Chapter Text
In this world, living beings are divided into three secondary dynamics.
Betas (β) are the most common. They live as they are—untouched by ruts, heats, or instincts that sometimes overpower reason itself.
Omegas (Ω) are far rarer. Their bodies enter heat periodically, and their existence has given birth to far too many rules, prejudices, and protections they never truly asked for.
Then there are Alphas (α).
Strong. Dominant. Natural leaders. At least, that's what people always say. Ever since he was little, Illuga had heard the same words over and over again.
"... An Alpha must be brave."
"... An Alpha must protect others."
"... must never cry."
"... must never be afraid."
"... To be an Alpha meant being stronger than everyone else."
Illuga didn't actually hate those words. Never truly. What he hated was how none of them had ever felt like him.
Because ever since childhood, Illuga had always been afraid.
He still remembered the night the Wild Hunt took both his parents and everyone in his village. Remembered the way Nikita had dragged him away before he could even understand what was happening. And then how he grew up beneath the protection of people far stronger than he was within the Piramida.
Perhaps that was why he chose to join the Lightkeepers.
Not because he wished to become a hero, nor because he craved praise. He simply could not bear standing behind others forever while they risked their lives to protect everyone else.
The fear never truly disappeared. He feared failure. Feared disappointing people. Feared losing those he trusted. Feared that one day he would not be strong enough to save someone.
The world, however, seemed utterly indifferent to his fear.
The moment his Alpha scent manifested and he experienced his first rut, something inside Illuga quietly changed. It was not as though people suddenly demanded more from him. No one forced a crown upon his head or told him he had to become stronger than everyone else. But Illuga himself could not stop thinking about it. An Alpha was supposed to protect. Supposed to stand at the front. Supposed to be stronger.
And he was an Alpha now.
So he pushed himself harder than before. Harder than his own body could endure sometimes. Every scar, every sleepless night, every mission he survived became proof that he still was not strong enough yet. Because if he truly was an Alpha, then he should have been able to save everyone else. That was the thought that haunted him the most.
And perhaps that was the cruelest thing of all—somewhere along the way, Illuga had slowly become the very image of an Alpha he used to fear as a child. Someone who believed he always had to be stronger than everyone else, no matter what it cost him.
It was as though the world had already decided what his life was meant to be. A capable captain. A steadfast protector. A dependable leader.
Funnily enough, the more people praised him, the more Illuga felt like a fraud.
Because whenever he looked into a mirror, he did not see the Alpha everyone else seemed to see. He saw someone painfully ordinary. Someone who bled. Someone who got hurt. Someone who had survived only because fortune had been kinder to him than it had been to countless others.
In that mirror, he could see, he was not particularly tall. Even among the Lightkeepers, he tended to be smaller than most. Scars covered his body—some hidden beneath layers of clothing, others impossible to conceal. One stretched from the side of his neck down across his shoulder, a long jagged mark left behind by a wound that had nearly killed him several years ago.
To others, those scars were proof of courage. To Illuga, they were reminders. Reminders that he had not been strong enough. Reminders that there had been battles he barely survived. Reminders that there had been people he could not save.
A night that still haunted him even now.
The night the Abyss struck Kipumaki Cliff with such overwhelming force that some members of his squad began hearing strange whispers. Voices that twisted reality itself... turning comrades into enemies.
Illuga still remembered the way they turned on one another. He still remembered the blood, the screams, the faces of people who had once eaten and laughed beside him before becoming something he no longer recognised. Yet the most painful thing was never the wound across his neck, but the fact that he had gone to seek help... and returned too late.
Far too late.
By the time he came back, what awaited him was no longer the team he had left behind.
Only the remnants of a nightmare.
He had survived, some of them hadn't—that was the simple truth of it. The wound across his neck had healed years ago, but the thought remained.
If he had been stronger, perhaps things would have turned out differently.
If he had moved faster.
If he had noticed sooner.
If he had been the Alpha he was supposed to be.
The thoughts were unfair. Illogical, even.
Illuga knew that.
Yet they remained all the same.
Because in his eyes, strength was measured by results. And on the night that mattered most, he had failed to protect everyone entrusted to him. And ever since then, whenever someone called him a strong Alpha, Illuga only ever wanted to laugh. He never quite knew how to respond. Because in his eyes, strong people did not lose that much. Strong people were supposed to protect them.
☾⋆⁺₊✩⋅☆₊⁺⋆☽
Today was no different.
At least, that was what he kept telling himself.
Even though he had already gone through two bottles of suppressants since morning. Even though his Alpha pheromones felt heavier than usual. And though the instincts buried deep within his body had already begun whispering that his next rut was drawing closer.
Pre-rut.
Still far enough away from becoming a real problem—far enough before he would eventually have to lock himself inside his room for several days. So Illuga continued carrying out his patrols as usual. Checking guard posts, reading reports, signing documents, and of course ignoring the worried looks from several subordinates who knew him well enough to realise something was wrong.
He was fine.
He was always fine.
And even if he was not, that was nobody else's concern.
"..."
Eventually, his steps came to a halt upon a path he knew all too well.
