SURPRISE DOUBLE UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I LITERALLY COULD NOT STOP MYSELF FROM WRITING THESE TWO CHAPTERS AND I WANTED YALL TO ENJOY THEM AS PAIR!!!!!!!!!!

SO HERE THEY ARE, MY WONDERFUL HUMANS!

I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

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Aiasthlyn

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I stare at the nyphilim, waiting for the moment its wings would rip the human skin from its flesh and unleash the demon hiding within.

I wait for it to destroy the image of the boy I know and love so that I can kill it without hesitation, but it does not.

Kalem remains, and despite the mounting panic threatening to free my own true nature, I can not kill him.

He flits around Malcolm’s study while the drums of war thunder in my mind, trying his best to tidy it despite Lincoln’s countless admonishments. The vampire did not want him cleaning after Malcolm, but Kalem loved the task and could not stand dust, so they kept defying one another, and it is all so banal that one could almost forget that an angel of death stands here in this room, lurking.

Almost.

I, however, can not escape this reality or the knowledge I now possess. I can not part my eyes from him, or my fingers from my Sael that vibrates violently beneath my glamour, with the very purpose for its crafting stood no more than six paces away.

Only the Saels were crafted to kill nyphilims— noxious, elven creatures of shadow and light with weapons for wings, and this was Kalem.

Kalem, who had shied from me in a pit of darkness that had been his only home.

Kalem, the boy who had become my friend and warmth through it all.

The boy I named.

I could not slay Kalem, could never hurt him, but my very presence in this realm seems to demand it.

“Find anything of interest?”

I startle so terribly that I drop the book in my hand, alerting all to my position between the shelves.

Kalem and Lincoln look to me, but when they find my commotion lacking, they return their attention to their tasks without a word— Lincoln to the gargantuan text in his lap and Kalem to his covert cleaning.

I, in turn, fix mine upon the only creature that has ever managed to sneak up on me. Twice now.

Malcolm smiles nervously at me, clearly having not meant to startle me. “Sorry,” he whispers, already stooping to retrieve my book. “I did not mean to scare you.”

“You did not scare me,” I denounce, perhaps too quickly, because his smile wobbles slightly as he brushes a hand over the cover.

“Startle,” he corrects while he straightens. “I did not mean to startle you.”

I hum, and fasten the majority of my attention on Kalem once more, but I am unable to lure it away in its entirety.

The security of my entire realm rests on my shoulders, and yet Malcolm remains a steadfast pillar in my mind.

“The History of Gnomes and Trolls,” Malcolm reads with audible amusement. “I am all for us covering ground, but I have to say, I doubt that is what Kalem is.”

“One can never know for sure.”

“One might.”

My gaze slides to him at its corners, and despite the rightful unease that sweeps through me, a terribly sort of pleasure frees itself as well.

There is nothing pleasurable about this situation, because if Kalem were a nyphilim, as I was sure that he was, then this realm would suffer a maiming that would render it to Hell in all its likeness, but… Malcolm’s ability to impress me at every turn remained my fatal obsession.

He swallows under my gaze, and I watch his throat undulate as it had around my length twice before, but the fact that I could tally the occurrences meant that I had not repeated it enough.

“Do you…” He murmurs, stepping closer and imprinting himself upon my glamour, “…know something, by chance?”

The attempt to seduce his way to information is blatantly obvious, but I find that I do not care, not even in the slightest.

I can only think of the plumpness of his lips and how good they often felt pressed against mine. It was also strangely exciting to watch him do to me what I did to him— use my attraction towards me for his own means.

I let my gaze linger for a while longer before I wrap up my fanaticism.

“Unfortunately not,” I reply before I swipe my book from his fingers, careful not to touch him. “But I wish you the very best of luck with your search,” I add before I pass him by.

Rounding the end of the shelf, I drift back into Kalem’s range. He peeks up at me and instantly beams at me from above his duster.

I almost miss a step.

My glamour conceals the fumble and presents the hesitant steps that follow as a confident glide while I force myself to breathe easy and act as I always would. It is nearly impossible, made harder the closer I get to him, but clinging to ignorance is my only shield.

