together.”

Rerir's expression bloomed into triumph, and he held Flins tighter, as if sealing a vow neither could escape.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

One year later₊˚⊹

The fire had long since died down to embers, their faint flow doing little to fight off the gray of the storm outside. Rain tapped in a steady rhythm against the roof, a full percussion that seemed to echo the fatigue dragging down Flins's body. 

He sat at the edge of the bed, shirt undone just enough to nurse the child nestled against him. The baby's small hands pressed weakly to his chest, eyes half closed, already drifting into that hazy comfort only he could provide. Flins stared blankly at the wall across from him, vision soft at the edges. His hair has grown even longer, strands falling into his eyes, and he hadn't had the energy to beside it or tie it back in weeks. 

When the baby finally stilled, their breathing slow and steady, he shifted with care, pulling his ushanka over his head before laying the child gently in the woven crib by the hearth. The baby stirred, but didn't wake. Flins let out a quiet breath, pressing his palm to his stomach—a habit he hadn't shaken, though the swell was gone now. 

He rose, joints aching with exhaustion, and moved about the small cabin in tired motions. Picking up stray clothes, setting away a few chipped bowls, sweeping the bedroom area. His mind was blank, empty, safe for the soft thunder outside and the thought he couldn't do the laundry until the rain let up. 

It had been weeks since Rerir left again. Flins could almost feel him at the edges of the land, clawing back fragments of his old strength. Every day the sinner grew more powerful, every day his presence became more tangible even in his absence. It was a thought that chilled Flins and comforted him in equal measure. 

He often wondered about Aether and Paimon. He wondered how they were, and if they were able to figure out that he chose to stay with Rerir willingly. He doesn't regret betraying them like he thought he would, but it still stung a little. He had grown quite fond of them. He didn't have an opinion about Lauma, but she was nice enough to him. Flins also wondered about his old title as Lightkeeper. He was always isolated to begin with, so he didn't think the others really cared about him.

A sharp cry split the silence as Flins was standing by the window, staring at the raindrops making a pattern against the frame. He froze, then turned to the room, walking toward it before his mind caught up. The baby's face was red and scrunched, their fists flailing. Flins leaned down, scooping them up with practiced ease, his expression still blank but soft as he murmured consent meant only to soothe. He swayed on his feet, rocking the child against his chest, the same routine he'd repeated a thousand times over. The sound of the storm outside drowned out his own sigh.

There was no fight in him. No spark of the Lightkeeper that found against the Wild Hunt for years. All that remained was the weariness in his bones, the dark hollows beneath his eyes, and the endless weight of waiting. 

And always, always the thought of Rerir.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Night had settled heavily, the storm still rolling outside. The baby fussed in his arms, turning their face away from his nipple no matter how gently he tried to guide them. Flins sighed, brows knitting together in frustration, but he didn't force it. Instead, he adjusted the blanket around their small body and set them down in the crib.

“Damn…they need to eat something.” Flins muttered to himself, wondering what he should do. His gaze slid to the table, where a humble meal waited—a round of coarse bread and a steaming bowl of soup, which he'd made more out of habit than hunger. The faint aroma filled the room, but it did nothing to stir his small appetite. It's not like he needed to eat, but still. Flins sat in silence, hands folded loosely in his lap, staring at the firelight flickering against the floorboards. The chair wasn't particularly comfortable to begin with, but he barely registers it.

Then—

The door creaked open, slamming against the wall with the weight of the storm behind it. A rush of cold air swept the room, scattering loose papers and sending the fire into a frenzy. 

Flins stiffened, already knowing.

Rerir stepped through, filling the doorway with his large presence. His hair and coat dropped rainwater, but his visible mouth had a wide feral grin that tinged with something boyish.

“I've returned,” Rerir announced, voice booming as he entered the small room where Flins and the baby were. His sharp gaze fell first to the crib. He strode forward, boots heavy against the floor, and crouched low, peering at the child who blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. For a moment, the sinner’s monstrous edge softened. “Look how you've grown, little one.”

Only then did he glance up at Flins. His expression shifted, alight. “And you…still holding it together, I see.” He let out a grunt, throwing his arms wide as if the small house belonged to him and him alone. “Did you miss me?”

