Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Blitz sipped on the boba tea Millie had brought him after her break and scrolled mindlessly down his Instagram feed. There were probably better things he could be doing while he sat behind the counter—replying to texts, doodling some more of his horse OCs, hell, maybe listening to a podcast or some shit—but he was just too bored to do anything that required thinking.

He blinked up at the window, where the heavy October rain drummed loudly against the glass. Ugh. He really didn’t like the rain. Hopefully it’d ease up before his shift ended. Or, hell, even before that. Maybe then a client or two would actually show up and give him something to do. 

The shop was so quiet. It was Loona’s day off, and Moxxie was off sick. He could hear Millie working in her booth, Megadeth playing on her speaker as she worked on the shading of Wally’s fire-themed leg sleeve. He was a regular, and Blitz could probably get away with popping in for a chat with the both of them, but he was procrastinating moving from the front desk. 

Blitz sighed, opening his Instagram reels as he took another sip of his boba and then closing them again in favor of looking at people’s stories.

Growing up, he never would’ve dreamed of having a job like this. He’d once thought he’d always be a performer, but… yeah. That had gone up in flames a very long time ago. 

When people asked him how he’d gone from that to opening his own tattoo shop, he could never quite explain it. It had all kind of just… happened. Dropping out of college; meeting Moxxie in that random art class he’d signed up for in hopes of finding some sort of purpose in his sorry life; being a bit too familiar with needles and willing to mess around with his own skin until he was somewhat decent at drawing with ink; finding Loona, and desperately wanting to get her out of the streets—to offer her something better than the shitty attic he’d been crashing in so they could build a life together; walking past a tiny, cheap rental establishment during a particularly bad night of drinking and fucking, and texting the number on a whim to ask for more info. 

It had all sort of spiraled into place, and Blitz knew better than to question it. 

He liked his job. He really did. And not just because of the decent amount of stability it offered. He’d found he was pretty good with people, and liked helping his customers get exactly the tattoo they wanted.

He also loved the little family he and Loona had created with Moxxie and Millie, even if he’d rather die than admit to seeing his employees in that way.

It was just… well. It was better if he didn’t think too much about… every other aspect of his life that had led him here. Like the fire, and Fizz, and Barbie, and—

Nope. Nope, nope nope. That was why he was mindlessly scrolling social media. To prevent his own thoughts from dealing him psychic damage. 

He opened his reels again, and was taking a particularly long sip of his bubble tea and mentally correcting all the horse misinformation he was being fed when the front door opened, letting in a gust of cold wind. 

Startled, Blitz looked up—and almost choked on a boba ball that flew to the back of his throat.

Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

HOTTIE ALERT. HOTTIE FUCKING ALERT!!!!!!! his mind screamed as he tried his best not to cough around the ball in his mouth, which dissolved into an explosion of cherry. He silently thanked whichever God had made him talented at having spurts of liquid hit the back of his throat, because he quickly managed to compose himself and take a better look at the dude that was currently shaking the rain off of his umbrella and drying his shoes on the mat. 

Fuck. Blitz was nothing if not a horny bitch, and his pansexual ass thought like a solid 60% of the population was hot as hell, but this dude was… hot didn’t even begin to cut it. 

He was tall. Possibly among the tallest people Blitz had ever seen. Sure, most people he met were taller than him, considering he was a shocking 5’3, but. He’d be surprised if the top of his head reached this guy’s goddamn nipples.

And his hair. It was a shimmering gray, and despite being very far from curly, it seemed to float around his head with how fluffy it was. 

The man seemed to be having trouble clasping his umbrella, and Blitz took the extra second before he approached the counter to scan his body, mind filled with nothing but the screaming-seagull meme with the rainbow flag overlaid on top. 

Pink cheeks—pale face—long legs—lean waist. Perfect for grabbing, his mind helpfully supplied as the man finally set the umbrella on the stand and took off his coat, at which point Blitz’s brain fully and completely short-circuited, because the amount of golden buttons on this guy’s slim, high-waisted trousers looked straight out of a wet dream.

The man finally turned, eyes quickly looking over the cozy front of the shop before falling on Blitz.

That was when Blitz remembered he was still holding the soggy paper straw in his mouth as he gawked.

He quickly placed his boba on the counter—with maybe a bit more force than was absolutely necessary—and stood as the guy approached him. 

Blitz was about to give the guy his usual greeting when the golden constellations on his dark blue button down caught his attention. They seemed to shimmer under the artificial light of the shop with every step he took. It was mesmerizing, and as the dude stood before him, Blitz realized why. 

It was all embroidery. Extremely fine, subtle, beautiful embroidery of constellations. 

Christ. 

“Um. Hi,” the man said, and Blitz’s eyes flew up—and up—to meet his. 

Blitz opened his mouth, but words failed him again when he noticed the man was wearing a subtle, thin eyeliner; one that spoke of years of practice, and that framed the most fascinating eyes Blitz had ever seen. They were a mahogany brown, which on its own would’ve been pretty unremarkable, but under the warm light of the shop, Blitz could swear the underlying shimmer of his irises was almost… red. 

Which clearly meant the gay had finally rotted what was left of his brain. 

That, or the guy was wearing contact lenses. Either was equally as likely.

Those puzzling eyes scanned his face, and it wasn’t until a moment later, when the man quickly averted his gaze, that Blitz remembered half of his face was covered in scar tissue, and he’d completely forgotten to feel self-conscious about it. 

Which was all the proof he needed that, yup, his last remaining brain cells had definitely succumbed to the gay.

“I was… I was wondering if I could get a tattoo done here at your earliest convenience?” the man asked, and, oh.  

He had a British accent. 

Oh, Blitz was cooked.

“I’m… unsure whether I’m supposed to make an appointment in advance,” the guy added. Was that shyness in his voice? That was definitely shyness in his voice. And he was fidgeting with his fingers. 

So the guy was hot and cute. Great. Great.

“Sure!” Blitz said in the least normal voice that had ever come out of his mouth. And then he processed what the guy had actually just said. “Um, I mean—yes. No. It—it depends on what you want to have done.” 

Okay, seriously. Could the ground please just open underneath his feet and take him straight to hell?

The guy’s thin lips quirked up into an amused smile—one that shone in his eyes in a way that made it painfully clear he was trying hard not to laugh. 

Get your shit together, you fuckhead, Blitz inwardly cursed himself. He had a reputation to maintain. He couldn’t let word get out that he’d been rendered speechless by some random hottie—God only knew how catastrophic that could be if word got to Verosika about it. And, when it came to Blitz’s dating life, word somehow always got to Verosika.

“But—we can probably do it,” he quickly recovered, leaning against the counter in what he hoped could still pass for a casual display of confidence despite his improv clown act a moment before. “We have a slow day today.”

“As in—right now?” The guy’s eyes widened with surprise, meeting Blitz’s again. 

Blitz shrugged, and smirked up at him. “Sure thing.” He gestured around the empty shop. “I’m all yours.” 

“Um.” The guy blinked. And blinked again, several times in quick succession. His lips parted slightly as a pretty flush expanded over his cheeks and the sides of his neck. 

Blitz resisted the urge to lick his lips as thoughts of kissing that reddened flesh plagued his horny mind. Oh, few things in this life were as fun as making indescribably hot people blush. 

“Well,” Blitz added, taking pity on the poor guy, “unless you want to have text written on your skin, that is. I wouldn’t trust my dyslexic ass with that if I were you.” 

“O-Oh.” The guy cleared his throat. He didn’t seem too taken aback by Blitz’s crassness, which was always appreciated. “Um—no, I—I’d like to have the outline of a star drawn on my inner wrist, if that’s at all possible.”

As he said that, he raised his right arm slightly in the air, bringing Blitz’s attention to his wrist, where the cuff of his shirt was adorned with a simple, golden, star-shaped cufflink. Damn, this guy sure stuck to a theme. 

“Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem,” Blitz said. “Do you have a design with you?” 

“Ah, er, of course, it’s right”—the guy rummaged in his pocket—“here.” He pulled out a single, folded piece of paper, which he handed to Blitz. 

The design was simple—just a small, five-pointed star that was a little wonky on the side. It seemed like it’d been drawn by an older kid, which sparked Blitz’s curiosity. If the guy turned out to be hot, cute, and a good dad, Blitz might just have to finally admit to himself that he’d come across an angel. 

“Alright then. Shouldn’t take long.” Blitz pulled out his planner. “Can I have your name so we can write down your appointment?” 

“Stolas,” the man said. Blitz’s gaze darted up. 

“Uh…”

The guy chuckled, a cute, squeaky sound that, frankly, sounded a little bit like an owl’s hoot. 

“I get that”—he gestured at Blitz’s bewildered expression—“all the time.” 

“Er, sorry,” Blitz quickly composed himself. “Is it with a u or an a?” 

“With an a.” 

He leaned over, no doubt to check Blitz had spelled it right, and seemed satisfied with what he saw. Phew. 

“Okay,” Blitz said, “Now all you need to do is read and sign the consent form and we can get going.”

He handed it over and watched the man scan the page quickly—far quicker than Blitz would’ve managed—and mark off the boxes before signing at the bottom of the page.

“Could I…?” The guy—Stolas—said after setting the pen aside, then cleared his throat. His gaze quickly flicked from Blitz to the counter as he mumbled, “Um, I apologize if this is unseemly, but could I by any chance get your name, too?”

Unseemly. Blitz had to stop himself from chuckling at Stolas’ naivety. Oh, if the guy only knew where the threshold for unseemly was in Blitz’s book.

He looked up, eyebrow quirked, and smirked at the sight of the faint blush that once again tinged Stolas’ face. Was Stolas just curious, he wondered, or was this his way of very politely trying to flirt back?  

“It’s Blitz,” he said in his most suave voice. As always, he considered mentioning the silent o, but quickly decided against it. 

Stolas’ eyebrows shot up, and he bit his lip, as though trying to stop another smile from taking over his pretty face. How adorable.

“You have a curious name, yourself,” Stolas finally managed, eyes never leaving Blitz’s. 

Blitz grinned. “Thanks!” he said, pointing at the small trans pin he wore on the lapel of his black denim jacket. “I chose it myself.” 

It was a remark he made every chance he got, and he honestly wasn’t expecting Stolas to laugh at it. But he did, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he let out a dainty giggle, eyes shining with mirth. 

Man, there were few things Blitz liked more than hot people who laughed at his jokes. They were probably up there in his top three favorite things, right by horses and Loona’s smile. 

“Alrighty,” he said, “if you’re ready, we can get started.” 

“Oh. O-Of course, yes,” Stolas said, blinking quickly, as though he had momentarily forgotten why he was here. 

Blitz mentally performed a tiny little winning dance at the fact he had actually managed to fluster the man. On the outside, though, he went for a far more casual—and, more importantly, professional— “Neat. Come with me, then.” 

He guided Stolas through the back of the shop and into his booth, and gestured for him to sit down while he prepared the stencil. Stolas did, folding himself onto the chair in a way that sort of reminded Blitz of a prince from one of those TV dramas set in the 1800s he and Loona sometimes hate-watched (and both secretly enjoyed, though neither would admit it). 

Blitz bit back a smile when Stolas very decorously folded his hands on his knee. Oh, the guy definitely wasn’t beating the prince allegations. 

Blitz turned his back to Stolas to start the thermal imager, but, unable to help himself, he snuck another glance at Stolas, who, thankfully, was too distracted eyeing the decorations to notice. 

The dude’s whole vibe clashed spectacularly with Blitz’s tattooing booth. Every artist had their own way of decorating their working space, and Blitz had gone out of his way to make his booth his. Pictures of him and the gang took up most of the beige wall—mostly polaroids, though he’d also framed a couple of bigger pics from times he remembered especially fondly. A bunch of different pride flags in varying shapes and sizes filled the gaps in between, and the rest of the wall was taken up by tattoo designs and shots of the results. On the windowsill, he’d placed his favorite horse figurine—the one Millie had given him for Christmas two years ago—and a small basket that held different stim toys for customers to use if they needed them, which had been Moxxie’s idea. 

It was cozy. It was the perfect mixture of warm, colorful, and chaotic. It was his pride and joy.

It was also hilariously different from Stolas’ whole regal, celestial, almost ethereal aura, in a way that made Blitz look at his own working space through different eyes, like he was seeing it for the first time. 

Stolas’ eyes suddenly met his, and, in an effort to not seem like he’d just been caught staring, Blitz did the only logical thing there was to do: he whirled around in his chair so hard he almost lost balance, and then concentrated very hard on the design in front of him.

Great job, asshole, he thought to himself as he inserted the paper Stolas had given him into the machine, hoping against all hope that the tiny chuckle that echoed behind his back was a product of his imagination. 

After cutting the stencil, Blitz stood and made his way back to Stolas, who hadn’t moved at all, his posture still ridiculously poised, as though he was sitting on a throne and not a leather armchair. It made him look extremely out of place, and was a bit ridiculous, but, mostly, it was endearing as shit. 

“You can sit back, you know,” Blitz said with a chuckle.

With a tiny oh, Stolas inched his body backwards, hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure he was actually allowed to. When his back sank into the soft material, his eyes widened a little bit, and his hair, pressed against the leather headrest, somehow puffed up even more.

Cute. 

“Right wrist, yeah?” Blitz asked as he gathered rubbing alcohol and razor, as well as a small towel.

Stolas replied with a soft, “Yes,” following his every movement with a slightly worried expression Blitz knew all too well. 

“Kay.” Blitz moved his stool to sit by Stolas’ right side. “This your first time?” 

Stolas went slightly red. “Is it that obvious?” 

“Just a bit,” Blitz said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through it, okay?” 

Stolas nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured, giving Blitz a tiny, nervous smile.

Blitz smiled back, hopefully offering Stolas some comfort.

“No prob. Okay, so, first things first, I’m gonna wash and shave the area so it’s nice and ready to go, and then I’ll transfer the stencil onto your skin”—he showed it to Stolas—“so you can confirm everything looks the way you want it to, ‘kay?”

Stolas nodded, and seemed to relax just marginally, his body sinking further into the chair with his next breath.

“Can you roll back your sleeve and show me where you’d like it?”

With long, careful fingers, Stolas removed the cufflink and undid the button before very methodically folding the sleeve back around his forearm. 

Stolas’ wrist was pretty, Blitz couldn’t help but note. Slender, and a bit bony, and smooth, and just… pretty. It was somehow paler than his face, though, his skin so white it was almost see-through. 

Okay, so Stolas was British, dressed like old-money-meets-nerdy-twink, and had the complexion of a literal ghost. Which bumped up the chances of him actually being from the 1800s to a solid 50%. 

Maybe he was a vampire. That’d be pretty cool. Especially if he was one of those ones that made blood sucking into a sex thing. Blitz had plenty of kinks already—he certainly wouldn’t mind adding that particular one to the collection.

“I was thinking… here, on the side,” Stolas said in a low voice, pointing at the upper-left area of his inner wrist and pulling Blitz from his thoughts. 

When Blitz didn’t immediately reply, Stolas stammered a quick—and, frankly, adorable—“If… If you think that’s a good idea, that is.”

“It is,” he told Stolas with a smile. “Pretty popular area for a tattoo, and it’s one of the least painful ones, too.”

“Oh,” Stolas sighed, and, under his snug button-down, his abdominal muscles visibly unclenched. Not that Blitz was paying attention. “That’s such a relief. I must admit, I am a bit concerned about the pain.”

“The first minute or so is always the worst,” Blitz said. “After that, you sorta get used to it. And, hey, your tattoo won’t take too long. Ten minutes, tops.” 

Stolas nodded, and, satisfied, Blitz reached out to take Stolas’ hand in his. He moved slowly, giving Stolas plenty of time to see what he was doing; he seemed like the kind of guy who might get spooked by sudden touches. Sort of like a kitten. A very tall and adorable kitten.

He maneuvered Stolas’ arm onto the armrest, palm up, and got to work prepping the area under Stolas’ careful watch. In the background, MCR’s Mama played at a low volume, one of his personal favorites from his work playlist, and he hummed to it, not really caring that he was probably wildly off-key. 

Stolas said nothing, sitting very still as he watched Blitz work. His breathing was kinda labored, and Blitz didn’t miss the way it hitched whenever Blitz’s fingers lightly brushed his skin. He was used to sensitive—and even ticklish—clients, and he kept a straight face, but he did mentally savor the stroke to his ego that the guy seemed so flustered from just some touches to the wrist.

“Aight,” Blitz said once he was finished, “I’m gonna apply some stick deodorant so the design looks as dark as possible when I transfer it.”

“Okay,” Stolas said in a thin voice, watching Blitz with a mixture of nervousness and curiosity. 

Once he was done, he took the stencil and showed it to Stolas again. “Which side’s up?” 

“Um. This one,” Stolas said, raising his other hand to point at it. 

He could feel Stolas’ eyes on him as he transferred the stencil, pressing down on his wrist for a few seconds. After pulling away the paper, he lifted Stolas’ arm and turned it under the bright light for Stolas to see. 

“So, how does it look?” 

Stolas took a moment to reply, admiring Blitz’s handiwork. When he did speak, it was a murmured, “It… It’s perfect. Thank you, Blitz.”

He sounded so genuine. So easily pleased.

“Sweet,” Blitz grinned. “Ready for the fun part?” 

“I-I guess I’ll have to be,” Stolas said, clearly trying to sound light-hearted, but Blitz saw the way his eyes widened as he watched Blitz prep the needle.

“It’s not as scary as it looks,” Blitz offered. “Take a few minutes to breathe, ‘kay? And let me know if you want me to change the music.” Linkin Park’s Nobody Can Save Me was playing now, which he acknowledged was not everyone’s cup of tea.

“Oh, no, that’s absolutely fine, but thank you,” Stolas quickly said. “And I’m sure you’re right. I’m just not the biggest fan of needles, but I’ll… I’ll breathe.”

Blitz gave Stolas a smile, and hummed as he got everything ready, feeling Stolas’ eyes follow his every movement. He turned his back to Stolas before removing his fingerless leather gloves and changing them for the latex ones, and tried—and failed—not to think too hard about the scars that crawled up his forearms and lapped angrily at his hands, distorting his skin. 

When the machine was ready, he turned around to grab the ointment and sat by Stolas’ side again. Carefully, he smeared some of it on Stolas’ wrist. 

“This’ll help everything slide smoothly,” he said, lowering his goggles, and then wiggled his eyebrows at Stolas with a small smirk. Stolas chuckled when he caught on, some of the tension leaving his body. 

It quickly returned when Blitz grabbed the needle and rested his hand next to Stolas’ wrist, though.

“Oh,” Stolas breathed, going—somehow—even paler than he already was.

“Hold on.” Setting the needle aside, Blitz stood and grabbed the box from the windowsill, holding it next to Stolas’ left side. “Here. Pick a stim toy.”

“A…” Stolas frowned in confusion as he examined the contents of the box. 

“It’ll help with the nerves,” Blitz said simply.

Hesitantly, Stolas rummaged through the toys, and, after a moment, settled for a shiny, metallic fidget spinner in the shape of a star.

“Good choice,” Blitz said while setting the box aside, and watched, from the corner of his eye, as more color than was strictly necessary returned to Stolas’ cheeks.

Okay, so Stolas was definitely the kind of guy who came undone with praise, then. 

Yum. Definitely good to know. 

After sitting back down and picking up the needle, Blitz bent over Stolas’ arm and took Stolas’ wrist gently between two fingers.

“Here we go,” he said lowly, and waited for Stolas to nod before bringing the needle close to his skin. “Keep your hand relaxed.”

Stolas inhaled sharply, but, though his whole body seemed to tense up, his arm remained loose even as the whirring of the needle started. Blitz filed the knowledge that Stolas was good at following orders at the back of his mind, alongside the man’s blatant praise kink. 

“Breathe,” Blitz murmured on the first pause, as he wiped away the extra ink. Stolas exhaled in a rush before breathing back in, and just that was enough for some of the tension to ease from his shoulders. 

Blitz kept going, and, as Stolas spun the fidget toy, his ragged breaths slowly settled down. By the third pause to wipe the extra ink away, the alarm in his eyes was slowly turning to relief, and, soon after that, to curiosity.

By the time Blitz had made it to the second line of the star, Stolas was leaning forward and eagerly watching him work, going as far as to crane his neck this way and that to get a better look.

“See?” Blitz smirked. “Not as scary as it seems.”

“You were right,” Stolas said, meeting his eyes with an apologetic smile. “I feel a tad silly now.”

“Nah, don’t,” Blitz said. “It’s your first time, it’s perfectly normal to be scared.”

Stolas raised his eyebrows, and, okay, that innuendo had been accidental. Blitz snickered, and said, more to himself than to Stolas, “I mean, that’s what she said.”

To his surprise, Stolas chortled, a loud, sudden, delightful sound that Stolas had the audacity to try to stifle with the back of his hand.

“Hey, don’t,” Blitz chastised, pausing in his work. “Don’t do that.”

Stolas blinked at him. “Do… what?” he asked with a tiny voice, and, dammit, confusion somehow made him sound even more British, which in turn made his already lovely voice sound somehow more adorable. 

“Don’t hide your laugh,” Blitz said seriously, then quickly lowered his gaze before adding, “It… It’s pretty.”

Man, flirting was a lot easier when he was being over-the-top and overtly sexual. He wasn’t used to giving people genuine compliments. He wasn’t entirely sure where that had come from—other than maybe the rising suspicion that Stolas had little to no concept of just how breathtaking everything about him was. 

Stolas didn’t immediately reply, and, before his mind could spiral out of control, Blitz started up the needle again and let the familiar noise drown out his skittery thoughts. 

In the next pause, Stolas’ soft voice broke the silence with a small, “Thank you,” that was quickly followed by a string of, “You have—um. I mean, I—” Stolas cleared his throat and tried again. “I really liked your nails. When I—noticed them. Earlier?” he bleakly finished. 

Blitz bit his lip, but couldn’t hide his smile. Damn. It was hotter than expected to hear someone so well-spoken trip over his words like that.

He chanced a look up at Stolas to check that, yup, the poor guy had indeed gone beet red after complimenting him.

“Thanks, handsome,” he said casually while wiping Stolas’ wrist again, and smirked when Stolas almost choked on his own spit. 

Blitz’s nails were hidden by the gloves now, of course, so he couldn’t quickly check how bad the chipping was on his black nail polish. Hopefully not bad enough that Stolas would know exactly how much Blitz fiddled with it when he was nervous. 

He knew it was dumb to paint his nails only to claw the polish off almost immediately, but… he liked the way the black polish looked with his fingerless leather gloves, and, honestly, it just gave him gender euphoria to paint his nails. Especially since T had given him thicker finger hair to complete his badass look, which he realized was a weird thing to love about himself, but he wasn’t about to be picky about the few things about his appearance he didn’t simply tolerate.

He was going to start the needle again, but Stolas, in his adorable nervousness, had clenched his fist.

“Relax,” Blitz said softly, touching his fingertips to Stolas’ palm to coax his clenched fingers loose. 

“Sorry,” Stolas murmured, opening his hand and relaxing his whole arm for Blitz. 

And it was such a tiny gesture, but, oh, Stolas was just so pliant under his touch. So ready to follow orders. Blitz couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe…

Nope. Nooope. Those were not appropriate thoughts to be having at work. Blitz shook the lewd mental images off before they could plague his mind.

“All good,” he reassured Stolas before continuing his work.

⋆★⋆

After wrapping the tattoo with coverup film, he walked Stolas back to the front of the shop, all the while explaining that, “it doesn’t matter that much whether you put vaseline or cream on it, or any other sort of moisturizer. Just buy whatever you’re gonna keep using in the future so it doesn’t go to waste. Oh, and it’s normal for it to bleed and scab. It can be itchy at first, too, and the ink can get runny the first couple of days, so don’t freak out if that happens…”

Stolas listened intently, and leaned his hip against the front of the counter, eyes trained on Blitz as he nodded along to his explanation. When Blitz handed him the terminal, Stolas pulled out his phone and quickly tapped it on the screen to pay.

“Wash it gently with water and unscented soap,” Blitz kept saying, “and try to avoid soaking it for the next couple of months.”

Stolas frowned in slight confusion. “As in…” 

“No swimming, no bathing,” Blitz clarified. “I guess don’t plunge your arm into a bucket of fish for a while if that’s what you usually do for fun, which, hey, weird, but I won’t judge,” he shrugged. “It’s good for you to be into at least some brand of unhinged shit.”

Stolas giggled, the same cute little sound that seemed to come so easily to him at every stupid comment that fell through the cracks of Blitz’s barely-contained verbal diarrhea. 

Blitz couldn’t help but stare a little. 

He wasn’t used to people finding him funny. Moxxie usually just rolled his eyes at his senseless comments, and Loona stared daggers at him and scrolled harder through her phone. Millie would sometimes spare a small chuckle or two, but… it was mostly out of pity. If he was lucky, people would bury their face in their hands, and he could pretend they’d actually found him funny, and not the most exasperating creature on Earth.

But Stolas just… giggled, like it was nothing. Like there was no reason for his eyes not to light up with amusement. And, boy, were those eyes shining like Blitz had somehow touched him with his bizarre-as-fuck humor. 

… Ah, shit.

His heart was speeding up. 

Fuck, that wasn't good. 

No, that was very far from good. In fact, it was the farthest thing from good that he was very rapidly becoming obsessed with that tiny, gleeful laugh that so starkly resembled an owl’s hoot, because Stolas was moments away from walking out the door, probably never to be seen again.

“Well,” Blitz quickly filled the silence that had fallen between them, trying to get his insides to behave, “that’s pretty much it, but you can always call or drop by if you have any questions.” He faltered just for a moment before adding, “O-Or, you know, if you want more tattoos.” He tried for a casual smile—a nonchalant attempt to plant the idea in Stolas’ mind. “You have very good skin for it, you know. Would love to have you around again.”

Stolas blinked, then bit his lip as the words seemed to register, a failed attempt to hold back the pretty smile tugging at his mouth. 

And, fuck, if it wasn’t the most exhilarating feeling in the world to believe Stolas might return Blitz’s interest in him. Sure, he’d flirted back a couple times, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. There was still a chance Stolas might not be interested in anything… more. 

And that'd be fine if he wasn’t, Blitz told himself. He’d get over it. Even if he really wanted to know what it’d be like to have the tip of that—very human-looking, despite Blitz’s stupid fantasies—pearly fang burying into the flesh of his own lip. 

Blitz held his breath as he waited for Stolas to reply. 

But Stolas didn’t say anything, and instead pushed himself off the counter, standing straight. He didn’t back away, though. He seemed to linger, unsure, his gaze dancing across the wooden floor. His mouth was slightly parted, like he was caught in the middle of a thought he didn't dare to say out loud.

A few moments passed, and Blitz couldn’t take it anymore. He opened his mouth, ready to do something reckless and unprofessional, like ask Stolas for his phone number, or maybe his Instagram, or—

“I—” Stolas broke the silence all of a sudden, and then looked at Blitz, who only then realized he was sorta gaping. 

He quickly shut his mouth and cleared his throat, waiting for Stolas to continue.

“I don’t think I’ll be getting any more tattoos, at least not in the near future,” Stolas said, stroking his wrist with light fingers just over where the star was hidden under his sleeve. “This one is very personal to me, seeing as it’s a present for my daughter, and I can’t think of anything else I’d have the commitment to engrave on my skin like that.”

“Uh-huh,” Blitz barely managed, fighting for his life not to let his sinking disappointment show on his face. 

“But…” Stolas fidgeted with his fancy cufflink, and let out a little breath before looking down at Blitz again with impossibly big eyes. “Would you maybe want to…” 

Blitz’s heart galloped like a wild horse as he waited for Stolas to finish. 

“I—I’m sorry,” Stolas mumbled with a shake of his head. “This is probably incredibly inappropriate. Please ignore me.” 

“Stolas, I can’t emphasize enough how much I don’t want to ignore you,” Blitz said without missing a beat. “I don’t even know what you’re gonna suggest and I already know the answer is yes. I mean, unless you wanna hire me to kill someone, or some crazy shit… But, other than that, hell, I’m in.” 

Fuck, he was talking so fast again. His mind was running a million miles an hour, and the only thing that made it come to an abrupt halt was Stolas’ adorable chortle, which he almost covered with the back of his hand again. He caught himself and lowered it, though, letting his amusement glow in his pretty eyes. 

“We can revisit that idea,” Stolas joked, making Blitz huff out a laugh. “But, for now, I was wondering if you’d like to, maybe… hang out sometime?” he finished in a tiny voice. 

Blitz hadn’t thought it was possible to think exclusively in screaming cat memes and keyboard smashes, and yet there he was. 

He opened his mouth to reply, and what immediately came out was an excited, “Oh, hell to the yes!”

Stolas’ eyebrows flew up with amusement. 

“I mean—” he quickly added, “sure, yeah. Uh, what would you like to do?”

Was that relief flooding Stolas’ face? Okay, it definitely was. Which meant Blitz wasn’t the only one mentally gnawing at his own arm. Good. That was… Yeah, that was good.

“Perhaps we could… go to the park sometime?” Stolas suggested sheepishly.

And, okay, Blitz didn’t mean to laugh at Stolas. He really didn’t. But that was kind of exactly what he did.

“Wh-What?” Stolas asked, a light pink tinging his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Blitz said, trying and failing to compose himself, “is that what you Europeans do for fun?” 

“I—Well, uhm—” Stolas’ blush deepened as he stumbled with his words. “I mean, we don’t have to, if you don’t want to, we can always—” 

“Hey, hey, it’s cool.” Blitz offered Stolas a reassuring smile, taking pity on the poor guy. “I did say I’d be in for anything, didn’t I? I’d love to go to the park with you.”

