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“So this is meant to be a… love potion?” Flins asks incredulously, to which you eagerly nod. “Mm. Such things should stay confined to the fairytales in which they belong, dearest.”
Seated at his desk, Flins stares at the little vial in your hand with a raised brow and a dubious frown. It was a spur of the moment purchase you had made on your way out of Nasha Town this morning; given that a trip there took most of a day, it wasn’t practical for you to work there if you wanted to live with Flins. So, you’d instead turned your hobby of gardening into a source of income.
Once every week, you would travel to the port city and stay for the day to sell your herbs, just to leave early the next morning to reunite with your beloved back at his cemetery. It’s quite the nice little life you’ve made for yourselves, you think.
“Who are you to talk about fairytales being true or not, mister Lantern Fae himself?” you give back, earning a little amused snort. “What’s the worst that could happen? If it doesn’t do anything, then it’s just a few poorly spent mora… and if it does, there’s nothing bad about loving each other even more!”
“...I already adore you more than words can describe, darling. That would not be necessary.”
“Well, obviously - and me, too, but... I already bought it, so someone has to try it!” With a shrug, you withdraw your outstretched hand. “If you won’t, then I guess I will,” you decide. But right as you pop the cork of the small vial in your hands and lift it to your lips, Flins reaches out to snatch it away from you.
“No… I will take some, first,” he mutters, inspecting the tonic more thoroughly now. “If it is something unsafe, I would rather you not fall ill.”
“I doubt that people would regularly be buying it if it were poisonous,” you huff. “I heard a few people talking about it in town, and it seems like that guy’s been selling it for almost two weeks. Someone would have said something by now.”
“I suppose so,” Flins sighs. “My, my, dear… the things I do for you.”
And so, without further ado, he takes a short sip of the pink liquid, emptying the tiny vial halfway.
…
“How does it taste?”
“Like nothing at all... although you know my opinions are not necessarily the ones to trust when it comes to flavor.” Flins purses his lips as he takes the cork from you and re-caps the vial. “How long will it be before I can expect this to… take effect?”
“About an hour or two. I was told that it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, like you’re getting tipsy but without the ‘being unable to think straight’ part. It’s supposed to heighten your senses and emotions,” you giddily explain, not noticing the immediate shift in Flins’ expression at the last few words. “And then, when you look at someone, it makes your heart overflow with excitement until you—”
“Hold on,” Flins abruptly stops you mid sentence. “Pardon the interruption, darling… but what, exactly, did this merchant call it?”
Your brows furrow. “Well, he never gave it a specific name… at least, not that I remember. He just called it a love potion.”
The deadpan stare Flins gives you makes you squirm uneasily; all your gusto vanishes in an instant. For a long couple of moments he doesn’t reply - and then he heaves out a sigh, pinches the bridge of his nose, and shakes his head in disbelief.
“My love… my dearest, most beautiful light,” he says gently. “Do you mean to tell me that you did not pick up on the true meaning behind those words? Not even in the slightest?”
“...what do you mean?”
Flins offers you a weary smile. “I get the impression that this ‘potion’ is meant to function as a stimulant of sorts, dear. An aphrodisiac.”
…
You think that if all of Celestia suddenly decides that you had lived long enough by now and smites you down where you stand, you would thank them.
“I, uhm…”
……
Flins sets the vial on his desk and reaches his hands out to take one of yours. “Quite impressive,” he murmurs, and you notice that the utter disbelief in his tone has already been replaced by a teasing lilt. “Here I thought that I was the one who remained oblivious to human affairs.”
Now that the embarrassing realization has fully sunken in, your free hand flies up to shield your quickly flushing face. “Fuck, Kyryll, I swear I wasn’t trying to trick you or anything! I just didn’t—”
“Sweetheart, I am not upset with you, nor do I believe you had any ill intentions," Flins assures you, sounding incredibly amused. He lifts your hand to his lips, and presses a tender, soothing kiss onto your knuckles. “After all, you always make it abundantly clear that you have no complaints regarding my… mm, performance. Quite the opposite, in fact; thus, you should have no need for such a tonic, hm?”
Your whole face burns, all the way to the tips of your ears. “Well, yes, but…”
“Then it is nothing to be concerned about. There is always the possibility, love, that it may not affect me at all due to my nature. And if it does have an impact…?” He hums, kisses your hand once more, and peeks up to you with a cheeky grin. “...well, I imagine that you would be more than happy to take responsibility for any influence it may have on me."
The remainder of the evening is… unremarkable. Once you settle down, the two of you fix something for dinner and, eventually, go to bed as usual. He stays with you until you drift off, then heads out for his nightly patrol.
When you wake up the next morning, wrapped cozily in Flins’ arms once again, you don’t even have to ask - he promises you right away that he felt no different overnight. Finally you feel at ease; surely, if anything were going to happen, it would have done so by now?
