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Flins has never considered himself to be a devout individual. He had certainly humored the thought of following some god or another in the past, and he's partaken in various rituals and festivals held by devotees of all sorts of religions out of simple curiosity. But although he has extensive knowledge regarding more than a hundred deities worshipped by different factions all across Teyvat, he's never found himself particularly drawn to any of them, never really felt the urge to truly and wholly worship even a single one.
That is, until he met someone he never saw coming.
His closest companion. His dearest friend. The most dazzling light to ever be bestowed upon him.
Most wouldn't even consider you to be all that special. Sure, you had your various talents, but in a universe full of Archons and supernatural creatures, a mere vision-wielding human such as yourself didn't warrant much attention.
But to Flins, there was not one being who came even close to outshining you.
He would bow down for you, offer himself and all he had to you, worship you with a deep reverence he'd never granted any single thing or person in the past. He would find a way to give you the world if you asked for it - but all you wanted was to be loved in the same beautiful way you loved him. Of course, he could give this to you easily, and he was more than happy to devote himself to you wholeheartedly.
He loves how your face flushes when he showers you with compliments, how you sheepishly look away when he assures you that not one bit of it is a lie. He loves how snarky you can be, how your eyes adopt that mischievous little glint when you tease him in a way that no one had ever managed to before. How you stand up straight in the face of adversity even if you're scared, yet allow yourself to be vulnerable with him. He loves to dote on you, loves that you always try to insist on doing the same for him, loves how you grumble when he always responds the same way—
I have no greater wish in this world than to see you smile, my light.
In fact, he can't think of even one thing about you that he doesn't love. Flins considers you a gift, one he is hardly deserving of. He cherishes every moment with you, even the most mundane of them, because to him, every second he spends by your side is a treasure worth keeping. Each memory is as precious as the last… although, if he had to pick his favorite, he supposes that he'd choose the day you became his wife.
His wife. Even years later, the simple knowledge that you are his and he is yours brings him an immeasurable amount of joy. That you had taken his surname, that you had chosen to give yourself to him even though he could not provide you with the conventional human life you so easily could have pursued instead…
To Flins, there is no mortal nor god more beautiful, more perfect than you.
The best part of his daily routine was the very end. The moment that he was finished with his responsibilities as a Ratnik and could step back into the home you shared beneath the towering lighthouse he watched over was the moment he could shed his layers of caution and professionalism to freely be who he so loved to be. Not a dutiful Lightkeeper, nor that mysterious, silver-tongued gentleman who anyone with even half their wits about them would know to be wary of. Not a friend of the one and only Grandmaster Varka or the Lady Moonchanter or elusive Miss Nefer - not even the fantastical Lantern Fae of old.
Simply a man who was lucky enough to be called your husband.
His uniform jingles and clinks faintly as he undoes the various clasps and buckles; he fondly recalls the first time you'd attempted to remove it, how your brows had furrowed in disbelief at the absurd number of steps it took to do so. But you always said he looked so incredibly handsome when he wore it, and he would never deprive you of seeing what you liked to see.
When he's sufficiently rid of his heavy outer layers, Flins carefully makes his way down the hall, certain to avoid the spots where the floorboards angrily creak when disturbed. Surely, at this hour, you would be sleeping soundly; while he may not need to sleep like humans do, he’s definitely come around on the joys of slumbering peacefully at your side, so he doesn't want to startle you awake.
Ever so gently, he cracks the door to the bedroom open. His lips instinctively curve into an adoring smile as he spots you there, sprawled on your back like a starfish with his pillow in one arm and all of your many blankets strewn aside. You're wearing nothing but your underwear and a shirt of his that looks almost comically large on you - seeing you in his clothing still never fails to send a little satisfied thrill down his spine.
Flins closes the door behind him with the faintest of clicks before quietly creeping closer. But right as he nears the edge of the bed, he notices you stir.
A small frown tugs at your lips and your brows knit together. He freezes in place, head tilting just slightly to one side as he watches you. For a handful of moments you remain unmoving… and then you shift a bit, tighten your grip around his pillow, and let out a tiny, needy moan.