“O-Oh.” Stolas gulped. Blinked several times in quick succession. “Okay. That’s, um. That’s splendid. Thank you, Blitz.” 

Blitz chuckled. What a cute thing to say. For a man who had managed to reproduce, Stolas sure seemed new to the dating scene. 

“No prob, handsome.”

After a moment of—super endearing—dumb staring, Stolas seemed to catch himself and pulled out his phone, handing it to Blitz to type his phone number. 

“Er, hold on,” Blitz said, taking out his own phone to search for himself on his own contact list. “Here, just copy it from my screen.” 

At Stolas’ puzzled expression, Blitz shrugged, trying his best not to look like the dumbest bitch alive as he said, “Dyscalculia. Y’know how it goes. Couldn’t have just half the package. With dyslexia, I mean.”

“Oh,” Stolas blinked. “Of—Of course.” 

And, okay, Stolas didn’t sound too taken aback by that comment.

Still, Blitz couldn’t help but stare a little while Stolas saved his number. Couldn’t help but search his expression, looking for any signs of the annoyance that, sooner or later, people always aimed his way.

Stolas just sounded so… well-spoken. So smart. He sounded like the kind of person who was naturally good at everything. 

And then there was Blitz, who was mostly just good at fucking around and finding out. 

What if Stolas got to know him more and decided he didn’t like what he saw? What if he was disappointed in Blitz? Or got tired of him? Or—Or wished he hadn’t met him in the first place? What if—

“Thank you,” Stolas said, handing back his phone and pulling Blitz from his quickly-spiraling thoughts. 

When Blitz looked up at him, he found the softest smile dancing on Stolas’ thin lips and a pretty blush lighting up the apples of his cheeks. 

And, fuck, with a sight like that, it really wasn't hard at all to let his ugly thoughts get buried under the crushing weight of Stolas’ prettiness. 

“I shall—text you later?” Stolas offered shyly, and looked expectantly down at him. 

Blitz could honestly have jumped the counter and kissed the uncertainty right out of his fucking face.

“Sounds good,” he said instead, like a normal person capable of normal thoughts. He could sometimes cosplay as one of those, contrary to popular belief. 

Stolas smiled openly down at him for a long moment. Then, he seemed to catch himself and quickly averted his gaze. 

“Guess I should, um, get going.” He raised his wrist in the air as he stepped toward the door, his movements just a bit awkward. “Thanks again.” 

“See ya,” Blitz chuckled as Stolas practically stumbled out of the shop and closed the door behind himself. 

And then opened it again. 

“Sorry. Umbrella,” he quickly mumbled with an apologetic giggle, and Blitz couldn’t help but laugh as he watched Stolas almost topple the whole stand trying to pull it out. “Uh, bye!” 

Blitz waved at the already closing door, and, as he watched Stolas scuttle away through the fogged-up shop window, he smiled the dumbest smile he had probably sported in a good while, and sighed, a dreamy little breath that he would forever deny ever having let out.

“Bye, handsome.”

Chapter Text

Wow.

Okay, so. That had just happened.

Okay. It was fine. It was cool. He totally wasn’t going to make a fool of himself around Stolas and screw this up.

“Are we allowed to come out now?”

“Shhhit—” Blitz whirled around to stare at Millie, who was peeking from behind the corner of the hall. “Fuck, Mills, warn a guy,” he grumbled as she made her way to the counter with Wally in tow.

He hadn’t even heard her needle and music stop. Man, was he really down that bad?

“Didn’t wanna interrupt whatever was going on here.” Her smirk was annoyingly knowing, and when he tried to pout in her general direction, she just wiggled her eyebrows at him.

Ugh. As if he needed his friends to witness his simping on top of everything else. At least Loona and Moxx were off work today.

Wally didn’t say anything, too busy texting on his phone, but Blitz didn’t miss the way his mouth curled into a smirk when he glanced up at the two of them.

Millie charged Wally and exchanged a few words with him before waving him goodbye, and Blitz jumped on the chance to pull out his phone and pretend to be captivated by whatever stupid ad Instagram was showing him.

It was no use, though. As soon as Wally was out the door, Millie walked right into his personal space and elbowed him on the ribs, harder than was probably strictly necessary. Blitz stared harder at his phone.

“So,” she said with an eyebrow wiggle, and then waited for him to look up from his phone before elaborating, the fucker. “Just how hot were they to leave you this blushy?”

“I don’t blush,” Blitz grouched. “We don’t blush, Mills. That’s a white people thing. Get your shit together.”

“Not physically, we don’t.” Millie’s smirk didn’t falter. “But we’re talking about vibes here, B. And yours are extremely blushy right now. You can deny it all you want, it won’t change the facts.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez,” he grumbled. There was no point in arguing with her. With just the two of them in the shop and another hour till closing time, Blitz really had no way of avoiding her questions.

He sat heavily on the computer chair, and couldn’t help but let his mind wander to Stolas again. Immediately, he felt his lips twitch with a treacherous smile.

Millie just watched him, patient as ever. Knowing he would cave and spill the tea eventually.

She knew him too well for his own damn good.

“He was super fucking cute,” Blitz admitted in a low voice.

Millie’s eyebrows shot up.

“Cute?” She crossed her arms over her chest and propped her hip on the counter, her interest clearly piqued. “Not hot?”

“I-I mean, that too,” Blitz stammered, avoiding Millie’s amused gaze. As if on cue, his mind supplied him with a thousand memories of Stolas. Of Stolas’ long fingers and thin frame. Of the countless buttons on Stolas’ pants, just begging to be undone. Of the hard muscles of his abdomen, their movements visible under his snug shirt.

He thought back to the way the blush pooling on Stolas’ cheeks had spread down the sides of his neck—and, fuck, how easy it would have been to just undo the first few buttons of his shirt to reveal more flushed skin. How easy it would have been to press his tongue to it, sink his teeth into it, breathe hotly against it and feel Stolas’ hands flying to his back to keep him there—

Blitz blinked, and the mental image vanished, landing him back in the shop and under Millie’s amused scrutiny.

He gulped before he could make a drooling fool of himself, and cleared his throat.

“Definitely that too,” he stammered. “I just meant—Well, he was so…” He gestured aimlessly. How could he even begin to describe Stolas to Millie in a way that did him any kind of justice? “Super tall, and shy, and had this posh and proper aura about him, and he was just so—sweet.” Fuck, he was making things worse. “A-And pretty,” he added weakly. “He was… he was pretty.”

“Hm.” Millie snickered. “Sweet and pretty.”

Okay, she was definitely taking the piss now.

He was going to tell her to go fuck herself, defend his chronic fuckboy reputation. But then her expression softened into a genuine smile.

“Well,” she said, giving him a gentle look, “I’m glad to see you happy. You got his number, didn’t you? I expect all the juicy details when you two go out.”

“Gave him mine, actually,” Blitz said. Then he realized the implications of what Millie had just said. “Just how much of our convo did you hear?”

She smirked.

“Clearly not enough, if this guy was so great,” she teased, straightening and stretching her back and arms.

“Fuck you,” he muttered, but, annoyingly, it came out with much less bite than he’d intended, and she just chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Love you too, B,” she said with a fondness that almost managed to tear a smile from him. Almost.

Ugh, he just couldn’t get mad at her. Not really. Her husband was a different story, but Millie was way too confident to be worth the effort of riling up.

“Now shoo, go be gay somewhere else,” she said with a wave of her hand. “We both know you’re not going to get the accounting paperwork done, and Loona’s going to be pissed off if she has to do extra work on Monday.”

“Ugh,” Blitz grumbled as he stood and left her the chair. “Yeah, thanks.”

He left her to work on the Excel sheet and, leaning heavily on the counter, pulled out his phone.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw he had several new messages from an unknown number.

Hi 😊

This is Stolas, by the way!

Sorry if that was already obvious from my profile picture. It probably was, now that I think about it. Oops!

Anyway, thank you again for today ❤️

Christ on a stick. So Stolas was adorable in person and over text. How was a guy meant to cope with this fucking level of cuteness?!

Blitz tapped on Stolas’ pic and had to bite his lip so the undignified sounds threatening to spill out of him wouldn’t alert Millie about the overwhelming levels of gayness unfolding next to her. He did close his eyes and let out a long, internal squeal, though. As a treat.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut until he was reasonably sure his vocal chords would behave, and even then, he pressed his hand to his mouth before blinking down at Stolas’ pic.

Omfg. Blitz bit down hard on his hand and breathed through another wave of internal screaming.

It was a selfie with a teenage girl who, unless Stolas had a much younger sister, could really only be his daughter, because they looked so much alike. They were posing somewhere outdoors, wearing summer outfits—his an incredibly fancy and gay floral shirt, hers a Rolling Stones crop top—heads leaning close, the same goofy smile plastered on both their faces.

And—asdjhsadlskdjh!!!!!—they both had their tongues poking out.

It was—ahhhhhh.

Fuck, okay. He wasn’t going to make weird noises. He wasn’t.

But, man, the pic was just so fucking endearing.

It was the way they looked so happy together. And the way they were both wearing the same eye-liner and shadow. And the way Stolas’ red sunglasses, pushed up into his hair, brought out the red tinge in his eyes that Blitz’s gayness-ridden brain was officially not making up. It was the way the first buttons of Stolas’ shirt were undone, his clavicle just slightly visible in a way that Blitz could only describe as tastefully cunty.

More than anything else, it was the fact Stolas was very obviously a girl dad, just like him. Not just the father of a girl, but a girl dad. Embarrassing selfies, and matching looks, and kooky energy and all.

And then there was the fact that, though Stolas had seemed roughly around Blitz’s age, he had an older kid, too.

The experience of being a parent figure to a young adult wasn’t something anyone in Blitz’s social circle could relate to. In fact, most of the people who knew them didn’t take their father-daughter bond seriously. They mostly treated him and Loona like roommates, or coworkers, or friends.

Everything but family.

The thought that Stolas might even remotely understand his bond with Loona was… oh, man… Oh, fuck.

“You’re not being as subtle as you think you’re being,” Millie sing-songed without taking her eyes off the screen.

Not trusting his own voice, Blitz gave her the middle finger, which earned him a chuckle in return.

Eh, whatever. He was simping too hard to care.

He closed the picture, not sure his brain could endure much more of Stolas’ selfie without cascading right out of his ears, and instead focused on typing a somewhat normal reply to Stolas’ messages.

hyia

thnk you ✨✨ hmu wenevr u wana hang out fire emoji

He saved Stolas’ contact and stuffed his phone in his pocket. He needed a minute or thirty alone with his thoughts.

Trying to act as casual as possible, he pushed himself off the counter and rounded the corner, stopping to look back at Millie.

“I’m gonna tidy up the booths for the weekend. Lemme know when you’re done here so we can close up and go make sure your sickly princess is doing okay.”

“Tsch.” Millie shook her head with a cheeky grin. “You got it, boss!”

Blitz slipped to the back of the shop and, true to his word, he tidied up the booths, putting everything back in its place before cleaning the surfaces and floors.

But, mostly, he thought about Stolas.

With no one around to act professional or stoic around, Blitz let his imagination run wild, going from Stolas’ smile to his neck, and clavicle, and to his thin pale fingers slipping underneath Blitz’s shirt and trailing up the sides of his waist. He bit his lip and didn’t stop himself when his thoughts shifted to undoing every single button on Stolas’ clothes and slipping his hands underneath. Touching—feeling Stolas everywhere. Pulling Stolas closer, pulling him down into a heated kiss, and panting hotly into Stolas’ mouth at the realization that it was his cock that was pressing into Blitz’s stomach, hard and begging to be touched…

Fuck, Blitz was so wet. And not just in his fantasies. Man, he was so fucking lucky that he didn’t have a cis cock, and didn’t need to worry about popping a boner at work.

The cock that he did have was throbbing, though, and he imagined what it’d be like to grab Stolas’ thin wrist and shove his hand under the waistband of his pants and boxers, guide his fingers until they were soaked and touching him right where he needed them to—

“All done over here!” Millie shouted from the front, and Blitz almost tripped over the broom.

“Kay, coming!” he yelled back, and mentally cursed. He was coming, alright, but not in the way he desperately needed to right now. That would have to wait until tonight, and that was only if Loona happened to have plans and he got to have the house to himself. Her hearing was way too good, and their walls too thin to jerk off otherwise.

Fuck, man. Just—fuck.

⋆★⋆

Morning, Blitz 😊 I hope it’s not too early to text. I was wondering if you’d be free to hang out this Sunday afternoon? We’re celebrating Via’s birthday tomorrow, but I have Sunday free.

I’d love to see you, but no pressure if you’re busy or not up for it 😊 Let me know!

Blitz blinked at the too-bright screen for a full ten seconds, trying to understand what he was looking at and why it wasn’t the time, which was what he’d meant to check. It was the ass-crack of dawn, and the only reason he was awake was some annoying-ass noise on the street had stirred him from his slumber.

The second his waterlogged brain caught on to Stolas’ texts, though, the gears in his head finally screeched into motion, and he jolted awake. Sitting in bed, he re-read the messages a couple times to make sure he’d understood correctly.

yh Snudae is perf I dont hvae antyujg

anythmig***

Christ. Someday he’d learn the lesson not to text before his first coffee, but today was clearly not that day.

u get wht I meen

Haha, I do, no worries! ❤️

whut time u wnna meet up?? ✨💫

I was thinking four-ish? Maybe we could go for a walk at the park near your workplace and then eat out? If that works for you, of course!

Blitz was so, so brave for not making an oral sex joke right then and there.

shur

Perfect! See you then 🥰 can’t wait!

cya handsum

😳

😂😂😜🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈😘🍁🌲🔥

Hahaha, please don’t set the trees on fire!

ill trye

When Stolas didn’t reply, Blitz tapped on his profile picture to stare at it some more. He’d done that an embarrassing amount of times over the past week, but that didn’t stop him from going over his favorite details all over again. Stolas’ tongue poking out just the slightest bit; the way the sunlight shone through the top of his fluffy hair. The enticing glimpse of his clavicle, and the crinkling of his eyes as he smiled.

Man… he really wished he had more pictures of Stolas to look at.

He guessed he could ask Stolas if he had an Instagram account. That’d be casual enough, right? Or maybe they could take a selfie when they met.

Which was a thing that was happening. Right.

And in just two days, too.

Stolas just texted back a laughing emoji, and Blitz locked his phone. His mind a sudden mixture of nerves and excitement and his usual level of horniness, he gave up on getting any more sleep and climbed out of bed instead. Might as well use the extra time to make himself and Loona some waffles. That’d keep his mind busy, at the very least.

⋆★⋆

Somehow, Blitz managed to get through his morning routine without exploding into a puddle of rainbow goo. And, thankfully, work proved to be a decent enough distraction, for the most part. He had a couple of customers booked in the afternoon, and two more popped in before lunchtime and kept him mostly busy.

Which was a blessing, honestly, because his employees would not leave him the fuck alone.

Moxx and Loona had heard all about Stolas, of course. Blitz really, really wished he could blame Millie for it, but the much more embarrassing truth was that Moxxie had caught him staring at Stolas’ picture like fifteen minutes into their Monday morning meeting. According to him, Blitz had looked like he “wanted to take a bite right out of his screen”. Millie had asked if it was “the cute guy from Friday” he was drooling over, and Loona had ratted him out and told the both of them that Blitz had spent the entirety of the weekend making lovey-dovey eyes at his phone.

He’d threatened to cut them all from his will, of course, but they’d just laughed and agreed that they’d all be able to survive without his horse figurine collection and the three and a half bucks in his savings account. Which, accurate, but rude.

In the end, he’d begrudgingly admitted that there might have been a cute customer on Friday who he was possibly, maybe, low-key kinda texting.

A grave mistake on his part, clearly, because now he couldn’t have a single moment of peace without, well…

“Oooooh, three heart emojis just in the last ten minutes!” Millie cheered from behind his shoulder.

Blitz locked his phone like it had burned him and whirled around to give her a murderous glare, but she paid him no mind, turning to the corridor instead.

“Did ya hear that, Moxx?” she bellowed. “Two more before two o’clock and you’ll owe me twenty bucks!”

“Oh, come on!” Blitz grouched.

“Dude sent at least a dozen just this morning,” Loona said without looking up from her phone, which she was blatantly scrolling through instead of doing her job. Not that Blitz had any right to call her out on it, considering his current predicament. “Plus a bunch of flower emojis, too. Cringe.”

“Okay, seriously, fuck you, guys,” Blitz snapped. “You’re all making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be. Honestly, I don’t pry into your stupid personal lives.”

A chorus of complaints rained on him from every direction, which he very pointedly ignored in favor of unlocking his phone again. He closed his chat with Stolas before he could give into the temptation to look at it some more, and opened Spotify instead, pressing play on his favorite podcast and putting on his earphones.

He let the soothing voice of the riding coach drown out his employees’ jabs, and instead allowed her updates about her new rescue pony to absorb him.

And if he had some passing thoughts about how her British accent wasn’t quite as lovely as Stolas’, well, that was nobody’s fucking business, now was it?

⋆★⋆

For all that he’d spent the past week and a bit mentally undressing Stolas, Blitz was still nervous as shit about seeing the guy again.

He wasn’t usually this nervous about seeing people. Then again, he didn’t usually go on dates, which he guessed was the best word to describe what was happening today.

He didn’t usually date, was the thing. Well, okay, he did sometimes. Occasionally. Casually. Mostly when the people he fucked happened to want to keep him around for a bit. But it was just—outside of his comfort zone. And since the falling out with Verosika that he definitely wasn’t going to think about right now, he hadn’t had anything other than the occasional drunk hookup.

It was fine, though. It was okay. He wasn’t going to overthink this. Just—go with the flow.

As he walked the last few steps to the fountain Stolas had mentioned, he pulled out his phone to check the time. He was like two minutes late, but Stolas was nowhere to be seen.

heyy im here 🦐

He checked his spelling twice, a testament to how nervous he was, and he’d just hit send when—

“Blitz!”

He looked up and almost choked on absolutely fucking nothing.

Christ on a stick, this choking-at-the-mere-sight-of-Stolas thing was starting to become a problem.

He stopped himself from spluttering and managed to clear his throat just in time for Stolas to jog up to him.

“Hi,” Stolas huffed out, a breathtaking smile making his flushed cheeks look unbearably squishy. Blitz couldn’t help but smile back up at him.

“Hey,” he said, also a little breathless despite the fact he hadn’t done any running to get here.

“Sorry if I made you wait,” Stolas said after catching his breath.

“You didn’t, I—” Blitz started, but just then Stolas checked his phone, and let out this cute little giggle as he—presumably—read Blitz’s message.

“Oh,” he said, locking his phone and tucking it in his back pocket again. “That’s a relief.”

Blitz just nodded, words failing him entirely as he took in the sight of Stolas, his stomach unfolding into a thousand different universes, his heart galloping like a percheron.

Stolas looked… wow. Hot, and smart, and perfect, and just—kissable.

It was everything about him. His extremely soft-looking, loose maroon sweater, which made his eyes look even warmer than they already were and brought out that red hue that’d had Blitz in a chokehold for days. The black, slim high-waisted pants, which hugged his thin hips and waist so perfectly Blitz itched to just reach out and rest his hands on Stolas’ frame.

And the golden details that adorned him. The thin chain choker with a simple moon shape that rested perfectly on the dip of his throat. The golden embroidery of the moon phases on the waistband of his pants. The shiny seams of his otherwise black shoes.

It was all just so… so…

“Shall we—um, go for a walk?” Stolas asked, running a hand through his fluffy hair in a way Blitz could swear made it shimmer under the sunlight even though not a single ray of sunshine was currently making it through the clouds.

“O-Or we could find somewhere to sit, if you’d prefer,” Stolas added in a rush, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m… not very acquainted with what the standard is when it comes to—hanging out, so to speak.”

Blitz couldn’t help but let out a tiny snort. Stolas was too cute for this world, fuck. And it was extremely endearing that he was just as nervous as Blitz was, if not more.

“A walk is okay,” he said before Stolas could talk himself into a panic.

Stolas let out a tiny breath of relief, and nodded, murmuring a small, “A walk it is, then.”

With nowhere in particular to go, they wandered in a random direction, following an earthy path bracketed by trees. A few people were around, mostly families with kids and the occasional runner, but the place was pretty quiet, and, Blitz had to admit, pretty. Honestly, he was a summer guy, if only because rain was annoying and depressing as shit, but even he could appreciate the nice aesthetic of a park during fall, with all its warm colors and stuff.

Plus, the chilly weather was a nice excuse to wear his black and red combat boots. He’d saved for them for months, and even though they were a few years old now, they showed no signs of being about to break.

The same couldn’t be said about his baggy, thick black leather jacket. Every time he stuffed his hands in its pockets, he could feel the tiny holes in them stretching around them.

Eh, whatever. It looked fine on the outside, and he loved it enough not to care about the pocket situation.

Fiddling with the holes, Blitz kicked a mound of fallen leaves, sending them whirling with the breeze for a few moments before settling down onto the dirt path a few steps ahead. He stepped on them, enjoying the satisfying crunch as they broke under his weight.

After that was done, though, Blitz glanced up at Stolas. He really wanted to talk with him, but had no clue where to start.

Stolas was looking up at the trees, seemingly lost in thought, but Blitz could tell he was still fidgety. Not just because his fingers seemed intent on carving a path underneath his neat fingernails, but also because of the way he carried himself.

He was incredibly tall, and hot, and, frankly, impossible not to look at. And, still, he seemed to be making every effort to make himself as small as was humanly possible. His shoulders were hunched, his arms kept close to his frame. And his steps were so small, matching Blitz’s natural pace despite how long Stolas’ legs were compared to his own.

Out here in the open, Stolas could’ve taken up as much space as he wanted—and yet he seemed to be trying to occupy as little of it as possible.

As if feeling Blitz look at him, Stolas glanced down, his eyes meeting Blitz’s for the briefest of seconds before they both averted their gaze.

Blitz wracked his head trying to decide how to strike up conversation in a way that didn’t feel awkward or deranged, which were his two unfortunate fortes in life.

He could ask about his daughter’s birthday. That seemed normal enough, right? Or talk about his OCs? Or maybe comment on the weather—

“I’ve never actually been to Europe.”

Blitz blinked.

“Huh?”

“You asked last week,” Stolas said, “if going to the park is what ‘us’ Europeans do for fun. But I’ve never actually been to Europe.”

“Oh.” Blitz tried to process this information. “What’s with the accent, then?”

Stolas didn’t immediately reply, biting his lip and fixing his gaze on the grass by his side.

“From a very young age,” he said softly, “I had British tutors look after me and homeschool me. They were the people I spent the most time around during my developmental years, and so…”

“Oh, hey. Homeschool buddies,” Blitz chipped in.

Stolas didn’t finish his sentence, and instead blinked down at Blitz, some of the tension in his body melting into genuine surprise as he asked, “You were taught at home as well?”

Blitz snorted. “Well, taught is a generous way to put it.”

He really didn’t want to think about it—would much rather focus on how hot Stolas was and how fucking wild it was to be on a date with him—but the memories came to him anyway.

Memories of his father swatting the backs of his hands for every mistake he made, not caring how red and swollen they already were or how much Blitz swore to be trying to do things right. Memories of staring down at his books for hours, trying to piece together the information, trying to hold it all down only for it to slip through his fingers in an incomprehensible swarm of words.

Memories of trying his hardest to memorize, to understand, to prove himself, only to be told over and over again that—you need to be more like your sister and Fizz, and I’m not explaining this again, you should know it already, and it’s not hard—you’re just lazy.

Memories of trying to tell his mom that he just couldn’t do it, and being met with compassion and patience for a few short minutes, only for his father to burst in and tell her off for coddling him.

Blitz shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside.

“B-But yeah,” he said, giving a nonchalant shrug that wasn’t really genuine, “sure was. I mostly helped my family with circus stuff growing up, though.”

“Circus stuff?” Stolas asked. “Your family worked at a circus?”

“Owned it, actually.” Blitz kicked an empty Pepsi can across the dirt path, watching it clank against several rocks before settling by the edge of the grass. “Yeah. It was pretty cool. Me and my sister used to have this act together. We were really good at it, too,” he added with a reluctant smile.

The memories were bittersweet now, but he couldn’t deny the way his body sang just from remembering the thrill of standing at the edge of the platform, seconds away from jumping, hundreds of eyes set just on him. The feeling of sensing Barbie’s presence on the stage at every turn, and being completely in sync with her, knowing that they knew exactly what to do to keep each other safe.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it.

Fuck, did he miss it. Every single day and with every fiber of his being.

See, this was why he always scrolled his phone when he had free time. To keep the nagging thoughts about the past at bay.

“That’s remarkable,” Stolas said in a low voice, pulling Blitz back into the present. “I’ve only been to the circus once, as a teen. I remember loving it, though. I’ve always wanted to go back.”

“Yeah?” Blitz asked. “Which circus was it, do you remember?”

“I… not really. My father decided to take me unexpectedly, and they just so happened to be in town.” Stolas blushed. “I do remember my favorite act, though,” he said with a growing smile. “These identical twin sisters had an amazing routine that mixed acrobatic elements with comedy, and there were so many clever horse jokes…” Stolas caught Blitz’s eye, and went suddenly still, his excitement shifting into worry. “What?”

Blitz was sure his face must’ve been a poem.

“Dude,” he said. “Stolas.”

Realization seemed to dawn on Stolas’ face.

“Was it—?” he asked at the same time as Blitz said—

“Holy shit, that was literally me.”

Stolas stopped in his tracks and let out a breathless little laugh. Blitz halted too, a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling in his chest and threatening to burst.

Stolas had seen him. Stolas had seen his act with Barbie and it had been his favorite. Stolas remembered the jokes Blitz had written and rehearsed and told a million times. The jokes he’d been so proud of.

But… Stolas had seen him as a teenager. Before his transition. Before… everything.

Stolas knew what Blitz used to look like before his body became a map of every single circumstance that had turned him into the person he was today.

What if it made him see Blitz differently? Shit, what if Stolas remembered Blitz’s deadname? What if—

“You’re amazing,” Stolas said suddenly, face splitting with a grin and eyes shining with an admiration that knocked the air from Blitz’s lungs.

“I—Yeah?” Blitz sputtered. His smile grew, too, blood rushing in his veins.

“Oh my gosh,” Stolas squealed, practically jumping on the spot, his hands clenching in front of him in the most adorable way. “Can you still do all those things? The trapeze jumps, and the air flips, and—oh, the catching one another in the air?”

Stolas’ excitement was contagious, pulling Blitz’s mouth into a toothy grin even as he shook his head.

“Naaah,” he said. “I go to the gym to keep in shape, and I can do a handstand and stuff, but I know I’d injure myself if I tried most of the stunts I used to do.” He chuckled. “I still have the jokes, though, so I’ve got that going, at least.”

“You are truly hilarious,” Stolas said with no hint of doubt or sarcasm, and, fuck, Blitz wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him so fucking much. “Oh, I can’t believe that was you. I admire you so much!”

“Ah, it’s—it’s really not a big deal,” Blitz said in a rush as they resumed their walk. “Plus, that was forever ago, so…”

“It really has been twenty years since I saw you that one time, hasn’t it?” Stolas mused. “How come you ended up in the world of tattooing?”

“Eh, it’s long and complicated.” And it was yet another item on the long list of things Blitz really didn’t want to think about it right now. “It mostly involved having nothing to lose and no fucks left to give,” he said with a shrug.

For some reason, Stolas’ mouth quirked up with a smile at Blitz’s words. Blitz had a growing suspicion he could recite the list of ingredients in a granola bar and make Stolas smile. Not that he was complaining. He definitely wasn’t.

“I can sympathize with that,” Stolas said. “In a way, that’s what brought me to your shop as well. Maybe not the first bit, but… I’ve been rather low on fucks myself, lately.”

“Oh?” Blitz asked, completely unprepared for a swear word to fall from Stolas’ mouth, and, frankly, a little bit turned on by it. “How come?”

“Oh, I—I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details,” Stolas said quickly, running a hand through his hair in a way that made it look impossibly more cushy.

“Pft, I don’t think it’s physically possible for you to bore me.” The words fell from Blitz’s mouth before he had time to shut it, and, blinking, he looked up at Stolas in slight horror.

Luckily, Stolas didn’t seem taken aback by Blitz’s crushing honesty—just very flustered by it, his cheeks a burning red, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted as they let out a small exhale.

“Um,” Stolas mumbled, and Blitz caught the tiniest glimpse of a smile before Stolas averted his gaze. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, go for it,” Blitz said, trying to keep his tone casual and not sound like he wanted to climb Stolas like a fucking tree and wrench the filthiest sounds from those pretty fucking lips that Stolas seemed unable to stop nervously biting.

“Well,” Stolas started, seeming to think through his words for a few moments. “I’ve… I’ve recently divorced Octavia’s mother. Very recently, in fact.”

When he didn’t immediately continue, Blitz filled the silence that followed with a slow, “Oh-kay…” not quite sure what else to add.

Okay, sure, he wasn’t a complete idiot. Stolas had a kid that clearly looked like him. Blitz was bad at math, but even he could put two and two together.

But, somehow, the idea of there being a mother in the picture had not even once crossed his mind.

“The reasons vary,” Stolas hesitantly continued, “but… mostly, I’ve just known for a long time that I’m… well, um—gay.”

The word was barely audible, just a tiny little thing, and Stolas shot Blitz the quickest glance as he said it, as though worried about how Blitz might react.

A pang of sympathy drummed in Blitz’s chest, Stolas’ fear and uncertainty way too familiar for comfort.

