Chapter Text
It was always dark in the graveyard.
Stormy clouds above teasing at a person below as if it was perpetually about to rain, but rarely did it ever. To some, it would be petrifying to walk the cold grounds of this island at night. To Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins, it was a daily necessity, one that he took comfort in when he had little else to do.
Things have somewhat calmed down after the fiasco of the Rächer of Solnari’s presence. But Flins has no doubt that matters will take a turn for the worse soon enough.
For any ordinary person, having one of the Five Sinners of Khaenri’ah, who is also the leader of the Wild Hunt, fixated on oneself would be terrifying. Surely they would run somewhere far, seek shelter and protection from outside forces. Flins, however, is not a normal person. He is not even a human being.
He stalks the graveyard grounds with his guard up and his lantern in his hand, but he does not worry. If Rerir decides to come after him and kill him, there will be little he can do. He must embrace this predicament and do what he enjoys for the time being incase he gets laid to rest by that man. The ghosts are slumbering in their graves tonight, Flins did not need to guide them back. In a way, he is completely and utterly alone.
A small swell of loneliness curls in his gut. It is not often he feels lonely, because he simply prefers to be alone, but it can happen on occasion. Perhaps it was because of the recent events which led him to interact with more people than usual. Yes, this feeling could go away on its own, could it not?
A small sigh escapes his lips and he gazes up into the sky. Bleak, dark, desolate.
Perhaps Illuga will come by soon to drop of supplies. Flins laughed to himself quietly at that thought, now walking up to the lighthouse slowly. Illuga was always worried for him, worried about his habits of isolating himself, it was endearing.
When he approached the lighthouse door, he suddenly felt a presence. For a single split second, he thought that he was right in his earlier thought, that Illuga had come by. But then, no.
No, this presence certainly wasn’t Illuga, no it was sinister, filthy and powerful. A parasite that could grow anywhere no matter how many times you killed it. Its claws would always reach you, would always seep deep into your skin and tear at your bones. Flins knew this presence well, in fact, he used to harbor this presence’s heart in his lantern.
It was Rerir, The Rächer of Solnari.
Perhaps Rerir was here for vengeance. An interesting thought indeed.
Despite knowing who was inside, Flins opened the door regardless, walking into his home. And there he was, Rerir, in his tall muscular form, white hair and black bandages all over, his face almost entirely covered, glowering at him by his kitchen table. How he knew where he lived, Flins could only guess it was because he previously had his heart.
“Hello,” Flins said politely despite his opinions on the man. This man reeked of death, and certainly, he was not a good man at all. But what could Flins do? Rerir has a significant amount of power back, Flins could surely not beat him any longer.
“You,” Rerir sneered. “This place is pathetic, who would’ve thought such a ‘gentleman’ lived in such a grimy place?”
Flins scowled. His home was not grimy, nor was it pathetic. He took great care of the lighthouse and the graveyard, how dare he waltz in here like he owned the place and start insulting him?
“My lighthouse, nor my graveyard is pathetic or grimy,” he spat. He knew deep down he was taking the bait, but after everything the man has done, Flins can allow himself to be rude.
Rerir snarled, taking a step closer to him unnaturally, like a corpse trying to learn how to walk again. “You insolent fool. No longer…” he took an odd, shaky breath, “… shall you make me fail.”
The Sinner appeared and acted a bit more sane than their last meeting, though it was still quite obvious he was mad. Flins tilted his head down so his chin and mouth was covered by his collar. Rerir was taller than him, and this made it so that Flins could only look up at his dangerous form. “Have you come to kill me then?” Flins asked.
Another ragged breath, Rerir clenched and then unclenched his claw like hands, letting it rest against Flins kitchen table as a threat. “Perhaps,” he said sharply.
Flins lowered his lantern and put it back to its place on his belt. “Than, if you are to kill me, I request that you lay me to rest in the grave I have prepared for myself,” he said, his soft voice nothing but serious.
And yet, Rerir let out a cruel laugh. “Hah! You’ve prepared a grave for yourself?” He sneered. “Incredibly pathetic. Do you wish for death?”
“I wish for slumber.”
Rerir had an odd look in his eye, a glare with something a bit more to it. He took another step forward slowly, as if he was death itself slowly prowling to its pray, its inevitable claws just ready to grab and pull and twist. Soon, Rerir was only inches away from him, and Flins found himself crowded against his steel door.
“You cannot imagine what death is like,” he spat, his voice scratchy and dangerous. “It is a hell… like no other. I will always find a way to come back. But a little fae like you will never experience life again.”
Flins could sense the danger in this situation. He knew that if he was a rational person, he would’ve ran, but Flins only raised his head, and stared death in his sharp eye. “I take care of graveyards, I have long since been ready to die.”
Rerir scoffed, then suddenly quickly, had a clawed fist wrenching at Flins’ long hair, pulling him towards him and forcing his head back and pressing him against him. “Death… should not be wished for by anybody!” He practically shouted, breathing hard and heavy. “It is pain, it is suffering! It is the force that drives your body into hell over… and over.”
