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As the captain of the ‘Nightmare Orioles’ Investigation Team, Illuga prides himself for his, well, investigational skills.
He always sees a case through to the end. That’s including this one case he has taken as a private investigation about his fellow Ratnik. An older male with a mouth too sweet and a mysterious air wrapped around him that keeps everyone at an arm’s length. Others always say that the two are close, but Illuga feels like he barely scratches the surface of Flins as a person.
That changes today. He has done enough research, like reading all the books he could get in Nod-Krai, as well as asking around the Knights of Favonius and immigrants from other nations for book references on mythical creatures. It is safe to assume that he has had enough evidence to support his hypothesis.
And that’s how he found himself at the cemetery. This place always gives him the chill despite wearing his thick Ratnik uniform. The walk to the lighthouse is a hassle, leaving him with foggy breath painting the air before his face the moment he arrives at the small house near the lighthouse.
“Flins?” he calls out, suddenly rethinking his impulsive decisions.
He doesn’t even know if the guy is here. He’s always wandering about the island whenever he likes, yet always gets the job done.
“My, to what do I owe the honor of the Captain’s visit to my humble abode?”
The voice makes him jump, though the thick saccharine coating each word is enough not to alarm him further. He swivels around to see the very same guy occupying his thoughts these past few days (or weeks? months?) calming down his heart that almost jumped out of his mouth from the surprise of not sensing any presence prior. But then it’s Flins, so there’s no surprise that he has no presence—in fact, this particular trait of his aids him to disappear into the shadows at any slight inconvenience.
So he reaches out and grabs onto Flins’ hand, glaring up—much to his dismay—at him.
“We need to talk.”
Flins looks at him ever so blankly, then smiles.
“We are talking now. Or perhaps you are implying a more private way of talking, the kind adults do in the confinement of their bedrooms? Oh my, how bold.”
Warmth flares over Illuga’s face, burning him from the inside out. He takes a deep breath so that he won’t catch the bait Flins throws whenever he wants to switch topics. Illuga is experienced enough to handle this after a while.
“A more private conversation, yes. Preferably somewhere nobody can just walk in and interrupt us,” he demands.
Realizing that he can’t get out of this, Flins finally gives in, stepping away to lead the way. “Alright, how could I refuse to serve the young master? Follow me.”
“Stop calling me that!”
//
Soon, they are in a warmer confinement of the basement. It’s warmly-lit, filled with books and items that Illuga would have explored if not for his respect towards his colleague.
He opts to pace back and forth to ease his nerves while Flins sits calmly by a table, sipping on his vodka. He would have scolded the male for drinking on the job if only he didn’t have a more important thing occupying his mind.
“What got you behaving like a cat on hot bricks, young master? It’s so unlike you.”
“It’s you!” he snaps, marching towards Flins and snatching the glass of vodka from his hand to down it whole. A familiar heat burns down his throat and throughout his body, replacing the itch that got him on edge this whole time. That’s better. “Remember when I confronted you about your identity? I told you that we will revisit this conversation again once things are calmer.”
“Hmm, you said a lot of things, though. Which one is it again?”
“Don’t act stupid, you know what I’m talking about.”
Flins tilts his head, still with that annoying smile on his lips. “Care to reiterate to this foolish ol’ me?”
Since Illuga is standing before his sitting form, this gives him an upperhand, a higher position which allows him to look down at the taller male. That also gives him a boost of confidence, sending a smug smile to his lips as he folds his arms across his chest.
“I know what you are.”
Now that he has said it out loud, the idea becomes more real, spoken into the universe. Sure, he had mentioned before the hypothesis that Flins was not human, but after some more research, he has gotten more answers that lead him to a conclusion. One name of a creature that will unseal the secret.
He just hopes that Flins will not be more closed off instead and let Illuga in. He wants to gently peel the layers of covers and delve just a bit deeper, so he can see what he has hidden behind this neat facade. Almost like it’s calling for him.
“Heavens, you are being ominous again. Are you going to call me out for liking men? Didn’t think young master would care so much about my sexual preferences.”
That’s new, but absolutely not what Illuga had in mind.
“You… you…!”