Flins teases you for how much you had worried, feeds you a nice warm breakfast, and showers you with kisses before you leave for the day with a pep in your step.
When the sun reaches its peak several hours later, you take a short break from your gardening to munch on some fruit while you watch a boat depart toward Lempo Isle in the distance. But it's not long before afternoon turns to evening, so you soon make your way back home while humming with delight - you’re proud of your spoils today. The patch of lakkaberries that you’d been nurturing for quite some time now had finally matured enough to pick, and you had even stumbled upon a cluster of mint hidden underneath a large bush.
Shuffling through your satchel as you are, you fail to notice that the front door is slightly ajar until you almost launch yourself to the ground. The door is old and heavy, so you’re used to giving a hearty shove to open it - being met with no resistance when you take the handle and move to push the door open with your hip is not what you had expected.
As you steady yourself from the near-fall, you instantly get the sense that something isn’t quite right. Where’s the smell of freshly cooked dinner? Flins always liked to have it ready for you when you returned. Or even the creak of the floorboards as he hurried to greet you?
You shut the door behind you and make quick work of kicking off your boots. “Kyryll?” you hesitantly call out, heart rate quickening.
…
You notice as you pass Flins’ desk that the stack of papers you remember seeing there yesterday has been toppled over, haphazardly strewn across the desk itself as well as the floor. He’s not here in his study, not on the couch… not in the kitchen or taking a bath. That only leaves the bedroom.
You drop your satchel on a countertop in the kitchen, heart drumming harder in your chest with each passing second. You’re overreacting, you try to tell yourself, but you know your Kyryll well and he would not leave so abruptly without leaving some indication of where he had gone.
Frantically you move towards the bedroom. The door is closed - hands trembling, you push it open and step inside. “Kyryll? Are you—”
Yes! He's here; a wave of relief floods through you from head to toe, but… it’s quickly replaced with confusion, then disbelief… and then a stunned silence.
Flins is laying on his side on the bed, a blanket that’s drawn over his torso held in a tightly clenched fist. His head is turned aside, nose buried into a pillow of yours, and his knees are drawn up towards his chest. There’s a rumpled up blanket near his feet on which you can see a rather large dark spot.
But, most notably, he has his free hand on his very much erect cock, moving almost agitatedly and eliciting sloppy wet sounds. He’s panting, whining, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed you yet.
Your face flushes. “Kyryll?!” You say his name louder this time, although it comes out much squeakier than you intended.
At the sound of your voice, Flins takes in a sharp gasp and freezes. His head whips up as he tries to locate you, and when his eyes meet yours his whole body shudders.
“My… my love,” he rasps, his voice trembling. “Oh, I… thank the heavens.”
“What happened?” you ask, the only thing you can get out. Flins just wasn’t the type to do this kind of thing by himself, so you’re not used to seeing it. What’s truly alarming, though, is the glassy haze over his eyes that is definitely much different from his usual look of arousal.
Flins releases himself and quickly untangles his limbs from the sheets, then pushes himself up to sit. His chest is heaving, and, evidently, his body isn’t working entirely right - he seems unsteady. “I don’t… know what happened, but nothing is working,” he manages. “I already… six times, love. It started just after you left… but it’s only becoming worse, and I feel like I’m going insane.” Hurriedly he drags himself off the bed to come closer to you, and before you can even move he catches your hands with his own and sinks to his knees.
“Please, dearest, I need… you, anything, soon,” Flins chokes out, squeezing your fingers tightly.
Suddenly it hits you. “Kyryll, the tonic! It has to be!” Even though you didn’t understand its purpose at first, the merchant definitely hadn’t made it seem like it would have this strong of an effect.
He shakes his head and pulls at your arms a little. “I think it must not agree with my… nature,” Flins mumbles. “I-I don’t know how to make it stop… but I need you, dear, please…”
You hate to admit it - fuck, you really hate to even think it - but he looks absolutely delicious. The thin sheen of sweat on his skin, his tangled hair… the beautiful flush on his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, how his lips are parted with little gasps and slightly bloodied by his own fangs… you can feel your stomach twisting with desire. He never looks so needy. Part of you wants to take this desperation of his and show him exactly what it always feels like when he makes you this way, dragging things out until you're a sobbing mess.
The glazed, slightly unfocused look in his eyes is what manages to shove down that itch in your brain… you aren’t sure how much he’s even aware of what he’s doing.
“I’m here, Kyryll… it’ll be okay. I’ll fix it,” you promise, even though you have no idea if you can. You wrench your hands away from his and begin to grab at the zipper of your coat - but Flins shakes his head rapidly.
“No, love, I-I can’t… wait any more.”
“I know, I’m going to—”
“Please.”
