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Summary
Illuga hears something from behind him and swears to Solovei his heart stops. Slowly he turns to look over his shoulder, slowly he locks eyes with the subject of his fantasies.
“Apologies, Young Master. It was not my intent to disturb you,” Flins says. He’s sitting gracefully in Illuga’s favorite chair, having dragged it from the living room to the foot of his bed. “But, you called my name.”