He raises a finger to point at the ever-so-calm Ratnik, watching as the finger shakes from either anger or just the fact that he is so baffled over the audacity of this man.
Screw being gentle and polite. Illuga is going to break open the door and mess this guy up. See if he cares.
What he cares about is that he has the answer. The basis of his initial suspicion: 1) Flins has ghostly pale skin that’s always cold, no matter what season; 2) he’s never seen eating anything or drinking something other than his stupid strong liquors; 3) animals are afraid of him; and 4) he always gets out of dire situations unscathed, no injuries in sight.
There’s only one plausible answer to this condition.
“You are,” he steps closer, crowding into Flins’ personal space with his finger poking onto his chest. “A vampire.”
Flins stays silent for a deafening moment, blinking up at him while Illuga tries to read his face. There’s a hint of surprise at first, then a flash of relief, before his lips twist into an amused smile. The last one makes the firm confidence backing Illuga’s whole trip here falter; he stumbles back on his feet, hesitantly lowering his hand.
Did he get it wrong? Did he cross a hard boundary? The crazy-thick Lightkeeper Handbook never mentioned a crime for outing your friend’s identity as a vampire.
“Captain Illuga, I admire the fact that you are brave enough to place yourself in the front lines to protect everyone, but surely your father taught you not to willingly walk into unnecessary danger?”
Illuga’s heart almost drops to his stomach when Flins gets up from the chair, towering over him, as if reminding him of his place. The poor heart is now beating fast in his chest as the other keeps closing the distance between them, prompting him to step backwards, hands held out in defense.
“Flins, forgive me if I—”
“So what if I am a vampire? Would you look down on me if that’s true?”
“No!” he answers quickly. “I just thought… You might be lonely if you had to keep your identity secret from everyone. And if you told at least one person, like me, maybe I could help you? Whenever you are in a pinch or something.”
“Haha… that’s so nice of you. How do you plan to help a vampire?”
“I don’t know, I can find you specific food to replenish blood or… I don’t know how vampires work, but if you tell me, I’ll make it happen… somehow.”
In the midst of his panic, Illuga didn’t realize that he had been cornered backwards with every step that Flins took towards him, and that they had crossed the length of the room towards a solid wall, which is now pressed against his back.
“You’re going to feed me?” Flins asks, still with the amused edge of his tone, but with a more serious look that paralyzes him this time.
“Yes, just tell me what you want to—”
The floor disappears from beneath his feet, and Illuga’s head spins as he finds himself on eye level with Flins now, or a bit higher. But the direst part is the position he is in. He is being pinned against the wall, hoisted up with his thighs pressing onto either side of Flins’ waist. He could feel Flins’ body against his own, so warm despite his cold skin, and also suffocating.
This is so. So wrong. So inappropriate to be done between colleagues. There’s definitely nothing like this in that handbook—wait.
In other books he read as part of his research, specifically those imported books from Yae Publishing House, he remembers reading scenes like this. Vampires eat by drinking humans’ blood, and sometimes it would be depicted as sensual, with the puncture point being on the erogenous zone, like the neck.
The gears in Illuga’s head click into place, sending a swirl of heat into his tightening stomach as the realization settles in his guts.
He is the food.
“What’s the matter, young master? You look nervous.”
“You’re going to take my blood? Like this?!” he splutters, words running into each other.
“It’s just about right, isn’t it? You had my vodka. In my culture, if you take something, you need to give one back in return,” he says casually, like he’s just throwing his usual nonsense and empty compliments. “And I need to be comfortable when eating. A bit hard when you are kind of… vertically challenged. Adorable, though.”
Screw him.
Still, he got a point. Illuga stays still and shuts his eyes as Flins leans closer, flinching from the touch of the other’s nose to his chin, tipping his head up. He has full access to his neck now, despite the turtleneck he’s wearing.
Is he going to rip it apart? The thought sends shivers down his spine, and he starts sweating on his nape. Not sure if it’s from the vodka or that the room is just that hot. Maybe it also influences his breathing, the way his breath is coming out short, as if being this close to Flins cut off his oxygen pathway.