You swallow thickly, trying to ignore the heat between your thighs. You think, maybe, that you’re beginning to understand why he loves it so much when you beg for him.
So you join him in sinking to the floor, and he scoots a little closer before pulling you in. He doesn’t seem bothered at all by the multiple layers of clothing you’re in that are quickly starting to make you sweat - you follow along with his desperate tugs until you’re awkwardly leaning into his chest, settled on your knees.
Flins is quick to wrap his arms around you to hug you close against himself, and he manages to nose the collar of your coat aside enough to hide his face in the crook of your neck. A muffled curse tickles against your skin as he bucks into you… or, rather, as he slots his twitching cock between your legs and fucks your clothed thighs. Your eyes widen slightly - you can’t imagine the rough fabric of your thick pants would be pleasant, but his gasps have already turned to whimpers, his arms tightening around you.
“Kyryll?” He nuzzles closer at the sound of his name. “It’ll… be okay. I’m here now,” you whisper encouragingly - even just that gentle breath of yours tickling against his ear is enough to make his hips stutter and his pace quicken. Your hands land gently on his bare shoulders, fingertips tracing circles into his skin.
He’s only been humping into you for maybe a minute and a half, but your touch seems to be overwhelming. A shiver rocks his body. “I-...” he croaks.
“Shh…” you soothe. Your fingers drag along his back, and suddenly a wicked thought strikes you - before you can properly think about it and how it may affect his overall state, your fingers reach between his shoulderblades, and faintly graze over the two tiny, barely noticeable divots hiding there.
You don't even get the chance to press down like you were going to - Flins practically chokes. All at once, his back arches away from your ghost of a touch, his fangs sink into the side of your throat with enough force that it makes you yelp, and he dirties the floor behind you with thick ropes of his seed.
But it isn’t just that. You’re startled, blinded by a sudden puff of dark blue smoke, and you attempt to lift your hands up to cover your face - except your arms knock against something. You blink rapidly to clear your eyes, and that’s when you realize that you’re almost face first against his wings.
His ethereal wings, a part of him you rarely see. Had you somehow coaxed them out by simply touching the place they connected to his body? They’re just translucent enough that you can see your hands on the other side of them when you’re close like this, and for a moment you’re stuck staring in awe as they twinkle and shimmer before your eyes.
“My love,” Flins rasps, bringing you back to focus. Your hands fall to land on his charmingly slim waist, and you hum in acknowledgment. “I cannot… effectively control myself, i-in this condition.” He swallows, loosening his hold around your body, and leans back just a little so he can look hazily up to you. “I fear that I might do something… regrettable.”
His release must have helped clear some of the fogginess from his mind, at least for the time being. He’s able to formulate his sentences a little better. “Hmm? It’s alright, Kyryll, you don’t have to worry.”
“No, I…” His wings flutter slightly behind him, and he shivers. “I have already harmed you once.” One of his hands moves towards the side of your neck, and he traces his fingers along the bite wound there - only for a few seconds, though, before he recoils like your skin had burned him.
Honestly, you’d already forgotten about how he’d torn into your throat; but now that it’s drawn back into your attention, you can feel the wound throbbing. “I’m okay. It doesn’t even hurt,” you dismiss, glancing down to his bloodied fingers.
Flins shakes his head, staring at his own trembling hand. “Love, I hardly touched you, and it caused me to… lose myself.”
“I trust you, Kyryll, you know that.” You lift a hand so you can gently cup his chin and tip it up, and offer him a smile, hoping to put him at ease. “Besides, you’re pretty uncoordinated right now. I think I’d be able to beat you up if you tried anything too crazy.”
On the contrary, though, he seems to be growing only antsier. “I don’t want to hurt you. If I can’t control m-my own body, I don’t know that I could stop myself, if I wanted more. How long will this last? Hours? Days…?” His gaze moves downward, and you follow his line of sight between your bodies. His erection still stands tall and proud, as if he’d only just begun.
It isn’t often that your Flins is so uncertain about… well, anything. You can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt - after all, he wouldn’t be dealing with this if not for you.
“But I want to be here.” You lean in to lightly rest your forehead against his, and your thumb strokes soothingly over his cheek. “And anyway… you know I like it when it’s rough,” you remind him, again trying to lighten the mood, and his cock twitches longingly at your words alone despite his conflicted expression.
“Yes, but…” You can tell it’s taking a tremendous amount of effort for him to focus on anything but the insatiable lust that’s clouding his mind. He looks tense… exhausted, even, yet he still finds it within himself to worry about you first…?
“No, no buts. I’m not leaving. Look at me… please.” After a few heartbeats of silence, Flins finally lifts his gaze to meet yours - the look in his glassy eyes is indecipherable. “Just… tell me what you want to do, or what I can do to help, and I’ll do it,” you urge.