For a heartbeat he doesn't believe it, but it's unmistakable - that divine little sound that he oh so loves to drag out of you. If he were a dog, his ears would have perked up eagerly upon hearing it. Intrigued, Flins doesn't dare to move a muscle, still as a statue as he watches you.
…
Just as he's accepted that you aren't going to repeat yourself, he sees your legs twitch. You squirm around a bit, then draw your knees together and turn your head aside with a soft mewl.
A wet dream? It's been quite a long while since he's witnessed you having one. He can't help but wonder what exactly it is you're seeing behind your closed eyelids.
……
Flins watches your thighs press together and hears a breathy sound fall from your lips. Shaking his head slightly, he lets out a thin chuckle. “The things you do to me, my love,” he whispers to no one in particular.
The last thing Flins would want is to be considered selfish, especially when it comes to you. And yet, once in a while, he can't help but be a little greedy.
Of course, that's not to say he's disrespectful of you. If you hadn’t given him explicit permission to do this, hadn't so generously offered every inch of yourself to him whenever he so desired, he would happily keep his hands to himself. But you had - so he would make full use of every opportunity to indulge himself in your sweetness and to show you the deep reverence you more than deserve.
Swallowing thickly, Flins climbs onto the bed and ventures closer to your side. Leaning over you like this, you look so small… and in your deep sleep, you're oh so vulnerable. Truly, he could do absolutely anything to you, which you're well aware of; even knowing this you entrust yourself wholly to him.
For a while he simply takes pleasure in letting his gaze roam over your precious figure. You're just as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes upon you - perhaps even more so now that you bear that simple silver band on your left ring finger, a testament of your devotion to him. How lucky he is.
He drinks in every bit of you, from the gentle rise and fall of your chest to the slight flush on your cheeks, to the most recent of your scars on your bicep that he wishes you hadn't gotten but adores nonetheless. It shows how resilient you are, a trait he quite admires about you.
Amidst his staring you let out another of your precious whimpers, and within the confines of his loose sleep pants, Flins feels his cock already beginning to stiffen. “Even like this, dearest, you manage to stir up these feelings in me so easily. Such a pretty vixen you are,” he sighs longingly. He’s itching to lay his hands on you, but he denies himself for the time being so he can continue observing you, his gorgeous wife.
He watches your toes curl a little, watches you tighten your grip around his pillow. His shirt that you're wearing has ridden up a bit with your shuffling, exposing your stomach just enough that your navel is partially visible. How tantalizing - you're a seductress and you don't even know it. Flins’ gaze flits hungrily about, and that's when he takes notice of your pebbled nipples, perked up against the slight, perpetual chill that Nod Krai brings, even through his shirt.
At once he can feel his self-restraint snap, like a rope pulled far too taut.
Flins climbs over you with a shuddering breath to crouch above your body, bracketing your thighs between his own. Before moving any further, however, he gently calls out your name.
…sure enough, there's no reply. You’re none the wiser to what's happening in the waking world, meaning the subtle twitches of your limbs and the delicious sounds you keep making are entirely controlled by your subconscious…
“So beautiful, my darling.” He knows you can't hear him, yet he can't help but sing your praises. As he bows down over you, his hair slipping over his shoulders, he nudges his nose beneath your chin to nuzzle in close and press an open-mouthed kiss onto your skin, where he takes note of your pulse thrumming steadily against his lips. He takes a moment to inhale deeply, savoring your familiar scent. It's as soothing as it is enticing, and so perfectly you. He pecks lazy kisses all over your throat and along your jawline at the same time as he allows himself to slip his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt.
Ever so gently he runs the pads of his fingers across your belly. He’s had your body mapped out for years now. He knows where every scar is, able to trace perfectly over even the newest of them without a second's hesitation. He knows exactly where to go to draw out all sorts of reactions from you - where you're most ticklish, where he can make your heart hammer against your ribcage and your back arch, where he can rub gentle circles into your skin to soothe you from your nightmares.