Kalem beams at me, the smile so bright that it illuminates his face with enough light to cast a flare upon the soul. Mine flickers beneath it, but I return his happiness as best I can as I cross the room for the empty lounger neither he nor Lincoln has yet claimed.

I slide upon it and open my useless book on gnomes, setting about on casting the impression of reading until Kalem’s attention shifts. I do not waste another second. I flood my magic into my glamour.

A glamour was no more than a surrounding field of magic constantly at work. Less magic, and it would simply smooth one’s discernible reactions. A little more, and heightened senses would acquire a dulled report of my being. Apply enough, and it was an impenetrable shield even the mightiest of minds could not break.

I bloat mine with my reserves until it passes such a point and becomes a layered projection of what I wish the world to see, while beneath it, I set about dissecting this paradox from every available angle.

Nyphilims were from a time before me, before my faction and before Colony.

They had been Ythene’s very first creations, and her most powerful. She had crafted them to be her custodians of the realm, to help her guard, shape, and nurture it. To do so, they commanded the mortal coil— wielding life and death in their hands— and followed their designation to ensure the scales remained equal as the realm and all its creatures expanded.

Until the day that they decided otherwise.

Billions died within the first fin, and billions more would have if Ythene had not managed to create the Saels before they could slay her too.

It was a near thing, but she made enough to be wielded by the strongest of every faction and species, and what followed was The Slaughtering.

The Nyphilims died in their thousands until not a single one was left to draw air. Or so we thought.

Elves were thorough. I found it hard to believe that my ancestors spared even a single one of their lives after the atrocities they committed, and yet here Kalem was, flaunting each of the nyphilim’s abilities, only in everything but their appearance.

If there was any other creature of such near capabilities, I would force myself to believe it were so, but by Lincoln and Malcolm’s reactions as beings that challenged time itself, it proved unlikely.

There was the slim chance that it was a mirroring. Proof of another instance of butchered elven magic to create life, only this one had been far more successful than the first had been with the vampires. It was a capricious invention to entertain, but one I could not so quickly dismiss when anything else meant that we had not killed all the nyphilims. That we had missed one or more— likely more, because no nyphilim was ever without another— and they had been hiding in another realm for thousands of years.

But how could Kalem be thousands of years old?

How could he be a nyphilim? In my heart, it was impossible, but logic argued otherwise.

I watched him pull us between time and space as only one elven creature ever could. That, paired with my Charge, made it impossible for him to be anything else, but then why was he not the one to centre my Charge?

Why had I seen Lincoln’s face in Ythene’s vision rather than Kalem’s?

I look to the primordial, haggard vampire again, studying him for some hidden thread between the two, but his attention is studiously fixed upon his reading, and he, at least, is not acting. I look to Kalem, and search for performance in his actions, but they feel as true as him.

It should not matter, act or not. The evidence was enough that I should do what any other elf would before the only home I ever knew was razed, and I could only wish to have acted sooner.

I have to kill him.

Here and now.

End it before he ended me, and mine.

My Sael whirs. The stitches on this form are tearing.

One life for billions. One.

My gaze hardens as I stare at him, willing him to reveal himself so that I can do it, so that I can see to my duty without destroying my soul, but Kalem remains the sunny boy I have always known, and when he catches my eye once again and smiles, trust rampant in his gaze, bile rises in my throat.

“Aias.”

My eyes flick to Malcolm without permission, dismantling the brawn of my glamour as he strides towards me with sure steps. He wears a too-wide smile and something harsh in his eyes that gives me pause.

“Mind if I join you?” He questions pleasantly.

I blink at him, confused at both his appearance and the question.

We spent our entire night in a tangle of limbs. He could sit beside me without my permission. Malcolm, however, seems unaware of this, so I nod while I maintain my wary observation of him.

Somehow, his bewitching smile finds the room to widen. “Thanks,” he mumbles as he tucks a thin book under his arm before reaching for one of the larger pillows on my lounger.

I frown.

There was plenty of room without his tampering. The cushion was not even in the way, so why would he—

Malcolm drops the cushion to the floor.

My breath catches.

I flick my eyes up to his and lose the will to part them as I stare up at him, and he stares down at me.

A rush of heat engulfs the secret layers beneath his skin, telling on his nervousness, but he does not allow it to hinder him as he gracefully lowers himself atop the plush cushion in one fluid movement.