He wearily shakes his head. “I… mh, dearest, I-I fear that what I want right now is… much too selfish.” As if he can’t bear to look at you any more, he turns his head aside to stare stubbornly past you.
“Meaning…?”
“Every moment in which you are touching me… every time I hear your voice, it breaks down my resolve further and further,” Flins whispers, wings flicking aimlessly behind his back. He sounds defeated… like he’s lost all his dignity. “It is becoming increasingly difficult to restrain myself from some… rather violent things that I would like to do to you, in an attempt to satiate this intolerable desire.”
…
Now is most certainly a bad time for a wave of heat to ripple down your spine, right? You’re regretting not shedding your warm clothes right away when you had gotten home.
Shifting subtly in your spot, you shake your head, face quickly flushing with color. “You know I’d never complain about doing anything like this with you!” you counter. “So what if it takes a while? I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone, Kyryll.”
“Dearest, I don’t think you understand,” he mumbles. “I-I do not know if I will have the presence of mind to… listen to you, if you need a moment to rest, or if it begins to cause you pain. If I—”
“Kyryll!” Your second hand lifts from his waist, now, to cup his other cheek and force him to face you again. “I trust you… I’m serious, I’m not going anywhere. Wouldn’t it just make you feel a hundred times worse if I left you now? You’d probably rip your own dick off, based on how you were manhandling it earlier.”
Flins winces. “...I think that may be somewhat dramatic, love.” His line of sight is awkwardly flickering between you and random points in the room. “Enduring that… discomfort is a minor price to pay if it means you stay out of harm’s way.”
“I think it’s a little more than just uncomfortable. I’ve never seen you like this before. Come on - just let me help you,” you urge, desperate now.
For a long while he doesn’t reply. He shuffles restlessly in his spot, never holding your gaze for more than a second at a time, teasing his bottom lip between his teeth much like you tend to do when he leaves you utterly flustered. Then, finally, as you’re considering what else you can say to convince him, he opens his mouth to speak.
“...I suppose I-I should have assumed that you would respond this way. What a… stubborn thing you are, love. Where would I be, without you?” Flins whispers, a small smile crossing his lips for half a second.
“Well, you wouldn’t have taken that drink at all, to start.” Relieved, you give each of his cheeks a gentle squeeze, and lean in to steal a brief, reassuring kiss. Then you slowly draw away from him, just enough to push yourself up to stand; at the same time, he sinks down a little so he's sitting on his heels.
His hazy stare follows you intently as your slightly trembling fingers fidget at the zippers and buttons on each layer of your clothing. You think you notice each of his breaths coming out a little quicker than the last with every piece that you shed. He's drinking in the sight of you like it's the first and last time he’ll ever get to witness it; it simultaneously leaves you flustered and terribly smug.
Finally, you toss aside the last article of clothes, leaving you only in your underwear. Flins’ wings flutter restlessly behind his back, and he doesn't seem sure which part of you he even wants to look at. “...mm, hey - could you turn around for me?” you request after a moment of deliberation, tilting your head thoughtfully to the side.
His brows furrow. “If I may be so bold, dear, I-I… would really rather continue looking at you,” he murmurs sheepishly.
“...you're too cute right now, you know that?” If he won't turn, then you'll just move yourself; you shuffle around him until you're kneeling behind his back, and he doesn't move a muscle as you lean in close so that you can press against his body.
“Let me take care of you… just this once,” you whisper gently into his ear. The tickle of your breath against his overly sensitive skin causes him to shiver heavily, and he lets out a half suppressed whine. “Hm? You want that?”
“Y-yes… anything, as long as it is from you,” he breathes out, his beautiful wings twitching, flicking against your chest and upper body from where they're trapped between the two of you.
Tilting your head down, you nuzzle into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, and press an open-mouthed kiss onto his skin. One of your hands winds around Flins’ torso, the pads of your fingers ghosting along his trembling figure. Inch by inch you map out his chest and his abdomen, relishing in the way he squirms every time you get closer to his impatiently bobbing erection.
When the tip of your index finger just taps against the base of his cock, he hisses sharply, and you can't manage to suppress a soft huff of endeared amusement.
“Do you find delight in my current predicament, dearest…?” Flins mutters, voice strained.
The rest of your fingers join the first, and you languidly drag them up along the whole proud length of him. “Maybe a little… if only so that I can see this adorable side of you,” you teasingly reply. He sucks in a shuddering breath, watching closely as you gently wrap your hand around his cock, your thumb resting against the slick head.
“Please, darling,” he chokes out. “I-I cannot wait anymore…”
Your answer simply comes as an airy hum. Lightly you circle your thumb around his tip, smearing the remnants of his previous orgasm into his flushed skin. That act alone has his wings involuntarily fluttering, and one of them flaps up, smacking you right in the cheek.