The old lighthouse stood at the edge of the cliff beneath a crimson evening sky. Reflections from the sea shimmered across its tall windows whilst waves crashed softly against the rocks far below in slow, rhythmic intervals.
Final Night Cemetery.
Stone gravestones stretched across the hillside overlooking the sea, lined neatly amongst wildflowers and tall grass swaying gently in the wind. Some were so old their names had nearly faded away. Others looked far newer.
The graves belonged to fallen Lightkeepers. Guardians who never returned home.
They all rested here.
And somehow, at some point, this place had also become Flins' home.
Well, maybe that's strange. Most people would have found it unsettling to live in the middle of a graveyard.
Yet if there was anyone capable of turning a cemetery into somewhere warm, it would probably be Flins. It was not unusual for Illuga to spot small lanterns hanging beside certain gravestones. Sometimes there were fresh flowers that had clearly been replaced that very morning. Occasionally, there was even a plate of food left in front of a grave—apparently belonging to someone who had once been a chef.
Even the ghosts wandering around Final Night Cemetery drifted casually near the lighthouse as though it were still their home. And Flins seemed to know nearly all of them.
Perhaps that was simply how Lantern Fae were.
Of course, Illuga had not realised it straight away.
It took well over ten visits to the lighthouse before Flins was finally willing to answer any of his questions.
At first, it was only little things. Ancient coins that even collectors in Nod-Krai could not identify, jewels from ages long past, old fairytale books written in languages nearly forgotten by time. Then there were the strange stories Flins always told with details far too vivid to merely be second-hand accounts.
As though he had truly been there.
As though he had seen everything with his own eyes.
The longer Illuga knew him, the more certain he became that there was something profoundly unusual about Flins.
Until one evening, whilst the two of them sat together upon the lighthouse balcony overlooking the sea.
"Sir Flins."
"Mhm?"
"What exactly are you?"
Flins let out a quiet laugh. From the sound of it alone, Illuga already knew he was not about to receive a proper answer.
"I am a Lightkeeper. A ratniki, Young Master."
"That is not what I meant."
"Then perhaps you ought to be more specific."
"You know perfectly well what I mean."
Over the past few months, far too many things about Flins had stopped making sense. His knowledge. The way some of the old pops within the Piramida looked at him as though they had known him for years. The fact that he occasionally vanished for days at a time before returning without so much as an explanation.
And then there was something else.
Something even Illuga could not properly put into words. Whenever the subject arose, Flins would simply smile. Never confirming anything, yet never denying it either.
"You are not human."
"Perhaps."
"Would you prefer it remained a secret?" Illuga guessed.
"Perhaps."
"A former nobleman, then?"
Flins' smile widened ever so slightly. "Perhaps."
"All your answers are perhaps," Illuga muttered with a sigh.
"Life would become terribly dull without a touch of mystery."
Illuga clicked his tongue softly. "Mystery? What, are you Fae?"
It had only been a passing guess. Illuga often read stories about the beings said to inhabit the Snowlands, some were mysterious creatures. Yet the instant the word left his mouth, Flins' smile shifted ever so slightly. Only for a moment. But Illuga noticed.
"So... you are a Fae."
"Mnh. I did not say yes," he said at last.
"You did not say no either."
"That is merely your own assumption."
And for once, his assumption proved correct. Perhaps Flins simply grew tired of avoiding the question. Or perhaps, after all that time, he had finally decided Illuga was someone he could trust. Whatever the reason, Flins eventually told him everything.
Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins—the name his fellow Fae had once known him by. Once spoken amongst his own kind long before Illuga had ever been born.
A former noble of Snezhnaya.
Azure Flame, the legendary title woven through old tales.
An Alpha, just like Illuga.
Yet Flins' pheromones had never felt oppressive in the way most Alphas did. They were neither sharp nor aggressive. They did not make others instinctively lower their heads. Instead, his scent reminded Illuga of a fireplace burning in the middle of a winter night. Warm. Calm. Faintly sweet. And strangely enough, it always made the tension in his shoulders ease.
He was a guide for wandering souls who had accompanied the dead long before Illuga was ever born. A being who had witnessed kingdoms rise and collapse, seasons changing endlessly, generations of humans appearing and disappearing like waves upon the shore.
And after all of that, Flins had chosen to enter a long slumber... only to awaken once more and remain within an old lighthouse surrounded by the graves of fallen Lightkeepers.
And somehow, that decision made perfect sense.
It felt entirely like Flins.
Perhaps that was why the atmosphere here never truly felt frightening. Only quiet. A gentle sort of quiet. The kind that made the weight in one's chest feel just a little lighter. At least, perhaps that was how it felt for Illuga, who had long since grown accustomed to Flins.
It really had been quite some time since his last visit, hadn't it?
Patrol schedules, reports, meeting results, food supplies, documents, endless Lightkeeper duties that never seemed to stop. At least, those were the excuses he had been using.
Now, with a thick folder of documents tucked beneath one arm, Illuga stood before the lighthouse and clicked his tongue softly. Right. If anyone asked, he was here to deliver paperwork. Certainly not because it had been far too long since he had last seen Flins. Absolutely not.