I grab at my glamour, pulling it tight around me, and him in my haste, and it is a mistake, but not one I can undo, especially not when he gasps at the feel of it before his wide eyes dilate.

Heart strumming, blood racing, I scramble to release him, but each attempt to disengage my magic only tightens the hold it has taken on him, and while the pair in the room remain unaware, Malcolm feels it. He feels all of it.

His breaths shudder out of him as he shifts from his knees and settles onto his hip, as if that might deflate this heady situation. It is already strained, teeming with tension that will not settle unless he leaves this room, and that I will not allow when I have not even permitted him to part his eyes from mine.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, taking advantage of the cover of my glamour while it remains wrapped around us both.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Malcolm’s voice is a husked thing that I commit to memory alongside the sight of him lowering himself for me.

“Are you trying to distract me?” I ask while my magic feasts on him as if he were birthed from one of my home pools.

“Yes,” he replies immediately, as if desperate to answer to me.

My throat tightens as I struggle to cage my lust and delight.

Malcolm was beautifully pliant on my most blessed days, but like this, on his knees… By Ythene’s Hand, he was glorious.

“Why?” It is almost a plea.

“You had that look in your eye again,” he whispers with far too much understanding. “The one from last night and this morning.” The skin above my brows tightens. Malcolm had been there to stop me each time I thought about harming one of our companions, but I had not known I had given him a visible reason to.

My glamour was supposed to hide the worst of it.

“And I have wanted to do this for weeks.”

Thoughts of Kalem, nyphilims and my faulty glamour evaporate from my mind as I take in the glorious pisen seated at my feet.

There was a time that I denied that that was what he was with all my might, but my tongue resisted each denial, speaking the truth whenever I tried not to, and now here Malcolm was, presenting the proof of it on his own accord.

Pisens were the very purest of elven creatures, with an intrinsic need to serve another when they were not serving those around them, and I did not think there were words sufficient to better describe Malcolm.

He shifts, as if wanting to fall to his knees again, but he forces himself not to.

My fingers twitch at my sides, much like the tips of my ears, and I pray to Ythene that my glamour at least hides that while I stare unblinkingly at the treat before me.

He was admittedly distracting me, and yet, even knowing so, how desperately I yearned to be distracted.

My brain was clearly ill-wired, my morals compromised, but I had come to accept that.

Malcolm removed reason from my mind and left only frenzies wanting.

If we could only rid ourselves of our company and the perils on my horizon too, I would coat the back of his throat with my release and then spread his legs to—

“Found something, Malcolm?”

This time, we both startle, but my glamour seems to suppress the worst of it from Lincoln’s searching gaze as it flicks cautiously between the two of us.

“Uh, n-no,” Malcolm stammers as he turns and faces himself away from me. “I just found this in the back,” he says as he lifts the thin book. “Not a history book, but something I picked up back in the day.”

He holds it high, and while he purposefully shows the back to Lincoln, the cover is left open for my examination.

Lincoln frowns, but nods, and I wait for his attention to leave us before I ignite my glamour with my magic and fasten my hand around the back of Malcolm’s neck.

He gasps, straining as if he means to bolt, but it is too late for that. I am painfully hard, and he is making dangerous moves.

I tighten my grip until he stops squirming and rolls his eyes back enough to meet mine.

The grey in his irises is almost completely erased by his blown pupils, a gauge of his lust that has no right being present with what he’d just done.

There was only one word on the cover. Just the one.

“Elves”.

“What is this?” I ask, my voice as frigid as it might have once been when I loathed him, but it comes with desire I can not best, and he hears it.

His eyes grow heavier before he glances back at Lincoln. “How are you doing this?”

“No, pisen,” I hiss, and he whimpers like a captured satyr. “You answer my question. You do not ask your own.”

“I always answer your questions,” he mumbles, almost pouting.

I sink my teeth into my own cheek to keep from kissing him.

“What. Is. This?”

“Nothing,” he pants as he shifts beneath my hand. “I only had a suspicion that maybe you know something about Kalem.”

And I just confirmed it.

He at least does not say that part aloud as he squirms beneath my palm. “This book is filled with folklore,” he murmurs, turning sheepish as if he is ashamed by his own toying. “I’m sorry.”

