HIDDEN FLAMES – CHAPTER XXVI
The Proof and the Foundation Stone 🔞
⚠️Warning: The following scene contains adult content, depicting explicit sexual relations between two men. 18+.
The fire’s flames reached high, kissing the lilac dusk with red, but Nathan’s eyes weren’t held by the flames. The metal box lay on the blanket between them, like a third, silent guest. Its lid was open, the rusty latch broken. In Lucas’s hand was the plastic-wrapped bundle of papers. The firelight danced on the yellowish, fragile pages.
“Read it,” whispered Nathan. His voice was hoarse, a sensitive knot tightening in his throat.
Lucas nodded. He carefully unwrapped the packaging. The paper was damp at the edges, but dry in the middle, as if someone had protected it carefully. Dense, curved letters ran across the first page, in Spanish. Lucas translated slowly, thoughtfully. The roar of the sea in the background, the crackling of the fire – every other sound died away.
“A woman’s diary,” Lucas began, his voice flat, indifferent, but Nathan felt the tension in his shoulders. “Probably a scientist… or a refugee. She lived here. She describes the plants… the palms, the fruits. The weather. As if… as if she were writing an observation report.”
Nathan listened. His heart pounded. His hand involuntarily reached for Lucas’s knee, clinging to it.
“Then…” Lucas turned the page. His voice changed. A tension stretched it. “It changes here. She writes about something… she calls them ‘keepers.’ ‘The island is not what it seems,’ she writes. ‘There is something… a cave system. At the northern end of the shore. They took my samples there. I have to go, but I’m afraid.’”
Nathan’s breath caught. “What’s in the cave?”
“She doesn’t describe it exactly,” Lucas said, reading on. The firelight painted his face golden, but his eyes were dark, deep. “But here… here is the last entry.” He sighed. His voice was barely audible over the sea’s roar. “‘If anyone reads this, tell them I did not go home willingly. The boat is waiting. I don’t trust them. The film proves everything. I hid it. If they find it, be careful. They are here too.’”
Cold ran down Nathan’s spine like a sharp blade. “They? Who?”
Lucas raised his head. His eyes reflected the flames, but deep within them sat a primal, animal fear. “I don’t know. But according to the diary… the woman thought someone was watching. She didn’t want to leave. But something or someone forced her.”
“The film,” Nathan whispered. Lucas had already taken the black plastic case from the box. It was a small, cylindrical container, like a storage case for an old 35mm film reel. A label on top: “Experimental footage – Island B. 1987.”
“1987,” Nathan said. The number hung in the air like a curse. “More than thirty years ago.”
Lucas nodded. His fingers trembled slightly as he carefully opened the case. Inside wasn’t a film reel, but a small, square, rigid plastic case: a 3.5-inch floppy disk. The label read: “T – backup. Island B.” Nathan’s eyes widened. A floppy disk. Perfectly plausible for 1987. But a modern computer wouldn’t read it.
Lucas looked at the disk in his palm. “This is the proof. What she hid.”
The air was forced from Nathan’s lungs. They sat by the fire, on the shore of the endless ocean, and this little black square meant something they couldn’t comprehend. “Did someone… did someone put this here recently?” he asked, but the question was already meaningless. The disk was thirty years old. It had been in the case with the diary. “Or… maybe her family? Who knows?”
Lucas clenched the floppy disk in his fist. The veins stood out on his arm. The concentration on his face turned into a wild, protective anger. “This isn’t the past. This is the present. The woman’s diary is just… just the background. The real message is this.” He pointed to the disk. “And if they were here… if someone didn’t want this to come out… then maybe they’re still here.”
Nathan looked around into the dark, behind the dark silhouettes of the palm trees. The island, which had been a refuge until now, its sand, its palms, its water – suddenly became transparent. Something else lurked beneath it. Something that was here thirty years ago, and might still be here.
Lucas’s hand found Nathan’s shoulder. His touch was hard, reassuring. “No. Don’t look there. Look at me.”
Nathan turned his head. Lucas’s eyes were close, the pupils wide in the dark, the firelight glittering in them. “What do we do?” Nathan asked, his voice barely more than a breath.