With confidence even he himself did not believe, Illuga climbed the steps leading towards the front door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He knocked three times.
Then once more after several seconds passed.
"Sir Flins?" he called.
A few moments later, footsteps echoed softly from within.
Click.
The lighthouse door opened.
And there stood Flins. As always, his dark blue hair—fading paler towards the ends—fell neatly down his back, whilst the gentle smile Illuga knew all too well appeared the moment their eyes met.
"Ah, Young Master," his voice carried the same familiar warmth, as though Illuga's visit were the most natural thing in the world. Flins opened the door a little wider. "Good evening."
"... Good evening."
For some reason, the reply sounded far more awkward than it should have.
Perhaps because it had been too long.
Or perhaps because the pre-rut was beginning to muddle his thoughts.
The Alpha standing before him had always been like this. Unlike most Alphas Illuga had encountered, Flins never needed to bare his fangs to prove his strength. He remained calm. Gentle. Entirely in control without ever forcing that control upon anyone else.
And somehow, at some point, Illuga had begun to like that about him. Perhaps a little too much.
For Archon's sake, pre-rut was not supposed to make someone lose all sense of dignity simply because another Alpha smiled at them. Unfortunately, Illuga's body seemed to disagree. Flins' voice, his scent, his presence—they slipped far too easily beneath Illuga's skin now. And he hated how effortless it was for Flins to make him feel this way.
Flins tilted his head slightly. "You have been standing outside for quite a while."
"I'm just arrived," Illuga replied at once, clearing his throat as he attempted to straighten his thoughts.
"Mm."
Clearly, Flins did not believe him. To be fair, Illuga had spent nearly five full minutes wandering in front of the lighthouse before finally knocking on the door—apparently needing time to prepare himself first. As usual, however, Flins was kind enough not to mention it aloud.
His gaze drifted towards the thick folder tucked beneath Illuga's arm. "Documents?"
"Oh. Right," Illuga immediately lifted the folder slightly. "There are several reports requiring your signature. I am begging you, please finish them on time this time."
"Of course."
This time, it was Illuga who did not believe the answer.
Still, Flins merely gave a small nod before stepping aside to make room for him. "In that case, please, do come in."
"I cannot stay long, Sir Flins."
"Oh?"
"... I am only here to deliver the documents," Illuga pressed, making the refusal clearer this time.
"... And I am only offering you a chair," the Fae replied mildly, one brow lifting ever so slightly.
"Sir Flins..."
"You look tired."
Illuga frowned immediately. "I am not tired."
"Mm," Flins hummed softly. "Then sit down for five minutes and prove me wrong."
"There is no need. I still have patrol duties."
This time, even Flins made no effort to hide his smile.
"... Young Master."
Damn it. That tone again. The one Flins always used whenever he knew Illuga was lying. Because yes—his patrol had ended nearly an hour ago. And they both knew it. Illuga only ever brought things to the lighthouse during his free time.
"With the amount of suppressants you have been taking, huh?"
Illuga froze. His hand instinctively moved towards the pocket of his coat, fingertips brushing against the third suppressant injector he was supposed to use soon now that the dull ache in his head had begun returning.
"... You can smell it?"
"My senses have always been rather sharp," Flins' smile softened ever so slightly. "Perhaps that is simply one of the consequences of not being entirely human."
"I know that, but..." Illuga frowned immediately. "Alphas are not supposed to react calmly to another Alpha nearing rut."
Most Alphas became irritated by it. Restless, defensive—instincts grinding against one another until the air itself turned sharp and unbearable.
That was how it was supposed to work.
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"Mm," Flins tilted his head slightly, as though thoughtfully considering the matter. "Then perhaps there is another explanation."
Illuga already disliked where this was going. Flins' gaze remained steady upon him.
"... Your scent has never particularly bothered me. It is rather pleasant, actually," he admitted far too calmly. "Like pine forests after snowfall."
Illuga stared at him outright now.
"... Oh, that is definitely strange."
Then Flins' smile widened slightly. "Well, I can't help," he said softly, "I am your lover, after all."
Oh dear Archons.
Illuga could physically feel the last fragments of his composure collapsing.
llluga hated the fact that Flins could say things like that with the calmness of a summer sky. As though nothing had happened. As though Illuga's heart had not just lost its rhythm entirely. What made it worse was that Flins was not even teasing him. He was merely stating a fact. And perhaps that was precisely the problem.
Because as an Alpha, Illuga should not have reacted like this. Not to Flins' voice. Or his smile. Or his scent. An Alpha was not supposed to become this weak around another Alpha. Yet whenever he stood before Flins, both his body and mind always seemed to reach entirely different conclusions. Quite suddenly, Illuga felt a powerful urge to throw himself directly into the sea.
And it happened with Flins too. Strangely enough, Flins never reacted to Illuga’s pre-rut the way other Alphas did. No sharpened instincts. No territorial edge. No subtle battle for dominance hidden beneath pheromones. If anything, Flins only grew gentler.
Because of course Flins could tell. Of course he could detect the sharp chemical trace of suppressants that still failed to fully conceal his pheromones. And naturally, out of everyone in Nod-Krai, the person who had to see him like this was Flins.