I absolutely loathe that I know that he is, and that it makes any difference to me.

Malcolm has all but threatened me, and instead of feeling enraged or embarrassed, a strange sort of pride gathers in my chest. I try to swat it away, to at least let him go, but while I manage to slowly loosen my hold, I can not let him go.

I caress the back of his neck until his eyes fall shut and he seals his legs together to hide his arousal.

“Pisen,” I whisper, and his tongue laps at his lips. Ythene, help me. “Never do that again.”

Finding the strength to open his eyes, Malcolm peers up at me before he dazedly nods his head. “Yes, Ma—”

Malcolm stiffens, and his eyes bulge in their sockets before he tries to rip himself away from me, but I am thankfully faster and stronger than he is.

Hand tightening around his neck once again, I keep him where he is while I hastily sit up and slip my legs around him so that my feet are planted on either side. I haul his head back between my spread thighs, and he moans beneath me.

Ill-wired. Compromised.

“What were you going to do?” I implore while I slide my free hand down and over his chest. “Run away and expose yourself to your friend? If that is what you want, all you have to do is ask?”

“Aias,” he whimpers, thighs trembling where they’re pressed to his chest.

“What, Malcolm? What is the matter?” I whisper, teasing my fingers over his nape and his nipples. “Where has your confidence gone?”

“I’m sorry,” he pants, eyes frantic as they flicker to Lincoln before making a hasty retreat. “I am, just don’t—”

“Let them see?” I fill in while pleasure runs rampant through me. “Let them glimpse your depravity?”

He bites his lip, and I do the same to mine just to feign a taste of him.

Leaning in close, I bring my head beside his just as Kalem makes his way over to Lincoln. The man loses his scowl the second Kalem draws near, and Kalem shines a little brighter.

“You wanted to distract me, and you succeeded,” I whisper against the shell of Malcolm’s ear. “Perhaps we should let them see how.”

“No!” Malcolm blurts quickly, but I can feel his cock pressing against the contours of my glamour. “Please do not!”

I would never. Not unless he wished to be shown in such a light, but after all his subtle threats, he does not deserve relief.

I hum as if considering his plea, leaving him overrun with lust and panic before I finally draw back. I drift my hand from his neck, and for a moment, he pales as if I have upended his entire world, but when my fingers glide over his thick curls, my pisen immediately melts.

Malcolm lays his head onto my thigh and abandons all pretences of searching for Kalem’s origins as he gives himself to me. He turns as he does, chasing after the path of my hand until he is curled between my legs.

I wait for his breathing to settle, for the calm to return before I speak again.

“What were you going to call me?”

Malcolm stiffens, but he does not try to flee this time. “Can I tell you another time?” He whispers bashfully. “Please?”

I should press, should refuse to give him what he wants.

“Alright,” I allow instead, and continue my gentle caress. “See? I answer your questions as well.”

Malcolm glares at me, but it is hardly intimidating, especially not while he shuffles closer. I smile in the face of it, and watch as he softens for me again.

There is only him in all his beauty until I hear a whimper that is not my pisen’s. My eyes dart up, and I lose my smile at the sight of the hand Lincoln is dragging around Kalem’s backside.

“Please refrain from touching him in our presence,” I announce before I drop my eyes back onto Malcolm’s. “Sensitive ears on both ends here. There is no need to carry that out at this time.” Hypocritical, and a threat of my own meant for one man alone. “Either leave or control yourself.”

Malcolm’s grey eyes dilate, and I feel his cock twitch against my glamour.

“I suppose we should leave then,” Lincoln sighs, and it takes effort, as always, to look away from Malcolm. “We haven’t gotten much further than when we first began, but I wouldn’t mind making better use of our night. What about you, Kalem?”

Kalem’s face ignites as he squirms in his place. He brightens, but not in the way of his magic. He remains plain in nature, as he always had before this morning when he activated his magic with Lincoln’s encouragement.

Was it possible that he truly did not know his origins or his nature?

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lincoln decides with a laugh. He scoops the boy up, and as Kalem beams with delight, I struggle all over again to imagine him as anything other than the boy I know.