For tonight, though, he simply elects to waste not a second longer in accepting the offering you have so graciously given him.
Flins shoves the fabric of your shirt up over the swell of your breasts, and as he cups each one in each of his hands, he feels his cock twitch. “You will never know how thoroughly you have me under your spell, darling,” he murmurs against your throat, gently massaging your tits as his thumbs lazily dance up and inward.
For the most part, you've been motionless beneath him. Soft sighs and faint whines escape your slightly parted lips once in a while, but the touch of his fingers flicking over your hardened nipples - you always have been terribly sensitive there - manages to draw a stronger reaction from you.
You jolt a little under his weight and give a tiny whimper, and Flins sees in his peripheral how your fingers tighten even more around his pillow. His cock, now fully erect, twitches against your lower stomach through only the thin layers of his pants and underwear. Expertly circling the pads of his thumbs around your oh so pretty nipples, he takes his time in placing tender kisses against every inch of your bare throat. He even notices a nearly faded impression of his teeth on the curve where your neck meets your shoulder; he’ll be sure to replace it later, but right now, he doesn't want to awaken you with his fanged bite that always ends up being more vicious than he intends.
Flins’ lips trail further down, only leaving your soft skin long enough to move over your shirt where it's bunched above your breasts. Eagerly, but still gently, he kisses a path across one of them until his warm breath fans against its peak, causing you to twitch once more.
“How precious you are, sweetheart… so responsive to my touch,” he muses. “Even your unconscious mind knows whom you belong to.” His tongue flicks out, lapping a few times against your nipple, and then he seals his lips around it.
Your back arches subtly off the bed, only for half a second before you flop back down with a sweet, quivering moan. The sound goes straight to Flins’ dick, and he happily begins suckling at the little bud. His gaze briefly moves up to your face, where he finds your eyes are screwed tightly shut, your brows furrowed as if in deep concentration. Lovely as ever, he thinks to himself.
It isn't long before he moves to treat your opposite side to the same ministrations, and you puff out a shivery sigh. If you were awake, he’d spend a hell of a lot longer teasing you this way. There’s almost nothing he enjoys more than seeing all the different ways you react to his touch; a switch in pressure or pace that might make your breath hitch, or a change in your body's own sensitivity thanks to him dragging things out as much as he possibly can. However, he finds himself rather impatient on this occasion, a fact that's as amusing as it is shameful.
Flins releases you with a slight pop and turns his head aside to press his lips to the valley between your breasts. “Forgive me, my light, for being so greedy,” he whispers to your sleeping self. With a tender trail of kisses down the center of your belly he scoots back on the bed until he’s right where he’s truly been itching to be - hovering with his head just above your clothed cunt.
Ever so gently, he takes your plushy thighs into each of his hands, slowly drawing them apart to make way for him to settle more comfortably between them. With his new proximity to you, he immediately catches a faint whiff of your saccharine scent right as his gaze lands on the evident damp spot your slick has left on your undergarment. The combination almost makes him dizzy.
Licking his lips in anticipation, Flins lowers his head, his breath fanning over the darkened patch on your panties. “It seems that you are just as naughty as I am, dearest,” he says with wicked delight. He briefly imagines how you would react if you were awake; your thighs would twitch in his grasp, prompting him to dig his slender fingers harder into your flesh, and you'd probably stammer out some pitiful protest. He considers himself quite the expert on your mannerisms in these situations, which only better allows him to satisfy you.
Carefully he pecks a kiss against your cunt through damp fabric, inhaling deeply at the same time. How he adores the aroma of your arousal… unmistakably you, with that perfect muskiness and intoxicating sweetness. Hurriedly adjusting his grip on you and backing away just long enough to slip your panties off, he hungrily traces his gaze over your glistening folds. Sure enough, he can see your body's eager reaction to his every touch in the way you're already practically soaked. And such a pretty sight it is, one that could never get old - so he takes a moment to simply admire it.