"Young Master," that voice again—soft and steady, loosening something inside Illuga's chest without permission. "Come inside."
Only two words. Not an order. Not forceful. Yet somehow, that made them far more difficult to refuse. Because Flins' golden eyes never looked at him as though he were Captain of the Lightkeepers. Never as an Alpha. Never as someone who had to remain strong every second of the day.
Flins only ever looked at him as Illuga.
And Illuga knew perfectly well how dangerous that was.
Every single time Flins did it, Illuga found himself wanting to surrender. Wanting to stop pretending he was fine. Wanting, just for a little while, to let someone else take care of him during the instinct-driven misery of an Alpha's biological cycle.
Because whenever he was near Flins, Illuga was reminded that there existed at least one person in this world capable of seeing straight through every excuse, every small lie, and every careless 'I am fine' he always relied upon.
"... Very well," Illuga said, slowly.
Flins' smile widened slightly, along with the lighthouse door. "Mm."
Traitor.
Illuga was no longer entirely certain whether he meant Flins.
Or himself.
☾⋆⁺₊✩⋅☆₊⁺⋆☽
Flins stepped aside fully, the lighthouse door opening wider to welcome Illuga inside.
Warm lanternlight spilled softly across the wooden floorboards, chasing away the chill of the evening air. The lighthouse carried its familiar scent of old books, polished wood, and something uniquely Flins—like winter air touched by firelight. A quiet, comforting contrast to the salt and sea lingering outside.
"Young Master, please do sit down. Would you prefer water? Or perhaps some warm tea?"
Illuga did not answer. Nor did he sit. He merely remained standing near the doorway, lips parted ever so slightly as he struggled to steady his breathing. His own hands tightened against each other instinctively.
His Alpha instincts were worsening by the second.
Because this was not merely the lighthouse anymore. This was his lover’s den. Flins’ scent lingered everywhere—within the lantern-warmed air, upon the furniture, woven deep into the old wood and bookshelves surrounding him. Calm firelight and winter evenings and something achingly familiar that made Illuga’s already fraying instincts unravel further.
And of course Flins noticed immediately. He always did.
The Fae regarded him quietly for a moment before the softest smile touched his face.
His Young Master did not truly need tea. Nor water. What Illuga wanted—what his body had been seeking ever since he arrived—was simply to be taken care of properly during the miserable haze of pre-rut.
And Flins, unfortunately, understood that far too well.
Without a word, Flins took the documents from Illuga's hands and placed it upon the small table near the staircase leading upwards. Then he turned back towards him. And before Illuga could properly react, Flins reached up to cup his face gently between both hands.
A soft kiss brushed against his forehead first, light as falling snow. Then another against each cheekbone, lingering with quiet tenderness, as though easing away all the exhaustion Illuga had dragged here with him. And finally, one more at the centre of his brow—the sort of kiss Alphas reserved not for desire, but comfort.
Illuga's breath caught slightly.
"Mnh... Sir Flins..."
Flins gently guided him further into the lighthouse. The moment the door shut behind them with a quiet click, something in the atmosphere shifted entirely. Flins abandoned whatever patience remained.
His lips met Illuga's properly this time—slow at first, but unmistakably intent. Illuga stumbled backwards until his shoulders brushed against the wall, body stiff with surprise as Flins wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer.
For a moment, Illuga kept his lips stubbornly sealed. Then Flins' thumb traced gently across the edge of his mouth, fingers threading carefully through his hair, and whatever resistance Illuga had been clinging to dissolved embarrassingly fast.
His eyes slipped shut. He parted his lips at last, and Flins deepened the kiss immediately, warm and unhurried as he drew Illuga closer against him.
Their pheromones tangled together almost instinctively.
Two Alpha scents that by all logic should have clashed—sharp instinct against sharp instinct—yet instead melted together into something dangerously intoxicating. Pine forests after snowfall intertwined with the warmth of burning firewood, filling the narrow space between them until Illuga's thoughts grew hazy beneath the sheer weight of it.
Flins exhaled softly against his mouth, golden eyes half-lidded as though entirely captivated by the way Illuga trembled beneath his hands.
"There you are," he murmured gently. One of his hands slid upwards, fingers threading through Illuga’s hair whilst his thumb brushed slow circles against the back of his neck. "This is what you truly came here for, isn’t it?"
Another kiss followed—slow, warm, unbearably affectionate.
"My poor captain," Flins whispered against his lips, voice low enough to send heat curling straight through Illuga’s chest. "You have been trying so hard to endure it alone again."
Illuga made a small, frustrated sound in response, barely coherent.
Flins only smiled faintly. His forehead rested briefly against Illuga’s. "You need someone to take care of you properly."
His head was spinning.
Flins, meanwhile, remained infuriatingly composed.
Flins was his lover. And just as he had done during the months before this one, Flins intended to take care of his rut himself.
Lover? Ah. Right. Yes, Flins was his lover.
At first, Illuga had not understood it at all.
A rut was a rut—inconvenient, humiliating, exhausting. And according to everything Illuga had experienced growing up, it was something best endured alone rather than dragging Omega... or someone else into it.