“Sorry, it’s—I’m not used to saying it out loud just yet,” Stolas chuckled nervously.

“Hey, it’s all good. We’ve all been there at some point.” Thoughts of Fizz tried to worm their way to the forefront of his mind. Luckily, he was nothing if not an expert at keeping those at bay. “I know it sounds cliche as fuck, but… it really does get easier with time.”

Stolas’ smile was a little bit less anxious—a tiny bit more genuine—as he breathed a tiny, “Thank you.”

And maybe it was the fact that the soft breeze was ruffling Stolas’ hair so cutely, or that, from this angle, Stolas’ face was framed by a fuckton of tree tops in a bunch of pretty colors. Maybe it was neither of those things, and Blitz was just losing his grip on his last thread of sanity.

But, whatever the case, that tiny shift in Stolas’ presence, and the thought that it was his words that had caused it, was enough to send Blitz’s heart racing and make his mouth go dry.

“I’ve… I’ve known for a long time,” Stolas said in a murmur, completely oblivious to the havoc he was wreaking in Blitz’s chest. “But… well.” He bit his lip. “I guess I convinced myself if I tried hard enough, I might just be able to—push through it. For my family, and especially for Octavia’s sake. I didn’t want her growing up in a broken home, and I couldn’t bear the thought of facing her rejection. And for a long time, I managed to convince myself it was working.”

He looked up from the ground, his gaze momentarily fixing on the family that walked past them—a young man and woman leaning into one another and sharing a private smile as they pushed a twin stroller.

Stolas’ shoulders sagged with his next exhale.

“But then Via turned 17 last year,” he said, “and… I suppose that’s when I realized the lie I had so carefully crafted for the past two decades was very soon to lack a purpose.” The chuckle he let out had no trace of humor—just of weary, heavy exhaustion. “And once that dawned on me, I couldn’t stay for a moment longer.”

“Christ, Stolas,” Blitz breathed, “that sounds rough.”

“It was,” Stolas admitted in a murmur, and wiped his face with a hand, as if trying to rub off some of his stress. “And, for a while, things did get worse, just the way I’d feared.”

The sadness in Stolas’ voice tugged painfully at Blitz’s chest, and he just looked up at Stolas, the whole world reduced to him. To the way Stolas was fidgeting with his fingers, and the way his jaw worked; to the low but insistent little voice in Blitz’s mind urging him to do something—to offer some words of comfort he couldn’t even conjure up, or take Stolas’ hand in his, or to just tell him, I understand. I understand you so well.

But he didn’t do any of those things—couldn’t, because he wouldn’t have known how to do them without ruining the moment somehow—and, a moment later, Stolas’ smile returned alongside the tiniest spark of relief in his voice as he said, “But… then they got better.”

He looked at Blitz, and, fuck, having that smile directed at him—that warm, tentative little thing—made it a little bit hard to breathe all of a sudden.

“Via and I talked things out, and… and we realized we were much more alike than we thought. As it turns out, we were both ultimately just scared of losing one another.” His smile grew, and Blitz’s rebellious heart followed suit, beating a million miles a minute as Stolas continued, “And that brought us closer together than I feel we’d ever been before. Turns out being your authentic self will have that effect on your relationships. Shocking, I know,” he said with an adorable chuckle.

Blitz snorted, relating maybe a bit too much to that last bit. “Yeah, fucking rude how that works,” he grumbled.

“And now Via keeps telling me to loosen up and to live a little,” Stolas air-quoted with this adorable, exaggerated tone, as though in mock-outrage. “Hence why I decided to step out of my comfort zone and get a tattoo for her birthday. She loved it, by the way! Though she’s now adamant that I get a piercing as well, so… that might’ve backfired a little?”

Stolas giggled and shook his head in dismay, and, God, Blitz wanted to bottle Stolas’ adorable laugh and then pour it all over his face like a man starved. Dehydrated. Whatever.

“I mean… If you’re looking for dissuasion, you came to the wrong guy,” Blitz said, the mere mental image of Stolas with an eyebrow piercing, or a septum—or, hell, a navel piercing—doing things to him that were indescribable by the English language.

Blitz had had a couple of piercings as well—one on the only eyebrow he had left, one on his lower lip—and even though he’d had to get rid of them after an annoying allergic reaction, he just couldn’t get enough of them on other people.

Stolas covered his giggle with a hand as he let out a soft, “Duly noted.”

The urge to pull his hand away from that adorable smile overtook Blitz for just a second, but he caught himself in time, instead stretching his arms up as casually as possible and popping something in his back.

Stolas dropped his hand, and Blitz didn’t miss the way his lip caught between his teeth as he sneaked a peek at Blitz’s tummy where his shirt had rolled up, his gaze lingering for the briefest moment before he wrenched it away.

Blitz couldn’t hold back a smirk, which only widened when he noticed Stolas’ cheeks had turned a soft red.

Christ. How was this perfect fucking man even real?

“Do you—” Stolas said all of a sudden, stopping in his tracks. “Do you hear that?”

“Huh?”

“Water,” was all the explanation Stolas gave, scanning the area around them curiously.

Blitz frowned, but, sure enough, after just a moment he caught it too—the faint sound of flowing water somewhere past the dense bushes and trees that extended to their right. That was when he realized they’d strayed away from the main park and into a less trodden path. There were still people around, but the town was out of sight, and the trees that surrounded the path were denser, wild vegetation growing on both sides of the walkway instead of carefully tended grass.

“Wanna check it out?” he asked Stolas, whose expression brightened just the slightest bit before worry twisted his features.

“O-Only if you don’t mind!” he quickly said, ever the endearing ball of nerves.

“Pfft,” Blitz rolled his eyes fondly. “As if I’d ever say no to an adventure.”

Stolas seemed to hesitate, not knowing what to say, and Blitz just shook his head and stepped up to the side of the path. He turned back and offered Stolas a hand.

Stolas’ blush seemed keen on outdoing the red of his soft-ass sweater as his eyes fell to Blitz’s hand. With a gulp, he reached out and tentatively took it in his.

“C’mon,” Blitz said with a smile even as his heart threatened to jump right out of his chest, and tugged Stolas away from the main path and into the forest ground.

Stolas clenched his hand tightly around Blitz’s as they walked, eyeing the trees above them in a mixture of awe and distrust, which made Blitz snort. He’d hardly grown up in the wilderness, but compared to Stolas, who seemed fascinated by each tree-branch within his reach, he might just as well have been raised by wolves.

Stolas slowed down when the terrain began to bend down into a winding slope, but Blitz led him forth.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Stolas asked, checking his phone. “It’ll be dark in about an hour.”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Blitz said, keeping up the pace and following the sound of the water. “We’re not that far away from town.”

After just a few minutes, they stumbled out of the wilderness and into another dirt track, which they only had to follow for a couple more minutes before they found what they were looking for just around a bend in the track.

When he saw it, Stolas gasped, squeezing Blitz’s hand in his.

“Huh,” Blitz said, looking at the tiny waterfall before them—if it could be called that, considering it was just a small stream that ran down a wall of rock and splashed onto some scattered boulders, the water then flowing away and into the forest in a shallow creek. “Never knew this was here.”

“Oh my gosh.” Stolas’ excitement was contagious, making Blitz’s heart thrum rapidly alongside the splashing water. “Let’s get closer!”

Stolas let go of his hand and curled it up in excitement as he trotted up to the rocks, reaching out to sink his fingertips into the cascading water.

Blitz stayed where he was, too dumbstruck to follow Stolas. Not by the view—which, honestly, was fine, but nothing compared to the sights he’d seen while traveling across the country with the circus—but by how fucking precious Stolas was. All dolled up and proper, he seemed everything but the kind of guy you’d see just oohing and aahing at something as simple as a water spring, wetting his hands in it and giggling loud enough for Blitz to hear over the sound of the stream.

He’d mentally compared Stolas to a nervous kitten before, but, holy shit, he was not prepared for the version of Stolas that could only be described as an excitable puppy.

This man couldn’t be real. He simply couldn’t be. Blitz had to have been transported to some sort of alternate reality. One where angelic, seductive vampires with English accents just so happened to go around exhibiting child-like wonder on random Sunday afternoons.

When Stolas turned back to look at him, his smile was so bright and genuine that Blitz was actually fucking weak in the knees.

Without thinking, and mostly to avoid making a fool of himself by opening his mouth, he pulled out his phone and opened the camera. He crouched for a better angle, and Stolas bit his lip when he realized what was happening, but didn’t move, smiling as Blitz snapped a couple of pics of him by the stream.

He did walk up to Stolas then, and showed him the pictures. Stolas just grinned, and said, “Take a selfie with me?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Blitz said as he flipped the phone camera.

And then his excitement immediately dimmed, the image on his screen a bitter reminder of just who Stolas was spending his afternoon with.

His frown bent and pulled at his scar in the same familiar, ugly way it did every morning in the mirror.

But then Stolas’ shoulder brushed his as he leaned down to be at his level, and Stolas’ scent invaded his senses, and, fuck, Stolas’ breathtaking smile was right next to him, bright as sunlight, not a single trace of disgust at being close to him.

In fact, Stolas’ smile only widened when Blitz leaned his head closer, and, right as Blitz snapped a pic of them, Stolas raised a hand behind his head to give him bunny ears.

Blitz pulled his sexiest smirk before taking another selfie, then gave the camera the middle finger and snapped another one, Stolas poking his tongue out in exactly the same way he did in his profile picture and looking unbearably kissable.

Blitz lowered his phone, but Stolas giggled and said, “Wait, wait—let’s take one more,” and crossed his eyes, puffing out his cheeks. Unable to hold back a laugh, Blitz pushed his jaw forward and bit his upper lip before immortalizing the moment.

Stolas didn’t move away while Blitz locked his phone and pushed it back into his pocket, instead staying close as he caught his breath through giggles that seemed determined to keep bubbling from his chest.

Blitz turned to look at him, and, fuck, they were so close. Close enough that Stolas’ next giggle brushed right against his cheek. Close enough that Stolas was all he could see.

Before he could help it, Blitz’s eyes fell to Stolas’ lips, and the effort it took not to lean down and kiss him had his whole body shaking and a breath stuttering in his chest.

Stolas’ smile dimmed, his own gaze scanning Blitz’s face with a new sort of intensity, his body leaning forward ever so slightly.

For a long, breathless second, Blitz was entirely sure they were about to kiss. He was also convinced his heart might jump out through his mouth at any second, the world spinning around him as his lungs struggled to remember how to do their goddamn job.

And then Stolas cleared his throat and pulled quickly away.

“Shall we—” Stolas started, pushing his hair behind his ear with shaky fingers, “um—shall we sit down for a bit?”

As he said that, he pointed at a bench just a few feet away from them, at the side of the path they’d just walked down.

Christ on a stick. Blitz was usually observant, he honestly was. But clearly not today, seeing as he’d somehow entirely missed the goddamn thing.

“Sure,” he said, his every remaining brain cell fighting for its life to make him sound casual, and not like a dying goat.

They walked up to the bench in silence, and Blitz plopped down onto the thick wood first, Stolas folding himself gracefully by his side.

Stolas turned slightly towards Blitz. He breathed in as if to say something, but nothing came out, and a moment later Stolas started fidgeting with his sleeve, pulling it back a little bit, eyes locked on the tattooed star that peeked underneath.

Before he could think too hard about it, Blitz reached out and pressed his fingertips to Stolas’ thin wrist—turned it just enough to check his handiwork.

“Hey, it’s healing perfectly,” he told Stolas with a smile, but Stolas didn’t reply. His eyes were fixed on where Blitz was touching him, a breath seemingly caught in his lungs as his eyes scanned Blitz’s hand—his recently-painted black nails, his fingerless leather gloves; his digits gently pressed into ghost-white skin.

Something in Blitz wanted to let go—a tiny, irrational, insistent voice that said Stolas couldn’t possibly want this. Couldn’t possibly want him, no matter what his body language might say.

But then Stolas inched his arm closer to Blitz, just the tiniest of movements, and pressed his wrist into Blitz’s touch, sending hot, heavy waves of desire crashing against Blitz’s insides.

Emboldened, Blitz circled Stolas’ wrist with his hand properly and ran his thumb across the sensitive skin just under his palm, trailing it slowly down—down past the tattoo, tracing his visible vein until he reached the sleeve of Stolas’ jumper, where he lingered for just a moment before caressing his way back up.

Stolas’ next, ragged exhale was barely audible, and yet it ricocheted in Blitz’s ears loud as a fucking hurricane, sending his blood—hell, his fucking soul—rushing south so fast he thought he might collapse.

But he didn’t collapse. No—instead he looked up, desperate for a sign—any sign—that he wasn’t making this up; that Stolas wanted this just as much as he did.

And what he found was that Stolas’ eyes were already trained on him, intense as the sun and threatening to bore a hole through his entire being.

“Blitz,” Stolas breathed, then gulped, lips quivering with his next intake of air. “Would… Would it be too forward to ask you to kiss me?”

Blitz could’ve cried tears of pure fucking joy.

Luckily, his body decided not to humiliate him in that way, instead just letting out a small, exhilarated breath that pulled his mouth into a helpless grin.

“I—I’m sorry,” Stolas mumbled all of a sudden, and—for some reason—pulled back entirely from Blitz’s touch. “You’re right, that was completely inappropriate of me. P-Please ignore I said anything—”

“Whoa. Hey.” Blitz reached up to cup Stolas’ cheek and meet Stolas’ gaze again. Stolas looked back down at him, lip caught under a nervous fang. Blitz stroked Stolas’ temple, desperate to wipe away the worry settling on Stolas’ brows. “Stolas, I would absolutely like to kiss you,” he said, the understatement of the fucking century. “Hell, I’ve been going insane for days from how much I want to kiss you.”

“O-Oh.” Stolas let out a nervous laugh, a deep red blush blossoming under Blitz’s fingers and spreading quickly down his neck. A tentative smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Okay.”

Blitz chuckled, and leaned slightly closer, eyes locked on Stolas’ lips, which Stolas nervously wet with the tip of his tongue. Stolas inched closer—so close Blitz could feel his next breath against his lips—but then went rigid under Blitz’s touch, squeezing his eyes shut and muttering a low, “Um.”

Blitz lowered his hand onto his lap and sat back. He clearly needed to take a second to assess just how nervous Stolas actually was about this.

“Sorry,” Stolas said again in a murmur, frowning as he blinked his eyes open again. “I really want this, I just—” He rubbed his face with a hand. “I’m so very new to this, and I-I feel as though I’ve made things awkward already, and I’m… nervous, I suppose is the right word for it,” he finished in a tiny voice.

He was fidgeting again, and Blitz reached out to take Stolas’ hands in his. He gently untangled those long, pretty fingers, cradling them with his own.

And even though he was chronically terrible with words of reassurance, and had no idea where to even begin, a quiet, “There’s nothing wrong with being nervous,” tumbled from his lips on its own accord, the shift in Stolas’ expression urging him on. “You have nothing to apologize for, ‘kay?”

“It feels silly, though,” Stolas murmured. “I’m certainly way too old to be feeling this way.”

“So what if it is?” Blitz countered. “My personality is like 85% pure, unadulterated silliness, and you’re still here. Surely being silly can’t be all bad.”

That made Stolas smile, then chuckle after a moment, his eyes crinkling and his hair ruffling up as the breeze momentarily picked up.

Fuck... He truly had no business being this fucking gorgeous.

“I don’t think you’re silly,” Stolas murmured, leaning his hands into Blitz’s caress. “I… I think you’re marvelous, frankly.”

… Oh.

“Eh,” Blitz said quickly, giving a nonchalant shrug, “just give it some time.”

His poor attempt at a joke didn’t clear the frown lines from between Stolas’ brows, and Blitz sighed, shoulders sagging as he thumbed at Stolas’ knuckles.

“Do you still want us to kiss?” he asked softly.

Stolas nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “I would very much like that.”

“Alright.” He let go of Stolas’ hands and shifted to face him, sitting on his foot to gain an inch or so on Stolas, who was still tall as fuck even in sitting-down format. “How ‘bout this,” he said, cradling Stolas’ cheek again. “Close your eyes.”

Surprise flashed in Stolas’ face, his eyes meeting Blitz’s for the briefest of moments. A second later, though, he complied, his eyelashes fluttering closed in a way that had Blitz’s blood rushing. Fuck, it should surely be illegal to be this goddamn hot.

He ran his thumb across the heat pooling in Stolas’ cheek, and leaned closer. Close enough for Stolas to feel his next exhale against his skin. Stolas tried to turn his face toward him, but Blitz nosed at his jaw to keep him where he was.

Then, he let out a soft, light breath against the curve of Stolas’ jaw.

Stolas’ breath hitched, and he went very still, hands curled up in his lap.

“This okay?” Blitz murmured against Stolas’ warm, flushed skin.

Stolas gave a quick nod, emitting a soft, “Mhm,” that had Blitz shaking with anticipation.

Shit, he might just combust from how much he needed to devour this perfect fucking man.

Still, he moved slowly—slowly enough to feel each of Stolas’ reactions as he touched his lips to the soft, fleshy underside of his jaw in a soft kiss.

“Oh,” Stolas sighed through slightly parted lips.

Smiling to himself, Blitz lingered there, letting the moment stretch. Then, Stolas’ face still cradled in his palm, he trailed his lips slowly up his jawline, shivering at the feel of Stolas’ clean-shaven skin—of Stolas’ musky scent. He exhaled slowly, letting his warm breath graze Stolas’ skin again.

“Blitz…” Stolas whined through a hitched breath, his hand finding Blitz’s waist and digging into it with a desperation that flew straight to Blitz’s groin.

Smirking, Blitz carded his fingers through Stolas’ hair, dragging another gasp from the man.

“Holy shit,” Blitz murmured, pulling softly at the thick, fluffy strands. “How is your hair softer than it fucking looks?”

Stolas let out a sudden, gasped laugh, which quickly melted into a garbled whimper when Blitz began pressing small kisses up the sharp edge of his jaw.

When he took Stolas’ earlobe in his mouth, playing with it lightly, Stolas sucked in a breath, then rasped out a broken, “F-Fuck.”

“Want me to keep going?” Blitz murmured into his ear, playing with his hair.

“Please,” Stolas whimpered, and slipped his hand under Blitz’s leather jacket to grab at his waist.

Blitz didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed Stolas’ neck again, open-mouthed this time, taking his time to savor Stolas’ hot, reddened skin—to bask in the low, needy sounds parting from Stolas’ mouth.

He panted hotly against Stolas’ damp skin, so fucking turned on he feared he might just soak through his pants, and Stolas pulled him closer, both of his hands on Blitz now, fingers digging into his waist and urging him desperately on.

As he sucked a patch of soft skin into his mouth, Blitz leaned closer—as close as the weird angle allowed. Still, Stolas tugged at him with the same increasing neediness that was thrumming through Blitz’s entire body. Blitz went, following Stolas’ pull, and, a moment later, he was straddling Stolas’ lap, mouth still anchored to that deliciously flushed neck even as Stolas threw his head back and let his whimpers fill the chilly forest air.

Stolas’ hands stayed on him, guiding his hips subtly back and forth as Blitz mouthed and lapped at his neck, rolling the reddened skin gently between his teeth.

“Do that—” Stolas gasped, one of his hands traveling up the curve of Blitz’s spine. “Do that h-harder.”

Oh, fuck. Blitz’s cock throbbed as he enthusiastically complied, digging his teeth more firmly into Stolas’ soft flesh and dragging the most delicious of moans from him.

Man, Stolas was vocal. And this was just a neck kiss. Just how obscene would the sounds falling from him be when actually fucking?

The mere thought had Blitz’s mind reeling—had him pressing closer to Stolas, letting go of the patch of skin he was tormenting so he could press an open-mouthed kiss to the soft flesh under Stolas’ jaw.

Stolas dug his fingers into his back through his shirt as Blitz made his way back up to the point right under his ear, where he pressed and teased with his tongue until Stolas was a shuddering, breathless mess underneath him. He pulled Stolas’ earlobe into his mouth again, and this time he suckled on it, loving the way it made his name fall from Stolas’ lips again.

Fuuuuck, he was so wet for this man already. His hips kept pressing forward on their own accord, and he practically drooled as he noticed the trail of hickeys blossoming down the length of Stolas’ neck.

Blitz was more than happy to keep tormenting Stolas’ neck, maddened by the feeling of Stolas’ hot thighs against his own—of Stolas’ hands on him, of Stolas’ ragged breaths brushing past his ear and sending shivers down his core. But when he licked a long stripe up Stolas’ reddened throat, Stolas seemed to snap. Letting out a groan, he buried a hand in Blitz’s hair and pulled. A keening sound fell from Blitz’s lips as Stolas tore him away from his throat and slotted their mouths together in a wet and messy kiss.

A deafening rush filled Blitz’s ears as he gripped Stolas’ hair hard and kissed him eagerly back.

Stolas moaned, his hard body shaking under Blitz’s touch, hands desperately clinging to Blitz for purchase. The subtle press of Stolas’ nails to his scalp drew a groan from him, and he melted into the heat of Stolas’ mouth, the brush of Stolas’ hot breaths against his lips.

Pulling at the strands of hair at Stolas’ nape, Blitz deepened the kiss, tasting the inside of Stolas’ mouth. And Stolas allowed it, so deliciously receptive to Blitz’s every move, so easily falling into the rhythm of the kiss. Blitz couldn’t help the soft whimper that broke from him when he pressed his tongue into Stolas’ mouth and was met with Stolas’ own tongue pressing eagerly into his own.

His hips snapped forward again, and, fuck, Stolas was hard. Blitz could feel it pressing up against him with every snap of their hips.

He’d done that. He’d made Stolas hard. Blitz felt himself soaking through his fucking underwear just from that notion, his cock throbbing aggressively with every brush of his clothes against it.

Christ, this man was going to be the death of him.

Without drawing back from the kiss, Blitz slid one of his hands between their bodies and felt blindly for Stolas’ soft jumper. Slipping his hand underneath it, he felt up the hard expanse of Stolas’ stomach and chest over his snug shirt, drawing another soft whimper from Stolas, who pushed into his touch and bit softly into his lower lip.

Blitz ground his hips down again, gasping hotly around Stolas’s searing tongue as it pressed into his mouth. He sucked around it, reveling in the moan that reverberated in Stolas’ throat, and was about to lower his hand closer to Stolas’ raging hardness when a bark cut through the evening air, coming from just a few feet away from them.

They pulled back from the kiss, but stayed close, their hot, panted breaths mingling in the small space between them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blitz could only catch a glimpse of a woman walking down the track alongside two unleashed dogs, looking pointedly away as she approached them.

Stolas’ shaky hands lowered, holding Blitz firmly around the hips to keep him locked where he was. Not that Blitz had any intention of moving away, starkly aware as he was that his body was the only thing hiding Stolas’ bulge from view.

The seconds stretched as they waited for her to walk past. Their mouths were almost brushing, mere millimeters away, and Blitz couldn’t help himself; he nipped at Stolas’ lower lip playfully, earning himself a breathless chuckle, Stolas’ fingers curling around his hips.

Just when he thought the woman had left them behind, though, Blitz heard trotting steps approaching them. A moment later, he felt a snout sniffing his shoe and Stolas’ knee.

He met Stolas’ gaze, watching as a held-back laugh twisted his pretty features. Blitz had to press his lips shut to stop himself from chuckling as well.

“C’mon, Cookie,” the woman said in a low voice, but it was still another couple of seconds before the dog seemed satisfied with its sniffing and trotted merrily away.

Unable to help himself, Blitz let out an inelegant snort, Stolas huffing out a mortified laugh as he buried his face in the crook of Blitz’s neck.

Amused, Blitz held him there, not wasting the chance to lean in and sniff Stolas’ soft hair discreetly. Fuck, Stolas smelled so good.

Even though the woman was still within their sight, Blitz couldn’t hold back the impulse to tease Stolas a bit by twitching his hips minutely forward. Just the tiniest bit. Just enough to grind against Stolas’ bulge.

Just as he’d hoped, Stolas breathed in sharply, his nails digging into Blitz’s sides.

Encouraged, Blitz pushed forward again, the movement barely there at all, and Stolas pressed another muffled sound into the curve of his throat.

As soon as the woman was out of sight, Blitz ran his fingers through Stolas’ thick, soft strands, pulling him gently back so he could look in Stolas’ face.

“Wanna stop?” he asked in a low voice, eyebrows raised at Stolas, who clung to him like he might die if Blitz moved even an inch away.

“That sounds—reasonable,” Stolas stammered in a murmur. But then his gaze fell to Blitz’s mouth, darkening with desire, and Blitz could feel Stolas’ grip on him tightening again.

Blitz smirked. “It does, doesn’t it?” he teased as he shifted his hips forward again, grinding just slightly against Stolas’ bulge.

“Oh, fuck,” Stolas breathed, eyes falling closed as he guided Blitz slowly back and forth, pushing his own body up to meet each of Blitz’s thrusts halfway.

“So?” Blitz cupped Stolas’ jaw and brushed his lips against Stolas’ again. In a breath, he asked, “Wanna stop or not, handsome?”

Stolas brought a hand to Blitz’s neck and pressed their mouths together, sucking Blitz’s lower lip into his mouth.

Blitz was all too happy to follow Stolas’ lead, grabbing his hair at his nape and diving into another mind-blowing make-out session.

They kissed for long minutes, their bodies pressed hotly together and moving in tune to their ragged breaths. Stolas’ hands traced every last inch of him: his back, the curve of his ass, the expanse of his thighs, his fingers trailing so tantalizingly close to Blitz’s core he had to break out of the kiss to breathe past the hot and heavy arousal suddenly overwhelming him. When their mouths met again, Stolas dragged his hands up and paused at the curve of his waist, where he dug his fingers in until Blitz was sure he'd find marks on his healthy bits of skin when he undressed that night.

In turn, Blitz pulled lightly at Stolas’ hair and ran his hands down Stolas’ chest as he ground their bodies together, intent on hearing every single sound that could fall from Stolas’ irresistible mouth. It seemed like an impossible feat, though—every time he thought he’d heard it all, Stolas would let out a new sort of whimper, or a high, garbled moan that would travel right to Blitz’s core and drive him insane with want.

Blitz had no idea how long they spent making out. All he knew was that by the time they pulled back to catch their breaths, the darkness of dusk had crept up on them, and he could only half-discern the glistening of Stolas’ lips mere inches away from his own.

There was still enough light for him to appreciate how fucking hot Stolas looked, though, his hair all mussed up from Blitz’s fingers and his eyelids heavy as he regarded Blitz like he was a piece of candy he just couldn’t get enough of.

The sentiment was aggressively mutual. Blitz had no idea how the fuck he was meant to dislodge himself from this man’s lap—how he was meant to make it back to the van and drive himself home, much less pretend to be a functioning person at work in the morning.

Still. It was getting dark, and Blitz was pretty sure the faint shivering of Stolas’ body had more to do with the cold now than with Blitz's touch.

“Not that I wanna stop making out,” Blitz said, voice coming out more breathless than he’d expected it to, “but we should maybe consider heading back.”

Stolas nodded, eyelids fluttering closed. “Yes, I—” He heaved out a sigh. “I need just a m-moment.”

Blitz snorted. “‘Course, handsome,” he said with a chuckle.

Honestly, he could do with a moment as well, if only to assess just how soaked his boxers were, and how uncomfortable it’d be to walk back to his van with every brush of cloth against his cock setting it dangerously ablaze.

Yeah, that did not sound like a good time.

Fucking worth it, though.

Stolas let out a sigh, his fingers twitching around Blitz’s strong biceps, where he was holding onto him like a vice.

“Okay,” he murmured, a resolute frown settling between his brows. But then he opened his eyes and his resolve wavered as his gaze fell to Blitz’s mouth. Stolas had to visibly shake off his distraction before repeating, “Okay,” giving Blitz’s arms one last squeeze, and letting go.

Taking that as his cue, Blitz climbed down from Stolas’ lap and stood, just slightly unsteady on his feet.

Stolas stayed perfectly still for a moment. When he moved as if to stand, a visible shiver ran up his body, rooting him on the spot.

“You cold?”

“Uh,” Stolas murmured, bringing his hands to his thighs to rub some heat into them, “a bit, but it’s really nothing to worry ab—” He sneezed into the crook of his elbow. Twice.

Blitz couldn’t help but chuckle as he shook his head. “Here,” he said, shrugging off his heavy leather jacket.

“O-Oh.” Even in the darkness, Blitz knew Stolas was blushing a beet red. “That’s really okay—I wouldn’t want you to get cold, or—”

“Pfft. Save it, bitch,” Blitz said lightly, already draping his jacket around Stolas’ shoulders and helping him put it on.

Despite his hesitance, Stolas allowed himself to be maneuvered into the jacket, pushing his arms through the sleeves and adjusting it around his shoulders.

“Better?” Blitz asked as Stolas stood, keeping his arms pressed close to himself still, but looking significantly comfier than before.

Stolas nodded, and Blitz could hear a small smile in his voice when he murmured a low, “Much. Thank you, Blitz.” He zipped the jacket, burrowing his chin in its neck. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay in just your shirt, though?”

“Yeah, totes,” Blitz said even as the breeze picked up and raised goosebumps on his arms. He offered Stolas a hand again, much like before. “Shall we?”

With a small smile, Stolas took it, his fingers cold as they squeezed Blitz’s firmly.

The walk back was… an experience, for sure. Between Stolas’ Google Maps assuring them there was a way back through the track that led to the water spring and then leading them through the fucking forest anyway, and Blitz’s weak-ass phone light not catching the branches buried under copious amounts of leaves, it was a miracle they managed to make it back to the main area of the park unscratched, and with only significantly muddier shoes to show for it.