…but it truly is just a moment. As evidenced by his haste in venturing between your legs, Flins’ patience is incredibly thin compared to how it usually is. He honestly isn't quite sure why that's the case… but there really isn't much point in pondering it. Perhaps he's just more into this than he wants to admit.
Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he nuzzles in close, tenderly kisses the inside of each of your thighs, then licks a languid stripe up the entirety of your cunt. A small sound of satisfaction rumbles in his throat at the same time as you let out what is quite possibly the sweetest little moan he's ever heard before. Oh, how it makes his painfully hard cock throb.
When he reaches your clit, Flins treats it to a couple of kitten licks before turning his attention a bit lower. His lashes flutter as he laps up the wetness that's shining on your folds, and his eyes close completely to savor your heavenly taste. Forget gods or archons, whoever or whatever else anybody worshipped - to Flins, the only true divinity to grace this world was lying right here in his blessed hands.
Like a man starved, his tongue slips past your labia to dive into your warm, welcoming cunt while his fingers move to clutch at your hips. Overhead, he hears a shuddering breath fall from your lips, and he takes it as you urging him to slurp happily at your insides.
The little whines and quivering whimpers you keep letting out all go straight to Flins’ erection. Absently he finds himself rutting into the mattress in an unsteady, sporadic rhythm, hoping to somewhat satiate the frankly inconvenient desperation pooling low in his belly. He can feel your walls fluttering around his tongue, prompting him to slide his hands down from your sides. He weasels his fingers underneath your rear end with ease, and then he's cupping your ass in his palms, lifting your hips and effectively pulling your pussy closer to himself.
Your heels jump a little, and then they're digging into his back for a second or two before your legs fall limp again. A weak moan pulls itself from your lips, and he groans in turn. With urgency he laps up your sweet sweet wetness, but that's not to say he's disregarding your own delight; his tongue expertly prods up against your insides just where he knows you like it while his nose rubs at the exceedingly delicate bundle of nerves just north of where he's presently devouring you.
Amidst the relentless worship of his tongue on you, Flins is taken aback by a sudden, blindingly hot tingle that pangs at his gut. His cock throbs almost painfully beneath him, forcing him to abruptly still before his embarrassingly rapid climax can hit. Reeling, he pulls away from your cunt with a downright sinful pop.
“Oh, my,” he huffs out, his eyes slitting halfway open. What was he? A touch starved youth? Usually he could last quite a while - much longer than you, in any case, which he was certain to relentlessly tease you about. Something about this whole situation must have him worked up ten times as much as usual. In the back of his mind he's even more glad that you're still unconscious… he'd never hear the end of it if you found out.
Shaking his head, Flins forces his agitated hips to settle. There will be ample time for his own release later, he's sure, and he would hate to give his seed to the bedding when you love it so much. Fuck, you always beg for it like a wild animal in heat; how could he be so cruel as to deny you that pleasure?
At once Flins turns his attention back to you. He can see your pretty pussy visibly clenching around nothing, your body's desperate plea for him to resume despite how you're still fast asleep.
One of his hands retreats from your backside to snake beneath your leg, granting his fingers access to your cunt. “Say, love,” Flins murmurs, “you have turned me into quite the unquenchable fae.” Gently he runs the pad of his index finger up over your folds, shining now with both your own slick and his spit, enjoying the way it makes your thighs twitch. “It feels as though I could ruin you for hours on end and still be left yearning for you, my light.”
He pauses to watch almost in awe as he allows himself to spread your labia open, granting him a better view of your welcoming entrance, positively pulsing with need. “Though you and I both know that you would accept such things in earnest, hm?” With how drenched you are, his first long finger slides into your warmth without resistance, and he utters a pleased curse at how you practically suck him in and let out a pitchy little moan.
“...and you always take it all so perfectly, sweetheart. No matter what it is I give to you, you accept it without hesitation. Such a precious, perfect thing you are,” he breathes out. Slowly at first, he begins working you open on his finger, but a second one joins the first after only a handful of moments because fuck, you're so incredibly pliant beneath him that it just about makes him drool. “Even in sleep you are good for me. So, so very good.”