Flins gasps, and his wings sink down as he fights to control them. “Ah-... I’m sorry, I—”
“Mh, Kyryll, if just touching you like this is already causing so much of a reaction, what's gonna happen when you're inside me?” you giggle, and he bows his head in embarrassment.
“...I will ask you again, sweetheart, a-are you sure that you want to do this?”
Shaking your head slightly, you press another soothing kiss to his throat. “Mm-hm. Never been more sure in my life.” You pause for a moment, your free hand landing gently on one side of his beautifully slender waist. “I just can't pass up the opportunity to pick on you a little, that's all. Consider it… payback.”
Your grip tightens ever so slightly around Flins’ cock, and any words he may have had instantly die in his throat. As you finally begin to pump your hand up and down, he lets his head loll back against your shoulder, a pitchy moan escaping from his lips.
The sound spurs you on - matching the slow and steady pace of your strokes, your hand glides gently over his body. Up his side, across the expanse of his chest and down his stomach; you can feel his muscles flexing beneath his skin as he tenses and twitches from your touch.
Your fingertips dance back to his waist, then trace down his hip… and finally you land on his ass, which you give a playful little squeeze before backing a few inches away from his body.
Flins dazedly lifts his head as you retreat, even though you haven't stopped moving your hand on him. Turning just enough to see you in his peripheral, he watches as you lift your hand from his backside to your lips. “W-what are you—”
“Shh. Just try to relax, and let me take care of you,” you repeat for the third time. He immediately bites down on his bottom lip to hush himself, and you return your focus to what you were doing - you shove two of your fingers into your own mouth for a moment to wet them, and when you pull them back you sloppily spit into your hand.
It seems that Flins is catching on to your intentions… or at least, you’re assuming so, based on how the faint dusting of his pale blue blush is quickly spreading from his cheekbones to his ears. Satisfied, you lower your hand, and re-close the gap between your bodies to lean up and exhale softly against his ear.
“Do you want me to touch you here?” you breathe out as you lightly prod at his entrance with the slippery pad of your finger. He shudders violently, a needy whimper falling from his lips. One of his hands flies up, and he reaches around behind himself to find the top of your head so he can grab a loose fistful of your hair.
“Yes, please,” he croaks, his wings fluttering frantically between your bodies once again.
…maybe you'll have to convince him to drink this ‘potion’ again some time - perhaps just a little bit less? This is far from the first time he's let you take the reins, but it's definitely the first time he's ever acted like this.
And fuck, is it hot.
Gently you press your index finger inside him to the first knuckle, and Flins gives a wobbly moan as his head falls right back in place against your shoulder. His empty hand grabs aimlessly at your arm out of a simple desire to hold you close. “Kh… you're going to m-make me… again,” he gasps, his hips involuntarily jutting up to fuck into your hand.
Seeing no reason to delay, you push your finger further inside, and his own fingers twist harshly in your hair. “That's the point, isn't it?” Your grip tightens around his cock only ever so slightly, but it's enough to make his unabashed moan pitch a little higher.
“More,” he simply pleads, all of his pride long discarded. So you add your second wet finger in with the first, stuffing them in as far as you can manage, and softly nibble at his earlobe. Firmly you curl your finger against that certain little spot, and he shatters.
He groans, and then he’s whimpering your name over and over into a string of incoherent syllables, his body spasming as his cum shoots out in several short spurts, painting the floor white once again. Your teeth sink a little harder into his skin, and you continue to pump your hand up and down his twitching cock in a way that has him reeling.
“That’s it,” you mumble into his ear, dragging your fingertip over his cockhead to collect what you can of his release, amplifying the sloppy sound of your strokes. “I’ve got you… you're doing so well.”
“Mmh, ‘s’good, feels so good,” Flins slurs back, squeezing your arm for dear life. He's trembling violently, as if he can't decide whether he wants to continue chasing after this high or take a moment’s respite from how thoroughly it’s short-circuiting his brain.
Until you're told otherwise, you'll keep going; languidly you thrust your fingers in and out of him, but you do loosen your grasp on him and allow him to set his own pace.
“...I-I wish this was you right now,” he puffs, though you're unsure if he's directly talking to you or just mumbling to himself. He releases your hair and slumps over slightly, rutting feverishly into your hand, and you're painfully reminded of the throbbing heat between your legs. “Dearest-... hhah, I need you…”
Rubbing your thighs together, you let out a little hum. “Oh yeah? You want to—”
“Need to fuck you, love, need to feel your… your perfect, pretty cunt, ‘nd how you squeeze me so tight,” Flins rambles desperately, rocking unevenly between your fingers behind him and your hand in front. Honestly, with the state he's in, you think you could probably stay in this exact spot and he'd manage to get himself off at least a handful of times more…
…but his plea is far too tempting. “Shit, Kyryll, you're gonna get me all worked up, too,” you huff playfully.
