Work Text:
*Those spoken in Snezhnayan are indicated with italics, and the usual italics for tones are replaced with underlined.
1
Lohen doesn’t mean to eavesdrop.
He remembers seeing that lightkeeper on the joint meeting between the Lightkeepers and the Knights.
Even though most of his attention had been on the map marked with Wild Hunt activity, the lightkeeper around his age still left an impression. Not only because his delicate features were framed by a fluffy coat, but more that he cut straight to his point when presenting.
The said lightkeeper was negotiating with the treasure hoarders causing troubles around just now.
“Lightkeepers sure stick their nose into everything…” One of treasure hoarders curses under his breath, spitting on the floor before leaving.
The lightkeeper tenses up, but makes no reaction. He watches them depart until the last one of them disappears from sight.
Approaching from behind, Lohen greets in Snezhnayan, “Greetings.”
He has little grasp of the local language, but brief conversing shouldn’t be a problem. People lower their guard more easily when spoken to in their own tongue.
The silver hair young man turns. His eyes reminds Lohen of the underwater search lights in Fontaine. A jagged scar peek above the white turtleneck and a rank pin sits proudly on the collar of his coat.
Lohen bows in standard nobleman’s greeting, right palm on his chest and the other behind his back. A little pretentious, sure, whatever.
He knows a squad leader pin when he sees one.
Morning rain still clings to the squad leader’s coat, fresh dirt staining the hem of his leg warmers. The fluffy collar and bright red earring make him look frailer than he actually is.
Yet when facing the treasure hoarders, he maintains a steady stance. His hands rest at a particular place, free to summon his weapon while not appearing openly hostile.
An act only seen in the experienced.
A young, yet experienced squad leader.
How intriguing.
Lohen glances toward the retreating treasure hoarders before looking back to the lightkeeper.
“They will return eventually,” Lohen says reasonably. “Would you like me to erase them?”
The likes of treasure hoarders never learn until being taught a painful lesson. Lohen considers it a perfectly fair offer.
However, the squad leader freezes, trying to comprehend Lohen’s word.
“Era———What no!!!”
Those bright eyes widen as he grabs Lohen’s arm.
“Erase them??! Sir Knight, this may be a lawless land, but you cannot just execute people as you please!”
Before Lohen can respond, another lightkeeper waves her hand from a distance to catch the young man’s attention.
The lightkeeper frowns, reluctantly letting go of Lohen’s arm.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir,” he rushes to his colleague, leaving Lohen standing alone.
Lohen examines the arm that was grabbed.
How odd. He doesn’t think he has said anything inappropriate to make the lightkeeper reacted such a way.
It only occurs to Lohen several days later, that erase may have carried stronger implications than he intended.
Though, in his defence, that would also solve the problem. Permanently.
2
A couple of weeks passed before Lohen sees the lightkeeper again.
Plenty of time for him to do a little investigation on the young squad leader.
By the time their joint training ends, the sky has darkened. Training targets remain scattered at the edge of the field, and the wind carries the damp bite of incoming rain.
Lohen spots the squad leader from a distance.
He has just finished speaking with his colleagues. Even in the dim light, his silver hair catches the eyes easily. Half of his face buried in the fur collar of his coat like last time, leaving only the bright eyes and red earring standing out.
“Squad leader Illuga,” Lohen greets in Snezhnayan.
Illuga pauses before smiling, and the stern line of his posture softens with it.
“Sir Knight, there’s no need to speak Snezhnayan,“ he replies in the common language, sounding more bemused than anything else, “We’ve been using the common tongue during meetings and training, have we not?”
Lohen only shrugs to that, “Should I not try to learn the local language?”
He adds after a beat, perfectly pleasant, “Or, would you mind terribly if I accidentally say something wrong again?”
A passing knight stops midstep behind them.
Lohen’s subordinate stares at him with wild, horrified eyes, clearly wanting to say something. Though, after a brief moment of contemplation, she thinks better of it and walks away. Whatever her vice captain has in mind, she has no intention of getting involved.