Bowing his head once more, Flins silences himself by latching his lips back around your clit. His tongue flattens to press against the little bud, then adjusts to flick rapidly over and around it. Your breath catches, and he hums encouragingly, the sound vibrating against your hypersensitive skin. His fingers twist and curl, dragging over your spongy walls as your limbs begin to quiver under his assault. He wonders if he can make you climax while you're still unconscious - but he's learned from the handful of times he'd pounced on you in your sleep before that sending you careening toward your peak tended to rouse you. Either way, he knows he'll be more than content, so he angles his fingertips up to prod against your sweet spot at the same time as he begins to suckle fervently at your swollen bud.
At once your hips jolt, your whole body twitches and tenses, and a long, shuddering groan pulls itself from your lips. Your grip on his pillow becomes white-knuckled for a few seconds before suddenly vanishing, and he watches the most he can from this angle as your lashes flutter open. Dazedly your free hand paws at the air, blindly searching for him, and he hums into your clit again.
“Ky…ryll?” Your trembling hand finally manages to find the top of his head, your sleep-glazed eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to gather your bearings. Your fingers thread weakly into Flins’ hair, and he sucks with more intensity as a show of appreciation. “Wh-... a-ahh, mm, what's…? I-I…”
Before you can make sense of what's going on, a particularly perfect jab at your insides has your back arching weakly, helplessly off the bed. Pleasure wracks through you from head to toe, evidenced by the full body spasm that violently shakes you, and with little more than a pitiful squeak of warning you come undone.
It takes the entirety of Flins’ willpower to stop himself from humping into the bed again like some primal beast; he fears that if he does, he may just cum right along with you. It's almost amusing how riled up he is.
He all but growls against you, a deep, rumbly sound that only heightens your senses even more. Steadily he pumps his fingers in and out of your contracting cunt, holding you firmly by the hip in his other hand - not that you'd be able to wrestle your way out of his grasp even if you weren't still half asleep.
Only when you're so overwhelmed that you're fitfully gasping for air like a fish out of water does Flins finally grant you a reprieve. With one last lap of his flattened tongue against your puffy clit he draws back a few inches, resting his head against your inner thigh and gazing up to you with a lazy, delighted smile. “Good morning, my light,” he coos as he pulls his fingers out of you with a rather obscene squelch.
Dazed, all you can do is stare hazily at him while your brain tries to catch up. “I…” You wet your lips a little. Flins’ face is coated from nose to chin in a sloppy mixture of your slick and his own spit, which only seems to fluster you even more. “Mm, what're you doing down there…?”
“What does it look like I'm doing?” he gives back cheekily. “I am enjoying my favorite treat. You simply looked too ravishing to ignore, my darling.”
Oh, that precious look on your face… he would tear down the world if he had to in order to continue being blessed by the sight of it. The flush that's spreading from your cheekbones to the tips of your ears. The cloudiness of sleep that has yet to leave your eyes, starkly contrasted by your blown pupils. The way you nibble subtly at your bottom lip as you try to put together the pieces of what's going on. And that's not to mention that soft, slightly slurred voice of yours when you've just woken up that always makes something flutter in his chest - in his fake, inhuman heart that feels entirely too real whenever he's with you.
It somehow makes him want to hug you tight and shower you with tender kisses just as much as it makes him want to rearrange your guts, to ravage you until you're fucked senseless.
“Well, I… why?” you ask slowly, and Flins gives an amused little huff.
“You know that I am always in awe of your beauty. Such a question is ridiculous.”
Squirming, your gaze flits between his own unrelenting stare and his charming grin, and he goes on after a few beats. “...but I suppose I can offer some further explanation. You see, dearest, I just so happened to be lucky enough to stumble upon you quite enjoying yourself whilst in your slumber. Given this, how could I possibly have resisted?”
Flins can see the realization dawning on you by the way your blush deepens. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you ponder what to say… but when you finally turn your head aside to stubbornly avoid his gaze and sheepishly speak up, he's taken aback by your request—
“Then c-can you… keep going?”