Still, Stolas never let go of Blitz’s hand even as they tripped over fallen logs and pushed past low branches, and that, in Blitz’s book, counted as a resounding victory.

“Ah, civilization,” Blitz said grandiosely when they finally stepped out of the forest and back into the park, “with its magnificent street lights, refined pavements, and shitty fucking taxes. How I’ve missed you.”

Stolas’ giggles behind him had Blitz’s expression splitting into a grin. He turned to Stolas, just to watch him laugh, and, fuck, the view he was greeted with now that he could properly see Stolas under the streetlights had him momentarily forgetting how to breathe.

“Holy shit,” the words tumbled from his lips almost without permission.

“What?” Stolas asked, the beginnings of anxiety blurring the lines of his smile.

Stepping closer, Blitz let go of Stolas’ hand so he could hug Stolas around the waist and bring him closer. Just the press of Stolas’ body against his own was enough to bring his cock back to life, aching for stimulation.

“Nothing,” Blitz said lowly, smiling up at Stolas, who draped his arms around Blitz’s shoulders. “I just knew you’d look hot as fuck in leather.”

And, this time, the lighting was more than enough for Blitz to fully appreciate Stolas’ blush.

“Oh, dear,” Stolas managed in a low voice, a flustered smile spreading slowly across his lips. “I’m—glad you think so.”

“Hell yeah I do, bitch,” Blitz said, half-wondering if Stolas would bend down for another kiss if he just tugged at his collar a bit.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to move a muscle for Stolas to lean down until their foreheads were almost touching. “I’m sure it doesn’t look half as good on me as it does on you, though, Blitz,” Stolas said in a murmur, trailing his hands down to Blitz’s lower back and looping his fingers around Blitz’s thick, studded belt.

“Fuck, come here,” Blitz breathed right before Stolas caught his lips in a kiss.

Standing on tiptoes, Blitz ran his hands through Stolas’ hair again, deepening the kiss. Stolas held him tightly, cradling the expanse of his back, and the sudden warmth of those palms against his cold skin had Blitz sighing contentedly into the kiss—much tamer than the ones they’d shared earlier, but still deep, and hot, and perfect, at least as far as Blitz was concerned.

It took them more kiss breaks than Blitz could be bothered to count to make it out of the park. Even then, they walked close enough for their bodies to brush as they talked about everything and nothing—Blitz giving Stolas a rundown of the weirdest tattoos he’d had to do, and Stolas recounting Via’s birthday and how they’d spent the whole afternoon eating cake and binge-watching nostalgic Disney movies in Stolas’ apartment.

“Do you live nearby?” Blitz asked, unable to contain his curiosity. After all, they’d made it all the way back to the strip mall where his shop was. He knew where he was headed, and that was his van, which he’d parked in his usual spot—but he had no idea how Stolas planned to get home.

“Oh, um. About a twenty-minute drive south?” Stolas said, eyes following the motion of Blitz’s hand as he pulled out his keys. “I was just going to take the bus.”

They’d come to a halt by the parking lot, and Blitz raised his eyebrows up at Stolas. There was a bus stop not too far away, sure, but fuck knew how often bus lines drove past this area. Probably not nearly often enough.

“C’mon,” he said, nodding toward his van, “I can give you a ride.”

Stolas’ eyes widened a bit. “Are you sure? I—I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“I don’t know what part of my tongue in your throat gave you the impression spending time with you can bother me,” Blitz said lightly, starting towards the van again with a hesitant Stolas in tow, “but I can always annoy you with my shitty music taste the whole ride there, if that’ll make you feel better.”

At that, Stolas smiled, pausing by the passenger door as Blitz unlocked the van.

“I’d actually love that,” he said softly. “Via keeps telling me I need to start listening to music that belongs in this century. Maybe you can help me impress her,” he said with a chuckle.

“I shall try my best.” Blitz climbed into the van and quickly threw a bunch of shit into the backseat to make room for Stolas, who sat carefully by his side. “Here,” he said, throwing his CD case in Stolas’ lap, “pick one and slap it on. Let’s see what we get.”

⋆★⋆

As it turned out, Stolas didn’t live too far from him. Just about a fifteen minute drive away.

What truly surprised Blitz, though, was that Stolas’ neighborhood was only marginally less shitty than his own.

Sure, yeah, the guy had just moved out of his family house after divorcing his wife. But, given the way he dressed and carried himself, Blitz had sort of assumed he’d just rented—if not bought—some supremely fancy penthouse, or some shit. His apartment complex looked old and dull on the outside. Well-kept, yeah, and probably spacious enough, but—plain.

It was just such a shockingly normal place. Nothing to do with the old, gothic castle in the mountains Blitz would’ve envisioned based on Stolas’ whole vibe.

Just as he pulled up by the sidewalk, Avenged Sevenfold’s A Little Piece of Heaven—which, surprisingly, Stolas had really enjoyed—came to an end and gave way to My First Kill by Fuc Q Dad.

“Oh!” Stolas perked up as he unbuckled his belt, “I actually know this one!”

“Yeah?” Blitz asked, giving Stolas one last thorough ogle before he left. “Your kid like it?”

“She loves this group! Well.” He frowned. “I think it’s this group. I might be mistaken. Her tastes are surprisingly hard to keep track of.”

“Pfft. I get ya.” Blitz rolled his eyes. “I have no clue what the fuck Loona does on her phone all day, and at this point I don’t bother asking anymore.”

Stolas chuckled, giving a small shake of his head. He didn’t reply, seemingly lost in thought, and a few moments passed between them before he finally managed a small, “Well…”

He was looking down at his lap—watching his fidgety fingers as he pulled at the sleeve of Blitz’s jacket. Blitz watched a pretty smile curl the corners of his lips.

“Thank you for today, Blitz,” he murmured. “I… I really enjoyed spending time with you.”

“Yeah?” Blitz found himself asking, something akin to a tickling sensation traveling down his chest and fluttering awfully close to his stomach.

“Yeah.” Stolas looked up at him, his smile not wavering as he looked into Blitz’s eyes. Blindly, he felt the door at his side in search of the handle, then seemed to notice himself. “Oh—! Here, your jacket—”

“Keep it,” Blitz said quickly before Stolas could take it off, and offered Stolas a wink. “You can bring it to me another day.”

Stolas’ cheeks tinged a soft pink that Blitz only properly caught after Stolas pushed the door slightly open, causing the lights to turn on.

“I—of course, yeah,” Stolas stammered, fidgeting just slightly with the zipper as his smile broke containment and crinkled his eyes. “I can do that,” he added, more to himself than to Blitz, and Blitz couldn’t help but find it endearing as shit that he was clearly trying to think of a way to linger—to make this moment last even just a moment longer.

Blitz would’ve snickered at Stolas’ hesitation, but he was honestly no better. The only reason he was in a rush to leave was so he could get home and put on something warm before the early November air claimed him as its victim.

“Night, Stols,” he said, not even registering the nickname until it was already out of his mouth and causing Stolas’ eyebrows to arch and his flush to spread. “Text me later, yeah?”

That seemed to spur Stolas into action. “Definitely,” he murmured with a smile as he got out of the van. Before closing the door, though, he leaned in through the gap to offer Blitz a soft, “Night.”

“See ya, handsome,” Blitz said as Stolas shut the door.

As he drove back home, Stolas’ scent lingered in the air, much in the same way as his touch—his taste—permeated all of Blitz, making it hard to concentrate on anything that wasn’t the need to shove his hand down his pants and fix the mess Stolas had caused between his legs.

Fuck, the wait to see Stolas again was going to be torture, wasn’t it?

Chapter Text

In his dreams, the O was never silent.

It was so dumb. One would think it’d be his deadname that haunted him, and yet. It was always the fucking O. The one he’d chosen when he was a kid, eager to have his own clown name so he could be a part of the circus, just like the grown-ups. Not yet understanding the implications behind giving himself a name, or the rush of excitement in his chest when he could just be Blitzo. When he could step away from the girlhood that seemed to want to wrap its arms around him at every turn. When existing in his own skin was so easy, his body still young enough that a short haircut and a silly, made-up name were enough for strangers to see him as who he truly was.

Just a boy. Just an innocent, excitable, starry-eyed clown boy.

It’d been so long since he’d gotten rid of that childish O. And yet, whenever he returned to this place, it always came back to taunt him.

It was like the name itself had been woven into the seams of the circus tents, and so, as they went up in flames, it permeated the air, rising up in clouds of heavy smoke and clawing at his burning skin.

Blitzo wanted to run, run away from it all, but he couldn’t.

Not when the one calling his name was his mother, her harrowing cries coming from somewhere beyond the roaring flames.

She was dying.

She was going to die.

He had to save her.

“MOM!”

Where was she? He couldn’t see anything. He wiped his tears away with blistered hands, but he just couldn’t see past them. Couldn’t see past the smoke, the flames. Couldn’t see a way to get to her.

“Mom, where are you?!”

Her voice echoed all around him, breaking with pain as she called his name over and over again.

He tried to follow it, get to her, save her. But his name came from every direction, the voices whirling dizzyingly around him.

It wasn’t just his mom calling his name anymore.

Fizz. Barbie. His father. Their voices filled with desperation—accusation—mockery. “Why did you do this to me, Blitzo? Blitzo. Blitzo. Why did you take her away? This is all your fault, Blitzo. Are you happy now? Are you happy? Are you?”

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Blinded by tears, he crouched and covered his ears, gritting his teeth.

It wasn’t his fault. It was an accident. Just an accident.

“You’re a disgrace, Blitzo. Look what you’ve done. Why do you get to live, but she doesn’t? Are you happy, Blitzo? Are you?”

He yelled, loud enough for his ears to ring, but he couldn’t drown them out. He never could. It was like their voices came from within him, haunting the deepest corners of his own mind.

His mother’s screams were always the loudest as she cried out his name and begged him to save her.

But he couldn’t save her.

She was still alive, but he couldn’t save her.

He was going to lose her all over again. There was nothing he could do.

She was already dead.

Blitzo screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

He didn’t register his alarm going off until he’d already reached out on instinct to grab his phone from his bedside table.

Swiping blindly at the screen, he let out a groan and blinked slowly at his bedroom ceiling.

Right. Nightmare.

Fuck his miserable life.

It took everything in him to tumble out of his wrinkled, sweat-damp sheets and make his way to the bathroom, where he jumped into a cold shower in a half-hearted attempt to wash away the terror and heavy guilt clinging to the corners of his mind.

The cold was a welcome contrast against his overheated body, but soon enough goosebumps rose on his skin as he soaped and rinsed his body with quick, careless motions. Still, he kept the water on the coldest setting, gasping as he dipped his head quickly under the jet. Any amount of heat against his body was more than he could bear.

By the time he stepped out of the shower, he’d almost managed to rub off the smell of burning flesh and the scratch of dense smoke against his throat.

Almost.

He very pointedly did not look at his body’s reflection as he shaved the unscarred skin of his face, and, on his way to the kitchen, he determined that pancakes with copious amounts of whipped cream would be a satisfactory enough remedy to his misery. He also treated himself to the most sugary cereal from the cupboard, because fuck it. There were way more unhealthy coping mechanisms out there than burying one’s sorrows in sugar.

And because a man didn’t have to stick to a single coping mechanism, he pulled out his phone while he ate and swiped through his selfies with Stolas, too. Just to keep his mind busy.

Fuck, the man was pretty. Like—holy shit. It never failed to shock him just how gorgeous Stolas was. And his gleeful smile as he crouched next to Blitz, to be at Blitz’s level for the picture, was just more than Blitz’s heart could bear. Not to mention the memory of what had happened mere minutes later, as Stolas breathlessly asked to be kissed…

Fuck, Blitz was pent-up just thinking about it.

He was staring so hard at the long expanse of Stolas’ soon-to-be-marked neck that he almost jumped out of his seat when a message popped up on his screen.

Morning, Blitz ☺️

Heart about to breach containment, Blitz stuffed his face with way too much of a pancake before dropping the fork and typing back a quick reply.

Heyyt 🎷🐎

Hope you slept well 🥰

“Uhh…” Blitz mumbled through the mouthful of pancake. Luckily, before he could start wracking his mind trying to come up with a normal reply to that, Stolas texted again.

I was thinking I could drop by today and bring you your jacket, if that’s amenable to you? I wouldn’t want to hoard it for too long!

Oh, fuck yes to that. That was exactly the kind of improvement his day needed.

Yah shure, whnver u want

my lunch brake is at 12 but i shuold b free a bit befroe that

Perfect! I’ll be there! ❤️

Blitz was still re-reading Stolas’ messages and doing a complicated mental break-dance routine when Loona walked into the kitchen, wet hair wrapped in a towel, her own phone in hand. She glanced up from the screen and immediately raised an eyebrow.

“What kind of mental crisis are you going through today?”

Only then did Blitz take note of the smile splitting his face. That, plus the insurmountable amount of pancakes he’d made for just the two of them, must’ve painted a pretty clear picture of the chaotic mess that was his head this morning—not that Loona wasn’t used to his mental crises already.

Blitz opened his mouth to reply, but a bit of pancake flew out, and she grimaced and let out a small growl.

“You know what, spare me the details,” she grumbled in her usual, pre-coffee tone.

He was about to annoy her with a dose of unconditional fatherly love, even at the risk of getting punched—but just then Stolas texted again, a random horse meme not unlike the ones Blitz had been sending him for days, and Blitz quickly dove back into their conversation under Loona’s bemused scrutiny.

⋆★⋆

“Well, someone’s in a good mood this morning,” Millie said as she and Moxxie jumped in the van’s backseat, giving Blitz a significant look.

Blitz didn’t bother with a reply. He also didn’t stop tapping his fingers on the wheel to the beat of the music, in fact just drumming them harder and nodding his head up and down for good measure.

“He’s in some sort of mood, that’s for sure,” Loona mumbled from the passenger seat.

“Isn’t he always?” Moxxie pointed out as he closed the door behind himself.

Loona huffed out a laugh, but didn’t dignify Moxxie’s comment with a reply. Neither did Blitz, too busy raising his voice above Taylor Swift’s as he drove them all off to work.

Luckily, the morning flew by, and with clients booked all the way until midday, Blitz’s nightmare was soon all but forgotten. Plus, any and every chance his brain had to form a coherent thought that wasn’t work-related was spent picturing Stolas’ mouth on him again.

Would Stolas kiss him again? Or ask to be kissed? He was just dropping by, but… maybe he’d want to stay for lunch. Maybe even stick around for the entirety of Blitz’s break. Perhaps they could find somewhere secluded to hang out for a bit, get another chance to let their hands roam for a little while…

Fuck, those were not the kinds of thoughts he should be having at work. But, goddammit, he deserved them after the night he’d had. As a treat, or whatever it was Loona said from time to time.

He was just charging his last client of the morning and giving her the usual spiel about tattoo care when the door pushed gently open.

This time, Blitz didn’t choke at the sight of Stolas. And thank fuck for that, because he wasn’t just in front of a client, but also of Millie and Loona, who were both getting ready for their own lunch break. Fuck knew they would’ve never let him live it down.

He did allow a small smirk to tug at his lips when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a wide, soft-looking scarf draped around Stolas’ neck.

Sure, the morning had been sorta chilly, but it was still November, and climate change and shit had made the last few autumns warm enough that Stolas had to be feeling at the very least stuffy underneath all those layers.

Still, Stolas kept the scarf on as he stood a few feet away from the counter, waiting for Blitz to be finished.

“If you have any questions or concerns, you can always call us, or you can drop by if you want us to take a look at it,” Blitz told the girl, who just mumbled a soft thanks as she pushed her wallet into a tiny purse.

“Well, I—uh,” she stumbled with her words when she noticed Stolas behind her. “I won’t keep you any longer. Uh, have a nice day!”

“You too,” Blitz said, and Millie waved at her as well as she made it to the door.

A second later, everyone’s eyes were set on Stolas. He very quickly became aware of this fact, if the soft pinking of his cheeks was any indication.

When Blitz smirked up at him, though, he walked all the way up to the counter, sporting a shy smile that made it hard for Blitz’s smirk to stay a smirk and not turn into a goofy grin.

“Hi,” Stolas said, voice low and hesitant as he glanced at Millie, who, hip rested against the wall and arms crossed over her chest, wasn’t even trying to hide the fact she’d stayed back just to witness this exchange, the asshole. At least Loona had quickly retreated into the lunchroom. Though she’d said nothing, Blitz could almost hear her grumbling about his cringiness.

“Cold outside?” Blitz asked, giving Stolas’ scarf a significant look.

The color tinging Stolas’ cheeks darkened, and he fiddled with the sleeve of Blitz’s jacket, which was draped carefully over his arm.

“Just a bit,” he murmured, pointedly looking down and avoiding the gaze of their audience.

Blitz could almost taste the flush that traveled down his jaw and got lost under the edge of the scarf. He wondered what the trail of hickeys hiding underneath it looked like today. It’d already been a few days. Perhaps they were in need of some… restoration…

He stretched out a hand, and Stolas seemed to remember the reason he was here in the first place and handed him the jacket.

“Thank you again for lending it to me,” he said softly, a smile playing with his lips.

“No prob.” Blitz draped it over his own arm, and though he didn’t look up at Millie, he was starkly aware of the playful smile she was sending his way from the other side of the room. Fuck, why was Moxxie taking so long in the back? Didn’t they have their own couple-y shit to do during their break?

When he turned back to Stolas, Blitz found him lingering, not quite knowing what to do with himself.

He was too fucking adorable for his own good, and Blitz had to stop himself from reaching out to coax Stolas’ fingers away from the scarf’s threads.

“Wanna head outside?” he asked instead. “I was gonna go get tacos a few shops down, if you wanna join.”

He usually brought lunch to work, much like everyone else, but he’d spent too much of his morning making pancakes and being gay, so he’d ended up throwing together a couple sandwiches for Loona and calling it a day. The potential of getting Stolas to join him for lunch had definitely played a part in his decision-making, of course.

“Tacos sound nice,” Stolas said with a shy smile.

Blitz resisted the urge to bite his lip and instead focused on looking as dignified as possible as he walked around the counter and threw on his jacket. He would not make a fool of himself in front of Mills.

“See ya later, B,” Millie said, and Blitz could hear the shit-eating grin under her nonchalant tone.

“Yeah, yeah, see ya,” Blitz mumbled, barely managing not to flip her the finger. Fondly, of course.

“Oh, um,” Stolas said suddenly, as though he’d just noticed her. His gaze flew quickly from the floor to her, then back down. “I—I should probably introduce myself. I’m Stolas. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Millie,” she said with a smirk. “And, trust me,” she added with a little laugh, “I know who you are.”

“Okay, bye now, Mills,” Blitz said really loudly, and pushed a heavily blushy Stolas out the door before the urge to turn around and murder his best friend got the best of him.

Stepping outside confirmed Blitz’s suspicions that it was not, in fact, scarf weather. Which was kinda inconvenient, because he was pretty sure those blushy vibes Millie was so sure he had were back, and he would’ve appreciated some cold breeze on his face to wipe them away before Stolas noticed them too.

“Well,” Stolas said with dismay. “She seems nice.”

“She’s lucky I love her and can generally control my murderous urges, is what she is,” Blitz grumbled. He was definitely biting his lip now. Ugh. “C’mon, I’m starving,” he said, and, willing himself not to overthink his actions, he took Stolas’ hand in his before starting down the street.

⋆★⋆

Blitz had to give it to Stolas. The man had fooled him at first. The way he’d ordered his tacos had sounded so confident, so normal, that Blitz hadn’t even questioned his choice, assuming Stolas was already familiar with what he’d asked for, and too focused on what his stomach was in the mood for anyway.

As soon as their food arrived, though, it became immediately obvious Stolas had never seen a taco in his life.

For a whole five seconds, while he debated with himself before leaving on his fingerless leather gloves, Blitz was blissfully unaware of the horrors unfolding before him. When he raised his gaze from his own lap, though, he was rendered completely speechless by the sight of Stolas holding a fork and knife and attempting to cut a bite out of the unfolded taco.

When Stolas tried to bring the fork to his mouth, the contents fell and splattered on his plate, quickly followed by the corner he’d cut out of the tortilla. Going a dark shade of red, Stolas stared daggers at the dish and tried again, this time managing to guide the tortilla into his mouth even as the fillings broke free again.

“Impressive,” Blitz finally found it in himself to say, his resolve not to laugh cracking as he pointedly picked up one of his own burritos with both hands, folding it with ease. “That has to be the worst I’ve ever seen anyone do it.”

Stolas watched him eat with a mixture of horror, dismay, and a clear willingness to hurl himself off a medium-height bridge that had Blitz giggling into a big bite of taco.

His horror growing, Stolas looked around them, but no one was paying them any mind.

“S-Sorry,” he stammered, placing the fork and knife neatly by his side.

Mouth full, Blitz just gave him a huff and shrugged it off, watching as Stolas reached out hesitantly and attempted to fold the slaughtered tortilla into something resembling a taco. He barely seemed to dare to touch it, though, holding it with just his fingertips. And, instead of bending forward so he could eat over his plate, he remained perfectly poised on his seat and hovered the flimsy thing precariously above his lap, eyeing it like it was alien.

“Um,” Stolas mumbled before taking the most awkward bite Blitz had ever had the privilege to witness.

Then he paused, going very still as he chewed and eventually swallowed the bite.

And, even though Blitz was pretty sure Stolas was speedrunning the however-many-stages of grief before his very eyes, he couldn’t help but very innocently ask, “D’you like it?”

Stolas offered him a smile and nodded noncommittally, but his eyes were watering. Still, he took a second bite, making himself keep it in his mouth for a few seconds before forcing it down.

It hadn’t escaped Blitz’s notice that the tacos Stolas had ordered included red and green sauce, on top of the usual jalapeños and peppers. He hadn’t thought anything of it, just noting down that knowledge at the back of his mind in case it became useful later.

Now, though, he couldn’t help but feel for the poor guy as he watched him grow progressively redder with each bite he took, trying to wash down the spice with water like an adorable noob.

“You good?” Blitz asked, shoving the last of his first taco into his mouth.

“Mmhhh.” Stolas swallowed, eyes increasingly wet. But then he coughed, and though his facial expression seemed to signal that he had it under control for all of two seconds, he suddenly coughed again—and again, and again—eyes widening as the next jerk his body gave sent what little remained of the butchered taco flying straight to his flowy blouse and the front of his pushed-back scarf.

“Oh my g—” Stolas managed through another cough, dropping the tortilla on the plate and reaching out for the napkins. “I’m so sorry.”

Blitz was pretty sure Stolas had taken away his ability to stop giggling. “Are you apologizing to yourself?”

“T-To you,” Stolas said as he wiped away the bits of beef and japlapeño from his front, dabbing helplessly at the sauce coating his blouse. “I’m sorry, Blitz, I-I’m awfully—this is so embarrassing—”

“A bit, yeah,” Blitz laughed in agreement. “Still kinda the highlight of my day, though. Don’t you worry about it.”

He waved over a waiter and asked to have the rest of Stolas’ tacos to go. Still red as a beet, Stolas excused himself to the bathroom, trying and failing to hide the mess on his blouse and scarf from view.

“Thanks,” Blitz said to the waiter when he brought back the bag a minute later. “And sorry about that.”

“Eh, not even the worst I’ve seen this week.” He shook his head, managing an unamused snort that spoke of more horrors than he was paid to endure. “Fucking gringos, man. They never learn.”

Blitz huffed in sympathy before tucking into the rest of his food with enthusiasm.

Predictably, Stolas walked out of the bathroom several minutes later still covered in sauce, the main difference being that his blouse was now also wet and wrinkled all around the stain.

The poor guy looked miserable, and Blitz stood to meet him halfway across the diner, passing Stolas his cardigan before guiding him out the door.

“Wait, I—I haven’t paid,” Stolas said, looking over his shoulder and back at the counter.

“It’s taken care of.” Blitz basked in the soft bewilderment on Stolas’ face, and, after pushing the door open, he raised the bag with the leftovers. “Lemme just take these back to the shop so the others can have at ‘em and we’ll snatch a clean shirt from the back for you, ‘kay?”

“Blitz,” Stolas started, “y-you really don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” he said simply. “C’mon, I’ve still got time to at least drive you home.”

⋆★⋆

Luckily, everyone knew better than to say a damn word as Blitz guided Stolas to his booth at the back of the shop.

Still, Stolas seemed not to breathe until after Blitz had closed the door behind them, and even then his shoulders stayed tense, arms held close to his torso.

“I always have at least one clean change of clothes lying around,” Blitz said as he rummaged through one of his drawers, hoping his yapping might ease some more of the tension radiating off of Stolas in thick waves. “It’s not very common, but people do occasionally throw up from the pain.”

“Oh,” Stolas said, voice low, “I—I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. I learned the lesson the hard way,” Blitz said with a snort. “Ah. The shirt definitely goes well with the topic at hand.”

He pulled out the long-sleeved black tee and handed it to Stolas, whose lips curled into a pretty smile that truly had no right to unravel that many butterflies in Blitz’s stomach.

‘Born to ride horses, forced to work’, the shirt read, a printed picture of a realistic horse poking its tongue out in the middle.

“We should be a similar enough size for it to get you back home, at least,” Blitz added when Stolas didn’t move to put it on.

And then he realized this was the part where Stolas unbuttoned and took off his blouse.

“Oh. Um, I—” Blitz turned around, hands in the air as he looked for— “Here, you can—” He grabbed an empty plastic bag from the countertop and placed it by Stolas on the chair. “You can put your blouse here. I’ll be, uh. I’ll wait outside.”

“Blitz, you don’t—” Stolas started, but Blitz was already rushing out and closing the door behind him, the glimpse of Stolas’ long fingers traveling to the top-most button of his blouse burning itself into his brain.

What the FUCK was that? Was all he had time to yell at himself before he was faced directly with a baffled Millie and Moxxie, who seemed to be passing by.

“What…?” Moxxie started, but went quiet when Blitz gave him a glare.

“Not. A. Word,” Blitz said as Moxxie frowned and Millie shook her head with a snort.

Luckily, they were already gone by the time Stolas walked out of the booth, looking more adorable than any person should have absolutely any right to.

Blitz couldn’t help but arch his eyebrows in appreciation as he raked his eyes up and up Stolas’ body until he made it to that cute, adorably blushed face of his.

“Perfect,” was Blitz’s genuine verdict. The faint black, worn-out cloth of his tee stood in hilarious contrast with the fancy dark grey of Stolas’ snug pants and the snazzy cardigan draped neatly over his arm—not to mention the scarf still wrapped around his neck.

The tee’s long sleeves were amusingly short on Stolas’ arms, but that just gave Blitz a very delicious sight of Stolas’ thin wrists and the star tattoo. Yum.

“Thanks again,” Stolas murmured, fiddling with his fingers. “And sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Hey, it’s no inconvenience at all,” Blitz said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. When Stolas reciprocated, Blitz reached up, a silent request, and Stolas’ smile widened slightly as he took Blitz’s hand in his.

Blitz stroked the soft skin of Stolas’ knuckles, a slight shiver shooting up to his core when Stolas did the same.

“C’mon, big guy. Let’s get you home.”

⋆★⋆

Stolas was still fiddling with his scarf as Blitz pulled out of the parking lot. He’d fallen silent, and Blitz, not having anything to say, let the low music fill the quiet, content with letting Stolas watch the streets go by through his dirty window.

As happy as he was to just have Stolas by his side, though, he could feel the beginnings of worry twist somewhere deep in his gut.

He wished he knew how to help Stolas go back to his confident, excitable, puppy-like self. He hated the rising suspicion that he’d upset Stolas by laughing back at the diner—hated the way just thinking about it made heavy guilt and shame, still fresh from his nightmare, crawl back to the forefront of his mind.

Are you happy now, Blitzo? The words curled around his mind with sharp, ugly claws. Are you? Are you?

Frowning, he gripped the wheel a little tighter and blinked the thoughts forcefully away.

“Hey,” he said over the low music, willing his voice to stay soft. “If I suggest something you’re not a fan of, you can tell me. ‘Kay? It’s… It’s really not a big deal. You shouldn’t force yourself to do stuff you don’t want to do.”

When no reply came, he threw a quick glance at Stolas, who was biting his lip.

“O-Okay,” Stolas said after a moment, voice low, and when Blitz glanced at him again, his expression had pulled up into a sheepish smile. “I’m truly sorry. I suppose I just… wanted to spend time with you.”

Oh.

Okay, that was unnecessarily adorable. Fuck.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, dummy,” Blitz said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, and not the tone of someone who was internally squealing like a high-schooler with a crush. “We’ll just do something we both like next time.”

Stolas was quiet for a moment, and when he did reply, his voice sounded tiny. Hopeful. “Next time?”

Blitz couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, next time. You really think imma let go of someone as fucking gorgeous as you over some taco sauce?” He huffed. “Think again, bitch.”

Stolas’ soft laughter had a fire rushing through his veins, and, grinning, Blitz let his right hand slip from the gear stick and inch toward Stolas’ thigh.

He felt more than heard the small hitch Stolas’ breath gave when his fingers found the soft fabric of those snug grey trousers. He ran his palm slightly up, up until he was cupping Stolas’ thigh, and just rested it there, feeling heat pooling against his skin.

Stolas exhaled slowly, audibly, and the sound had Blitz gulping.

Fuck. He needed to put his hands on this man more than he needed air itself. He’d never been this fucking happy to be driving down the highway, where he didn’t really need to change gears for a good few minutes. Especially when, a moment later, Stolas’ hand slipped on top of his, holding him there.