Illuga notices none of that. His attention is solely on the darkening sky and the members still on the training field.
“Of course not, Sir Knight.”
“Lohen’s fine.”
“Sir Lohen,” Illuga says instead. “Looks like rain’s coming. You’re welcome to stay and wait it out.”
That’s when the first raindrop lands on Lohen’s nose.
Then a second.
Within moment, rain spreads across the training ground in a thin, steady curtain.
“Not again!“
“The weapons are still out———”
Complaints erupt as people scramble to gather equipment and rush back toward camp before the rain worsens.
While Lohen barely reacts, only brushing off the rain from his face.
“There’s no need,” he says. “Rain drills are excellent torment———oh sorry, practice for my subordinates. Enemies attack regardless of weather.”
Illuga frowns.
The rain grows heavier, but Lohen stands perfectly still, unconcerned by the damp. Water runs down his pauldron and cape, while the fur collar of Illuga’s coat begins to mat together.
“But you might catch a chill.”
“How kind of you to worry, Birdie,” Lohen says, huffing out a soft chuckle, “But we’re not made of sugar*.”
He offers no further explanation, but a standard Favonius salute to bid him farewell.
“Until next time, Squad Leader.”
He then walks off to his knights, leaving Illuga standing in the rain.
…Sugar??
His gaze rests on the Knights, now gathering in the rain with varying degrees of misery.
Surely not.
And yet Mondstadt does seem to have an esteemed alchemist in its ranks if Illuga recalls correctly. He knows nothing about alchemy, but maybe creating life from sugar isn’t entirely impossible.
He stares at the curtain of rain.
What would sugar men do in weather like this?
Would they melt?
*We’re not made of sugar: literal translation of the German idiom, “Wir sind nicht aus Zucker.” It means some minor discomfort such as a drizzle can’t hurt. Lohen translates the idiom literally, hence the confusion.
3
On yet another joint mission, they set up camp after dark.
Night falls quickly, bringing cold wind with it. Around the campfire, weary knights and lightkeepers enjoy a brief moment of peace.
It isn’t intentional, but Lohen’s gaze lingers on a certain lightkeeper.
Illuga moves through the camp with grace, not stopping even once to catch his breath. Checking supplies, arranging patrol shifts, and breaking up arguments before they escalate.
The whole camp orbits around him.
Only when most things are settled does Illuga shrug off his coat and remove his gloves, showing the scar stretched from his pulse point all the way to his deltoid.
Lohen wonders how he got it.
The lightkeepers, however, seem more interested in what happens next.
“Squad leader’s cooking today?”
“Really? I thought we were having dried ration again. That thing can knock someone out cold.”
Another lightkeeper smacks him on the back, “Shush! Don’t let logistics team hear you.”
Pots are dragged over. Ingredients appear without anyone needing to be asked. Illuga seems entirely used to the chaos.
“Don’t crowd me,” he smacks away hands trying to sneak a bite, “Go help set up, or else no one gets dinner.”
Despite the threat, there is a smile on his face, easy and unguarded among his fellow lightkeepers.
Soon, the rich smell of soup spreads through the camp, warm enough to draw people closer before Illuga even calls for them.
By the time Illuga finally calls, “Dinner’s ready,” half the camp has already drifted within arm’s reach.
People are on their feet before Illuga finishes the sentence, a line forms in front of the pot. Even the knights join quickly, after listening to the lightkeepers prasie Illuga’s cooking for the past half an hour.
Illuga’s gaze sweeps across the line before landing on Lohen, who still sits by the fire, looking at the scene with quiet amusement.
“Don’t listen to their nonsense.” Illuga says to the knights.
“Illuga you’re being too humble!”
“Other squads tried trading two crates of canned rations for your recipe.”
“That’s enough,” Illuga knocks the ladle on the side of the pot, tips of his ears turning red. “What did you all learn from Mr Flins? Stop flattering me like I’m some famous Fontaine chef.”