Well. You didn't have to ask him twice.
“I would be delighted, my love.”
Instead of getting right back to it, Flins gently pries your legs from his shoulders. You whine faintly in protest, but he's quick - in a few decisive movements, he grabs your waist, rolls onto his back, and you squeal as you scramble to follow his lead until you find yourself on your knees, your cunt hovering just an inch or two above Flins’ face and your hands planted on his broad chest to steady yourself.
“K-Kyryll!” you stammer, and he simply chuckles beneath you. “Don’t you want to— mmfh!”
A startled moan manages to silence you as Flins laves his tongue over your clit. Humming with delight, he gives each of your sides a playful squeeze. “Hush now, my light. Relax for me. I am more than content right here - and your sweet little cunt is practically begging to be devoured all over again. Is that not what you wanted when you asked me to continue?”
Your fingers curl against his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He already knows the words you're leaving unspoken; even after all this time, you still tend to struggle to readily accept that he expects nothing in return, that he's simply spoiling you because he wants to. You've worried yourself sick a number of times with the guilt of not being able to give back - whether because you couldn't or because he wouldn’t allow you to. “You know I-I always like it when you… t-touch me like this,” you murmur shyly instead.
“That's right.” His breath is tickling your hypersensitive skin with every word, leaving you trembling above him. “Do not fuss over me. Just allow me to please my darling wife, hm?” he purrs, sickeningly sweet. And with that he focuses his attention back to the sticky mess presented to him, pressing a kiss against your clit before slipping his tongue back between your folds.
Now that you're awake, you're much more vocal. Pathetic, gasping little whimpers readily spill out of you, each one making Flins work only harder. It isn't long before he feels you slump down with a whine, fisting your hands into his shirt and dropping your forehead onto his lower stomach.
He can't help the way his cock twitches in his pants, from a mixture of your sweet symphony and your simple proximity to it. He realizes that he must have subconsciously had you face this way in the hope you might choose to grant him some relief from his aching erection. He wouldn't force you, but if it was sitting right in front of you and you took initiative on your own… he certainly wouldn't complain.
“F-fuck, mmh, feels really good,” you slur, legs quivering from the effort of keeping your hips up enough that you don't totally crush him. Flins grunts into you, pulling back his tongue and dragging the flat of it up to your clit.
“Tell me who makes you feel good,” he urges, turning his head slightly and nosing against the bundle of nerves he can't tongue at when he's speaking.
He feels your head rotate against his abdomen until your cheek is resting on his belly. “You, you, ‘s’always you!” you whimper. Your hands loosen around the fabric of his shirt at the same time, then slide off of him entirely; he imagines you're grabbing after the bedsheets.
Flins hums approvingly, yet presses you a little further… or, rather, tries to do so. “Tell me—”
Suddenly you're palming at his desperate cock, and he puffs out a stuttered gasp against your wetness. His hips twitch, his head spins.
“Mnnh, I-I want it, want you,” you rattle, messily tugging and pushing at his clothing. Flins’ hips rise off the mattress to assist you without a second thought, and the moment his erection slips free the two of you moan in sync - him a low groan, and you a needy whine. The whole length of him bobs slightly, and he can feel a heavy glob of precum spill down one side.
Before he can even respond, you're on him again. Flins hisses out a curse at the feeling of your cheek rubbing lovingly against his dick as you clumsily lift your head, at your trembling hands grabbing after the base of him. “Need it,” you whine insistently.
One of these days you really were going to be the end of him.
Instead of replying verbally, he simply nods urgently against you and resumes his goal of unraveling you once more on his tongue.
Just like Flins, you, over time, had become quite the professional at pleasuring your beloved. You're still not exactly fully awake, so your movements aren’t very calculated, but he finds himself shuddering with pure delight nonetheless. You press messy kisses up the full length of him, whimpering so sweetly all the while. It takes all his effort to keep his hips from jutting up to thrust into your mouth when your soft lips wrap around his leaking cockhead.