“You call me that a lot,” Stolas said, sounding a little shy.

“Huh?”

“Gorgeous.” Stolas’ fingers twitched slightly against his own. “And handsome.”

“Well, yeah. You are,” Blitz said, not really getting Stolas’ point. If the guy didn’t like Blitz’s habit of pointing out the painfully obvious, he was in for a big fuckin’ disappointment.

There was a smile in Stolas’ words when he let out a soft, “I’m glad you think so.” A moment later, before Blitz could land a well-deserved duh, he added, “You’re quite fetching, yourself.”

Blitz chuckled. “Why, thank you, Mr Walking Dictionary.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Stolas said, hand to his chest in mock offence, his tone somewhere between amused and teasing, “should I put it in cruder words for you?”

“Pfft. I’d like to see you try.”

Stolas gasped. “I should let you know I’m extremely well-versed in modern slang,” he protested.

“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” Blitz said with a smirk. “C’mon, big guy, show me what you got.”

“Oh, gladly.”

Stolas cleared his throat with exaggerated effort, and Blitz saw him square his shoulders out of the corner of his eye. He smirked. He could already tell this was going to be good.

“Blitz,” Stolas started, his high-pitched, matter-of-factly tone pulling a grin from him, “you should know that you are sexy as fuck. A hottie.” He punctuated each item by pressing a finger to one of Blitz’s knuckles. “You’re also exceedingly kissable—ahem, pardon me, kissable as hell. Breathtaking, and beautiful, and,” he stressed over the sound of Blitz’s growing giggles, “you are most foxy. I’d go as far as to say you’re thoroughly bootylicious.”

Okay, now Blitz couldn’t stop laughing.

His own shoulders shaking with laughter, Stolas squeezed Blitz’s fingers a bit.

“So?” he asked, grinning. “How’d I do?”

“It was… definitely an attempt,” Blitz allowed. “We can keep working on it.”

“I see. In that case, I shall try my best to learn your ways,” Stolas said solemnly, though there was a grin in his voice. Blitz’s own face hurt from how hard he was smiling.

He did actually need his right hand now, so he regrettably pulled it from under Stolas’ own to change gears and take a turn.

His heart almost jumped out of his chest when he felt Stolas’ warm palm trailing up his thigh a moment later.

He held back the sound that wanted to leave his throat, and instead spread his leg slightly in invitation. Stolas inched his hand towards his inner thigh, and just that tiny motion had Blitz’s groin throbbing—had him gripping the wheel just a bit tighter to keep himself focused.

That didn’t exactly stop the mental images of Stolas’ hands and mouth on his bare thighs from forming, though.

Okay, fuck, he was getting wet just thinking about that. Which might be a problem. They were still a couple of minutes away from Stolas’ apartment block, and he needed to focus on the fucking road.

Just then, a song by Fuc Q Dad came up on his player, which gave him a much needed excuse to strike up conversation and fucking breathe.

“Hey, did your kid approve of my music taste, or what?”

He sure hoped the answer was yes. Real geniuses like him knew that an emo teenage girl’s approval was praise of the highest caliber.

“Oh. I—I actually don’t know yet,” Stolas said. “We haven’t had a chance to talk in the last few days. Her midterms start next week, and she’s been quite busy. I certainly wouldn’t want to distract her.”

“Right.” Had Stolas told him his daughter was in college? Blitz didn’t think he had. “What’s she studying?”

“Astronomy,” Stolas said, “At Cornell.”

“Huh. Pretty close to home,” Blitz pointed out, voice coming out just slightly strained from the things the hand on his thigh was doing to him.

“Yes, I’m—I’m really glad she stayed in the state and can visit from time to time. It does get lonely without her.”

Blitz nodded in sympathy. He couldn’t even imagine not having his Loona around every morning—having to watch TV without her in the evenings, having no one who’d gladly eat all the food he cooked when he was in a weird mood.

When he registered everything else Stolas had said, he raised his eyebrows. “So, astronomy, huh? How’s the saying go—the apple never falls far?”

Stolas chuckled. “I suppose she did get her love for stars from me, yes.” As he said that, he drew little lines on the inside of Blitz’s thigh with a thumb, almost absent-mindedly.

Blitz was so overcome by horniness he almost missed Stolas’ next words, barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t go to university myself, though.”

“Really?” Now that was a surprise. Stolas couldn’t have looked more like an academic nerd if he tried. “How come?”

Stolas pulled his hand back, and as he maneuvered into a parking spot, Blitz saw him trace his tattoo with nervous fingers.

”I—well, I wanted to,” Stolas said, “but I guess life just… had other plans for me.”

There was something in his voice. Something Stolas tried to cover up with an unconvincing chuckle, eyes trained carefully on his own lap.

Blitz turned off the engine and shifted on his seat to look at him.

“I’m just… I’m happy for Via,” Stolas murmured. “I’m glad she has the chance to pursue the life she truly wants.”

His fingers were running through the scarf’s threads again, the gesture nervous and fast.

Without thinking, Blitz reached out and held Stolas’ long fingers with his own.

Stolas searched his gaze. Breath held, he let go of the scarf and wrapped his fingers around Blitz’s.

His skin was so soft, his touch so gentle. So guarded.

Blitz thought of what Stolas had said at the park. How he was finally trying to be his authentic self after a lifetime of repression. The same kind of repression he didn’t want his daughter to ever go through.

He thought of Loona, too, and how he never wanted her to feel as fucking broken, and hopeless, and alone as he’d felt when he was her age.

He was hit with a sudden wave of realization that Stolas didn’t deserve to be guarded and careful and slow. He deserved to run until he was breathless, and laugh until his stomach hurt, and to scream to the top of his fucking lungs until his throat was raw with it, and he deserved to live, live, live.

And Blitz wanted…

Fuck. He wanted to be the one to make Stolas feel alive. He wanted it more than he could bear, the feeling so big it was hard to breathe through.

“Do you…” Stolas murmured, eyes still searching Blitz’s. “Do you have to head back to work?”

“I—I have a few minutes,” Blitz blurted out before checking his phone and seeing that he did not, in fact, have a few minutes. “Shit. Just… Just give me a sec.”

Barely bothering with the mental math, he sent Millie a quick text so she’d let his first client of the afternoon know he’d be ten or so minutes late, hoping that’d give him enough time to spend a few more minutes with Stolas. Then he set an alarm so it’d go off in five minutes.

When he set his phone aside, Stolas’ eyes, big and expectant, were trained on his lips.

And, fuck, it was suddenly imperative that Blitz put his hands and mouth all over this man.

Reaching out again, Blitz ran his fingers through that fancy scarf, which was somehow softer than it looked. No wonder Stolas liked fidgeting with it so much.

Stolas breathed hard, those striking eyes of his tracking Blitz’s every move.

“Can I take this off?”

Biting his lip, Stolas nodded, a barely-there gesture that had a fire roaring in Blitz’s groin.

Carefully, he helped Stolas unwind the scarf from around his neck. Before it had even slid down and pooled on Stolas’ lap, Blitz’s eyes were already trained on his prize.

The mere sight of the dark lovebites that covered the long expanse of Stolas’ pale neck had Blitz’s mouth watering.

He ran his fingertips over them, his touch raising goosebumps on Stolas’ skin. He was leaning in so close he could feel Stolas’ ragged breaths against his face, and still he wasn’t close enough. He wasn’t nearly close enough.

Fuck, he needed to get closer to Stolas than the van would allow.

The front of it, anyway.

“Shit—c’mere,” he said, and crawled between the seats and into the back of the van. Stolas hesitated for only a moment, eyes wide. Then he followed Blitz, his limbs moving awkwardly as he tried not to hit anything.

Blitz was pretty sure Stolas bumped his head against the top of the van—thought he might’ve heard a low ow—but all of it was out of his mind the second Stolas crawled into his lap, his brain short-circuiting from the warmth of those long legs pressed flush against his own. The bite of Stolas’ fingernails brushing against his scalp had him groaning, the brush of Stolas’ ragged breaths against his lips making his head spin with want.

Stolas grinned down at him so hard it must’ve hurt as he carded his fingers through strands of Blitz’s hair.

“Hi,” Stolas said with a tiny, breathless giggle, the word hot against Blitz’s mouth.

Blitz couldn’t help but chuckle, his own hands a vice around Stolas’ hips. “Hey, handsome.” He angled his head upwards, loving the way Stolas’ hands sank further into his hair. “I think you said something about me being kissable?”

“Mmm. I did,” Stolas breathed, leaning down to nip at Blitz’s lower lip. He pulled back a moment later, though, and said, “Could we flip sides?”

“Want me on top of you that badly?” Blitz asked with a smirk. Stolas just laughed, both of them already shifting so that Blitz could be the one in Stolas’ lap.

Their faces more leveled now, Stolas carded his fingers through Blitz’s hair again.

Blitz leaned in, ran his hands over Stolas’ chest and shoulders and breathed in his scent. He didn’t kiss Stolas immediately, though, the memory of how hesitant he’d been last time compelling him to hold back, give Stolas the chance to set the pace.

Stolas licked his lips, ran his thumbs down the sides of Blitz’s face. His gaze was intense as it traced Blitz’s features. He seemed to be drinking in every detail, and Blitz couldn’t help but search for traces of unease, of disgust, as Stolas thumbed at his cheek, the touch faint against the expanse of his scarred skin.

But Stolas’ expression remained soft, and soon enough he carded his fingers through Blitz’s hair again to hold the base of his head.

Stolas’ eyes lowered to Blitz’s throat as he shifted Blitz’s head slightly to the right.

Breath held, Blitz could only watch as Stolas inched closer to him, a light blush spreading across his cheeks, and ghosted his lips over the unscarred side of his jaw.

After just a moment of hesitation, Blitz felt those same lips kiss the skin there softly, the low sound making his breath hitch and his fingers dig into Stolas’ shoulders.

“So kissable indeed,” Stolas breathed against his throat, and Blitz gulped as he felt Stolas kiss his way up the line of his neck, all the way to the sensitive spot just under his ear.

Stolas’ hot tongue pressed into his flesh, and Blitz promptly forgot how to breathe as his cock throbbed and wetness pooled between his legs. He dug his fingers into Stolas’ nape, managing a soft, “Fuck…”

“Can I keep going?” Stolas breathed against his damp skin, his voice coming out hoarse and traveling all the way to Blitz’s core.

And, okay, this wasn’t what Blitz had had in mind, but Christ, he’d let Stolas do whatever the fuck he wanted to him right now. Mark him up. Suck his blood. Fucking bite his head off. Anything.

“Please do,” was all he could manage, the words barely a breathless groan.

Humming, Stolas kissed him again, the softest sounds parting from his lips, and Blitz buried his hands in that impossibly soft hair of his to urge him on—bared his neck, not even caring if it showed how desperate he was for Stolas to torment him, mark him up till he’d been reduced to a writhing mess.

Thankfully, Stolas took that as his cue to press a proper, open-mouthed kiss to the spot under his ear. Breathing hard, Blitz held his head and guided him carefully down so he wouldn’t abuse the same spot for too long—and had to bite back a moan when Stolas sucked the soft flesh just under his jaw into his mouth.

He couldn’t stop his hips from pressing forward, though, his whole body shivering with barely-restrained need.

A moment later, Stolas’ hands were pressed to his lower back, encouraging him forward as he met Blitz’s next thrust halfway.

And oh, fuck—Stolas was getting hard. He was getting hard solely from making Blitz feel good.

Just that knowledge was enough to tear a whine from Blitz, who pulled at strands of Stolas’ hair as Stolas sucked harder around the sensitive spot under his jaw.

When he pushed forward again, Stolas unlatched himself from Blitz’s neck with a shiver, pressing his forehead to the curve of Blitz’s shoulder to catch his breath. Blitz just held him there, panting for air himself, hips twitching forward in a slow rhythm to ease the throbbing between his legs.

A few moments later, he felt Stolas press a soft kiss to the exposed skin of his shoulder.

Blitz held his breath as Stolas kissed his way back up to the soft flesh of his neck, and had to press his eyes closed when Stolas nipped and suckled around another patch of skin, biting softly into it before soothing the area with his tongue.

As he did that, he slipped his hands under Blitz’s shirt, hot palms pressed directly against the expanse of Blitz’s lower back as he encouraged Blitz to keep rutting slowly against his bulge.

And, fuck, it was suddenly imperative that Blitz put his hands on Stolas as well. Holding onto his hair with a hand, Blitz ran the other one over Stolas’ chest and stomach, slipping it underneath the horse tee and pressing his fingers to Stolas’ taut abdomen, feeling it rise and fall with every gasp that left his mouth and brushed Blitz’s damp, tormented neck.

Blitz dug his fingers into Stolas’ waist roughly before grinding down again, earning himself a moan that had Stolas’ teeth grazing his neck in the most delicious way.

Blitz could have honest-to-god done this forever, but just a few moments later Stolas pulled back completely and searched Blitz’s expression. Blitz didn’t have it in him to complain, though, the sight he was greeted with too good to miss out on. Cheeks and neck flushed a dark red, hair mussed around Blitz’s fingers, and eyes blown wide as they lowered hungrily to Blitz’s mouth, Stolas looked good enough to eat.

And then there were Stolas’ lips, damp and parted as he caught his breath, which looked so fucking kissable Blitz thought he might pass out.

“Did that—feel good?”

The question was a breathless, sheepish little thing, Stolas’ hands still pressed to the curve of Blitz’s back. And, really, Blitz had no choice but to answer it by guiding Stolas’ head forward and capturing his mouth in a sloppy kiss.

The moan that Stolas let out in response was obscenely hot, and melted into a groan as Blitz trailed his hand up to his ribs and his hairy chest. His thumb caught on Stolas’ nipple, and he was rewarded with a needy whine that he very gladly drank in as he suckled around Stolas’ tongue.

Stolas’ hips jerked up, and Blitz tried his best to match his rhythm, pushing down with his body at the same time as he pulled at fistfuls of Stolas’ hair.

“Mmmggh,” Stolas groaned into his mouth, loud and desperate, and roved his hands down Blitz’s back, pulling them from under his shirt and pressing them hotly to Blitz’s thighs, which were spread open from the way he was straddling Stolas’ lap.

It was Blitz’s turn to moan into the kiss. Unthinking, he grabbed both of Stolas’ hands and guided them upwards, his brain short-circuiting from the feeling of those long fingers grazing his inner thighs over his clothes, almost, almost reaching the place he needed them most—

A long, strident scream pierced the silence of the van, and Blitz and Stolas pulled back from the kiss with a gasp, both panting for air as Blitz yanked his phone from his pocket and swiped to shut the damn thing up before it gave them both a heart attack.

“Fuck,” Stolas groaned, fingers digging into Blitz’s thighs, eyes closed as he fought to catch his breath.

“Agreed,” Blitz heaved out, leaning forward to press his forehead to Stolas’.

“D’you—” Stolas gasped. “Do you have to go now?”

“I really fucking do.” Blitz was still throbbing in his pants. And he was, of course, drenched beyond any sort of help. “Shit.”

They stayed still for a few more seconds, Stolas running his fingers through his hair in a poor attempt to fix it, Blitz just trying—and failing—to get his body to understand he wasn’t getting off at any point in the immediate future.

Eventually, Stolas shifted under him, and Blitz took that as his cue to begrudgingly remove himself from his lap, holding back a whine at the loss of Stolas’ bulge pressed against his groin.

“I… I-I’ll let you go now, just one… one sec,” Stolas mumbled as he reached around the seats to grab his scarf. He didn’t wrap it around his neck, though, instead holding it to his groin. Blitz laughed, mostly so he wouldn’t cry at how pathetic they both must’ve looked right now.

Christ on a stick, Loona was right. They were cringe, weren’t they? Making out sloppy style in the back of his shitty van until they were pent up like raunchy teenagers.

At least he was giving Stolas the premium package first-time experience, he fucking guessed. Sexual frustration and all.

“Okay, I’ll—I’ll go now. Thanks for the ride,” Stolas said, hand already on the door handle. “And the shirt. And the meal.” Blitz only had it in him to nod, watching, forlorn, as Stolas pried the door open and stepped out of the van. “Drive safe. I—I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I’ll try.” Blitz’s pout was very much reflected on Stolas’ expression. “See ya.”

When Stolas slid the door closed, Blitz crawled back to the front of the van and turned on the engine, hissing when the wetness in his boxers was pushed uncomfortably against his groin.

After throwing Stolas one last pitiful look, he resigned himself to his fate and drove off, hoping against all hope he’d only be ten minutes late to work after all.

⋆★⋆

“That wasn’t ten minutes,” were the words Moxxie greeted him with as he rushed through the door.

“Fuck off,” Blitz said, then noticed his client sitting on the sofa and watching him with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. “Uh, sorry for the wait. I’ll be with you in just a sec.”

He rushed to his booth to turn the lights on and make sure everything was in place. He checked his reflection, too, and thanked whichever god was stupid enough to take pity on him that the trail of love bites on his neck wasn’t nearly as glaringly obvious as Stolas’ had been. His hair was beyond help, and he needed to rush to the bathroom to wipe off some of the mess between his legs, but… he’d survive the afternoon. Probably. Maybe.

Before he walked out and faced his miserable fate, though, Blitz pulled out his phone and opened Stolas’ chat, a single thought in mind as he typed faster than was probably advisable and hit send without double-checking that he’d made any sort of sense. Stolas was a smart guy. He’d figure it out.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Blitz took a deep breath and headed off to face the long, agonizing work afternoon that awaited him.

⋆★⋆

eighteen fucking minutes late, Blitz???

Christ on a fucking stick. Blitz had barely made it through the apartment door before the messages started pouring in, Millie’s chat jumping to the top of his list as she carried out what could honestly classify as outright harassment.

you fucker

the hell did you do to that man

there better not be cum on the van seats or i’m gonna fucking murder you

soz 💅🏽

BLITZ BUCKZO

YOU BETTER GIVE ME THE DETAILS RIGHT NOW

Trudging into his room, Blitz threw off his boots and plopped down on his bed.

slow teh fck down mills

let a man breath holy sjit

you’re lucky I even managed to decipher your message, you idiot!

Blitz scrolled up on their chat and attempted to figure out what the fuck it was he’d texted Millie earlier.

MILLZ um wijt Stols imms b trn minres lete plz letnvthr cluebt know!!!!!

He frowned. Okay, he’d made approximately zero sense.

yr a smart wmoan plus u love me. so

yeah yeah. don’t play dumb and stop avoiding my questions

what. did. you. do.

ur incondituinal suport means teh world 2 me

🖕🏿

Blitz couldn’t help but chuckle. Truly, he was dying to talk to Millie about Stolas, and she knew it full well. But he just couldn’t resist a good opportunity to bicker. She could complain all she very well wanted—it wasn’t like she was any better when it came to Moxxie.

Resolutely not thinking about the fact he was wiggling his legs, Blitz tried his best to sound coherent as he typed his next messages to Millie.

we made out

liek

ALOT mills

blitz, PLEASE tell me you werent almost 20 min late to work for a measly makeout sesh

u dont undsertand he put his moth on my neck n his hansd on my fucking thihgs

imma explode if i dnot fuck tht man soom 😭😭😭😭💥

jfc 🤦🏿‍♀️

well why the hell haven’t you??

Blitz started typing, but then deleted the words, thinking her question through.

Truth was, he probably would’ve ended up jerking Stolas off both times they’d made out if the timing hadn’t been so fucking awful. Lord knew he’d been seconds away from shoving his hands down the man’s fancy pants at that stupid park. Fuck, and just the thought of guiding Stolas’ hand to the wetness between his legs in the van had his groin sparking to life against his will.

Still. Regardless of what his horny mind might say, it was a good thing they’d held back. He couldn’t just up and fuck Stolas like it was nothing. He needed to do things right.

hes a VIRGIN, milss

didn’t you say he had a kid??

a gay vrigin

u kno what I mean

i really, really don’t

Blitz huffed at that. Truly, it was so easy to forget straight people had no idea what was going on, like, ever. Even Millie, smart person that she was.

point is i ahve to do thigns right

excuse me, mr 6-one-night-stands-in-a-row

didn’t realize you were such a gentleman all of a sudden

tchechnicaly it was 7. pulled an alnighter so that nite doestn coint

also i am when it mattres

Blitz could almost hear Millie’s sigh in the pause that followed before she started typing again.

well seeing as you ain’t gonna give me more details

i’m gonna go fuck my man

yum 😝🤪🤪🐰💦

unlike you 😂

HEY

RUDE

THRRE ARE PPL WHO DIE OF BLUE BALS YANNO

blitz, i cannot stress enough the fact that you do not have balls

fcuck you

have fun, pegnhim good

ttyl please don’t die of blue balls, i’d actually miss you, you idiot

also, you know i always do 😏

😂😂🤪🥵💦💦

Millie didn’t text back, probably too busy grabbing the strap and lube and carrying her husband to bed bridal-style. Good for her, honestly. Blitz would absolutely not be wasting time on his phone either if the chance to peg a cute and nerdy bottom presented itself.

With thoughts of a very particular cute and nerdy man in mind, Blitz closed Millie’s chat and opened Stolas’.

He was greeted with the text he’d sent Stolas from work, which he’d somehow managed to completely forget about.

het I kepp frgetign like a fukcig idiit but I ment 2 ask u for yor insta handle??!!

Well. At least this incoherent message made some sort of sense. Definitely more than the one he’d sent Millie.

Stolas, of course, had already replied, a string of messages that had Blitz grinning into his palm as he made his way through them.

Oh, of course! It’s @daddy_hoothoot

Be warned, though, it’s pretty new, so there’s not much on there yet. But I do hope to fill it up over time and I really look forward to it 😊 you can tag me in our pictures from the other day, if you post any!

No pressure, though, of course!

Blitz almost dropped his phone twice as he hurried to search Stolas’ account, and couldn’t help but silently snicker to himself at the fact that Stolas had really gone there and called himself daddy on Instagram.

As silly as it was, the handle did fit him pretty well, though—he was a dad, after all, and his adorable giggles did sound a little like an owl’s hoot.

His profile picture was the same selfie with Octavia that Blitz had spent an ungodly amount of time staring at over the past couple of weeks, and he’d tagged his kid in his description, where he explained she’d created his account and he was still learning how to use it.

Just as Stolas had said, there weren’t many pics on his page yet. Most of them were pretty random things—a sunflower sprouting between the cracks on a concrete wall; the front cover of a romance novel he’d particularly enjoyed; his kid, Octavia, biting down on a slice of pizza and making a long string of cheese.

There were a few pictures of him, too. A selfie at the airport as he dropped Octavia off for uni, and a couple of random ‘outfit-of-the-day’ mirror selfies, which Blitz made a quick mental note to come back to later, because just then he spotted a post with more pics of his and his kid’s trip to the beach that he needed to check out with the utmost urgency.

The first picture was a selfie not unlike Stolas’ profile pic—except Octavia was the center of this one. She seemed to have stolen her dad’s red sunglasses, and was wearing them as a mustache, holding them over her frowned lips. A few feet behind her, queuing at an ice-cream cart, Stolas was gawking at the camera in surprise over her shoulder.

Blitz zoomed in on his bewildered expression, and couldn’t help but giggle at his goofy face, which somehow managed to still look cute as shit, because of course it did. Stolas seemed to be physically incapable of not being gorgeous.

Amused, Blitz swiped to the next picture fully expecting to find more father-daughter shenanigans.

He was instead faced with a sight that had him swallowing just in time to not choke on his own damn spit.

Stolas was posing alone by the sea shore, ice cream cone in hand. His smile was bright, his hair mussed, his thin floral shirt half-unbuttoned in that forever tantalizing way—but none of those were the reason Blitz almost spluttered all over his screen.

No, the sole culprit for that was the sight of Stolas wearing slim, high-waisted, blue jean shorts.

It was the numerous golden buttons that climbed up the length of Stolas’ midriff and got lost under the hem of his shirt. It was the way the fabric hugged Stolas’ hips and the top of his thighs more perfectly than words could describe.

And above all else, it was Stolas’ infinite fucking bare legs.

The same legs that had pressed hotly against his own just earlier that day. The legs Blitz had put his hands on in the van, ground down against and ridden as he drank in every filthy sound that had fallen from Stolas’ hot mouth both times they’d made out.

He’d touched, and felt, and thought about those perfect fucking legs so many times now. So how the hell had it never occurred to him to think of what they’d look like naked?

Honestly, it was the buttons’ fault. Every single pair of pants Stolas wore had an obscene amount of ‘em, and Blitz had clearly been too preoccupied with the notion of undoing them to get as far as imagining what he’d find underneath.

Oh, but he was definitely imagining it now.

He could almost visualize it. What it’d be like to walk Stolas back to his towel by the shore, spread open those unbearably long legs of his. To run his palms against the grain of Stolas’ fair leg hair and dig his fingers into the soft, pale flesh of his thighs. To guide those legs up, and feel them clench and quiver around his shoulders as he dove down to have a taste, his head full of Stolas’ obscene moans as he marked those inner thighs thoroughly as his.

Shit… and after sucking and biting on Stolas’ sensitive flesh for a while, Blitz would pull back slightly, just so he could admire his handiwork—drown in the sight of those mouth-watering thighs looking all wet and tormented and bruised.

And what if he looked up and found Stolas watching him through half-lidded eyes, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed a dark red? What if Stolas let out a needy whimper and buried his hands in Blitz’s hair—what if he curled his fists around thick strands of his hair to urge him down again?

Oh, fuck—what if Stolas then guided him up, up until Blitz’s nose nudged the raging hardness in his shorts? What if he pressed his hips up, encouraging Blitz to mouth at his cock through the fabric of those tight jeans until they were soaked inside and out?

Fucking hell, he was getting drenched just thinking about it. Which was very far from ideal with Loona at home and getting ready for their nightly father-daughter telenovela hate-watching session.

Nope. Now was resolutely not the time to be feeling unfathomably horny.

Pressing his legs closed to both keep himself in check and feel some slight relief, Blitz swiped to the third and last picture on Stolas’ beach post in desperate search for something—anything—that would distract him from his fantasies.

And because the world seemed to have no mercy left to spare, he was greeted with a close-up of Stolas’ long fingers covered in thick drops of runny white cream as he held the half-eaten ice-cream over his bare legs.

‘Oops! Seems like I was no match for the sun 😋’ , the caption read, and, fuck, shit, Blitz wanted those fingers in his mouth. He wanted them tangled in his hair and digging into his back as they pulled him close—wanted them coated with his slick and bracketing his cock so he could grind against them and finally, finally let himself be consumed by pleasure.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Okay. Blitz could breathe through this. He wouldn’t shove his hands down his boxers with Loona at home. He wouldn’t.

He kept scrolling, determined to be at least minimally normal about Stolas, and—much sooner than he would’ve liked—he made it to the bottom of Stolas’ page.

But though he was still reeling from the sight of those beach pics, a tiny part of him—one that had somehow managed to retain what little rationality he had access to to begin with—compelled him to linger on Stolas’ oldest Instagram post.

It wasn’t very old at all—the date was July 31st—and at first glance, it seemed like just another random picture. The kind of pic one would snap on their phone camera while going about their day and share thoughtlessly online.

And still, there was something about it that seemed… intentional. Maybe Blitz was overthinking it, the artist in him urging him to analyze the angle, and lighting, and possible symbolism. But there was something about the barely-distinguishable silhouette of a bird as it leaped off of a pole under a sunny sky, its spread wings all blurry with movement, that just felt… deliberate.

A celebration, maybe. Of freedom. Of a chance at a new beginning.

Or maybe Blitz was reading too much into it, and Stolas just really liked birds.

With a sigh, Blitz sat up in bed, and though it took every drop of willpower left in his wretched body, he managed to lock his phone so he could change into his pajamas.

His mind stayed on that last picture in Stolas’ page, though. Left alone without any screens to keep them busy, his thoughts slowly merged the light blue of the bright summer sky with the heavy, muddy dark brown of burned-down circus, and by the time he’d thrown on his usual Horse Girl shirt and pajama bottoms, thoughts of past and present and fear and hope had managed to boil themselves into a mucky, chaotic soup; one that logged his brain until he could almost hear his rushing thoughts sloshing inside his goddamn skull with his every movement.

Instinctively, Blitz reached out for his phone again, wanting—needing—to distance himself from the mess that was his mind.

Halfway through the motion, though, he changed his mind and grabbed his jacket instead. Compelled by forces beyond his comprehension, he brought it to his face and gave it a sniff—and couldn’t help but groan when the lingering notes of Stolas’ scent filled his senses.

Letting out the smallest sigh, Blitz closed his eyes and breathed in again, feeling some of his tension ease off his shoulders. Feeling, with his next inhale, his thoughts slowly beginning to untangle themselves.

And though he wasn’t sure he could bear to face them, he stayed rooted on the spot, eyes closed and limbs heavy as he breathed.

The freedom Stolas’ picture had evoked—the sense of ease, of liberation, of weightlessness… Had Blitz ever truly felt that way? Sure, he’d never been trapped in an unhappy marriage, and couldn’t truly know what that must’ve been like for Stolas. But… He’d been trapped for a very long time, too, hadn’t he?

Wasn’t he still?

But there was no escaping it. His prison wasn’t a marriage. It wasn’t something that could be reversed. There was no changing the past. What he’d done—the accident he’d caused, and the lives he’d hurt and taken—it would always stay with him. It was mapped all over his skin, the guilt ever heavy in his heart. He would never wake up in a world where he didn’t have to carry it.

And yet he had to keep going. He’d survived, and as fucked up and unjust as that was, there was simply no changing the fact that he had to keep on living. And no matter what his shitty brain might try to tell him sometimes, he didn’t want to change that.