People settle around the campfire with their bowls, talking and laughing softly among themselves. While Illuga remains by the pot, filling bowls for those arriving late.
Lohen sits at a distance, finishing the last spoonful from his bowl. His gaze keeps drifting back to the lightkeeper.
Firelight flickers softly across Illuga’s profile. Maybe he’s simply tired, but he seems relaxed like this, the scar across his neck less severe in the warm glow.
Lohen glances down at his now empty bowl.
He stays seated for another moment. His thumb taps against the rim.
Then he rises.
Illuga looks at Lohen when the knight settles down beside him. The lightkeeper carries a faint scent of spices with him, perhaps from staying next the pot.
“Sir Lohen.”
Despite their growing familiarity through many joint missions, Illuga insists on the formality.
Lohen sighs softly at the title, but lets it go, “Squad Leader Illuga.”
“Is the food to your liking?” Illuga asks, “It’s nothing fancy though.”
Lohen hesitates before helping himself to another serving. He says after a sip, “It’s edible. I have no complaints*.”
Illuga’s hand freezes mid air, spoon still in hand.
Most of the others gather by the campfire, far enough away that only Illuga hears the comment.
Lohen notices the pause, but assumes Illuga is waiting for a more specific judgement. He takes another sip, considering the matter properly.
“Better than the standard field rations for the expedition force,” he continues with a faint laugh. “That food brings the wrath of Liyue’s Stove God by simply existing.”
Illuga can’t tell whether it’s an insult or a compliment. Lohen certainly does not look unhappy as he takes another mouthful.
Surely this can’t possibly be another language barrier, can it? If the food is good, it’s good. If it’s bad, it’s bad. If it’s edible, it’s edible.
Illuga glances down at the pot of stew.
...Is it really that bad? But Lohen comes back for more.
Illuga wishes, rather suddenly, that he doesn't care so much what Lohen really thinks.
The knight himself seems entirely unaware of the effect of his words.
He holds out the empty bowl, “Could I have some more?”
Illuga takes the bowl instinctively, before he can voice the question stuck in his throat.
*Apparently the standard highest compliments Germans give to food are: “Kann man Essen (It’s edible.)” “Ich habe keine Beschwerden (I have no complaints.)” and “Nicht schlecht (Not bad.)”
4
Their next joint mission turns out to be fairly uneventful.
Illuga sends everyone back while staying behind to wrap things up. He crouches beside a stack of wooden crates, sorting through the remaining supplies.
“It’s pretty late, Sir Lohen,” he says without looking up. “There’s not much left to do. You may leave.”
“Hm.”
Illuga leaves it at that.
After finishing the last of the tidying, he heads to the nearby river. The cold makes fish sluggish and easy to catch. By the time he returns, he has two in hand.
From a distance, however, he notices the camp lights are left on.
Someone’s still here?
When he gets closer, he realises it’s Lohen.
The knight has taken off his cape and pauldron. His gloves and arm guards are gone too, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he focuses on something with his head lowered.
“You still here?”
Lohen looks up at the sound of his voice and greets him as if they had agreed to this arrangement. “You’re back.”
Illuga doesn’t know what to address first.
“I thought you were gone.”
“You didn’t ask me to leave.”
“I did say you may leave.”
“Yeah,” Lohen says without dropping a beat, “May means I’m free to leave.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t say I must leave.”
Illuga rolls his eyes, unsure where to even begin arguing.
Apparently the knight’s Snezhnayan has improved enough to start playing word games and exploiting technicalities. Worse, he looks rather pleased with himself.
Only then does Illuga notice the pile of chopped vegetables on the side, along with half an onion in Lohen’s hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Chopping vegetables.” Lohen glances at the fish in Illuga’s hand and sounds faintly disappointed, “So we’re not having the soup from last time today?”
“I thought you didn’t like it.”
Lohen looks confused, “I never said that.”
“You said it was edible.”
“Yeah.”
“…Which was a criticism.”
“Of course not.” Lohen frowns, looking even more confused now. “That was a genuine compliment. I said I had no complaints.”