Fuck. To be so perfect should be an impossibility, and yet here you are to prove that idea wrong.
You're drooling around his dick as you breathlessly suck the soul out of him, leaving saliva dribbling down your chin every time you come up for air. The added moisture aids your quivering hands in clumsily stroking him, the sound of each pump joining the symphony of your delicious little sounds and the filthy wet slurping of Flins drinking up your sweet sweet nectar like he may never get the chance again.
Rather quickly, the telltale signs of your impending orgasm begin to appear. Your cunt clenches pathetically, your breaths become more ragged, your quivering thighs jolt more frantically around his head. “Ky-mmh-ryll, ohhhn, I-...”
Flins allows himself to roll his hips upwards just enough for you to take notice, a clear plea for you not to stop. “Give me another, then, p-pretty girl,” he pants. “You can cum for me again, hmm?”
You've already reclaimed him in your hot, sloppy mouth, so you can only moan desperately in response. Your strength is evidently failing you as you slip into the throes of ecstasy - you can't keep yourself up anymore, and Flins finds himself completely smothered by you, trapped snugly between your trembling thighs.
Even if he could suffocate like a human would, he doesn't think he'd choose to stop you. Indeed, he would die a happy man if he met his demise while servicing you.
In a final decisive move, Flins manages to adjust his head enough to return to your swollen clit. He seals his lips around the little nub and suckles hard, and you simply can't take it anymore.
You quake frantically on top of him, a muffled, pitchy sound vibrating around his cock as overwhelmed tears bud in the corners of your eyes. You're soaking his face and he couldn't be happier - in fact, he's so lost in bliss that he casts aside any hesitation and bucks his hips up with reckless abandon to chase after his own release. The motion makes you gag on his size, a sound which turns out to be the last nudge he needed to send him tumbling over the edge.
You pop off of his cock with a sputtering cough, just in the nick of time, and Flins’ hips jut pathetically into the air as he shoots out several thick, hot ropes of his seed with a muted groan. Some of it paints your face, some lands in your hair, and what doesn't find you splatters onto the bed, which you'll surely be upset about once you more fully come to.
The last of Flins’ cum eventually drips out with a few weak spurts, but you're still jolting violently with aftershocks, choked whimpers wrenching themselves from your sore throat. Seeing as you're too blissed out to do so, Flins retightens his grip on your waist to lift you slightly - only enough for him to suck in some air. If he truly came close enough to suffocating in this humanoid form, he knew he could simply retreat into his lantern… but there was something oddly satisfying in the way his vision would start to blur around the edges as he ran out of oxygen, something that managed to heighten his pleasure in a unique way.
When you finally start to still, your moans dissolving into rapid gasps, Flins turns his head aside and pecks a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. His thumbs begin rubbing tiny, soothing circles into your sides, and you drop your head into his lap. This does, however, place you dangerously close to his cock, which doesn't seem interested in going fully soft any time soon… certainly not while your warm breath is fanning over it, at least.
“You have no idea how perfect you are, my light,” Flins murmurs, earning him a faint whine from you. Careful as ever, he eases you up and guides you to climb off his body and rotate so you're laying on your back again. “Effortlessly breathtaking, and so radiant that I am amazed I have yet to be rendered blind.” He moves along with you as he speaks, his head never straying too far from between your legs so he can continue to pepper fleeting kisses on your ticklish inner thighs.
He's not surprised when you almost immediately start squirming. “S-stop it, Kyryll… you're so embarrassing,” you mumble timidly. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost think it's the first time he's ever complimented you before with how sheepish you are - but of course, not a single day has passed since the time he first fell for you in which he hasn't praised you at least three times… and that's almost definitely a conservative approximation.
“Not a chance. The day I stop expressing my adoration for you is the day I depart this world.” Flins trails his lips down the inside of your leg, over the bend of your knee, along your calf.
“Even if I told you I don't like it?”