No, he just…

He just wanted to feel like his life was worth something. Like it wasn’t too late for him. He so desperately wanted to believe he wasn’t broken beyond repair; that there was still something left in him that was worth cherishing.

More than anything, he wished he could believe he wasn’t doomed to hurt everyone he loved.

He breathed in again, and as Stolas’ scent filled him, he thought of how Stolas, too, was alive. Whatever he’d gone through in the past, he was alive now, and finally ready to make it count.

And if Stolas could do that, then… then maybe so could he.

Even if it terrified him. Even if he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

He could still fight to make it count.

The faint sound of popcorn cooking in the microwave had Blitz blinking his eyes open, barely making sense of his surroundings for a long few seconds.

When his mind finally landed back in his room, he realized he’d almost forgotten about his and Loona’s show night.

Though he was shaky and off-kilter, Blitz stood and draped his jacket semi-carefully on his chair. Then, on his way to the living room, he unlocked his phone and followed Stolas on Instagram.

The sight of Loona sitting on the sofa, bowl of popcorn by her side and phone in hand, made him feel immediately lighter. And when she didn’t look up from her phone as he sat down by her side, Blitz didn’t miss the chance to discreetly take in the sight of her, letting her coziness ease the weight in his chest some more.

Her long hair was down, as usual, and mussed beyond help in that way she always complained about, but which Blitz found terribly endearing. Her grey-and-white pajamas were fluffy and thick in a way that made her look almost child-like, and her socks, which were a size too big for her, had twisted around her feet, leaving the sticky paw prints on the soles facing upwards. There were round stickers on her cheeks and forehead covering a couple of pimples, and her nails, much like his, were coated in chipped black polish.

There wasn’t a single thing about her that wasn’t perfect.

He must’ve stared in a too-obvious way, because after a moment Loona looked up from her phone and side-eyed him in warning. Blitz gave her an innocent smile, fully expecting her to roll her eyes and flip him off before starting their show from her phone.

Instead, she looked back down at her screen and, in a low voice, said, “Are you feeling any better?”

Blitz blinked up at her. Waited a full second for her eyebrow to arch, for her eyes to roll—but her face remained carefully neutral and focused on her phone as she waited for him to reply.

“I—Yeah,” he managed, not sure he was telling the truth, “a bit.”

She nodded, and Blitz noticed the tiny twitch of her frown as she mulled over her next words.

“Was it…” She shot him the quickest glance. “Was it a nightmare again?”

Blitz spluttered a little bit. “H-How’d you know?”

At this, she shrugged, her frown deepening slightly.

“You showered before me,” she said in a murmur. “Bathroom mirror wasn’t foggy.”

Oh.

Blitz opened his mouth, but no words came. There was nothing he could say, too overcome with the sudden feeling that he was the luckiest father in the world.

He wanted to say as much. Wanted to hug, and smooch, and smother Loona with his love until he got it all out of his system, even if it got him growled at and flipped off. After all, he’d always choose getting the short end of the stick over the possibility of Loona ever feeling unloved by him.

But something compelled him to hold back. He didn’t want to overwhelm her and push her away; not when she was opening a door for him to give her a different, less suffocating kind of honesty.

“It…” Blitz started, voice low, “yeah, it—it wasn’t a good night.” Loona met his eyes, seeming startled by his words—and then they both quickly averted their gaze. Frowning, Blitz stared down at his scarred palms. “It happens from time to time. There’s… not a lot I can do about it. Cooking helps,” he softly admitted. “And having someone around to share the food with. Having… you around.”

When he chanced another glance up at her, he found her staring aggressively at her screen, a nod her only reply to his scattered words.

He didn’t mind it, though. Not when he could see the way her fingers were twitching around her phone, or the slight sag of her shoulders with her next exhale.

She cared. Loona cared about him—cared how he felt, and cared that her presence made a difference.

And that alone was more than Blitz could ever ask for.

“Anyway,” he said, not wanting the conversation to drag on and turn uncomfortable for her, “you wanna watch our show? I really need that bitch Arturo to get what’s coming to him.”

Loona rolled her eyes, but her posture slumped a bit in relief, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Sure, Dad,” she murmured, but then handed him the popcorn bowl and stood. “Just gonna go to the bathroom first.”

“Okie dokie, Looney-Poo.”

He couldn’t help it—her light-hearted punch had him grinning into a fistful of popcorn.

Loona cared. In her own, quiet, mostly aggressive way, she cared about her dad. Cared about him.

Blitz could still feel a giddy little smile tugging at his lips as he pulled out his phone and checked his texts.

His heart did a tiny somersault when he saw he had a new message from Stolas, even though he’d totally forgotten to reply to his previous texts like a fucking idiot, too busy drooling over his Instagram page.

Thanks for the follow! 😊

ofc handsum

😳🥰

Those emojis had Blitz biting his lip, the memory of Stolas’ blush so clear in his mind by this point he could almost taste it.

Also, I hope you didn’t get in trouble for arriving late at work today!

ehh my employees gavr me sum shit, but they can stay msd aboit it 😂 they cnt fire me 😂😎

Oh?

Are you… the boss of your business?

heck YEA i am bitcj!!! 😎😎🤩💥

y, do i not look liek a boss 2 u??

Oh, no, it’s not that! I just…

Blitz waited for Stolas’ next text to arrive, but after a few seconds passed and nothing came, he sent back a quick:

hmm??? 👀

If you will allow me to put it in your terms:

🥵🥵🥵🔥🔥🔥🔥🚒🚒

Blitz couldn't help it—he grinned at his screen until his cheeks hurt from it.

ah

i see 😏

I sincerely hope that’s explanation enough

hmm dunno

i woulda used moar fire emojis i thnik. 6 atleast

Very fair. I apologize for my shortcomings. I shall take your feedback into consideration as I continue to grow and learn 😔

Blitz let out a silent cackle even as he shook his head at the sheer amount of big words Stolas had managed to cram into a single text.

Truly, the two of them couldn’t have been more different, but Blitz would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like it. Liked how unbothered Stolas seemed by it, as well. How playful he was with it.

His mind went back to their conversation in the van. How Stolas had giggled adorably as he called him beautiful, and kissable, and bootylicious. How Stolas had traced the inside of his thigh; how he’d taken off his scarf for Blitz, that act alone so sensual it threatened to tear a hole right through Blitz’s chest just thinking about it.

And how guarded Stolas had been; how tentative. So soft as he’d admitted to wanting to spend time with him, and so delighted and shy while asking a tiny, next time?

He thought of wanting Stolas to live. To feel breathless, and light, and euphoric, like—

Like a bird in flight.

Blitz’s hands shook slightly as he typed his next message to Stolas.

hhey so thers this queer club not 2 far from my hoise we coudl go 2 maebe this weeknd or whenevr ur free

Then, remembering the fiasco at the taco diner, he added a quick:

if yuo wanna come

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Stolas’ reply had him almost choking on a laugh a few moments later.

I do want to come 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

Through the fluttering in his chest, Blitz took the time to count that Stolas had, in fact, used exactly six emojis this time around. He sent back a string of laughing emojis, giggling to himself all the while.

But truly, thank you so much for the invite, Blitz, it means a lot. I’ve never gone clubbing before, but it does sound enticing 😍

And yes, I’m free this weekend! We could do Friday night, maybe? If you’re not too tired from work, that is! Otherwise, I could also do Saturday.

Whatever works best for you 😊

Blitz shook his head, and was about to text back when—

“Is that a fucking string of eggplants?”

He looked up to find Loona grimacing down at his screen from behind their ratty sofa. Mouth full of popcorn, he could only stare dumbly at her and quickly lock his phone.

“Now I wish he’d go back to texting you flowers,” she grouched. “Seriously. Cringe.”

Blitz swallowed his mouthful, watching as Loona walked around the sofa. “You know,” he said, moving the bowl to his lap so she could plop down next to him, “someday you, too, will reach the ancient age of thirty-five. And on that day, you’ll realize being cringe and being happy are one and the same, more often than not.”

She scoffed, and stuffed her face with popcorn in a way that Blitz recognized as a means to drown her sorrow and regret about having witnessed her father’s flirtatious texts. He mentally wiped away a happy tear. Loona really was his daughter.

“Whatever, old man,” she grumbled. “Now stop texting your boyfriend. I really need to fucking finish this show so we can move on to something that doesn’t make me wanna pluck my eyes out.”

“Amen to that,” Blitz said. And then he processed everything else Loona had said. “Hey, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Not with that attitude he isn’t,” she grumbled under her breath.

“... But now that you mention him,” Blitz added, deciding to ignore her comment, “do you, uh, have any plans for the weekend?”

“First of all,” she said, “stop talking. Like, right now. And second of all,” she added before he could interrupt her, “yes. Gigi’s hosting a sleepover on Friday night. Think she wants to watch horror movies or some shit, since she had to work a shift on Halloween night.”

“Oh.” For Loona’s sake, Blitz tried very hard not to show just how thrilled he was by the news that he’d have the apartment to himself for a whole night. “That’s—that’s great, sweetie.” She shrugged him off, pulling out her phone to start their show. Before she could press play, though, he said, “you know you can always come back home if you’re having a bad time, though. Just text me first so I know you’re coming.”

She rolled her eyes, but still acknowledged his words with a low, “I know, Dad.”

“And,” he quickly added, “you can grab condoms from the drawer stash if you think you’ll need—”

“Blitz!”

“Just saying!” He scooted back on the sofa before she could bite his head off. “There’s been a spike in cases of gonorrhea, is all, so ya gotta be as careful as you can—”

“For fuck’s sake. Stop talking. Right now.” She very angrily punctuated her words with a press of her finger to her phone screen, which started their show. Then, she buried her hand in the bowl again and munched aggressively on a fistful of popcorn as she stared daggers at the TV.

Relenting, Blitz inched cautiously closer so he could reach the bowl as well. As the intro played, though, he opened Stolas’ chat again just so he could text him back a quick:

fridae is prrf 🤠✨

Then, setting his phone aside, he tucked into the popcorn and finally let his overworked brain be filled by the complete nonsense that was that bitch Arturo’s fucked-up life.

And if his mind managed to let a thought or two slip past the barriers of the telenovela, it was solely about hoot-like giggles, and breathless kisses, and soft thighs, and a warm, fluttering excitement swelling wildly in his chest.

Chapter Text

Blitz was approximately three and a half seconds away from biting his own damn fingers off.

He didn’t have any appointments until 3pm. He swore it had been 2 o’clock when he’d checked the clock like a fucking hour ago. And yet, somehow, when he unlocked his phone to check it again, the time read 2:17pm. He cursed under his breath and locked it again, then brought the mushy straw of his boba tea to his mouth to slurp loudly on it even though he’d already finished it. A trickle of air and the aftertaste of tea coated his mouth.

“Have you no manners?”

Right. Moxxie was still standing silently behind him, reading through their e-mails while he waited for his next client to arrive. Just how late were they? Probably not very, but it sure felt like it. The clocks seemed intent on keeping Blitz hostage today.

“Oh gimme a break, Mox,” he snapped back. “Christ on a stick, it’s not like I’m sucking a dick in front of ya.” He placed the empty cup on the counter, then thought better of it and grabbed it again, pushing the chair back to throw it in the bin.

“Sir…” Moxxie probably grumbled something else, but Blitz tuned it out entirely, scooting forward and resuming his nervous nail-biting as he turned his screen on, then off again. 2:18pm. Great. Great.

He’d wiped off his nail polish this morning. He’d done many things this morning as he got ready for work, practically vibrating as he ran through all the potential scenarios for his and Stolas’ date tonight. It was a damn good thing Loona had most Fridays off and hadn’t been awake to witness any of it.

He should’ve waited until after work to clear his nails, though. At this rate, he wouldn’t have any nails left to paint for a while. Not if Friday night kept taking this fucking long to arrive.

After another three and a half millennia, the door finally pushed open, and Moxxie and his client disappeared to the back, leaving Blitz alone with way too much energy and nowhere to direct it.

He unlocked his phone and scrolled through his Instagram notifications—not that he had any interesting new ones. He’d woken up that morning to find Stolas had stalked his profile overnight, leaving a very obvious trail of likes behind as he went almost all the way back to his oldest pics. On one of Blitz’s most recent posts, a doodle of Breakfast and Sunbeam making out and captioned ‘thayr in Lesbians with eachother o3o’, Stolas had commented a simple and adorable ‘Love it! 🥰😍’. Blitz, still in bed and barely coherent enough to type, had replied with a string of ‘🤪😝😁😁🐎🐎👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩’.

After that, they’d exchanged a few texts while Blitz had breakfast and throughout the morning, but it’d been a while since Stolas had texted back. He was probably busy with—well, with whatever it was he did during the week. Surely something way more riveting and decidedly less tortuous than sitting behind the counter and waiting for an unexpected client to pop up and take him out of his misery, the way Blitz was doing now.

But of course, not a single absurdly tall, adorably hot man walked in to ask for a star-shaped tattoo this time around. And when another hour passed and the time still read 2:21pm, Blitz decided it was time to take matters into his own hands lest he snap and start crawling out of his own mouth like some kind of sick reverse ouroboros.

He pulled out one of his multiple sketchbooks, flitting through the pages, and came across some half-finished comic sketches he barely had any recollection of drawing.

Though the OCs in this story—Slime and King Slut—were some of his favorites and most fleshed out, he couldn’t for the life of him remember where he’d been going with this particular one-shot. The sharp lines of the dynamic scene caught his attention, though, and he found himself re-reading it, his curiosity piqued.

Hm. Apparently, Slime had been sentenced to death, and King Slut had stormed in at the last second and taken the blame for his lover’s war crimes. The sketches were rough and the dialogue half-formed, but the pacing was immersive enough that Blitz found himself turning page after page, heart clenching as both horses privately sang of their undying love for one another, their terror at the thought of losing the other sending them both into a frenzy. Their song was interrupted by the judge—a majestic, god-like shire horse who looked down at King Slut like he was nothing but a measly bug they could crush under their hoof.

Blitz was so invested in the story he almost tore the next page as he flipped it, needing to know what King Slut’s sentence would be. Were they really about to lose one another forever? Surely his past self wasn’t cruel enough to kill off his own OC, right?

For a moment, he could only blink dumbly down at the blank page that greeted him, his brain refusing to comprehend that there was no more comic for him to read.

Then he clenched his teeth and yelled inwardly to hell and back.

“Motherfucker,” he muttered, referring, of course, to the asshole who’d dared to stop writing this fucking masterpiece half-way through. Okay, so he might have to attempt to finish this comic someday. Possibly. If the stars aligned.

Not now, though. Right now, his mind was way too occupied with thoughts of someone who, despite his height and elegant limbs and perfect fucking hair, was regrettably not a horse.

Looking for a blank page a bit further ahead, Blitz scratched out a random doodle of Stolas as a horse, giving it a long neck and fluffy short hair. He gave it a tophat, too, simply because it felt right. Then, he drew the same Stol-horse, but with feathers instead of fur. He snickered to himself as he gave the bird-horse-hybrid a top hat as well. Cuuute.

His next doodle showed the adorable beast he’d created wearing red sunglasses and a slutty floral shirt, and the one after that had the fluffy thing dressed up as a dinosaur. Just because.

Blitz bit his lip as he scratched more and more drawings onto the page—feathered horse Stolas with a fake mustache, then with what he imagined an 1800s prince’s crown would probably look like, then with sharp fangs and a vampire cape. Mind swarming with ideas, Blitz’s hand movements became rushed as he drew the creature standing on its hind legs and wearing pants with countless buttons on them, then crying with big wet eyes and pieces of taco scattered around it, and then finally all flushed and covered in love bites and lipstick marks.

Blitz barely registered that his tongue was poking out in concentration as he turned the page and redrew the last scene from his unfinished comic, but with his and Stolas’ horse selves in his OCs’ places. Stolas, kneeling on the same chopping block where Slime had been, watched in horror and awe as a majestic Blitz burst in to save his life, his very own knight in shining armor. Blitz grinned and snickered to himself as he gave his character extra-muscled horse legs and an epic mane.

He turned the pages until he found another blank one and tried his hand at sketching a human Stolas, pulling out his profile picture to get the details of his complexion right.

Gosh, Stolas was so fucking pretty. Blitz really couldn’t help himself—he gave up on his first attempt in favor of a second one, where he drew a smirking Stolas suckling around the tips of his own sticky fingers.

Fuck. Blitz was suddenly extremely grateful no one in the entire state of New York seemed to want to get a tattoo done today, because he could feel his pulse quickening as he made the lines come together, detailing the elegant curves of Stolas’ fingers, the blush covering his cheeks, the glint in his eyes as he looked directly at the observer.

Fuck…

Blitz set the pencil on the counter and closed his eyes, trying hard to even out his breathing as he pictured Stolas lying back on a beach towel, shirt unbuttoned, cheeks flushed as he flicked his tongue out to lap at his fingers, moaning obscenely at their taste.

He thought of straddling Stolas, sinking a hand into his hair and tilting his head back to mark his neck. Thought of Stolas’ low, needy moans reverberating close to his ear, and promptly opened his eyes, because he needed to draw Stolas’ face just like that: open-mouthed and flushed, with Blitz's fingers curled around his hair and pulling his head back.

Once he was done, he blinked down at the page in awe, just drinking in the details. The drawings were rushed and far from perfect, but they had Blitz’s mind reeling and his pulse quickening nonetheless.

Christ. It was a very good thing that everyone who knew him had long learned not to go through his sketchbooks. He was pretty sure this was the horniest art he’d made in his fucking life, and he’d doodled more cocks and boobs than he’d have time to suck in a lifetime.

A new mental image was already forming: one of Stolas parting his legs and bringing his fingers to the buttons on his shorts. Blitz licked his lips, the mental image alone leaving him close to drooling, and was about to put pencil to paper again when the door pushed suddenly open.

Blitz barely had time to slam the sketchbook shut before a young-looking girl made it up to the counter.

“Hi,” she said. “Um, I have an appointment at 3? It’s under Rebecca.”

Right. His 3pm appointment. The appointment he had at 3pm. The one he absolutely hadn’t forgotten about, thank you very much, because that would be highly unprofessional of him. That appointment.

Christ. Sometimes, Blitz simply had to wonder if he’d ever stopped being a clown at all.

“Sure. Y-Yeah! Let me just—” He rummaged through the drawers, mentally shaking his brain so it’d tell him where the fuck they kept the consent forms. After a few uncomfortable seconds, he finally managed to slide the damn thing before her. “Just read and sign this, then we can get going.”

Get it together, you fucker, he mentally admonished himself, annoyed beyond words that he’d once again have to face the work afternoon hornier than a bitch in heat. It was official: Stolas had broken him. He’d reconfigured Blitz’s brain and reverted him right back to a raunchy, hormonal teenager. Ugh.

Well. Blitz had somehow survived both his early teens and going on HRT at 17, so he guessed he could survive the day. He had to, no matter how hard the clocks tried to keep him hostage or how much his groin complained. He had a man to sweep off his feet that night, after all.

For now, though, Blitz resigned himself to his cruel fate and led his client to the back of the shop.

⋆★⋆

Against all odds, the Earth’s orbit around the Sun did not, in fact, have a homophobic agenda against Blitz specifically, and so Friday night did eventually roll around.

Chest tight with excitement and anticipation, Blitz paid the Uber driver and stepped out of the car.

He was ten or so minutes early, but that was on purpose. Fuck only knew just how out of his depth Stolas would be at a place like this, which was why Blitz had wanted to make sure to already be here by the time Stolas arrived.

Avoiding the several groups of smokers loitering around the club entrance, Blitz trotted up to the building block, partly so he could rest his weight against the wall while he waited for Stolas, but mostly to get away from the unfathomably annoying drizzle that had started up a few hours earlier and seemed to refuse to let up.

He pulled out his phone, and didn’t even attempt to pretend to care about any of his boring apps, instead going directly to Stolas’ chat. They’d been texting after Blitz had dropped Loona off at Gigi’s, while they both got ready for their date, and Blitz scrolled back up just to re-read their conversation, not giving a shit if people noticed him grinning at his phone and chose to judge him for it.

Can’t wait for later! 😊

me eithrrr

I’m so excited! I’ve finally made up my mind about what I’m going to wear!

oh??? 👀

I rather want it to be a surprise 😇

But I could give you a sneak peek, if you’d like?

It had been so hard to physically stop himself from searching for howling wolf gifs to reply to Stolas with. Instead, Blitz had gone for a far less unhinged—

u fkcing BET i dp bitch!!!! 🔥🔥🔥 firefigther emoji

Your wish is my command! 🥰

Despite Stolas’ instant reply, it had taken him a couple of minutes to actually send a picture. They had been well worth the wait, though. Blitz could still hear the unearthly sound that had left his throat at the sight of it. Even now, as he opened it again, he had to bite his lip hard to stop himself from groaning.

Stolas, the fucking menace, had sent a close-up of his shoulders and neck, clearly meant to show that he was wearing a snug, mauve button-up. Though wearing was perhaps too generous a way to put it, considering the damn thing had been fully unbuttoned, showing just a glimpse of the milky expanse of Stolas’ sharp collarbone, as well as a hint of chest hair right where the picture cut off at the bottom.

Stolas had clearly put effort into the shot, too. He’d stood close to a source of light, but made sure his phone didn’t cast shadows over him. And he’d tilted his head to the side to expose the faint line of love bites that still trailed up his neck. Though most of Stolas’ face wasn’t visible, the corner of his mouth had made it into the picture, pulled up into a mischievous smirk.

The guy had nearly obliterated Blitz on the fucking spot.

Even now, it took several minutes for Blitz to gather the willpower to close the pic and keep scrolling down their chat.

holy sheet

stolas

STOLS

That is, indeed, my name 🤭

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I take it you like it?

I think the crimson details add a nice touch of color to the outfit, don’t you agree?

Blitz was still convinced Stolas had been begging to be bitten. That was the only rational conclusion to draw from those texts. The guy was clearly asking to have his soul sucked out of him through his goddamn neck.

Blitz would’ve very gladly complied, of course. But, seeing as they’d both still been home, where Blitz physically couldn’t climb Stolas like a tree and latch onto his throat, he’d resorted to the second best thing there was to do in a situation like this: text back in all caps.

U CNT DO THIS TO ME MAN UM GONMA EXPLUDE WYF 🤤😭😭🤤😫🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

You flatter me, Blitz 😳

bitcg thats NOTHING compared 2 what u do to me!!!

😳😳😳😏🥰🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

Blitz only now noticed Stolas had sent six eggplant emojis again. Clearly, he’d been too busy losing his fucking mind to process it earlier.

um so lucky Loona isnt home tonite bc shed kicj me rihgt in the shin for teh faces im making rn holee shit 😂

Hahaha, I’m glad your shin will be spared!

Does she have plans for the night as well?

yh shes at a skeepover with her frends

For a few long seconds, Stolas hadn’t texted back. Blitz had held his breath, hoping against all hope that Stolas would ask to come over. But then…

Oh, that’s lovely! I’m sure she’ll have a great time 😊

And, okay, Blitz should’ve known better than to expect Stolas to ask something like that. It was his apartment—he was the one who had to invite Stolas over.

And he’d tried. He really had. But he just hadn’t found a way to do so that didn’t sound weird, or awkward, or deranged, and before he could conjure up the right words Stolas had texted back about Octavia, and then the topic had changed entirely, and Blitz had had to let it go.

He cursed under his breath as he stared at the messages and witnessed his own failure all over again. After more one-night stands than he could possibly count, one would think he’d know how to do this kind of thing, but it was just—Stolas. Stolas was just so… lovely, and naive, and new to this, and Blitz had just—panicked. There was no other word for it. He’d panicked.

All of a sudden, the chat jumped up slightly, and Blitz scrolled all the way down to read Stolas’ most recent message.

I’m here! ❤️

He looked up just in time to see Stolas trotting towards him and closing his umbrella, a smile spreading across his face as he came to a halt just before Blitz.

Blitz, who had all of a sudden forgotten how to fucking breathe.

“Hi,” Stolas said, then gestured at Blitz’s phone, still held in his hands and displaying their chat. “Sorry about that. I texted right before I spotted you.”

Holy fuck.

Holy shit.

Blitz opened his mouth to reply, to tell Stolas it was all good and to stop being a dummy and apologizing for silly things. But all that fell from his lips was a breathless, “Wow.”

Stolas glanced down at himself, and even though he was standing directly against a streetlight, Blitz could tell that his cheeks had darkened slightly.

“Too much?” Stolas asked, offering Blitz an apologetic smile.

Blitz could only shake his head, eyes locked on Stolas’. They looked more beautiful than ever, framed by thin eyeliner and a subtle, vertical black line that descended from each of his eyelids a couple of millimeters towards his cheeks.

The faint love bites on Stolas’ neck were in plain sight, no thick and fluffy scarf to cover them up this time, and descended towards the—now buttoned—mauve button-up Stolas had already shown him.

The rest of Stolas was covered in leather.

Literal, actual black leather.

“Holy shit,” Blitz breathed, unable to conjure up any other words.

Almost in a trance, he reached up to trail his fingers down Stolas’ stylish leather jacket, from the lapel down to the open, double zipper. He hummed in approval at the four front pockets that decorated it with similar, if smaller, symmetrical zip fasteners.

Then, holding onto the waist of the jacket with light fingertips, he let his gaze travel down to Stolas’ pants, which were, just… fuck. They were so snug they molded perfectly to Stolas’ long, lean legs, leaving little to the imagination. With three buttons trailing down their front, the pants fit so perfectly around Stolas’ hips that Blitz couldn’t help but let his hands fall to cup them, thumbs hooking into the belt loops.

He lowered his gaze all the way, humming in approval at the sight of Stolas’ black boots, which had a moderate amount of heel to them, making Stolas stand impossibly taller in front of Blitz.

When Blitz looked back up at Stolas’ expectant expression, the warm light from the street lamp shone through his fluffy hair, revealing a single, light grey streak floating over his forehead.

Blitz was pretty sure all linguistic capabilities had drained from his brain.

Fuck.

Holding his gaze, Stolas smiled, shy and adorable, hands traveling to Blitz’s lower back. “You, um,” he mumbled, “you mentioned I looked good in leather, when you gave me your jacket the other day. So I thought… It’s not my usual look, but I—I quite like it, I think.”

Blitz had said that. And he’d been right. Fucking hell, he’d never before been so right.

“Holy shit,” he murmured again, a broken record, as his gaze roamed all of Stolas’ body and his hands tightened around Stolas’ hips. It tore a chuckle from Stolas, and Blitz found his own lips pulling up into a smile as well.

Hesitantly, he moved his hands back to feel the place where Stolas’ shirt, tucked into his pants only at the front, floated freely at his back. Blitz barely managed to resist the urge to pull the rest of the shirt out and sink his hands underneath it, skin to skin.

He did step closer, though, their bodies brushing, and looked up at Stolas, taller than the world.

“Hi,” Stolas said again with a giggle, his arms around Blitz’s back bringing them closer together.

“Why, hello to you too,” Blitz chuckled. They probably looked so silly, out there in the street in one another’s arms, just looking at each other and grinning. It was as terrifying as it was thrilling that he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’m starting to think you’ve made it your goal to kill me tonight.”

“I was rather hoping to spend the evening with you, actually,” Stolas said, eyes shining with mischief, “so I should hope you’ll stay alive for at least a little bit longer.”

Blitz gave a solemn nod. Said, “For you, I’ll try my best,” and marveled at the genuine, breathless laugh that brightened all of Stolas’ face.

“You know,” Stolas said then, and pushed Blitz’s jacket open, just slightly; just enough to trace the white seams of Blitz’s otherwise black shirt, following a path down his collar, down what little was visible of his long sleeves, and then down his sides until his own hands were hovering just over Blitz’s waist. “You don’t look half bad yourself,” he finished, his voice lowering in a way that traveled directly to Blitz’s core and pulled a shiver from him.

Mirroring Blitz, Stolas raked his hands around his waist, the touch soft and tentative, and, fuck, Blitz now regretted tucking his own shirt fully into his ripped black jeans, because he needed Stolas’ hands on him, club, and strangers, and fucking public decency be damned.

Stolas stroked the sides of his waist with timid thumbs, his long fingers splaying across the lowest part of his back, and Blitz shivered as Stolas’ fingertips brushed his pants just above the hard line of his back pockets.

The touch was barely there, and part of Blitz wanted to close his eyes and get lost in sensation, but he couldn’t look away. Not when Stolas was looking at him like this. Like there was no one else in the world he would rather be looking at. Like he needed Blitz more than he needed air.

Blitz didn’t know who moved first. All he could make sense of was the pull of Stolas’ arms around his lower back, and his own body moving up, standing on tiptoes, pressing closer; Stolas bending down until their faces were mere inches apart just as Blitz reached up to run his fingers through his hair.

“This looks good on you,” Blitz murmured when he noticed the dyed streak was carded between his fingers, and he felt Stolas’ soft huff brush against his lips.

“Thanks,” Stolas breathed, and Blitz pushed up a bit more to capture Stolas’ mouth with his own.

Melting fully into it, Stolas deepened the kiss, his hands at Blitz’s back urging it to arch so Stolas could taste the inside of his mouth. Stolas let out a hot, panted breath, and Blitz shivered as it brushed past his lips.

Truly, kissing Stolas had no right to be this fucking addictive. Just feeling how eager Stolas was to have him close, and how unafraid he was to show it… it had Blitz’s mind spinning as he sucked the soft flesh of Stolas’ bottom lip into his mouth and traced the inside with his tongue.