Kalem was light and love, and deception was not in his nature. If it were, why in all the realms would he have shown his abilities to me if he knew what he was.

The longer I ponder it, the more impossible it proved to be.

Kalem, as I knew him, was no act and no front, and so whatever he might have been was long gone.

Kalem was all that remained, and Kalem I could not betray.

Whatever his past was had likely been stripped away by another. Another nyphilim for sure because they were never alone, and it was within the range of their staggering capabilities. They must have altered Kalem’s mind for whatever reason and abandoned what was left of him.

If Kalem werea nyphilim, then he was unaware of that, and the only way to know for sure that that was what he was would be to draw blood.

“We’d appreciate it if you two kept trying to find something,” Lincoln voices, slicing through my thoughts. He speaks to Malcolm more than me, because he seems to already know there is nothing he can ask of me that I would do for his sake alone. “I’ll be doing the same on my end.”

“Of course,” Malcolm retorts as he snuggles closer to me. “Come again when you wish to look for the answers together. Aias is nicer when Kalem is around.”

Grey eyes find mine, sharp once more, resolved to ensure I hear his threat.

Oh, but I did, and it seemed a lesson was overdue for Malcolm. I did enjoy his sharpness, but I could not let him run all over me.

Besides, every pisen needed to be trained.

I remove my hand from him and take myself away entirely. I pull my legs from around him and cross them instead before I strip my glamour from him by sheer force alone.

The reaction is immediate.

Malcolm turns on his knees, witless of the pair at his back as his confidence wavers.

“I did not mean to make you upset,” he pouts before he tries to put himself in the path of my hands. When I keep them to myself, and my attention parted too, instinctual fright encroaches and he grows restless. “I’m sorry, Aias.”

“I will be sleeping alone tonight.”

The lie slips easily from me, and perhaps it is too cruel after the night we shared, but if I had my way, as I fully intended to, then neither of us would find sleep on this night.

This was only a mental lashing that needed to be dolled out first, and once it was received, then I would peel him apart and deal with the bulge between my legs.

But Malcolm does not know that, so his shoulders slump and he makes a small, pitiful noise that threatens to shatter my glamour and my heart.

“Well, um,” Lincoln, the gnat, says before he clears his throat. “Yeah…We’re just going to go.”

Always with the useless information.

I ignore him and look to Kalem, ignoring Malcolm’s searching gaze for the moment. “Goodbye, little one. I shall see you soon.”

It is easy to say the words now that my mind has convinced itself that Kalem is not his kin. He was mine.

He waves after me as he and Lincoln depart. Malcolm does not even say goodbye.

I lie back down on the lounger, meaning to wait until they are well away from the property, but Malcolm does not harbour such patience.

“Aias,” he rests his head on the cushion while he keeps his hands on the floor. “You did not really mean that, did you?”

“Why would I not?”

“Aias,” he whines again, face crumpling. It is a task not to smile. “I’m sorry.”

“You have said those words several times this afternoon alone,” I say, still keeping my eyes from him. “How am I to know you mean it?”

“I mean it!” He protests as if the mere suggestion of otherwise pains him. “I really do.”

“Do you?”

“I swear that I do. I promise!” He exclaims. “I am sorry.”

“Show me then.”

“I—” Malcolm pauses, lagging as he tries to register the words and the meaning behind them.

I drop my gaze to him, watching as it clicks. Heat quickly engulfs him, and I purr as I uncross my legs, exposing him to the outline of my cock beneath my silks.

Malcolm immediately sucks in a breath.

“Show me, pisen,” I instruct, swallowing around the gravel in my throat as a shudder runs through me. “Show me that you mean it.”

————–

SMUT INCOMING AND IT’S ABOUT TO BE HOT HOT HOTTTTTTT

For those capable, thoughts??????

Thoughts on Aias’ POV to the Nyphilim news???? On Malcolm’s prodding?????

I love seeing Aias genuinely terrified of Kalem at the start and Kalem not even knowing and dusting away like ladie-dadie-da lmfaoooooo

Also, loveeeeeeeee how Malcolm and Aias had this whole hot exchange right in front of Kalem and Lincoln in Master and we never knew ughhhhhhhhhhh. I lvoe them so much

Leave any and all thoughts and enjoy this next chapter!!!