Flins, however, had never seemed to share that opinion.
The first time Illuga arrived at the lighthouse in such a state—feverish, restless, instincts already beginning to fray at the edges—it had happened earlier than expected. He had not even brought suppressants with him yet. Flins had simply looked at him quietly for a moment before saying, with complete calmness, that he could help.
Yes.
Flins had very clearly helped.
Not with suppressants.
No.
Flins had touched him instead.
Patiently. Gently. Thoroughly enough that Illuga's overheated mind had struggled to process what was even happening at first. Every touch eased the unbearable ache beneath his skin, soothed the instinct clawing violently through his body, and made his thoughts unravel further with every passing second.
Taking off all his clothes, satisfying his twitching penis and swollen knots, giving satisfying suction to his penis, until finally Illuga felt Flins enter his hole—oh, clearly, Illuga's dizzy head at first didn't fully understand it.
Which only raised several deeply distressing questions in Illuga's mind all at once.
Why was another Alpha offering to help him through rut? Why was another Alpha capable of calming him down at all? And perhaps most alarmingly—Why did it feel this good? Wait—is this even normal? What is normal, anyway?
Somewhere in the middle of his spiralling thoughts, Illuga had made the mistake of looking up at Flins properly. That had been even worse. Because Flins had looked entirely composed whilst taking care of him, golden eyes soft with quiet affection instead of discomfort or irritation. As though there were nothing strange about any of this. As though helping another Alpha through rut was the most natural thing in the world.
Meanwhile, Illuga had nearly lost his mind over it. At one point, overwhelmed by embarrassment, confusion, instinct, and the unbearable warmth curling through his body, Illuga had let out a strangled noise of pure frustration and buried his face against Flins' shoulder. Flins, naturally, had only laughed softly and held him closer.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, Illuga had finally cried out in sheer frustration.
"Flins-san, p-please stop! That is enough... You do not need to do this for me..."
"Why not?" Flins had replied with infuriating calmness. "Your body requires assistance, Young Master. I am merely helping you."
"S-stop... Y-you are not my partner... or my Omega..." Illuga had managed through burning embarrassment. "You have no obligation to help me like this..."
"Ah," Flins had paused then, golden eyes settling upon him with quiet amusement. Then he said gently. "In that case, if I were to become your lover, would you finally stop questioning my reasons for taking care of you?"
Illuga froze. Completely. His mind had gone blank so suddenly that even the feverish haze of rut seemed to vanish for a moment. Because out of every possible response he had expected, that had not been one of them.
And somehow, seeing the expression on Illuga's face only made Flins smile. As though, after months of carefully piecing something together, he had finally solved a puzzle that only one person had failed to understand all along.
Illuga himself.
In the end, Illuga never truly remembered what his first response had been that night.
Perhaps because his thoughts had already been too disordered to function properly. Perhaps because Flins was profoundly unfair. Or perhaps because, somewhere deep down, the answer had already existed long before that moment. What mattered was that after that night, they never referred to each other as merely fellow Lightkeepers again.
Or friends.
Or two Alphas simply helping one another through inconvenient biological instincts.
Somehow—in a manner both deeply confusing and unmistakably Flins-like—they had become lovers instead.
A rather strange relationship, admittedly.
And yet, every time Illuga woke to find Flins still beside him, he discovered himself caring less and less about anyone else's opinion on the matter.
And if anyone ever asked how their relationship had begun?
Illuga usually only let out a long, exhausted sigh. Because honestly, a part of him was still convinced Flins had somehow tricked him into this entire relationship. Thankfully, no one had asked so far. Mostly because neither of them had ever told anyone they were together in the first place.
And now.
Illuga kissed the other Alpha back with equal desperation—rough, breathless, wanting more whilst not entirely knowing what it was he was asking for.
Flins pressed him further against the wall, never truly forceful, merely teasing in that maddeningly patient way of his. And Illuga could feel it all too clearly—the heat of him, the hard outline straining beneath Flins' trousers. That crotch, his cock... its hard length...
That's Flins' cock. An Alpha's cock.
Illuga is also an Alpha. And he has a cock himself.
So why is he such a lunatic who wants that thing for himself?
Why in the world was he losing his mind wanting more of this?
His thoughts were becoming increasingly incoherent now, feverish and embarrassingly easy to unravel beneath Flins' touch. Yet somewhere amidst the haze, one particularly dangerous thought surfaced with humiliating clarity: He wanted the fabric between their trousers gone.
"W-wait—" The protest dissolved into a soft gasp when Flins captured his mouth again before he could finish speaking. Illuga moaned between kisses, his lips being crushed again roughly. At the same moment, Flins' thigh pressed more firmly between his legs, brushing against the growing heat trapped beneath Illuga's uniform. His sentence never really finished as Flins ground his thigh harder against Illuga's nearly erect cock.
Illuga jolted sharply. His fingers instinctively caught hold of Flins' sleeve before tightening around the other Alpha's arm instead, clinging without meaning to.
"Mnh... Ahhh..."