Just then, a soft breeze picked up, the world’s rude and unnecessary reminder that neither of them was really dressed for the outdoors. Reluctantly, Blitz pulled back from the kiss, though he stayed on his tiptoes just a moment longer to feel Stolas’ next, ragged breath against his mouth.

Then, unthreading his fingers from Stolas’ hair, he took a proper step back.

“Shall we—head inside?” Stolas asked, still a little out of breath.

But, in looking up to admire him some more, Blitz noticed something. Something that wasn’t quite right.

“Just one… one sec,” he murmured. He reached up, signalling to Stolas with his hands before actually touching him, treating him almost instinctively like he would an easily-spooked foal.

With careful fingers, he parted Stolas’ jacket some more to reveal his shirt. Just as he’d thought, it was buttoned almost all the way up, with just the top-most button left undone. Which wasn’t nearly cunty enough for the occasion, in Blitz’s not-at-all humble opinion. With careful fingers, he undid the second button, revealing just a sliver of Stolas’ chest.

Then he stepped back to assess his handiwork.

“There,” he said with a satisfied grin, hands on his hips, “perfect.”

Blushing hard, Stolas brought his fingers to his chest, fiddling with the open button. When he looked at Blitz a moment later, a shy smile was tugging at a corner of his mouth.

Blitz reached out a hand. Smiled. “Shall we?”

With a little giggle, Stolas took it, and together they made it through the crowd outside and into the stuffy ambience of the club.

“Can I see your IDs?” one of the guys at the door asked, seeming completely unimpressed by what Blitz was sure was an aggressive amount of blushy vibes radiating off of the both of them. He pulled out his wallet and showed him, thankful that Stolas was too distracted rummaging through his own pockets to see the stupid O at the end of his name.

With that out of the way, they left their jackets in the coat room and wandered into the first of two floors. Womanizer was playing loud, and the low lights, in every color of the rainbow, bounced off the walls and the groups of people already inside.

It was pretty early, so most party-goers were still shuffling semi-awkwardly around the dance floor or queuing for drinks, with only a few brave souls already hitting the dance floor or making out in the darker corners of the room. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Friday night.

“Wow,” came Stolas’ voice from above, just loud enough to hear over the music. He was standing so close Blitz had to crane his neck to see his face as he scanned the place with such wonderment he might just as well have been standing on the surface of Mars.

“Y’like it?” Blitz asked, nudging his ribs with a shoulder, and Stolas looked down at him, eyes wide and a tentative smile dancing on his lips.

“Very much,” he said, so low Blitz had to read his lips to fully make out the words. He glanced around again, excitement and nerves radiating off of him in waves. He tracked the dance floor; the bar, and the alcohol display behind it; the couches, and the pride flags that lined the walls, which made him pause, gaze intense as he took them in. Finally, he looked back down at Blitz. “What—What should we do first?”

And, okay, Blitz knew what he’d normally be doing at a place like this. He didn’t party all that often anymore—not since Loona—and when he did, it was usually more to drown his bullshit thoughts in alcohol and sex than it was to have fun.

The kind of path that led him down wasn’t something he wanted to think about now, though. Tonight, he was a man on a mission.

“Wanna grab a drink?” he suggested. “Then we can do whatever floats your boat, honestly. We could dance,” he ticked off, “hang around for a bit, sit down, find drunk idiots to win arguments against… Loom ominously in a corner and conduct questionable social experiments, like deciding which stranger has the bubbliest butt…” At that, Stolas broke into a laugh, and Blitz followed suit, reaching out a hand to take Stolas’ in his.

Thumb stroking Blitz’s knuckles, Stolas looked around them; nodded at a dude standing nearby with a small group of people. “Definitely that one.”

Blitz’s eyebrows shot up, but he had to admit Stolas had a point. The guy did have a very juicy ass, dammit. He shrugged. “Touché.”

Stolas giggled—squeezed his hand. “A drink sounds nice,” he said then. “Lead the way?”

⋆★⋆

It was when Stolas sheepishly suggested ordering wine that Blitz knew this date was actually an intervention.

“You can’t be serious.” Blitz shook his head, beyond baffled, and then shook it again, resolute. “Okay. Okay. We’re doing this.” And he ordered one rum and coke and a dry martini, and handed both to Stolas to have a taste.

The face Stolas made as he sipped on the rum and coke had Blitz letting out an inelegant snort. It was okay, though, because Stolas laughed too as he handed Blitz the glass and reached for the dry martini instead.

“Do you want the olive?” Blitz couldn’t help but ask when Stolas removed it before bringing the glass to his lips.

Wordlessly, Stolas handed it over, and Blitz made a show of throwing it in the air and catching it before eating it, making Stolas giggle into his glass. Then, feeling a little like the protagonist of a cheesy romantic comedy and not giving a single shit, Blitz winked at Stolas, pressed his lips closed, and ran the wooden stick over them to wet them, tracking the blush that crept over Stolas’ cheeks as he almost choked on his martini. Good, Blitz thought. Stolas deserved it after the many times he’d done the same to him.

Resting his drink on the bar, Blitz leaned closer with a smirk. Said, “Wanna taste?”

Stolas’ mouth parted slightly in surprise, eyes widening for all of a second before lidding as his gaze fell to Blitz’s mouth. There was a stuttered breath ghosting against Blitz’s lips, and then Stolas’ mouth was on his, the tip of a tongue swiping across his lower lip. It tore a groan from Blitz, and when Stolas pressed a hand to his cheek to keep him close, he opened his mouth, inviting Stolas to deepen the kiss.

The moment he did, though, Stolas drew back, a look of pure outrage on his face. “You taste like olives!”

Before Blitz could justifiably laugh at him, though, Stolas seemed to decide the taste was worth the sacrifice, because a moment passed and they were kissing again, breathless and deep, and long fingers were threading through his hair as Stolas’ legs brushed against his own.

Somewhere between kisses, they managed to finish their drinks, and Blitz ordered them each a whiskey shot, hand possessive and firm around Stolas’ waist as they reached for their glasses. He’d barely put his glass down after taking a sip when he saw Stolas downing the whole shot, then placing the glass on the bar with a prideful clunk.

“Slow down there, race horse,” Blitz half-laughed, too distracted by the way their legs were getting progressively more tangled to get his words to convey any real concern.

“Isn’t that…?” Stolas blinked. “I-I was under the impression that was the proper way of drinking a shot.”

“It can be,” Blitz acceded, taking another sip, “if what you want is to get drunk off your ass and have zero memory of it the next day.”

“I see.” Stolas seemed to consider his words. Then, after a moment, he leaned closer again, hand resting on Blitz’s leg and trailing minutely up in a way that had Blitz’s own fingers digging into his waist. “I would very much like to commit this night to memory,” he said, a breathless note to his voice, and, really, did they need to be using up two stools when the club was getting so full? It was only charitable of Blitz to half-pull Stolas into his lap, both hands at his waist so he wouldn’t fall, even if his legs were long enough that his feet were still on the floor. He hummed in approval when Stolas’ hands titled his head up, their bodies slotting together as Blitz tasted the whiskey right from Stolas’ tongue.

They made out for long minutes, needy and hot, pausing only so Blitz could finish his drink and order another round, which they both drank in between delicious, heated kisses. Stolas claimed his mouth again and again, humming around the taste of whiskey and pulling at strands of Blitz’s hair, and it wasn’t until a bartender not-so-kindly told them to either order more drinks or get a move on that they managed to pull apart.

Stolas’ look of embarrassment didn’t hide his giant smile as Blitz led him through the crowd and—as soon as Die Young started playing—directly towards the dance floor.

“Blitz!” Stolas squealed when Blitz turned and pulled him into a silly dance.

“C’mon!” he laughed, both of Stolas’ hands in his now, “we can’t not dance to Kesha, that’d be a crime!”

Stolas didn’t seem to have a strong opinion on the matter, but that was okay. What mattered was that he tried to dance with Blitz, grinning from ear to ear even as he kept his limbs close to his body, contained, like he barely dared to take up space.

Blitz encouraged him, sauntering closer and then stepping back to the beat of the music, all the while shaking Stolas’ arms, the only part of him that seemed willing to move. Blitz wiggled his shoulders and swayed his hips, stepping closer again until their bodies brushed and then pulling back, and he smirked when the lights hit Stolas right and brought out his flushed cheeks and neck.

Try as he might, Stolas barely managed to bounce his knees a bit as he tried to follow Blitz’s rhythm, fingers clasped tightly around Blitz’s own. It was such an endearing sight Blitz couldn’t help a laugh, relief flooding him when Stolas laughed with him.

“You h—” Blitz broke off with a guffaw at the sight of Stolas’ awkwardly-bobbing knees. “You have to move your hips too, silly! Get your feet off the floor!”

Stolas stepped from one foot to the other, clumsy and adorable, and Blitz’s subsequent cackle had him whinging a shrill, “I’m trying!”

Blitz just laughed harder, and Stolas did, too, bringing his hands to Blitz’s shoulders to lean his weight on him.

“I c—I can’t,” he rushed out with a shake of his head, a chortle. “I truly can’t!”

“I hear your heart to the beat of the drums!” Blitz roared, encouraging, hands on Stolas’ hips to sway him from side to side. “Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone!”

Stolas’ forehead fell against his with a thunk as he held his belly through another fit of laughter. Blitz kept singing as obnoxiously off-key as he possibly could, solely for Stolas’ entertainment, and didn’t stop until the song ended. He shifted seamlessly into Wannabe, where he tried to mimic the high-pitched voices of the Spice Girls until he was a solid 50% sure Stolas might laugh himself silly.

“S-Stop, stop, you’re—” Stolas managed through a fit of laughter, hands lowering to Blitz’s waist for leverage, “you’re going to make me pee myself, you—” He didn’t finish his sentence, just letting Blitz hold all of his weight, a testament to just how quickly whiskey shots could start to hit.

When Stolas finally managed to pull back and straighten, his hair was ruffled and his eyes crinkled with delight. Blitz treated him to a goofy little dance, pointing and moving his hands, his expression theatrically serious as he sang, “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends!” and the semi-constant stream of giggles that tumbled out of Stolas was confirmation that, yep, those whiskey shots were definitely hitting. Blitz himself was feeling rather silly and energized, which had him breaking into a fast-paced dance when the refrain rolled around again.

The song ended, and Blitz came to a halt to catch his breath. At least, that was his intention. Fate seemed to have other plans for him, however, for just then Cascada’s Everytime We Touch came on, which was simply illegal not to sing along to.

Though he didn’t join in on the boisterous singing, Stolas let himself be moved by Blitz, who wrapped his hands around his waist and dug his fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. Stolas wrapped his arms around Blitz’s shoulders, a big, goofy smile splitting his face, and when Blitz began jumping to the beat of the song Stolas actually did the same, all the while laughing, laughing until Blitz felt drunk on the sound of it, on the sight of Stolas’ joy framed by a thousand rainbow lights.

Flying sky-high, Blitz sang, and bounced, and laughed, and he kept going until he physically couldn’t anymore, because Stolas was holding his face with warm hands and tilting his head up and kissing him.

Blitz clung to Stolas like a lifeline, gasping for air against the heat of his mouth. He tugged at Stolas’ soft hair to coax him down, standing on tiptoes again, and the world spun around him, but it was fine, it was okay, because Stolas’ hands were at his lower back again, and Stolas had him, Stolas wasn’t letting him fall. Stolas was real, was warm, was here—was here with him, and holy shit, he likes me, Blitz’s mind supplied, he actually likes me. How the hell did I get this fucking lucky?

Though Blitz couldn’t hear it properly over the music, he could feel Stolas moaning hotly into their kiss. He drank in every sigh, every groan, soft shivers traveling through his core until he was shaking with the need to press their bodies close, to feel all of Stolas flush against himself.

He tried to bring them closer, but couldn’t—not with their height difference—and instead he pulled back from the kiss entirely, panting for air. Some new Katy Perry song he truly couldn’t bring himself to care about was playing, and he stayed still for a moment, breathing through his mounting arousal and the feeling of Stolas’ damp, ragged breaths against his lips—of Stolas’ hands curled tightly around his waist.

“D’you—wanna sit down?” Blitz managed after a moment, still gasping for air.

Stolas pulled back slightly. “What?” he asked over the music.

“Wanna sit down for a bit?” Blitz asked again, louder, and let his fingers tickle and tease Stolas’ tummy through his shirt, just slightly. Just enough to get his point across.

Stolas’ eyes widened, then darkened as he caught on. His own fingers clenched just slightly around Blitz’s shirt as he gave a nod.

Together, they pushed through the crowd towards the far end of the club. Most of the couches lined up against the wall were taken, and when they spotted a free one, Stolas strode forward, plopping down on it with no trace of his usual poise. Amused, Blitz dropped down next to him, just watching as Stolas sagged against the backrest to catch his breath and ran a hand through his ruffled hair. He must’ve been running hot, because he undid the buttons at his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. Blitz couldn’t help a glance down at his thin wrists—at the star tattoo.

When he looked back up, Stolas had closed his eyes.

“All good?” Blitz asked with a snicker, even if he was pretty winded himself.

“Yes, I—yes,” Stolas stammered even as he rested a hand on his chest, seeming almost surprised to feel his heart drumming underneath. He let out a sigh, still a little breathless, and his expression melted into a grin. “That was…”

“Yeah?” Blitz asked, soft. “You having fun?”

Stolas nodded, then blinked his eyes open, slowly. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but got distracted as he looked curiously around him. “Why have sofas at a club?”

“Oh. They organize drag shows here from time to time, they’re for the audience,” Blitz said. “I’ve been to a couple, actually. They’re really fun.”

Stolas nodded again, still looking around them. He took in the people, the lights above, and then paused on the flags that hung behind them.

Though Stolas’ eyes were bleary and a little unfocused, Blitz saw something fragile flicker in his gaze, almost nervous; a soft sort of bewilderment that sparked a quiet aching in Blitz’s heart.

Unthinking, he took Stolas’ hand in his, scooting closer until their legs brushed. Their eyes met, and Blitz offered Stolas a tender, genuine smile. You’re okay, he hoped it conveyed. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Stolas gave his hand the lightest squeeze; looked up behind him again. His lips parted, but it was a moment before he spoke.

“Which one’s yours?” he asked, voice just low enough to hear. “Other than the trans flag, I mean.”

“Oh. Uh—” Blitz craned his neck; nodded to a far corner behind his back. “That one, the pink, yellow and blue one. Pansexual flag.”

Stolas’ confused little frown made him snicker a bit.

“... Okay, look,” he said. “People define it in all sorts of ways, but to me it just means that… my sexuality is basically like a—a collection of all the people I’ve felt attracted to. Y’know? Not something that depends on people’s gender, or sex, or whatever the fuck else. It’s like, there’s just people. And sometimes, those people are hot. Or cute. Or they’re neither, but they’re somehow still fuckable.” Like Moxxie, he mentally added, but had the sense not to say that part out loud. Stolas didn’t need to know. “I still also just call myself gay, though, mostly for the bit. And because gender is a sham anyway, and fuck it, I can be gay for whoever the fuck I want.”

Though he was probably making very little sense, Stolas nodded along to his ramble, even if he seemed more focused on the movement of Blitz’s mouth than on his actual words. By the time Blitz stopped talking, his eyes were half-lidded, and he was leaning close enough that some of his weight was resting on the length of Blitz’s arm.

Amused, Blitz raised his arm to give Stolas room to lean properly against him and carded his fingers through his hair, marveling at its softness.

“Feeling tipsy, big guy?”

“Mmh. A bit,” he admitted, gaze still fixed on Blitz’s mouth.

Christ, they were so close.

Stolas moved a hand up, up until he was fiddling with a button at Blitz’s midriff. And, okay, Blitz hadn’t intended for his legs to fall slightly open under the touch, but it was just—that hand. The mere thought of it moving down made pleasure shoot through him, lightning-fast, so blinding he almost missed Stolas’ next words.

“I just feel so… so very new to this.”

Blitz shivered a little. “H-Hey, don’t you worry,” he managed, voice strained. “You didn’t drink that much, it’ll wear off soon enough.”

But Stolas shook his head. “I meant…” And he trailed his hand up, slowly, his touch hot and quivering against Blitz’s ribs, his chest, his shoulder.

“Oh.” Blitz was pretty sure he was about to catch fire. “Well, that’s—that’s okay. We can, you know.” He gulped. “Take it as slow as you need. There’s no rush.”

Stolas’ eyes met his, then, searching. His hand cupped the curve of Blitz’s neck; his fingers tickled the hair at his nape.

“What if…” Stolas breathed, and Blitz had to look down at his lips to make out the words over Madonna’s Like A Virgin. “I don’t want to take it slow?”

“That’s…” Fuck. Fuck. Blitz let his hand fall to Stolas’ waist and grabbed him there, needing him closer. “Yeah, that—that’s more than okay too. Definitely. Yeah.”

A breath, and then Stolas was in his lap, hot and heavy and perfect, and he was bending down, tugging at his hair, kissing him, and Blitz couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe—

“You’re all I think about,” Stolas gasped against his mouth, fingers bunching up the front of Blitz’s shirt like he could barely fight the need to claw his way underneath.

“Yeah?” Blitz nipped at Stolas’ lips, tasting them. “You think about me?” he asked, and when Stolas nodded, fast and desperate, he brought his hands to Stolas’ hips, encouraging him forward, swallowing the moan Stolas choked out as he ground down against Blitz’s lap.

Stolas tried to deepen the kiss again, but Blitz pulled back just slightly, too curious to let it slide. “What d’you think about?”

“You,” Stolas breathed, and, “you, just—you. Your mouth, and y-your—” Stolas cut off with a gasp when Blitz mouthed at his neck, lazy and slow.

Blitz pressed his tongue into the soft flesh under his jaw. Rumbled a low, “Keep going,” that had Stolas quivering in his arms.

“Just—” Stolas groaned, grabbing at his hair to keep him locked in place, not that Blitz had any intention of pulling away. “Your hands. Your hands on me.”

Blitz licked a long stripe up the length of his jaw. “Mhm?”

“A-And your—your mouth. Biting me, marking me, ruining me,” Stolas said in a rush. “And—touching you. Making you feel good, putting m-my mouth everywhere on you. I want to—” Stolas broke off with a shuddered moan when Blitz sucked around his neck, nails digging into Blitz’s scalp. “W-Want to taste you.”

Blitz let go with a pop, and for a full second, they both went still as they fought for breath.

Then Blitz ran his palms up Stolas’ thighs, leather gloves against leather pants, and Stolas cursed softly under his breath and fondled his chest, needy and pent-up and perfect. Their mouths met again in what could barely be classified as a kiss, jaws slack and breaths hot and uneven.

“Hey,” Blitz said, tasting Stolas’ lips, “hey, we can—we can do that. If you—want? To come to my house later, I mean. We can—”

“You’d want that?” Stolas drew back, the question so small and tentative Blitz almost laughed, beyond exhilarated. There was a glint in Stolas’ eyes, though, vulnerable and hopeful, that compelled him to hold it in.

“Yeah,” he said instead. “Yeah, I—fuck.” He gripped Stolas’ thighs, throbbing so hard he ached. “Want you to come. Please come—”

And he would’ve kept going, needing Stolas to know exactly how much he wanted him; except he couldn’t, because Stolas was already nodding, and pulling him in, and groaning through another open-mouthed kiss.

It was sloppy. It was unrestrained. It was everything, and there was nothing Blitz could do to help the groans that tore from his chest at every shift of Stolas’ weight on top of him, every caress of those hot palms against his chest, his sides, his waist. He was aching, burning up inside. He was wet beyond any kind of help, throbbing madly between his legs, and his hips moved on their own accord, over and over, pushing up to meet Stolas’ hot and heavy body, chasing some sense of relief.

With a long, delicious groan, Stolas dragged his hands to Blitz’s thighs and grabbed them, rough and possessive.

Blitz whined around Stolas’ tongue, gasping for breath and clawing helplessly at Stolas’ back, and choked on another moan when Stolas ground down against him, pressing him down against the couch with the full force of his body.

He was dying. He was simply going to perish if he didn’t get to fuck this man.

Soon, he told himself. Very soon. But for now, he settled for licking into his mouth in the middle of the crowded club like their lives depended on it. As far as Blitz was concerned, they very much did depend on it. In fact, the only reason he eventually drew back a little was because their mortal bodies sadly did need some level of oxygen to subsist.

“Curse our stupid homophobic need to breathe,” Blitz grumbled against Stolas’ lips after a few moments, and Stolas chuckled—an adorable sound that quickly turned into a hiss when he shifted on top of Blitz. He brought a hand to his calf, which was no doubt cramping from holding his weight. Blitz wanted to laugh at him for having an old-man body, but talking required straightening his head first, and the pain that shot up his neck as he did so had him holding back the jibe.

Begrudgingly, they untangled themselves from one another to stretch, Stolas stumbling back and then holding out a hand to help Blitz to his feet.

Stolas bunched his sleeves higher up his arms and pushed his hair out of his face. Honestly, Blitz was starting to feel overheated, too. Plus, he could feel the beat of the music pounding in his temples, and not in a good way.

He took Stolas’ hand in his again and gave it a light squeeze. “Wanna step outside?”

The look of relief on Stolas’ face as he nodded had Blitz guiding them both towards the door, Stolas’ hand wrapped pleasantly around his own.

Unsurprisingly, it was still rainy and still cold as balls. But none of it really mattered—not with the way Stolas’ arms wrapped around him and pulled him close for warmth, and definitely not with the way their hot breaths mingled in the non-existent space between them as their lips brushed, as their tongues met in a kiss that was deep and slow—unhurried.

They only stayed out for a few minutes, though, the breeze a bit too cold for comfort in just their shirts.

“Maybe we could grab some more drinks?” Stolas suggested as they walked back inside. “That might help us warm back up.”

An arm around Stolas’ lower back to keep him close, Blitz bumped his hip to Stolas’ thigh, playful. “Good idea, handsome.”

After running through a bunch of options, they settled for tequila shots, which Stolas was particularly curious about. His interest only grew as Blitz explained that, “because of the whole salt and lime thing, you do want to drink these in one go,” and very innocently added, “typically, you put the salt on your hand, but there are other places you can lick it from…”

Mere minutes later, Stolas’ mouth was flush against his neck—first to wet it so the salt would stick, and then again to lick him clean. At the hot press of that tongue to the line of his throat, Blitz shuddered, and had to physically stop himself from grabbing Stolas’ hair to keep him there when Stolas pulled back to down his shot and bite into a slice of lime, a glint of pure glee in his pretty eyes.

For his part, Blitz chose to lick the salt from Stolas’ warm left wrist. A rather tame choice, maybe—but there was just something about watching Stolas’ face while he scraped his teeth over the sensitive skin there that had a fire roaring low in Blitz’s belly. The way Stolas’ brow twitched and his lips parted in an inaudible moan when Blitz let go was definitely a sight worth committing to memory.

They kept going, cheeks growing red, bodies brushing in the most delicious ways as they leaned in to lick one another clean, over and over. Eventually, though, Blitz reached out to take Stolas’ hand in his and stop him from calling the bartender over to order another round.

“Ease up, big guy,” he said when Stolas gave him a confused look. “You don’t wanna overdo it.”

“Mmm,” Stolas grumbled, a little pouty, a little red in the cheeks. “But I wanna keep kissing your neck.”

Blitz really couldn’t help a smug smile. “Who says you need to drink a shot to do that?”

It wasn’t long before they were shooed away from the bar again, barely managing to untangle themselves for long enough to find a corner to keep making out in.

Next thing he knew, Blitz was pressed up against a wall, hands a vice around Stolas’ hair. His head spun as Stolas bent down almost in half and sucked hard around the soft flesh under his jaw, over and over, soothing the area with his tongue before trailing up and tormenting a new patch of skin. He was relentless, and knowing the music would drown out the sounds, Blitz moaned, moaned until he was breathless, clutching at Stolas’ hair and keeping that mouth on him until his knees were weak and the only thing holding him upright was the leg Stolas had slotted between his own.

Fuuuuck, he thought as he dragged his short nails down Stolas’ scalp, his back arching, his lungs stuttering for air, fuck fuck fuck FUCK he feels so fucking good, I could come just from this holy shit keep going, keep going, keep—

He practically sobbed when Stolas wrenched his mouth suddenly away, a look of pure glee on his face.

“Oh my gosh!” Stolas squealed, clenching his hands in excitement. The sight was incomprehensible to Blitz, the cogs in his brain trying to comprehend the absence of that mouth on his neck. “I actually know this song!”

You didn’t know any of the others?! Was the only coherent thought Blitz could conjure up. But his mind was slow and hazy with arousal, and before he could put it into words Stolas was dragging him to the dance floor, his steps so long as he strode through the crowd that Blitz had to use the entirety of his brain power just to keep up.

“Oh, my, I can’t believe—it’s been years since I last heard this song!”

Blitz could just gape as Stolas turned, only slightly unsteady on his feet, and—holy shit—dipped down before him, trailing his hands up his own body and smirking devilishly up at Blitz. Christ on a stick I want him, I need him, he’s everything, what the FUCK— was all Blitz could think as Stolas made his sinuous way back up, singing along to ABBA’s, “Friday night and the lights are low…”

Blitz could barely hear Stolas’ voice over the loud music of the club and the rush of arousal in his ears. Still, he was rooted on the fucking spot, and just watched as Stolas pretended to be holding a microphone in his hand. “Looking out for a place to go…”

And, okay, look, Blitz wasn’t in the best state right now. His underwear was soaked. His brain wasn’t working, probably because a solid 70% of his blood supply was currently throbbing between his legs, and—oh, yeah, he was probably drunk. But none of those things could outmatch the power of ABBA, and when Stolas rested both hands on his shoulders and leaned in playfully as he sang, Blitz joined right in, grabbing Stolas’ hips to press closer.

“Anybody could be that guy… night is young and the music’s—HIIIIGH,” they both sang, and Blitz laughed at Stolas’ goofy impression of smoking weed.

Stolas smiled, and, yeah, no, Blitz couldn’t move his mouth in time to sing the next verses. Not with that smile directed right at him, made of sunlight, blinding and gold.

Stolas’ dance moves were uncoordinated and silly, and all of Stolas was addictive, was magnetic, and Blitz couldn’t look away.

“And when you get that chance…” Stolas pointed at Blitz, declaring, “YOU are the dancing queen! Young and sweet, only seventeen!”

Blitz laughed, and it was a breathless, full-body experience. Stolas’ hands moved down his body, pulled him close, swayed him from side to side, and, fuck it, Blitz sang again, jumping and moving and dancing and living.

“You can dance! You can jive! Having the time of your life!” they yelled together, and laughed, clinging to one another, unsteady, and hazy, and surrounded by a million rainbow lights. And as the chorus came to an end and Blitz looked up, Stolas really was the dancing queen. Stolas was young, and sweet, and only seventeen, and Stolas was dancing, and having the time of his life, and there was no one, no one else in the world except for him. No one but this radiant ball of light that had somehow chosen to shine right in Blitz’s undeserving embrace.

Eventually, the song came to an end, and Stolas clung to him, glowing and warm and real. Blitz held his weight, just rocking them from side to side, low-key matching like one-in-four beats of Heaven Is A Place On Earth. Feeling bold, he allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment and just breathe Stolas in.

“Blitz,” Stolas giggled close to his ear after a while, leaning down against his shoulder in a way that truly couldn’t be comfortable. “Blitzy.”

“Stols,” Blitz said with a chuckle, light-headed and playful.

“You like me.” Stolas didn’t phrase it like a question—more like a cute little secret he was letting Blitz in on. Giggles poured from him in small bursts as he repeated it. “You like me.”

Blitz snorted, amused, and carded his fingers through Stolas’ hair. “What of it?”

“It doesn’t feel real.” All of a sudden Stolas pulled back, swaying slightly as he found his balance, and the intensity with which he looked into Blitz’s eyes left him feeling weirdly exposed. “That you like me. It doesn’t. You’re just…” His hand clenched around Blitz’s shoulder as he raised the other one to cup Blitz’s scarred cheek, thumbing at it. The touch was very light. It was lightning. “You’re everything. You’re… everything.”

Blitz kissed him. The words were too much, the feelings too strong, and he didn’t have the brainpower to deal with any of it.

More than anything else, he just needed Stolas to know that this was real. It was real, and he was here, and he wasn’t letting go.

He didn’t want to ever let go.

⋆★⋆

By the time they headed out of the club, they were both sweaty, spent, and unsteady on their feet. Blitz called an Uber for them, and as they stood by the road and waited for it to arrive, Blitz quietly decided that the rain didn’t suck that bad when it could serve as an excuse to share an umbrella. He still whined about it a little, though. On principle.

Stolas just huffed out a laugh, probably either too tired or too drunk to reply. It was a sentiment Blitz could very much relate to. He felt sleepy, and content, and still slightly unsteady on his feet, the rest of the world seeming far, far away.

Unable to find a good enough reason not to, he rested his cheek on Stolas’ warm chest and snaked both arms around Stolas’ waist under his open jacket. Conveniently, the back pockets of Stolas’ leather pants were placed at the perfect height for Blitz to sneak his hands inside, so he did just that, loving the way Stolas’ arm tightened around his back.

“Y’know,” Blitz mumbled, voice rumbling a bit, “when we first met, I kinda thought you were a vampire.”

He could feel Stolas shifting, looking down at him. Even though he was curious, Blitz was way too comfy to pull back and check what emotion was displayed on his face.

The tequila must’ve been doing the talking, because he kept going, unconcerned by Stolas’ lack of response. “Or an angel. Just something supernatural, and like, immortal. But like, in a sexy way, y’know?”

Stolas let out a hooted little giggle, and his fingers curled around Blitz’s shirt. Blitz just nuzzled a bit closer, cozy and tired.