The question landed heavy, a taunt and a demand both. Flins sat frozen, the fire light painting the side of his face and the tired curve of his mouth. His heart raced, torn between dread and an aching relief. The former Lightkeeper took a deep breath as he rose from his seat, smoothing the front of his coat. He met Rerir, arms lifting in a hesitant embrace. He cheek pressed against his cold chest, and for a heartbeat he closed his eyes, truly missing Rerir. 

“Welcome back.” 

Rerir laughed, guttural that reverberated in his chest. He didn't return the hug, not truly, but he didn't push Flins away either. Instead, he let him cling, towering over him like a mountain. When Flins finally stepped back, Rerir's grin widened. He goes back to the crib and scoops up the baby. The child gave a small cry, more startled than distressed, before settling against their father's broad shoulders. Rerir's eye softened, though his words did not.

“You've let this place grow untidy,” He said, looking around at the clutter of blankets on the couch, the half-swept floor in the kitchen, and the stack of unwashed dishes waiting near the basin. “A Lightkeeper ought to have more pride in his best. Even your hair—unkempt. Do you think this is fitting? Especially for my child here?”

Flins takes a step back, arms clasped neatly in front of him. The sting of the words barely registered anymore. His mask slipped into place effortlessly, lips pulling into a smile that never reached his eyes.

“Of course, Rerir. I'm sorry.” 

Rerir looked at him sidelong, smirking as he adjusted the child in his arms. “You should try harder. You wouldn't want the little one growing up surrounded by such…disorder.”

“Yes, Rerir. Of course.”

Rerir hums, pleased by the obedience. He turned his gaze back to the baby, muttering about strength and legacy. Flins nodded again, smile faltering. “You're right. I'm sorry I let this happen.” His hands trembled slightly, but he folded them tighter to hide the shaking.

“...” Rerir said nothing after that. He glanced down at Flins's chest, licking his lips. “I'm hungry. Feed me.”

“...Yes…of course.”

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

Flins sat propped up against the headboard, his arm curved carefully around the baby. At last, the little one has latched onto his nipple, the faint sound of suckling filling the silence. Flins smiled, relieved the baby was finally eating for the night. His eyes drift to his other nipple, which was also getting sucked on by Rerir. 

Rerir pulls away, milk running down his chin as he squeezes and pulls on the nipple. Flins cries softly, back slightly arching. “Guh…ngh…”

Rerir leans down again, sticking out his tongue and giving it a long lick. “Auh—!” A girlish whimper escapes Flins's mouth as his body jolts. “G—Gently…I'm still…sensitive…our baby favors that nipple more…” 

“Mmph.” Rerir pulls away, giving it a final kiss and laying his head on Flins's shoulder. His eye did not look at the baby for long, instead his eye already looked at Flins, dissecting him. “I still can't believe you let this house get filthy again. How many times did I tell you? The laundry? You've left it to pile up, knowing the weather is terrible here.” 

Flins's gaze shifted to the baby, tracing the curve of their cheek, the flutter of their tiny lashes with his eyes. He didn't answer. He only nodded once, lips pressed into something of a tired smile.

“You don't even try,” Rerir continued. “You've grown soft. Weak. A far cry from the one who thought he could stand against me. Look at your now—so small. All you're good for is feeding this child, and even that you fumble.”

The words slipped into Flins's ears and burrowed deep, lodging somewhere he didn't dare touch. He rocked slightly, almost imperceptibly, the way he did when soothing the baby, though this time it was himself he was trying to steady.

“Yes, Rerir.” He murmured.

Rerir grunts carelessly, latching onto his nipple again and sucking the milk out of it. “Pathetic,” He said softly, as though musing to himself. “You're pathetic. But at least you know your place.” He hums, drinking the milk greedily. 

Flins's mouth trembled, lips pulling upward until they formed a fragile smile. His eyes burned, and when he closed them, the tears slipped free without resistance, hot against his cheeks. He held the baby closer, burying his face just slightly into their downy hair. 

“Yes,” he whispered again, this time to no one in particular. 

The baby nursed on, unaware of the heaviness in the room. Rerir sucks on his nipple more, breathing even as he hums. 

And there, in the quiet of the night, Flins knew. This was his forever: the child in his arms, the sinner beside him, a cage disguised as home. 

There would be no escape. Only obedience. Only survival.

Only this.

“Yes, Rerir. You're right. I'm sorry.”

____________

Fanart as a reward because you guys completed this story <3