And for one deeply mortifying moment, his mind betrayed him completely. A flood of feverish images crashed through his thoughts one after another—himself pinned close beneath Flins' weight, overwhelmed by warmth and instinct, wanting more despite how impossible the entire idea should have been.
The tiny captain imagined being pressed, pierced open by Alpha's cock, maybe one day also feel how deep it Flins' knot too. The sheer intensity of it made his breath hitch. Made his entire body tense. And worst of all, some deeply instinctive part of him almost wanted to beg.
Which was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
Because Illuga was an Alpha.
And Alphas were not supposed to react like this at all.
Flins kissed Illuga with a quiet intensity—no rush, no impatience, just deep affection that slowly melted the younger Alpha's stiff posture. His hands slipped from Illuga’s face down towards his shoulders before easing the coat from him carefully.
The fabric slipped off one arm... then the other. The heavy fabric slid quietly onto the floor beside them. Flins pressed another kiss to his jawline as he worked, undisturbed by Illuga’s uneven breathing or the occasional twitch of nervous fingers clutching weakly at him.
When the sweater came next, pushed slowly upwards over tense muscles abs and flushed skin, Flins finally broke their kiss—not for air, instead, he lowered his head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss directly over Illuga’s racing heartbeat. A soft mwah sound escaped him against warm skin before his lips drifted lower still—collarbone... sternum... the centre of his stomach, his navel.
There he paused briefly, simply breathing in the familiar scent hidden beneath sweat, pine, and the lingering sharpness of suppressants. Then Flins glanced upwards through dark lashes towards Illuga’s flushed face.
"May I?" he asked softly. The question carried far more meaning than the words themselves.
"Take you upstairs?" Another kiss against warm skin. "Undress you properly? Love on you until your head doesn't feel so heavy anymore? Take care of you until pre-rut no longer feels quite so unbearable?"
Illuga’s eyes widened slightly at Flins’ words, surprise and something far softer flickering across his flushed expression.
The thought alone sent warmth rushing through him — being taken upstairs, undressed slowly beneath those patient hands, cared for until the restless ache of pre-rut finally loosened its grip around his body.
It was dangerous how much he wanted that.
How much he wanted him.
"Yes..." Illuga breathed at last, voice scarcely louder than a whisper. "Please, Flins."
His fingers slipped into Flins’ dark hair, drawing the older Alpha closer before their mouths met once more. This kiss was far less restrained. Illuga kissed him back with embarrassing desperation now, pouring every ounce of restless instinct and buried longing into the embrace. Flins answered immediately, warm and steady despite the low sound that escaped him against Illuga’s lips.
Strong hands settled upon Illuga’s hips, pulling their bodies flush together. The closeness alone nearly made Illuga’s knees weaken.
When Flins finally drew back, it was only long enough to look at him properly—golden eyes softened with quiet affection that somehow made Illuga’s chest ache even worse than the pre-rut itself.
Then, without effort, Flins lifted him into his arms.
Illuga let out a startled breath as instinctively his hands caught at Flins’ shoulders.
"Sir Flins—"
"Hm?" The Fae sounded entirely untroubled as he began carrying him towards the staircase.
"You do realise I can walk."
"Yes," Flins replied calmly. "But this is considerably nicer."
Illuga could hear the smile in his voice.
Ridiculous man.
And yet he still found himself leaning closer as Flins climbed the stairs at an unhurried pace, steady as ever. Warm breaths brushed against Illuga’s throat now and then, the older Alpha occasionally nuzzling lightly against his neck whilst breathing in the scent of pine, suppressants, and growing arousal tangled together.
By the time they reached the upper floor, Illuga’s thoughts had already become hopelessly hazy again.
Flins carried him into the familiar bedroom before finally lowering his Young Master gently onto the bed.
With deft fingers, Flins loosened the fastening of Illuga’s trousers before easing them down together with the remaining layers, his movements patient enough to make Illuga’s pulse race all over again. Flins loosed pants and tugged them down along with his underwear, letting them pool around his ankles. He took a moment to admire the sight of Illuga's erect cock and heavy balls, flushed a deep red.
"... So beautiful," Flins murmured appreciatively, before leaning in to place a tender kiss on the tip of Illuga's shaft. Flins' tongue flicked out, tracing the sensitive underside, making Illuga gasp and shudder. The touch alone made Illuga jolt.
Flins’ lips lingered there for a moment, warm and impossibly patient, before another slow kiss followed along the sensitive underside. Nothing hurried. Nothing greedy. He touched Illuga as though savouring him.
Which somehow made everything worse.
Illuga’s breath trembled as his fingers tightened instinctively within the sheets beneath him.
"You are trembling again, Young Master," Flins observed quietly, voice threaded with faint amusement.
"T-That... is your fault," Illuga managed weakly.
"Hm," Flins gave another kiss on his shaft. "Then I shall take responsibility for it properly."
Illuga let out the softest, most frustrated sound imaginable.
"Mm..." Flins’ voice dropped softer. He purred, his eyes locked on Illuga's as he slowly engulfed the head of his cock in his mouth. He sucked gently, his cheeks hollowing, before releasing with a soft pop. "You always smell like winter pine after snowfall... but like this..."