He turns his head aside to glance briefly at you with a half-lidded stare. “Are you not already? I-I can feel you squirming behind me…”
Even like this, he can read you like a book.
“Well… maybe a little.” Simultaneously you take both of your hands from his body, and he hisses faintly at the loss of sensation. Turning to better face you, he watches as you begin to push yourself to your feet—
—then you yelp as he clumsily follows your lead in standing, only to scoop you up in his trembling arms. “Hey!” you yip, face flushing, but he simply turns to hurry over to the edge of the bed, where he unceremoniously tosses you down on your back.
Winded, you can only stare with widened eyes as he climbs over top of you, his almost drunk-looking expression making you shiver. “May I?” he softly pleads, hooking his fingers under the band of your panties, his cloudy eyes finding yours.
That's the moment you notice the tears that have budded in the corners of his eyes. Tears of desperation, or of overstimulated bliss?
Fuck. You definitely get why he likes to drive you to this point.
Nodding, you instinctively lift your hips to assist him, and he bites down hard on his bottom lip as he shakily tugs the fabric down and discards it somewhere behind him. You watch as he glances between your thighs to your newly exposed, weeping cunt, and he can’t help a longing sigh at the sight alone.
“Y-you really do find my plight to be entertaining, darling,” Flins mumbles, observing the way that you visibly clench around nothing just from his glazed, hungry stare. “I did not expect you to be so… wet.” A trembling hand lands on one of your plushy thighs, and you suck in a sharp breath as he delicately drags two fingers along your glistening folds.
“Of course I am, after what I was just doing to you!” you defend yourself. He grunts in acknowledgement of your words, but you think he’s only half listening, instead intently focused on your slick arousal beneath his fingers and the fluttering of your embarrassingly desperate cunt.
The daunting nature of the task at hand is suddenly beginning to dawn on you. For all either of you knew, this could only be the beginning. He already has an unfathomable amount of stamina on a normal day; would anything be enough?
You're torn out of your thoughts by two of his long fingers suddenly breaching your entrance, and you give a surprised but pleased yelp. Flins swallows thickly and carefully begins to pump into you in some half attempt to ready your body for him, even though you're sure that waiting any longer is practically torturous. Not to mention how eager you yourself are.
“Kyryll, you can… ah, you can just fuck me now, if you want,” you breathe out, reaching up to plant your hands on his shoulders. He pauses instantly, his eyes darting between your wetness and the encouraging smile on your lips.
“...are you sure?” Flins asks warily. “I am… not confident that I-I will be able to effectively control myself, once I begin.” You can hear the uncertainty in his soft timbre, showing how hard he's fighting to keep himself calm. His hair has fallen messily over his shoulders to tickle at your abdomen, and you can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest with each ragged breath he takes.
Firmly you squeeze his skin. “Mhm - d’you really think I'd lie to you when you're having such a difficult time?”
He blinks a few times, as if trying to clear the haziness in his eyes. “I suppose not. Not to mention that you are quite a horrible liar, my dear…” he murmurs. Carefully he draws his fingers out of you, and you let your legs fall further apart as he moves to rest his hands on your waist and shimmy closer to line himself up with you.
“Just… promise you'll tell me if it's too much, alright?” Nodding impatiently, you roll your hips up just an inch or two to make some kind of contact...
Only the slightest brush of your slick against his painfully hard cock is enough to crack his remaining composure and make him dig his fingers into your sides with a bruising grip; his lashes flutter shut, his head bows down, and he adjusts himself so he can fuck into you in one unforgiving motion, making stars flash in your eyes and your back arch. A slightly pained cry of delight tears itself from your lips, and Flins’ forehead drops onto your chest.
“So warm, so… tight,” he groans lowly, rolling his hips to see if he can somehow nestle himself any deeper, but he’s already stuffed you to the brim, dragging over every overly sensitive inch of your insides. Your hands slide down his shoulders to his back where his rapidly fluttering wings patter against them, amusing and somehow strangely hot.
“O-oh," you gasp. “Kyryll, mh, go on and fuck me already, please…”
He’s quivering slightly on top of you, panting against your breasts. “Give me a… just a second, dear,” he whimpers thinly, and you instantly clench around him at the sound - a sound which only pitches higher due to your body's immediate response. “I think I might… come again.”
Pecking a kiss onto the top of his head, you strain to see if you can somehow spread your legs further. “Then give it to me,” you urge. Clearly he's not even close to being done, so you see no reason for him to hold it back.
He takes in a long, shuddering breath, then exhales heavily against your chest. “...how embarrassing of me,” Flins whispers, mostly to himself. His fingers on your sides clench and unclench a handful of times before he finally relents to his intense desires and your encouraging words.