“…”
“…”
The campfire crackles softly in the silence.
A few seconds pass before something clicks into place for Lohen.
He starts laughing.
Not the faint and courteous smile edged with calculation. Not the sharp and reckless grin he wears in battle.
This one is different.
Lower. Warmer. Softer around the edges. Laced with a trace of fondness.
“Birdie,” Lohen says through his laughter, “You’ve been oddly cold these past few days. Don’t tell me this is why.”
Illuga looks away. His reddening ears betray him. “I have not———”
“I liked your soup,” Lohen interrupts him, still laughing a little. “That’s why I went back for a second bowl.”
He adds, “And the third.”
“…”
“If I caused any misunderstanding and hurt your feelings,” he continues, voice softer now, “I sincerely apologise.”
Illuga opens his mouth, but no words come out.
Like this, stripped off his usual armours and cape, Lohen looks strangely unguarded. Not harmless, never that, but closer somehow.
Soft firelight dances in Lohen’s wicked eyes, giving the illusion that the sharpness in them has softened, just enough to feel dangerous in a different way. The sudden intimacy makes it difficult for Illuga to focus on anything else.
Illuga realises too late that he has been staring for longer than appropriate.
He breaks eye contact abruptly and lifts the fish instead. “We’ll have something else tonight.”
Lohen looks at him for a beat longer before humming in acknowledgement, and returning to the onion in his hand.
So Illuga moves off to prepare the fish.
For a while, only the crackle of fire and the scrape of knives fill the space between them.
Then comes a violent sizzle.
A sharp, sweet smell follows. Then, just as quickly, something much less promising, a distinct smell reaches him.
Illuga stills.
Slowly, he turns.
Lohen is in the middle of pouring chopped onion into the pot. The same pot that has been sitting over the fire for who knows how long.
“Wait———" Illuga raises his voice over the furious sizzling, "What are you doing!?”
Lohen blinks at him.
“Softening the onions,” Lohen answers as if it’s obvious.“Caramelising them.”
Illuga almost laughs out of sheer disbelief as he rushes over to yank the pot off the fire. “With the pot this hot, they’ll get cremated, not caramelised!”
The next second, a deeply concerning amount of black smoke rises from the pot.
Both of them fall silent.
Lohen looks at the pot.
And back to Illuga.
Eventually, he says, “At least they're definitely cooked?”
“Overcooked.”
5
The tavern is noisy enough that people nearly have to shout over one another to be heard. Lately, Flagship has been especially lively at night.
After months stationed in Nod Krai, the knights and lightkeepers have gradually grown familiar with one another. Whenever there’s no mission, or after one ends, people naturally end up in the tavern.
They’re Mondstadters and Nod Krains, after all.
The air in Flagship smells like alcohol, blood, metal, and wind.
Sitting at the counter, Illuga only intends to stay for a few drinks while watching his comrades descend into chaos. Somehow, the lightkeepers and the knights have managed to drag Lohen here too.
The knight does not drink. He almost never comes to Flagship. Illuga barely even sees him outside of Wild Hunt active zones, where he enjoys the endless slaughter.
Illuga’s gaze keeps finding him.
Peculiar knight. Terrible cook. Strange, unsettling man. Softer, sometimes, than he has any right to be.
Somewhere along the line, Illuga has grown quite fond of the knight. More than that, perhaps, Lohen's presence grounds him.
Tonight, though, Lohen is impossible to ignore.
He’s surrounded from all sides. The knights dare not to push their luck too far, but the tipsy lightkeepers are much bolder. Illuga isn’t sure who, but someone brings up old stories about Mondstadt nobles, and from there, they keep pestering Lohen with endless questions.
As always, Lohen remains difficult to read. He neither confirms nor denies being part of the Imunlaukr Clan, only answering the questions he finds interesting enough to entertain.
Illuga suddenly remembers the nobleman’s greeting Lohen gave him the first time they met.
Come to think of it, Lohen never introduced himself with his full name.
Maybe the knight really is some fallen aristocrat after all…
The thought alone nearly makes Illuga laugh.