His golden eyes lifted towards Illuga’s face.
"... warm."
The quiet honesty in his tone made Illuga’s entire body tense all over again.
Illuga's head fell back, exposing the slender column of his throat as a low moan escaped him. The sensation of Flins's warm, wet mouth on his sensitive flesh was overwhelming, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. Illuga's hands fisted in Flins's hair, guiding him to take more of him, craving the exquisite pressure and heat.
"Oh gods, Flins..." Illuga whimpered, his hips bucking involuntarily as he sought more of that incredible suction. Pre-cum leaked from his tip, coating Flins's tongue, and Illuga couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have that talented mouth wrapped around his entire length.
Flins let out a quiet hum of approval, the sound warm enough to send another shiver through Illuga’s already oversensitive body. Golden eyes lifted towards him through dark lashes, softened with unmistakable affection.
"So responsive. Such a good boy, taking it so well..." Flins murmured gently. "My sweet captain always tries so hard to endure everything alone..."
The praise alone nearly undid him. Illuga’s breathing had long since become uneven, his entire body reacting far too intensely beneath Flins’ careful attention. Every touch seemed capable of drawing another trembling breath from him now, heightened instincts leaving him embarrassingly vulnerable beneath the older Alpha’s hands.
Flins's tongue swirled around the head, savoring the salty-sweet flavor of Illuga's pre-cum. He licked and nibbled, working his way down the length, pausing to worship each vein and ridge. As he reached Illuga's heavy balls, Flins cupped and massaged them, rolling them gently between his palms. He inhaled deeply, drinking in Illuga's unique scent, musky and masculine, tinged with the unmistakable aroma of pheromones.
And Flins noticed every single reaction.
Of course he did.
His touch remained maddeningly patient, lingering rather than hurried, as though he had all the time in the world to memorise every shiver passing through Illuga’s body. Warm breaths ghosted across flushed skin whilst Flins continued kissing him with unbearable gentleness, entirely unbothered by the increasingly wrecked state of his lover above him.
Illuga’s head had already fallen back against the pillows by then, one hand tangled weakly in dark blue hair as though he needed something to hold onto.
"F-Flins..."
"Hm?" The response came soft and calm as ever.
"You are doing that on purpose."
A faint smile curved against his cock. "Doing what?"
Illuga could not even form a proper answer anymore.
Which only seemed to amuse Flins further.
The scent of pine and warming pheromones thickened steadily around them, filling the room until Illuga could scarcely think past the dizzying haze settling over him. His instincts were reacting more strongly now too, body growing increasingly sensitive beneath the lingering ache of pre-rut.
Illuga's body was responding intensely to his arousal, despite still being in the throes of pre-rut. As a result, his knot was swelling prematurely, growing larger and tighter with each passing moment. The sensitive bundle of nerves at the base of his shaft was particularly stimulated by Flins's oral attentions, causing it to expand rapidly. Flins eventually paused just enough to glance upwards again, his nose brushing lightly against heated swollen knot.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Flins smiled slightly—soft, fond, and carrying the faintest trace of mischief that immediately made Illuga suspicious.
"Mm," he murmured thoughtfully. "Someone is becoming rather needy."
"A... ah..."
"May I?" he asked softly, husky voice roughened by warmth and restrained want.
The question was little more than courtesy at this point.
Because before Illuga could properly gather his thoughts, Flins had already lowered his head again, lavishing slow, careful attention upon the oversensitive area that had been tormenting him for the past hour.
Flins leaned in and took Illuga's knot into his mouth, sucking gently. He applied a steady pressure, coaxing the sensitive flesh to relax, to open up for him.Flins's hands moved to Illuga's thighs, gripping them firmly as he continued to work on the knot. He alternated between gentle sucks and light bites, determined to bring relief to Illuga's tension-filled body.
Illuga’s entire body jolted.
A sharp breath escaped him as pleasure shot painfully through his nerves, far too intense beneath the haze of pre-rut. His fingers tangled helplessly in Flins’ hair once more, instinctively holding him there as though he could not bear the distance.
"F-Flins..."
"There now," Flins murmured gently against warm skin, hands settling reassuringly against Illuga’s thighs. "Breathe for me, Young Master."
The older Alpha remained infuriatingly patient throughout it all.
Every touch was deliberate. Measured. Intended not merely to overwhelm Illuga, but to ease the tension gradually from his body little by little. The ache coiled tightly beneath his instincts slowly began to loosen beneath that careful attention, though the relief itself only made Illuga more sensitive.
It was unbearable.
And embarrassingly comforting.
"Y-yes... ah—please..."
His hips shifted instinctively before he could stop himself, chasing warmth without thought. Flins only responded with a quiet hum of approval, steady hands keeping him grounded whenever his body threatened to tense too hard.
"O-oh, Sir Flins..." Illuga whimpered, once again his hips rocking instinctively as he tried to thrust deeper into Flins's mouth. The pressure and friction were exquisite, and Illuga could feel his knot beginning to soften, relaxing under Flins's skilled ministrations.