It's almost hesitant for the first few seconds, as if he's scared of what his own reaction will be… squirming with delight, you dig your nails into his back while he slowly rocks in and out of you.
“Feels good,” you whine, your head lolling back and eyes closing to better drink in the sensations, the fullness—
—and the sting of his pointed canines suddenly puncturing the topside of one of your breasts in a way that makes you unbearably hot.
…in fact, that’s the only warning you get at all before you feel the familiar twitch of his cock spilling deep inside of you, painting your insides with his seed.
“K-Kyryll!” you squeak, raking your nails over his back. He loosens his bite slightly, but doesn't let you go, simply relishing in the warmth of your fluttering walls. “Fuck, are you sure that doesn't hurt? H-how's your dick not fallen off yet?” You're only partially joking; this makes it nine times, now?
At your question, he releases your flesh with a soft gasp but dares not lift his head. Panting heavily, he lets go of your tender waist and instead rests his forearms on either side of you, nuzzling his face in your cleavage.
“...it might be simpler if it did,” he mumbles, muffled against your chest. His whole body is shivering again with the effort of holding still, and you peek one eye open to see four tiny trickles of blood seeping from your bite wound.
“I already said you could fuck me - no, that I want you to fuck me as much as you need,” you remind him. He inhales deeply, undoubtedly to bathe in your comforting scent before replying.
“Must I reiterate that I have… absolutely no idea how much it is that I will need to make this stop?”
“And must I repeat that I really don't mind?” To emphasize your point, you lift your ass from the bed to grind up into him, pulling a soft moan from his lips and sending impatient tingles up your spine.
He swallows hard. “Dearest—”
Flins suddenly cuts himself off with a strangled cry before claiming your soft skin in another vicious bite to stifle the sound; you had lightly flicked your fingers against one of his wings just enough to get his attention.
“Kyryll, I-I know this is like asking the sun to stop shining, but would you please just shut up and stop worrying so much about me?” Squirming beneath his body, you urgently sling your legs over his hips to keep him close and more insistently jut up in an attempt to shove his cock harder against your sweet spots.
“I want you to fuck me, and I don't care how long it takes-...” A moan briefly interrupts you when you manage to nudge him a little deeper, just barely kissing against your cervix. “...mmh, or if it hurts, or anything! I just want you to feel good, and fuck, you always make me come no matter what ‘cause you're so good, so please… can you just stop holding back?!”
…
His panting is too loud in the silence as he processes your words, but after a few long moments, your beloved shakes his head a little and unclamps his fangs. Pressing an apologetic kiss onto the mark left behind, he unsteadily pushes himself onto his hands and lifts his head to glance up at you. There's a strange look in his eyes - a culmination of all of the conflicting emotions from before… and something else that you can't quite decipher.
“Such a… handful you are, love. So demanding.”
Ah. That's more like it. More like him.
“Maybe so, but you know you want to,” you goad, clawing desperately at his back.
His cloudy gaze locks more steadily on your pleading stare, and you can't help but pucker your lips in an exaggerated request for a kiss.
Without hesitation Flins bows down to press his bloodied, chapped lips onto your own, and your lashes flutter as you shut your eyes and melt into the sensation. It seems that even while delirious, he knows how to kiss you breathless. He moans into your mouth as he languidly drags his cock out of you, and you shudder in anticipation.
Then he fucks harshly back inside of your drenched pussy, eliciting an obnoxious squelch along with the hearty slap of skin on skin. You mewl, thighs squeezing snugly around his hips, and he takes it as his invitation to begin steadily pounding you into the bed.
In the back of your mind, you can only imagine how long it might be before he's freed from the influence of your idiotic purchase.
Not that you mind finding out, of course.
…
Mm. Your brows furrow as you shift slightly in your spot, reluctant to wake up or really move at all.
……
Fuck. You feel like you'd just run across the whole of Paha Isle ten times and then proceeded to get in a brawl with a blunthorn rhino which you'd only narrowly won.
………
Abruptly you sit up, your bleary eyes shooting open.
Where’s your Kyryll?
Haphazardly you climb off the bed, pulling a thin sheet along with you to protect yourself at least a little from the perpetually chilly air that Nod Krai brings.
You stagger out of the bedroom and down the hallway on wobbly legs, teeth teasing at your bottom lip. Surely if he was somehow still in that state, he wouldn't have given up and left you after he'd already long accepted your eager participation? But then, if he was back to normal, why would he have ever left your side?
And then suddenly you trip on the edge of the sheet you're dragging along with you, and let out a startled yelp as your arms flail out for purchase—
—just before you hit the floor, you're saved by the firm, familiar touch of your beloved grabbing you under your arms from behind.
Where exactly had he come from? Maybe he’d pulled one of his fae tricks and simply appeared out of nowhere, because he most definitely hadn’t been there mere seconds ago.