“Snezhnaya used to have nobles too, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, like hundreds of years ago.”
“Speaking of nobles, doesn’t Flins always call Illuga ‘young master’?”
Every head turns towards Illuga. Across the crowd, Lohen raises an eyebrow at him.
Illuga is deeply unimpressed. “Mr Flins has way too much fun teasing me. Why’s that the one thing you all remember? Might as well start telling me to drink more water too while you’re at it.”
Then the topic shifts back to the original one.
“I guess, it’s more that nobles carry themselves differently.”
“Stuff like proper etiquette you mean? Don’t the Knights have those fancy greetings too?” The lightkeeper gestures vaguely with his hands, “Not the standard Favonius salute, I mean the kneeling hand kissing kind.”
One of the knights immediately cuts in, “What light novel did you read that from?”
“We did have those. A very long time ago,” Lohen drawls, resting his cheek against one hand.
The room goes quiet for a second. Then the bolder ones start calling for a demonstration.
“C’mon then, Vice Captain Lohen! Show us!”
“Yeah, we’ve never seen one before!”
Lohen’s gaze drifts across the noisy tavern before landing on Illuga.
Illuga hasn’t really been following the conversation closely. The alcohol has started to make his thoughts drift pleasantly out of focus. He only looks up when he notices the stare.
Their eyes meet.
Lohen smiles.
“Sure.”
Illuga barely has time to process before Lohen rises and walks towards him.
The moment draws an even louder chorus of whistles and shouting.
“Squad Leader, watch out!”
“Vice Captain, don’t frighten the poor lightkeeper!”
“Don't encourage him,” Illuga groans, far too late.
The next second, Lohen stops directly in front of him.
“…Sir Lohen?”
Lohen doesn’t answer directly.
“May I?” He asks, as he reaches for Illuga’s free hand.
The tavern is warm enough that both of them have shed some layers off, their gloves included. The moment Lohen’s bare hand closes around his, Illuga’s thoughts abruptly blank.
The grip is light. If Illuga wants to pull away, he easily could.
He doesn’t.
Unlike what the others suggested, Lohen doesn’t drop to one knee. He bends down slightly, bringing Illuga’s hand towards his lips.
Those captivating eyes look straight into his, the ring of cyan within them painfully bright.
Illuga suddenly finds his throat dry. He holds his breath without noticing, unable to look away.
People are still whistling, yelling, banging on tables. Yet all of it feels far away.
All Illuga feels is the shadow cast over him when Lohen lowers his head.
And the kiss. So light it almost feels imagined.
Softness brushes against his knuckles, fleeting as snowfall.
For a brief moment, they hold each other’s gaze. The ghost of the kiss still warm against his knuckles.
Then Lohen lets go, straightens, and turns back to the crowds.
“Happy now?” Lohen asks with unmistakable smugness.
The entire tavern immediately descends into chaos.
“OH———!”
“Lohen, where’d you even learn that?!”
“Oh my god he actually did it———”
“See?! I told you he is a noble!”
Heat rushes to Illuga’s face. He stares at his own hand, his brain still struggling to process what just happened.
Meanwhile, the man responsible acts all calmly and returns to his seat.
At some point, the chaos finally begins to die down.
By the time the tavern gradually quiets, most people are thoroughly drunk.
Lohen helps haul several collapsed knights toward the door, though the moment they realise it’s him dragging them upright, half their sobriety immediately returns.
Illuga remains seated by the counter while the lightkeepers stumble out on their own. Determined not to worry their squad leader, they even insist on walking in perfectly straight lines to prove they aren’t wasted.
Illuga originally intends to escort everyone back himself, but eventually gives in and sits back down.
He drains the last of his drink. The room isn't spinning exactly, but it has become softer around the edges. He blinks hard to force his eyes to refocus.
The feeling of Lohen’s lips against his knuckles still lingers, so does the afterimage of those alluring eyes looking up at him.
Somewhere along the way, Illuga drank far more than intended. He can already picture tomorrow’s hangover.