Illuga let out a sharp gasp as Flins enveloped his sensitive knot, the warmth and wetness of the older Alpha's mouth sending sparks of pleasure racing through his veins. His hands fisted in Flins's hair once more, holding him in place as he surrendered to the blissful sensations.
The room had grown thick with intertwined pheromones by now—pine forests after snowfall wrapped tightly around firelit warmth—until Illuga could scarcely tell where his own scent ended and Flins' began.
His thoughts blurred further with every passing second.
By the time Flins finally looked up at him again, golden eyes softened beneath half-lowered lashes, Illuga already appeared utterly ruined from affection alone.
And somehow, the expression on Flins’ face remained unbearably tender through all of it.
As Flins's teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, Illuga's knees nearly buckled, his orgasm hovering precariously close to the surface. He was teetering on the edge, his entire being focused on the incredible pleasure radiating from his knot.
Flins felt the knot on Illuga's shaft grow under his ministrations, the flesh tightening and expanding. He continued to massage Illuga's balls, kneading them gently as he worked his way back up the thick length of Illuga's cock. The knot was now fully engorged, pulsing with Illuga's arousal. Flins's tongue darted out to lick across its surface, savoring the unique flavor of Illuga's knot. He could feel the heat radiating from it, the throbbing pulse a testament to Illuga's intense desire.
Illuga's vision blurred as Flins lavished attention on his swollen knot, the stimulation driving him to the brink of madness. Each lap of Flins's tongue, each gentle bite, sent electric shocks of pleasure coursing through his body, threatening to unravel him completely.
"Flins, I..." Illuga’s voice caught helplessly in his throat, breath uneven as another shudder passed through him. "I cannot— hold.. much longer..."
His fingers tightened weakly in dark blue hair, instincts already fraying beyond reason beneath the relentless warmth surrounding him. Illuga gasped, his voice strained and desperate. His grip on Flins's hair tightened, and he rocked his hips frantically, seeking more of that incredible sensation.
The combination of Flins's mouth on his knot and the older Alpha's skilled hand on his balls was too much for Illuga to bear. With a hoarse cry, he felt his orgasm cresting, ready to explode forth in a torrent of release.
Feeling Illuga teetering on the edge of climax, Flins doubled his efforts, sucking harder on the engorged knot while pumping Illuga's heavy balls. He wanted to push Illuga over the precipice, to experience the full force of his release.
"Come for me, Illuga," Flins urged, his voice muffled by Illuga's twitching flesh. "Let go and fill my mouth with your seed."
With a final, powerful suck, Flins coaxed Illuga's orgasm forth. Hot jets of cum shot into his mouth, coating his tongue and the back of his throat. Flins swallowed greedily, relishing the taste and texture of Illuga's essence. As Illuga's spasms gradually subsided, Flins released the knot, allowing it to deflate slightly.
A broken sound escaped him as he buried one hand against the sheets, body tensing sharply beneath the overwhelming wave of relief that finally crashed through him. Flins remained close through all of it, steady and grounding, easing him through the intensity with the same impossible tenderness as before.
The room filled with the sharp warmth of tangled pheromones and uneven breathing.
And when the worst of it finally began to fade, Flins drew back just enough to press a lingering kiss against the inside of Illuga’s thigh.
"There," he murmured softly, brushing stray hair back from Illuga’s flushed face once he finally looked up again. "That is a little better, hm?"
Illuga could only stare at him weakly, utterly exhausted and still trying to remember how breathing properly worked.
Flins smiled—warm, fond, and devastatingly pleased with himself.
Then his expression softened further. One hand slipped gently into Illuga’s hair whilst the other rested against his waist, thumb brushing slow circles against flushed skin.
"Do not use another suppressant tonight," Flins whispered quietly.
Illuga blinked sluggishly at him.
"Your rut is close now. Far too close," The older Alpha leaned down, pressing one last soft kiss against his forehead. "Take your rut leave properly this time," he murmured. "And allow me to look after you until it passes."
For once, Illuga did not argue.
Too exhausted to fight back—and perhaps secretly unwilling to—he just gave the faintest nod against the pillows. Flins’ smile returned immediately at that small gesture. As though, somehow, that quiet surrender meant more to him than anything else.
And perhaps it did.
Because Illuga had never been good at allowing others to care for him. Especially not another Alpha. His instincts had always resisted it—years of pride, fear, and self-preservation tangled together into something sharp and defensive. Illuga was the sort of Alpha who endured injuries in silence, swallowed exhaustion whole, and insisted he was fine even whilst falling apart.
Depending on another Alpha should have felt unbearable to him.
Weak, even.
Yet somehow, Flins had become the single exception to every instinct Illuga possessed.
The only person capable of guiding him gently through the chaos of rut without making him feel cornered by it. The only Alpha whose presence did not set his instincts on edge. The only one who could look directly at all the parts of Illuga he usually kept hidden—fear, exhaustion, loneliness, all of it—and simply stay.
And lying there beneath the quiet glow of the lighthouse lanterns, with Flins still absentmindedly stroking his hair, Illuga found himself thinking that perhaps being understood this completely was far more dangerous than rut itself.
To be Continued...