Flins swallowed thickly, the hand pulling at his hair causing light pain in his scalp. What an odd position to die in, pressed body against death himself. It was odd, being chest to chest with the man. He had no heartbeat, Flins’ fault really, despite the muscled chest and strong arms. Flins can only imagine what heinous actions Rerir has committed with those claws that held his hair so tightly.
Flins gave him no response, only stared at him in a way Flins would usually consider rude. Rerir scoffed at him again, scrutinizing the way he looked. “You look like a corpse, it’s disgusting,” Rerir spat.
At this, Flins laughed. “In a way, I suppose I am.”
In response, Rerir pulled at his long hair harder, causing more pain. Flins hissed, his scalp now burning. Why was Rerir dragging this out so much? Why play with your prey so much before you slaughter it?
He was about to voice his question before Rerir dragged his other clawed hand and grabbed his chin roughly, making Flins let out a small noise of surprise. “You’ve experienced death before?” Rerir asked, sounding only annoyed and not extremely livid.
“No,” Flins replied honestly. “Only slumber.”
Through the black bandages that cover his mouth, Flins could tell that Rerir scowled. “How disappointing. I suppose I’ll have to give you that ‘honor’ myself.”
Flins swallowed nervously, this isn’t the way he thought this would go. Not pressed up against The Rächer of Solnari as if they were paramours. He could feel Rerir’s muscular thighs against his own through his clothing, could see his imposing, haunting presence in front of his face. Forced against him like this, Flins thinks that if he moved his hips, he would be able to feel his crotch pressed against his body.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Flins said, his mouth a little dry and his heart beat out of his chest.
A moment of silence passed over the two of them and Flins could hear only his own breathing. Slowly, like a dangerous predator, Rerir tilted his head as he looked down at him, he could feel the grip in his hair and on his chin tighten, drawing a small bit of blood from his skin. “Are you aroused by this?” He asked sharply.
Well, there was no use hiding it now, was there? “I believe so.”
Rerir laughed cruelly, digging his claws into the small wounds he created on Flins’ jaw. “Of course a grave keeper is attracted to an undead man.” Rerir tilted his head back, glaring at him with even more intensity.
Flins could only stand there as Rerir brought his hand from his chin to his mouth, digging a claw into his lower lip. He let out a small wounded noise, embarrassing himself. “Open your mouth,” Rerir told him sharply.
Going against his better judgment, Flins did, opening his mouth for the man, though not widely. Two clawed fingers were shoved against his tongue, they tasted dirty, and smelled like death. He resisted the urge to bite down on them.
Then suddenly, the pain in his scalp went away and was replaced by pain on his waist, Rerir was now gripping his waist with his claws, pulling him even closer to him until their crotches were pressed together.
Flins let out a small moan at the pressure, causing Rerir to dig a claw lightly into his tongue. “This is what gets you off?” Flins could fell Rerir was hard as well, his tent pushing against his own. “Vile,” he spat meanly.
Good god those words felt amazing. Flins rolled his hips up, grinding against Rerir, drawing out a sharp groan. Rerir leaned his head into Flins’ personal space, his mouth nearly against his ear. Flins could feel his hot breath on his skin, panting. “I will kill you, lightkeeper… mh…” Flins rolled his hips against him again. “I will kill you, and you will witness true death, and true pain- mh!”
Rerir thrusted his fingers roughly in his mouth, adding only to the inappropriate arousal they both experienced. Flins let his hand wonder, going to rest right near Rerir’s bulge- suddenly everything went away, the hand on the waist the fingers in his mouth and the body as a whole pressed against him.
Rerir now stood a few feet away from him, his eye wide and his arousal definitely still present. Despite who Rerir was, Flins felt a pang of guilt in his chest. “I apologi-”
The Sinner snarled at him. “Foolish Fae! You- tempting me with your arousal to try and stop me?!”
Oh.
Flins didn’t have the chance to respond to accusations that he was attempting to seduce him to save his life, because in a few angry motions Rerir summoned a red portal.
“I will come back for your head!” He practically screamed, his voice once again sounding insane and filled with rage.
Rerir stepped through the portal and was promptly gone.
Flins blinked, everything was the same again. The house was empty, the island was now inhabited only by him. And yet, his cock laid erect in his pants and bits of dried blood rested on his chin.
And to think that Flins was about to let Rerir kill him while he dry humped him. Flins sighed, putting a hand to the tent in his pants. The pressure was delightful, but his thoughts were awful.
What was wrong with him that made him like this? What kind of Light Keeper almost sleeps with the leader of the Wild Hunt?
He sighed again, taking his hand off his crotch. It was nearly daybreak. Or at least he thinks so, it’s very hard to keep track of time on this island. He will take care of the rest of the matters here later, but first, he needs to take care of himself.
Flins almost hurriedly rushed towards his bathroom, and pleasured himself thinking of the smell of death, and horrifying claws.