“Oh? Is it too hot down here? Apologize for my poor service to our dear guest.”
A cool breeze of air blows past as Flins withdraws briefly. Illuga’s head feels like it’s filled with cotton, too slow to notice until he feels chills on his exposed skin.
His mantel is nowhere in sight once he’s back to being cornered against the wall. Yet it burns just the same where his body touches with Flins’, even more as he grasps onto his shoulders, fingers tangled into the metal straps adorning his outfit. A wild thought flashes through his mind at the reminder of the multiple chains hung as decorations on the other’s clothes, and how Flins could use them on him for other purposes.
No way. No way he is thinking that sort of thing about his colleague. Especially not the colleague who is slotted between his thighs and now nosing into his neck. His breathing hitches when he feels the touch of Flins’ lips on his neck. Swallowing hard when the pair of lips start tracing down the slowly exposed skin as Flins tugs down the fabric wrapped around his neck with one intruding finger.
He mildly imagines the scene, realizing that Flins is kissing where the long, old scar marred his skin. The one that always makes him sick to the stomach whenever he looks at his reflection in the mirror. Flins is kissing it with so much care that Illuga feels his chest tighten, with his heart beating against his ribcage so hard that Flins must have heard it.
“Pretty. This looks so beautiful on you. Our strong, reliable Captain. Aren’t you perfect for me?” he whispers, voice deep and thick. Honey on his skin.
What is Flins even saying… More importantly, what the hell is wrong with him, whining like that in response to his words?
“Wait, Flins... Lord Flins. Can we do this somewhere else, sitting down maybe?”
Illuga starts squirming, pawing at his shoulder. Taking his blood is a whole different matter, but now he is feeling a certain heat between his legs that should not form in this kind of situation, as if it’s not already wrong enough as it is. If Flins could feel how turned on he actually is, Illuga might have to resign his title and exile himself out of shame.
“Hmm? Nervous for your first time? You offered yourself to me.”
Now that sounds even more wrong and suggestive. Illuga doesn’t know if he wants to kick the other in the face or tell him that it is indeed his first time in so many different ways to interpret it. But at least he knows that he definitely wants to scream.
The thoughts in his head are soon quieted down when he feels teeth grazing his neck. He feels lightheaded, grasping at Flins’ shoulder and gasping for air. Or is he moaning? He can’t even tell.
But there are no sharp points of fangs like what he imagined when he read those books, or pain when he gets his skin punctured and his blood sucked out.
Instead, the heat enveloping him disappears as quickly as it comes when his feet hit the ground, wobbly to the point that he needs to lean onto Flins for that first second of coming back to earth. He doesn’t dare to look up at the other because his face must be burning red by now.
“Too bad I’m not a vampire, you look delectable enough for a meal,” Flins sighs, sounding like he actually regrets not doing more. “Any other guesses? You might need to do further research on me.”
“I didn’t—”
“What to do. Now you won’t be able to stop thinking of me for an indefinite period.”
The weight of his mantel draped over his shoulder jolts Illuga from the small trance he was in, finally looking up just to see Flins leaning in closer with that teasing smile of his. So close that they’re just a breath away from a kiss.
Still with the heat under his skin, he slaps himself mentally to jerk away and run. “I will find out the truth, just you wait, Flins!”
He hears Flins’ laugh and a muttered cute as he runs up the stairs to get out of the basement. How dare he?
Illuga can only breathe freely again once he’s outside, appreciating the cold air even if it makes him shiver. He just needs to get as far away as possible from that guy to calm his racing heart down and whatever is going on in his lower stomach.
As he walks far enough from his source of problems, he thinks back to the challenge thrown by Flins and gets pumped up again. He shrugs on his mantle properly while looking over his shoulder to cast a glance at the tall lighthouse and Flins’ house, barely noticing the blue lantern glowing by the door.
Was it always there? So unwise of him to leave his lantern just anywhere. This could be reported to the Starshyna for neglect.
He scoffs. Whatever. There’s no time for that.
He needs to plan his further research on Flins, looking forward to the day he could wipe that confident smile off his face. After all, he knows what Flins is.
Human or not, he is Illuga’s responsibility to figure out.