Flins carefully hoists you up to plant you back on your feet, and you hurriedly turn to look up at him the moment you're standing again - but he won't meet your eyes.
“You ought to be more careful moving around while your body is in such a…” He hesitates, taking his hands from you and dropping them at his sides. “...an overworked state,” he eventually decides upon.
Frowning, you push yourself onto your tiptoes and softly pat one of his cheeks. “I’m alright. Better than alright, even,” you dismiss. “What about you? That's what I'm worried about.”
Flins shakes his head. “Back to normal, as far as I can tell… but that is of little concern.” You can see a hint of his soft blue blush forming on his cheekbones, and he clears his throat a little. “I am terribly sorry for my, ah… conduct yesterday, my love.”
“If anyone needs to apologize, it would be me,” you instantly reply, gently nudging at his face to try to make him look at you. Instead he catches your wrist and draws your hand to his lips, where he presses a light kiss into your palm.
“Sweetheart, there is no excuse for the animalistic way in which I behaved,” he mumbles against your skin. His beautiful yellow gaze flickers down towards you, then, but it's not to meet your eyes - he traces your trembling body up and down, his blush deepening as he observes the frankly absurd number of stinging bruises and bite marks all over you.
You sink back down to your heels and insistently shake your head. “Kyryll, don't make me tell you again that I chose to stay with you? You didn't make me do anything that I didn't want to.”
Sure, it had all gone on far longer than even the most extended marathon you two had ever had… and you did feel like you'd tumbled down a cliffside with how achy you are… but you also can't dismiss how good it had felt. Nor could you forget his puppy-eyed expression or the whimpers of overstimulated ecstasy from your dear, beloved fae.
Even just recalling the memory almost manages to make you drool.
“Is it possible that you may have only agreed out of a sense of obligation?” Flins quietly asks. “I know you, darling, and I know you must have felt rather guilty, as if it was your fault I became that way.”
“How wasn't it?” Letting out a huff, you shuffle a little closer, and he instinctively reaches out to place a steadying hand on your waist. “Either way, it doesn't matter. It was a stupid decision I made, and neither of us can change it. I can accept your apology if it'll make you feel better, but I promise I'm okay.”
Finally he dares to glance up and meet your gaze, and you offer him a small smile. “...I had guessed that you would respond this way. How stubborn you are, love,” Flins murmurs. He pecks one more reverent kiss onto your palm before angling your hand down to press his lips to your knuckles.
“You know you love that about me.”
“I love everything about you, my light.”
“Is that why you've got such a big bulge in your pants?”
For a moment he freezes, and his eyes flicker down between your bodies.
“...very funny.” He heaves out a sigh, and you can't help but snicker as he releases your hand to reach into his pocket.
“For you,” he declares, unveiling a small pouch. Curiously you take it from him and open it to peek inside.
Instantly your eyes light up. “Chocolate?!” you gasp excitedly. More specifically, a beautiful assortment of perfect chocolates all the way from Fontaine. You can't remember the last time you'd had such a luxury.
“When I first came back to my senses, you had long since fallen asleep. I felt that I needed to serve some penance for my… actions, and so I hurried out to town while you slumbered to choose some gifts for you,” Flins sheepishly explains. “That is but one of several things I purchased.”
“You really didn't have to, Kyryll…”
“Perhaps not, but I could not bear the idea of doing nothing.” His hand on your waist gives a gentle squeeze before he leans down to pick you up in a bridal carry without any warning. The sheet that's the only thing covering you falls to the floor in a heap, and you shiver slightly against the cold that instantly meets your skin.
Pecking a kiss onto your forehead, you finally see his lips curl into a soft, adoring smile. “In any case - since you seem intent on not allowing me to apologize… let me instead frame this and my other gifts as a show of thanks to you for taking care of me whilst I was in that altered state of mind.”
Nuzzling against him the best you can, you begin unwrapping one of the candies in your hands. “You'd have done the same for me. And anyway… you were pretty cute, you know that?”
“Was I, now?”
“Mhm. You were so much more sensitive than usual, and you were crying and whining like I've never seen before,” you muse, popping a chocolate into your mouth and letting out a delighted hum.
“I see…”
“In fact, it was so adorable and so hot that I almost want to ask you if you can try taking some of that stuff again… just maybe a little less.”
Flins shakes his head, exasperated. “Sweetheart, the very first thing I did upon leaving the bedroom was taking what was left of that wretched creation and throwing it out to sea.”
“Damn… you didn't even want to see what’d happen if I tried it?”
“You and I both know, my dear, that I would need no such aid to get you acting like I was yesterday,” Flins bluntly points out, peering down at you with an arched brow.
…
“Shut up, you stupid fae… I'm not that easy,” you uselessly protest, and he simply gives an endeared little hum.
“If you say so, love.”