“We need to know what’s on this,” Lucas said, raising the disk. “There’s a laptop on the boat. If the battery still holds a little…”
“The boat is on the reef,” Nathan interrupted. “After the storm… it might have sunk.”
“We still have to try,” Lucas said. His voice brooked no argument. “But not now. We’re not going out at night. In the morning.” Then he added, softer: “And not alone. Together.”
Nathan nodded. The fear still sat in his stomach, but Lucas’s hand on his shoulder, his voice – that was the reality. These two bodies on the sand, by the fire. The rest… the rest didn’t exist yet.
Lucas put the floppy disk back in the case, the case back in the box. He carefully wrapped the diary. “Until then, this stays here,” he said. “With us.”
He placed the box on the blanket, between them. Nathan didn’t take his eyes off it. The rusty metal glowed red in the firelight, like an open wound.
“Are you scared?” Lucas asked.
Nathan thought. There was fear, yes. But something else too. A strange, unclimbable excitement. “Yes,” he said honestly. “But… it excites me too. As if… as if something is finally happening. Something that’s only ours.”
Lucas tried to smile, but it only appeared at the corner of his mouth, then vanished quickly. “Our island,” he said. “Our secret.”
Nathan leaned forward and took Lucas’s hand. His skin was warm, his palm rough. “Then tomorrow. Morning. To the boat.”
“Yes,” Lucas nodded. Then he looked up at the starry sky. The Milky Way’s faint band stretched across the black canvas. “But before that… before that I want you.”
The words were simple, but his voice was deep, serious. There was no urgency in it, no desire born from fear. But an obvious truth. Before the uncertainty, the danger, the mystery, they wanted to reaffirm their connection. In the language of their bodies. The only language that had always been true.
Nathan didn’t nod. He just stood up and held out his hand. Lucas took it. They didn’t go back under the tarp, but spread the blanket on the soft sand near the fire. Their light danced on them, the shadows deep under their eyes, under their jawlines.
Lucas’s hand touched Nathan’s face. His thumb ran over his lips, then along his jawline. “Everything will be okay,” he whispered. His voice was like the roar of the sea – constant, ancient. “But right now we’re here. Just us.”
Nathan leaned into him and kissed him. This kiss wasn’t slow or pleading. It was greedy, hungry, as if they wanted to sweat every molecule of fear out of each other. Nathan’s hand tangled in Lucas’s hair and pulled him closer. Lucas’s response was immediate and just as hungry. His hand slid down Nathan’s back, under his shirt, and his warm palm fitted against the curve of his spine.
Slowly, making every move, as if performing a ritual, they undressed each other. The air was cool, but the fire’s warmth reached their skin, and soon heat covered them. The fear, the questions, the floppy disk – all melted away the moment their skin touched.
Nathan lay down on the blanket, and Lucas knelt over him. The firelight painted his muscles golden, the shadows on his stomach, his thighs. Lucas’s eyes were dark, intense, as he looked over Nathan’s body, as if he wanted to engrave every detail into his memory. The scars on his shoulder, the line of hair on his chest, the hollow of his navel.
“You’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely. His hand stroked Nathan’s thigh, on the inner side, where the skin was most silky. “You were like this. You are like this. Always.”
Nathan reached for him. His hand found Lucas’s cock, which was already hard. He took it and stroked it with a slow, powerful motion. Lucas shuddered and let out a deep, raspy sound that merged with the roar of the sea. Then he bent down and took over with his mouth.
Nathan’s head fell back into the sand. The dizzying spin of the stars in the sky mixed with the hot, wet pressure in his mouth. Lucas played with his tongue, sucked, took him deep, and Nathan’s hand clutched the blanket convulsively. “Lucas… God…”
Lucas didn’t get up immediately. He continued until Nathan’s body was completely tense, his thighs trembling, and the signs of approaching orgasm – the tension in his stomach, the heartbeat in his ear – ran through him. Only when Nathan begged, his voice broken, frayed: “Please… now… I want you inside me. Please.”