He huffs out an endeared laugh against your skin. “That would be quite the bold-faced lie, sweetheart, and you know it.” The puff of his breath makes you twitch, your leg jerking up in some weak attempt to shy away from his ticklish worship of your body, but Flins catches you around the ankle, keeping you in place with a gentle grip.
“Ah, but…” Peering up to you, he watches you instantly glance away as you notice his gaze. “But what if I say I-I changed my mind?”
Stubbornly he shakes his head. “Then I would be left wondering who is currently laying here masquerading as my wife, because I know she would never say such an outlandish thing and actually mean it.”
“...you're ridiculous, you know that?” you mumble faintly, and Flins simply gives a victorious hum as he kisses along the bridge of your foot. That he can still leave you sputtering and speechless when you're already so privy to his charms is something he considers one of his greatest accomplishments - or perhaps it's nothing but a testament to how deeply enamored you both are by one another.
Your toes curl as he nears them with his lips, so Flins stops short and turns to your opposite leg. This time going from the bottom up, he cradles your heel, angling your slack limb this way and that to treat every inch of your bare skin to a tender kiss.
He trails up your calf, then over a healing bruise on your knee. He peppers your thigh with a flurry of quick but purposeful pecks, nuzzling affectionately at you at every new destination - you always liken him to a cat when he does this - until he makes it to your hip.
Flins’ lips carve a path inward, an inch or two towards your navel, where he finds the largest of your scars. It’s a jagged cut on your belly that you'd sustained along with several other injuries spanned across your whole body.
He would never forget the complete disarray he had felt back when you had obtained that wretched scar - his desperation to find out what had happened, how he had been more on edge than ever before, all of the strings he had pulled to obtain the most potent of tonics and alchemical brews… anything that was needed to keep you with him. Nor could he forget the overwhelming relief that had shaken him to his core when you'd finally woken from your drug-induced sleep and he got a glimpse of your tear-filled eyes after nearly three agonizingly long weeks.
The two of you were wed not more than two months after that incident.
“Kyryll?” Your soft voice overhead pulls Flins from his thoughts. He turns his gaze to you with a few rapid blinks and finds you watching him with a half-lidded stare, brows slightly furrowed. There's a familiar haze of desire clouding your eyes, but also the tiniest hint of a frown tugging at the corners of your lips.
Mm… he'd lingered too long in this one spot that you must have realized where his mind had gone. You’re always so attentive to him.
Flins pauses to lift his head completely, allowing his hands to skim upward to the soft curve of your waist from where they'd been resting on your thighs. “Forgive me, my darling,” he hums, giving your sides a soothing little squeeze. “I was simply reminded of how lucky I am to be here today, holding you like this.”
Rising a bit further until he's settled on his heels between your parted legs, he watches you tease your bottom lip between your teeth. After a few moments of hesitation you nod, and he feels you shift a little beneath him before reaching out to gently tug at the hem of his shirt. “You’re such a sap. How’re you even thinking about that while you're, ah… touching me like this? Totally gonna ruin the mood, y’know,” you chastise - but you've still got that sleepy tone, so sickeningly sweet it's nearly unbearable.
“Right you are,” Flins snickers, assisting you in lifting his shirt off. “But I do hope you know that you have effectively just admitted to loving this kind of treatment after all, sweetheart.” Hurriedly he shuffles around to rid himself of his bottoms, which had been sitting awkwardly halfway down his thighs since you'd only pulled them off enough to grant you hasty access earlier.
“I-I never actually said I didn't,” you weakly protest as he grabs your bunched up shirt from under your chin and begins working it up and over your head. “I was just asking theoretically, you stupid fae!”
Discarding your last bit of clothing with a quick shake of his head, he offers you a charming little smile. Your deeply flushed face and the sticky streaks of his seed still splattered across it that he delightedly takes note of are enough to have him weak in the knees. “Say - have I yet mentioned how absolutely stunning you are, my love?” You give a shivery exhale when Flins’ hand gently meets one side of your face, and nuzzle affectionately into the touch as his thumb tenderly caresses your cheek.
“Just about a million times…”
“Then allow me to make it a million and one.”