When Lohen returns, he leans over the counter to place Illuga’s empty tankard into the sink behind the bar. After a brief glance at Illuga, Lohen pours a glass of water for him and sits down beside him.
Illuga quietly sips the water, then holds the glass between his hands for a while. Several long seconds pass before he finally remembers the question he meant to ask.
“So…What was that?”
Lohen turns toward him. Under the tavern’s dim yellow light, the knight seems softer, or maybe that’s just the alcohol talking.
“Hm?”
Illuga gestures with his hand, heat creeping up his face again.
Lohen taps his finger lightly against the counter, watching him with quiet amusement, “They asked for a demonstration.”
Illuga sighs into the glass, “Sir Lohen, not you joining them in teasing me too.”
Lohen chuckles softly, “I only did it because you’re fit, Birdie.”
“Oh,” Illuga pauses. It takes him a second longer than usual to sort through Lohen’s words. There’s no way Lohen intended the flirtatious meaning behind those words.
"Well," a nervous laugh slips out of him, “I do train a lot. Comes with the job description as a lightkeeper.” He still fails to see how that relates to the hand kissing though.
For a split second, Lohen’s smile falters slightly.
Then his expression shifts into something wry.
Not mockery. Not disappointment.
A joke at his own expense, perhaps.
The sharpness of it eases into something gentler. He doesn't explain, nor does he press further.
Instead, seeing there is only a mouthful of water left in Illuga's glass, he reaches over to take it from Illuga’s hand. Lohen finishes it in one swallow, then sets the glass in the sink.
“Come on, Birdie,” he says, offering his hand to help Illuga up. “I’ll walk you home.”
+1
Thankfully, today is his scheduled day off.
That’s the very first thought Illuga has when he wakes up the next morning with a headache splitting through his skull.
His temples throb painfully with the aftermath of last night’s drinking. He lies there with his eyes closed for a long while before slowly piecing together fragments of memory.
The tavern.
Shouting. Laughter. Liquor.
And———
Lohen lowering his head to kiss the back of his hand with those alluring eyes looking straight at him.
Illuga’s eyes snap open.
Oh.
What even happened last night? And, judging from the vague fragments still floating around his head, Lohen apparently ended up walking him home too.
Just as Illuga's desperately trying to remember whether he embarrassed himself any further last night, a knock comes from the door.
He stills immediately.
“…Who is it?”
“Me.”
Illuga goes silent.
Then, with the air of someone accepting his inevitable fate, he drags himself out of bed to answer the door.
Standing outside is the exact person he was just thinking about.
Lohen isn’t wearing his uniform. Instead, he’s dressed in a white shirt beneath a black waistcoat, several buttons left undone at the collar, black arm guards strapped to his forearms. His usual black choker rests around his neck, earrings glinting in the morning light.
He looks completely composed, as if last night’s chaos never happened at all.
Illuga stares at him a little too long.
Maybe it’s because Lohen isn’t wearing armour or formal uniform, but he somehow looks less imposing than usual. The open collar and gloveless hands only make it harder to look away.
Lohen crosses his arms, and Illuga immediately snaps his gaze away from the exposed line of collarbone.
“Not gonna invite me in, Birdie?” Lohen says, sounding far too amused for Illuga’s liking.
“Huh? Right. Yes. Please, come in.”
Lohen steps inside with the unbothered ease of someone who has never once considered himself out of place anywhere.
Illuga only realises afterward that the knight might actually be far too comfortable in his place.
Lohen himself seems entirely unaware of the problem. He casually settles onto the sofa beside Illuga before pulling a small vial from his pocket and handing it over.
“Hangover remedy,” he explains simply. “Should help a little.”
Illuga takes the vial. It’s still faintly warm from sitting in Lohen’s pocket.
“You know how to make medicine too? Not just poison?”
“A little.”
Illuga stares down at the vial for a moment, unsure what to say. Eventually, he obediently drinks it.
It's terribly bitter.
Lohen watches him wrinkle his face at the taste. “That bad?”
“Still better than your cooking.”
“How cruel. You wound me.”
Illuga is about to throw another retort back, but the words catch when he notices the way Lohen looks at him.
The amusement remains, but something beneath it has gone quieter. More intent.
He realises, belatedly, that Lohen has moved much closer without him noticing.
Too close.
Close enough that Illuga can see his own reflection in those alluring eyes.
His breath catches slightly, yet Lohen simply watches him in silence.
“Birdie, I’m no chivalrous knight,” Lohen says at last, voice lowered almost to a murmur. “I follow no rules. I take what I want.”
“That changes nothing about how I see you,” Illuga whispers back.
Something shifts in Lohen’s expression.
Illuga watches his Adam’s apple move as the knight swallows.
Lohen reaches up slowly, fingertips brushing against Illuga’s cheek before his hand settles there, warm and careful.
He leans closer.
Then stops.
Despite everything Lohen said, he stops just short of touching Illuga, staying only a breath away. Lohen's gaze drops to Illuga’s lips, lashes casting faint shadows beneath his eyes, but he doesn’t close the distance.
Instead, he waits.
Patiently.
Giving Illuga every chance to pull away.
Illuga wonders if Lohen can also hear how loudly his heart is beating.
He closes his eyes.
On the next heartbeat, softness finally meets his lips.
Unlike the featherlight kiss pressed against his knuckles last night, this is a real kiss.
Lohen kisses him slowly.
He brushes gently against Illuga’s lips, as if still making sure he truly will not pull away. Their breaths mingle, warm and unsteady, enough to make Illuga’s heart stumble violently in his chest.
Illuga’s hands come up and tighten around the fabric at Lohen’s chest. Beneath his palm, Lohen’s heart beats faster than his composure suggests.
Lohen moves with impossible patience, slowly dragging his lips against Illuga’s in quiet, careful teasing.
The hand resting against Illuga’s face strokes lightly, soothingly, before Lohen eases back just enough for their foreheads to rest together, close enough for their eyelashes to brush.
“Illuga———“
Illuga doesn’t let him finish.
He pulls Lohen by the collar and closes the distance again.
Lohen stills, briefly caught off guard. Not that Illuga is doing much better.
The lingering haze from his hangover leaves the room tilting around him, or maybe that is only Lohen.
Then Lohen catches his lower lip between his own. Heat skitters beneath Illuga’s skin. His breath trembles, his lips parts instinctively.
The next thing he tastes is the mint lingering from Lohen’s bubblegum, tangled together with the bitter remains of the remedy still coating his own mouth.
Archons, it tastes awful.
Yet somehow, Illuga doesn’t mind nearly as much as he should.
The kiss deepens. No longer careful teasing.
Lohen kisses the way he fights: thorough, intent, each movement drawing Illuga into step before he even realises he has started following. One hand holds Illuga by the waist, the other slips from his cheek to the back of his neck, fingertips burying in his hair. Every nerve in Illuga’s body ignites as Lohen tastes every corner of his mouth, taking everything Illuga gives him.
Illuga never knew kissing could feel like this.
His grip loosens from Lohen’s collar, for his arms to slip around Lohen and to pull him even closer. Illuga answers with the same growing intensity despite the unevenness of his breathing.
It’s only a kiss, but Illuga feels like he’s going to melt apart completely.
Their chests press together, heartbeats stumbling into the same uneven rhythm. Every shaky breath, every small sound swallowed between kisses pulls Illuga further under until he can no longer tell where he ends and Lohen begins.
The world narrows and Illuga forgets he needs air, forgetting how to breathe.
He is the first to break away, breathless.
Lohen’s arm tightens around his waist, steadying him even though there is nowhere for him to fall. He doesn’t let him drift far, but doesn’t force him closer either.
“Lohen,” Illuga calls softly, still breathless.
Lohen presses a gentle kiss against the mole beneath Illuga’s eye.
“I hope,” he says under his breath, “That leaves no room for misunderstanding this time.”