“Can I be honest?” Stolas murmured after a moment. Now they were outside, Blitz could truly appreciate just how much more British Stolas sounded when he was drunk, and it was so fucking adorable he wanted to bite Stolas about it.

Still, all he did was nod, and hold very still as he tried to tune out the thousand ugly thoughts that crossed his mind in the span of a second. Well I thought you were ugly, weird, gross, stupid, scarred—

“The first time I saw you,” Stolas said, “quite literally all I could think was that you were extraordinarily fucking hot.”

Okay, that startled a laugh right out of Blitz’s chest.

“I mean it,” Stolas insisted. “I—I believe I spent at least a full five minutes gathering the courage to walk into your shop. Even inside, it took me an entire fucking minute to remember how to clasp my umbrella. It was so embarrassing, I quite frankly thought I was going to die.”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Blitz straightened, looking up at Stolas, who at least had the decency to have gone beet red. “You were watching me from outside the shop?”

“I was standing out in the rain watching you through the shop window,” Stolas confirmed. “Rehearsing what to even say to you so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.”

“That’s…” Blitz was laughing, but then he wasn’t. “Hold on a second, that’s unfair as fuck! You got time to mentally prepare—I had to raw-dog that shit!”

Stolas spluttered and giggled, looking more amused than he had any right to, and Blitz shoved his chest lightly with a shoulder.

“Fuck you, honestly,” he grumbled even as a treacherous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You almost made me choke on my boba tea, you sexy fucker.”

And, okay, yeah, they were both laughing now. Fucking hell, this man was going to be the death of him.

“I sincerely apologize,” Stolas managed through the most unfairly adorable giggles in the goddamn world. “I’m glad to hear I caused as good a first impression as you did, though. I hope the feelings still hold true despite my unfortunate lack of vampirism.”

“Hmph.” Blitz treated Stolas to another little pout before resting against his chest again. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Still want you to bite me.”

Stolas held him closer, mock solemnity in his voice as he murmured, “Duly noted.”

For a couple of minutes, they stood in silence in their tiny bubble of warmth, no sound around them but the steady pattering of the rain. When their ride eventually pulled up beside them, they begrudgingly disentangled themselves, Stolas holding the door open for him, covering him with the umbrella before walking around the car to get in next to him at the back.

“Welcome aboard,” the driver said after they closed the doors, and when Blitz looked up his eyes met kind brown ones, framed by a buzz cut and plump chapped lips that curved into a friendly smile. “Is the heating okay?”

The driver was leaning back, and Blitz tracked their boyfriend jeans and loose flannel shirt, paired with a discreet rainbow bracelet.

There was a tightness in his chest that immediately loosened, and breathing came more easily than it had a moment before.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, and gave them a smile in return.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Stolas agreed, and he, too, was offering a shy smile.

The ride home was quiet, the voices on the radio low enough to tune out entirely. Tipsy and tired and warm, Blitz leaned back and watched the raindrops race across the window, blurring out the night lights beyond.

Stolas’ hand was a warm presence around his own, and he felt anticipation coil low in his stomach at the thought that they were going home together.

He allowed himself a small, private smile. Gosh, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this stupidly giddy.

Chapter Text

“Okay, fancypants,” Blitz said as he let the building door creak shut behind them, “I hope you’re ready to put those pretty legs to work, ‘cause there’s no elevator and I kiiiiinda live on the third floor.”

Stolas didn’t seem fazed by Blitz’s words. In fact, he seemed not to register them at all, his sole focus set on his own hands where they reached out and teased Blitz’s hips. His wet umbrella pressed against Blitz’s thigh, but that didn’t deter him in the slightest. Blitz huffed, noting that, yup, Stolas’ cheeks were visibly red, even under the shitty flickering hallway lights.

Still feeling pretty light-headed himself, he couldn’t help but step closer, allowing Stolas to circle his body properly.

For a long moment, they clung to one another, tentative hands roaming and tugging, their breaths audible in the quiet of the dingy hallway. Their bodies brushed, and the soft moan Stolas let out at the contact had Blitz shivering with anticipation.

This was hardly the place to get down and dirty, though. It was cold as balls in here, and it smelled faintly like humidity and weed. Blitz stepped gently back and took one of Stolas’ hands in his.

“C’mon, you menace.” He guided Stolas towards the stairs. “You can be as drunk and horny as you want once we’re home.”

“Mmh,” came a soft whine from behind him even as Stolas followed him up the shabby stairs. “I’m not drunk.”

“Uh-huh,” Blitz snickered, unimpressed. “But you are horny, is that what you’re saying?”

No reply came—at least not a verbal one. A moment later, though, warm fingers trailed up the curve of his ass and slipped under his jacket to trace his waist. The touch traveled directly to Blitz’s groin, and he stopped mid-step and turned around, fully intending to chastise Stolas in the most affectionate way possible.

Immediately, he got distracted by how close they were. Not just that, but they were at eye level—even if Stolas’ gaze quickly fell to his lips as he tugged Blitz closer.

Blitz was trying to be the voice of reason here, dammit. He really was. But how could he resist, when Stolas’ hair looked so wonderfully disheveled, and his shirt was still unbuttoned in that tantalizing way, and those hands on him felt so needy and hot?

Another soft moan fell from Stolas’ lips as Blitz grabbed his head and claimed his mouth in a hungry kiss. Stolas wrapped both arms around Blitz’s waist to bring him closer, gasping and moaning into it.

It never failed to amaze Blitz just how addictive the sounds Stolas made were when they made out. He hadn’t been able to appreciate them at the club, and the way they reverberated in the silence of the building and thrummed right through his core had Blitz tugging at Stolas’ hair just to draw another long, delicious groan from the man.

It wasn’t until he felt a door being opened and closed somewhere above them that he realized he’d let himself be distracted. Annoyed at himself for it, he unslotted their mouths and tried to will himself to step away from Stolas’ arms, only for his resolve to crumble when he noticed the glistening of Stolas’ lips and simply had to dive back in and lick them clean.

When they—very eventually—resumed their way up the stairs, Blitz tried not to be roped into any more kisses.

… And failed. Spectacularly.

Honestly, though, who could blame him? Stolas seemed intent on pressing him against every single run-down wall, and putting his hands on every inch of his body. What was Blitz supposed to do? Not grab Stolas’ hair and pull him down to kiss him? Even as he rummaged for his keys and unlocked the door, he couldn’t help but lean into the touch when warm hands meandered back to his waist and Stolas breathed hot little giggles into the top of his head.

Once inside, Blitz barely managed to turn on the lights before a mouth on his neck wiped all thoughts from his mind. He reached up to hold Stolas’ head and keep him where he was, and shivered as he felt hot hands grabbing at him, a firm body pressing flush against him from behind.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he murmured, tilting his head to give Stolas more room to maneuver.

“Mmhh,” Stolas hummed in agreement, and licked his way up the curve of Blitz’s neck, leaving a wet trail across his cheek and teasing the corner of his mouth. “Wanna kiss you.”

Fuck, Blitz wanted that too. As a matter of fact, he wanted to do much more than just kiss Stolas right now—he was damp and aching for it, his cock begging to be touched. And from the way Stolas was rutting slowly against his lower back, he knew the feeling was very much mutual.

Still, Blitz willed himself to step out of the embrace. He knew the moment clothes started coming off he wouldn’t be able to think straight, and he—dammit, he wanted to do this right.

When Stolas blinked down at him in confusion, Blitz reached up and held both of his hands before walking him backwards towards the kitchen.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing towards a kitchen chair. Stolas did, folding down on it semi-regally, and watched him with big, expectant eyes. Almost like he was waiting for Blitz’s next command.

And, yeah, fuck, that was hot. Blitz couldn’t help but run his fingers through Stolas’ soft, messy hair and steal another kiss before turning around to get them both a glass of water.

“Drink up,” he said, handing it over. “Small sips.”

The confusion in Stolas’ face only grew as Blitz started running him through their food options. “Pizza? Do you like pizza?” Blitz asked, and when Stolas gave a tiny, perplexed nod, he threw one in the microwave and walked Stolas out to the couch.

Restless and excited, Blitz practically hopped from one room to the next as he set about grabbing dishes and paper napkins and bringing over their glasses. The small table in front of the couch was already clear of his and Loona’s usual stuff—that was just one of the many, many things Blitz had gotten done that morning—and he used the extra minutes before the pizza was ready to take off his shoes, and run to the toilet, and rearrange the lights into a softer hue, and to tell Stolas, “Just leave your stuff wherever, and if you need to you can charge your phone over there by the shelf or in the kitchen, just don’t use the outlet behind the TV ‘cause it works like shit. I left some unopened toothbrushes lying around in the bathroom so you can grab one later if you want—oh, and just let me know if the house is cold, I can turn on the heating for a while, it’s no biggie—”

The microwave beeped, and he trotted back into the kitchen and cut the pizza into slices before bringing it out.

“Heeeeere we are! Bone apple tit, or whatever they say!” He set it on the table and plonked down next to Stolas, reaching for a slice and stuffing it into his mouth with an appreciative hum.

Stolas didn’t do the same. In fact, he held very still as he blinked down at the food, his cheeks still a little red, his eyes wide.

“Everything okay?” Blitz asked around a mouthful, then swallowed. “Aw, shit, do you not like it? Should I get you something else? I-I could make waffles, or—”

“No—No,” Stolas said with a shake of his head, as if startled out of a trance. “Pizza is—Pizza is perfect.” And there he paused, like he was searching for the right words.

Blitz really wished he could tell if he was making up the shakiness that seemed to flicker in Stolas’ eyes. Was his brain being a deluxe, tipsy edition of its usual gay self, or was Stolas really that surprised to be offered something to eat?

“I just…” Stolas stammered. “I wasn’t expecting this.” And then he looked up at Blitz, and there was definitely something indecipherable shining in his eyes; something that came alongside a smile that played shyly with the corners of his mouth. “Thank you, Blitz.”

“H-Hey, of course.”

Blitz wished he had the right words to express what he really meant. That of course he wanted Stolas to be comfortable and have a good time. Of course he wanted Stolas to be sober and sound of mind before making any decisions about what he did and didn’t want to do with Blitz tonight.

But those thoughts were a bit too intense for comfort, a bit too close to the nagging voice that wouldn’t stop asking why Stolas would even want to be with someone like him, and so Blitz settled for nudging Stolas and saying, “Gotta get some nutrients into our bellies after all that dancing, yeah?” offering a smile that was immediately reciprocated.

“Yes, undoubtedly,” Stolas murmured, and finally grabbed a slice and brought his plate to his lap before giving it a tiny bite.

And it was kind of wild, really, that this was actually happening. That Stolas was sitting by his side, in his apartment, on his ratty couch. That they were just… casually eating pizza together, surrounded by shelves filled with horse figurines, and by walls full of photos and doodles and memories of Blitz’s shitty life. It was wild, how curious Stolas’ gaze was as he took in his surroundings. Like he wasn’t even aware of how much he clashed with the room—with Blitz’s entire life. A jewel sitting amidst plastic toys, regarding them with fascination, like they were worthy of its attention.

It was wild that Stolas wanted him, wanted to be here; that he seemed to want, and even chase after, the gentle brushes of their arms and thighs as they ate. That he looked perfectly content sitting next to Blitz, enveloped in a tiny bubble of silence and warm, low lamplight.

When Stolas finished his food and excused himself to the bathroom, Blitz busied himself with clearing the living room. He rinsed the dishes, wiped the table clean, rearranged the cushions several times, and through it all he found himself fidgeting with his nails again, just like he had all morning. He mentally admonished himself for it, sitting down on the couch and trying to stay calm, but that didn’t stop his heart from giving a treacherous jump at the sound of the bathroom door creaking suddenly open.

When Stolas walked back into the living room, he looked softer than Blitz had ever seen him. In only his mauve shirt, leather pants and black socks, and with his hair ruffled and his make-up slightly blurred, he looked as if one of Blitz’s sex dreams had casually crawled out through his ear and started wandering around his apartment.

“H-Hey,” Blitz said as Stolas approached him. His voice came out raspier than he’d expected it to, and he cleared his throat as Stolas settled beside him on the couch, all dainty and proper with both hands folded over his lap. “How are you feeling? All sobered up?”

Stolas’ cheekbones tinged a pretty red. “I—I believe so, yes,” he said with a shy smile. “Um, what about you?”

Blitz snickered at that. Welp, at least he wasn’t the only one who had gotten suddenly nervous. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Stolas gave a nod, and in the silence that followed a timid fang dug into his bottom lip. He searched Blitz’s face, like he was looking for clues on what to do next.

It made Blitz feel soft; feel caring. Despite his nerves, he felt immensely lucky to have this wonderful man in his house. This man who was so new to this world, new to his own queerness, to his desires, and who had chosen to trust Blitz to help him navigate it all.

He just wanted to give Stolas a good time, whatever that might mean for Stolas right now.

When he noticed Stolas fidgeting with his hands, Blitz reached out almost on instinct, resting a hand on top of Stolas’ pale own. It was just meant as a soothing gesture, but Stolas immediately clung to the touch, taking Blitz’s hand in his and cradling it softly. With light fingertips, he stroked the backs of Blitz’s fingers, from the point just below his nails down to where his last knuckles hid under a black leather glove.

There, he paused, digits catching against the seams. He turned Blitz’s hand around, and his eyes hooded as he thumbed at Blitz’s gloved palm.

“I’ve noticed you never take these off,” Stolas murmured, touching him softly—way more softly than he deserved.

Then he glanced up, searching Blitz’s gaze.

But Blitz didn’t—couldn’t—reply. He’d known on some level this moment would come, but he’d very carefully avoided thinking about it, and now all he could do was stare down at their joined hands and avoid Stolas’ eyes, instead watching as long, pale fingers hovered over the clasp at his wrist.

“May I?”

Blitz barely registered the nod he gave, too fixated on Stolas’ elegant hands and how tenderly they touched him.

He held his breath as Stolas unfastened the damned thing and tugged it off, bracing himself for—he didn’t even know what. Rejection, maybe, even if he already knew rationally that Stolas had never recoiled from the scars on his face. But it was just—what if he… knew? Somehow? What if he saw Blitz’s hands and saw what Blitz had done, the pain he’d caused? What if he was disgusted, or scared of him, or—

“Oh,” Stolas breathed, simply, and when Blitz blinked his gaze back into focus there were gentle fingers tracing the edges of his scars.

Blitz did look up at Stolas, then, because he needed to know. He needed to know what Stolas thought, how he felt—needed to know if Stolas was about to withdraw, if he was changing his mind about wanting Blitz to touch him—

A garbled sound escaped him when Stolas brought his palm up and pressed it to his lips in a delicate kiss.

Their eyes met, and whatever Stolas saw in his face made him lower that hand.

“I—I hope I’m not overstepping,” he said in a rush, and without thinking Blitz gave a shake of his head.

Stolas smiled, beautiful beyond words. “Okay,” he said, and moments later the other glove was coming off, too, and Stolas was kissing that hand as well, albeit on the back this time around.

It was so much, too much, and Blitz found he didn’t want to look at his own hands anymore—at least not just yet. It always ended up being fine, having those particular scars on display in front of new people, but the first few minutes were always unnerving.

Obviously, the only sensible course of action was to reach up and bury his hands in Stolas’ illegally-soft hair. Fuck… He couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of it against his bare skin. Even if the sensation was muted against his scarred palms, the familiarity of it still eased his nerves, and Blitz tugged gently, smiling when Stolas’ mouth fell slightly open at the attention.

Stolas moved closer, his breaths hard as his touch trailed up Blitz’s belly and ran up his chest.

And though Stolas had spent the last few hours putting his hands all over him, the touch still coaxed a keening sound from Blitz. He couldn’t help it; Stolas’ hands were just so warm, and firm, and tentative—more tentative than they had been all night. This is him, Blitz thought, shivering with anticipation. This is his way of touching me with no alcohol to spur him on, with no outside circumstances to hold him back or to put him in a rush.

When those careful hands reached his shoulders, Stolas slid them under his open jacket and pushed slightly at it, a wordless question. With quick movements, Blitz shrugged it off and cast it aside, then buried his hands back in Stolas’ hair. He gasped when Stolas’ touch drifted up to his neck, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin there.

All of a sudden, Stolas squinted, leaning closer to inspect Blitz’s neck.

“You certainly don’t bruise easily,” he mused, voice shaped into a tiny pout.

The hint of disappointment in his tone made it extremely hard for Blitz to keep a straight face. Still, he managed a very innocent, “Oh, yeah?”

Stolas hummed, and pressed his fingers down on the sensitive skin a little more firmly, like he was looking for something that wasn’t there. His eyebrows furrowed. “Well, that’s hardly fair. My love bites have barely begun to heal.”

“Hm.” Blitz inched closer, devilish smirk in place. “Y’know,” he said, “with how worked up you’re getting over this, one would think you were trying to mark me up earlier.”

“I-I—” Stolas stammered, his stark flush somehow managing to deepen as his eyes widened to an almost-comical degree. “I mean, I—”

Laughter tickled in Blitz’s chest, breathless and light. Bingo, he thought triumphantly. But what he said was, “Hey, don’t you worry,” and he carded his fingers through Stolas’ hair, giving his neck a pointed look. “Believe me, I get the appeal.”

Stolas’ amused huff was music to his ears, and Blitz’s grin only widened when Stolas circled his shoulders to keep him close.

“Plus, I mean...” Blitz tugged playfully at soft grey strands again, giving Stolas a coy look. “You can always try again. Who knows, you might get better results if you just use a bit more teeth.”

The bright, elated grin Stolas rewarded him with had Blitz’s heart jumping on the spot like an excitable foal. “Can I really?”

Christ. Every single time Blitz thought Stolas couldn’t get more adorable, the man managed to prove him wrong.

“Dang,” Blitz managed, amused, “I don’t think anyone’s ever been this excited to bite me. You sure you’re not a vampire?” He cupped Stolas’ face with a hand and used his thumb to pull up Stolas’ upper lip, as if trying to check for fangs.

Stolas’ breath brushed his hand with a giggle. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, and his blush deepened and spread down his neck as he mumbled, “I just… I-I want to make you feel good.”

Fuck…

“Yeah?” Blitz meant for the question to be teasing, but the word came out too genuine, too soft as he searched Stolas’ face. And when Stolas nodded shyly, Blitz couldn’t help but curse under his breath and pull him closer—pull that thin lower lip into his mouth, sucking around it until soft gasps were brushing against his lips. And, fuck, how hot was it that Stolas’ mouth tasted of his own fucking toothpaste?

Stolas kissed back, hands falling to Blitz’s waist, drawing him close. Blitz went, easy as breathing, cupping Stolas’ face and climbing into his lap like it was muscle memory.

For a moment, their lips just brushed, hot breaths passing between them as they held each other close. But then Stolas grabbed his hair and slotted their mouths together, and Blitz practically kneaded Stolas’ cheek in his desperation to feel every last inch of Stolas’ body press against his own.

For all that Stolas kissed him intently, though, his touches remained slow. Light palms roved down the expanse of his back, shifting forward to trace his waist and stomach and moving up, up, bumping against the slight curve of his pecs and pausing there in a way that had Blitz shivering into the kiss.

With a low moan, Stolas pulled back, lips parted in a silent gasp as his gaze fell to Blitz’s barely-marked throat. The way his eyes lidded with want had Blitz shivering a little in anticipation.

First his gloves, then his jacket—and now Stolas fiddled with the first few buttons of his shirt, undoing them.

And, just like that, it struck Blitz that Stolas was slowly but steadily undressing him.

He held his breath, only half-ready for Stolas to see his naked chest, but after undoing the first three buttons Stolas let up and brought a hand to Blitz’s nape, holding him steady as he leaned down and licked a long stripe up his collarbone and throat.

There was no loud music now that could hide the sound that parted from Blitz’s throat. He clung to Stolas’ hair, shifting closer when Stolas’ free hand traced his spine, and he choked out a low groan when he felt teeth grazing his skin.

Stolas didn’t immediately bite him, though. He lapped at the sensitive skin, and then suckled around it, and when Blitz pressed closer and rolled his hips in encouragement, he rested his teeth on Blitz’s neck.

Blitz held his breath, waiting, and then—

“Fuuuckk…” Heat rushed through his body at the sudden, thrilling sting. “Keep going,” he encouraged, hips stuttering forward, “y-you can be rougher if you want.”

With a muffled groan, Stolas complied, making pleasure edge into pain in a way that had Blitz’s next breath coming dangerously close to a moan. His hips bucked forward again, and hot hands snaked underneath his shirt and grabbed roughly at his waist to help him move.

A few moments later, Stolas eased off and soothed Blitz’s neck with a hot tongue. Before Blitz could spur him on, though, he sucked a line up the curve of his throat and buried his teeth in a different spot, making Blitz keen, a low, “Oh, fuck, that’s it, Stols…”

And even though he needed to hold onto Stolas’ head or he feared he might collapse, he let one of his hands fall from that soft cloud of hair so he could feel the man underneath him. His neck, his shoulders; his collarbone and chest. When his knuckles bumped against the button he’d undone earlier, Stolas pressed the most delicious whimper into the spot he was tormenting, making him shiver.

And, fuck, if clothes coming off was the vibe Stolas was going for, Blitz was more than thrilled to comply. He fumbled with the next button on Stolas’ mauve button-up, and then the next, undoing them clumsily and between garbled moans. He pulled Stolas’ shirt out of his leather pants to undo the last two buttons, and Stolas quivered under his touch, belly stuttering with a hitched breath when Blitz brushed his knuckles against the warm skin there.

Pushing the shirt aside, Blitz touched him. He traced Stolas’ taut stomach, his quivering ribcage, the grain of his chest hair. Stolas groaned and let go of his neck, biting him closer to the curve of his shoulder, and when Blitz ground down again he felt a familiar hardness press against his crotch.

And, okay, yeah, Blitz was definitely wet now. And throbbing. And maybe moaning a little, but how could he not, with Stolas’ mouth making him teeter on the thrilling edge between pleasure and pain?

Stolas’ words from earlier, blurred from the alcohol, rushed back to his mind. I want to make you feel good. Want to taste you.

Fuck… Stolas had been thinking about this. He’d been thinking about Blitz’s hands and mouth on him, and about touching and tasting Blitz. The thought alone had him gasping, and the sound turned into an outright whine when Stolas soothed his neck with his tongue and then bit the same spot again, hard.

“Shit—fuck,” Blitz cursed, and felt for Stolas’ nipples so he could pinch them, give back just a little of that electrifying sensation that was just on the softer end of pain.

Stolas eased off—whimpered against Blitz’s abused skin, warming it up with quick, puffed-out breaths.

Immediately, Blitz let go. Cleared his throat. “T-Too much?”

Stolas shook his head, nose bumping against Blitz’s shoulder.

“More.”

The word sounded almost like a purr, hoarse and raspy, and then Stolas was lapping his way up the side of his throat and nosing at his jaw so he could nibble at the soft spot underneath.

Heat throbbed between Blitz’s legs, and he gave Stolas’ nipples another hard squeeze—one that drew a thrilling sound from Stolas, loud enough to echo in the dim-lit living room as well as in Blitz’s skull.

Mind reeling, Blitz thrust down harder against Stolas’ bulge, over and over. He was turned on beyond words, desperate for release, and that mouth was doing things to him that were sending him into a frenzy—

Stolas broke away all of a sudden. His fingers dug into Blitz’s hips as he straightened, and Blitz let out a tiny sob as he watched Stolas gasp for air.

Fuck… With his cheeks stained a dark shade of red and his eyes squeezed tightly shut, Stolas looked hotter than Hell itself.

Still, Blitz was a merciful man, and he could control himself, dammit. And so, even if it made his own cock ache madly in protest, he stopped grinding down against Stolas’ lap to give him a chance to catch his breath.

He didn’t let go of Stolas’ nipples, though. He simply couldn’t resist the urge to tweak them slightly, just to tease Stolas a little—just to see his brows furrow in pleasure and watch his lips dry quickly with each panted breath.

With his shirt open, Blitz could almost see the point where Stolas’ blush faded into pale, unblemished skin. He zeroed in on the sight, drawn to it like a moth to light. Filled with a sudden sense of determination, he let go of Stolas’ nipples and pushed the thing aside, revealing Stolas’ shoulders with slow, careful movements.

He had to hold back a whine at the sight that greeted him.

Redness pooled down Stolas’ marked throat. It kissed the curve of his shoulder, ran over his collarbone, and tinted the top-most part of his chest, too, fading away just where his body hair thickened at his breastbone.

The sight was enough to make Blitz drool, and had him throbbing between his legs hard enough to pound.

“Blitz…” It was a low, pained little whine, and Blitz was sure his name had never sounded so fucking good spoken out loud. Stolas blinked his eyes slowly open, pupils blown wide, and assessed his handiwork with barely-contained hunger. Long fingers dug slightly into Blitz’s hips when Stolas’ gaze trailed up to his lips. “Please, would you—would you mark me up, too?”

Fuck.

“Yeah,” he breathed, and again, “yeah, fuck, come—come here,” both hands already grabbing Stolas’ head to tilt it up so he could taste the reddened skin of his collarbone. He lapped his way up, up the vast expanse of Stolas’ flush, following the trail of faded love bites all the way to the spot just under Stolas’ ear. There, he suckled and bit, just for a moment, not giving Stolas a breather before moving back down, tasting each and every mark he’d left there the week before.

Stolas keened, all sorts of sounds falling from his lips in quick succession, and threw his head back as he bucked his hips up, over and over, making Blitz’s soaked boxers press up against his aching crotch.

When he made it back down to Stolas’ shoulder, Blitz shifted back his weight and craned his head down to taste the warm, salty expanse of his collarbone, his upper chest, the dip of his throat. The moan that drew from Stolas was particularly enticing, and Blitz tormented the spot with his tongue some more before licking a long stripe that went over the curve of his Adam’s apple and scratched against the shaved skin under his chin. Hands buried in strands of soft hair, he tilted Stolas’ head to the other side and closed his mouth around the soft flesh under Stolas’ jaw, sucking it into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth.

He could tell Stolas’ mouth had fallen open from the sound of the next, breathless moan that stuttered right out of his heaving chest.

Now that he’d made it to the unmarked side of Stolas’ neck, Blitz went all out with his ministrations, leaving behind a trail of bruises and bite marks as he made his slow way towards Stolas’ ear. Remembering Stolas’ plea to bite him harder on that first date at the park, he didn’t hold back, and the string of garbled moans he was rewarded with only spurred him on, making him pant against the hot, wet skin he was tormenting.

His breath only stuttered for a moment when shaky hands let go of his hips and fiddled blindly with the rest of his buttons. He sucked Stolas’ earlobe into his mouth, biting into it lightly, and tugged at Stolas’ hair with a groan as his shirt came slowly undone.

Stolas’ hands were hot and urgent against his skin as he pushed the shirt back over his shoulders. Blitz helped him, shrugging it off and tossing it aside before resuming his biting kisses down Stolas’ flushed neck.

Trembling hands rested on his bare chest. It made Blitz shiver, then breathe hotly around the patch of skin between his teeth when they moved, slowly exploring him: the changes in texture, healthy skin covered in a dusting of hair that molded into a big patch of hairless, soft skin graft; the raised firmness of his top surgery scars, and the almost completely unfeeling bumps of his nipples.

Blitz didn’t register that he’d let go of Stolas’ neck until he was already straightening, and his mind spun so fast with arousal it took him a full second to zero in on Stolas’ eyes, set on his naked torso and taking it in with a mixture of emotions that Blitz couldn’t possibly begin to read.

“Yeah, so, uh—this is my chest,” he croaked with a little laugh. Then, remembering one of the stupid horse memes he’d sent Stolas in the morning, he added, “it has every disease.”

Stolas’ eyes widened, searching Blitz’s own, and then a flash of understanding crossed his face and he huffed out a laugh. As he looked back down, his expression softened into an absent-minded smile, which he bit into with a nervous fang.

His hands never left Blitz’s chest, cupping it, feeling it. He ran his fingertips over the coarse, asymmetrical patches of hair, and traced the outline of some of his many, many miscellaneous tattoos. He tried touching his nipples, but Blitz shook his head. “No sensation,” he explained, and Stolas nodded and moved on, down to Blitz’s stomach and the jut of his hip bones.

Blitz didn’t want him to stop, but found it hard to watch—and so he leaned in, closing the distance between them, swallowing Stolas’ quiet moan and opening up, letting Stolas taste the inside of his mouth.

The room wasn’t cold, exactly, but it was cool enough that the heat of Stolas’ palms made him shiver as it moved to his waist, to the dip of his lower back and the taut muscles above, which flexed under Stolas’ touch when Blitz ran his own hands down Stolas’ sides, feeling goosebumps rise underneath.

Through it all, Stolas kissed him, slow, unhurried—or maybe distracted, seeming intent on mapping every single corner of Blitz’s bare skin. Light fingers tickled his ribs, making Blitz huff into the kiss, and then dropped to his waist again. To the waistband of his jeans.

With a whine, Blitz deepened the kiss, bucking his hips and digging his hands into Stolas’ firm and perfect body. He drank in the sharp moan that broke from Stolas’ throat, and felt for Stolas’ nipples again, wanting to torment them some more.

His mind spun when Stolas’ hands shifted again, grabbing possessively just around his hip bone. A moment passed, both of them stilling in anticipation, and then hot palms skipped just past Blitz’s crotch and dragged down the length of his thighs, then slowly back up again.

Feeling bold, Blitz grabbed blindly at one of Stolas’ hands and pressed it flush between his legs.

Stolas parted from the kiss, just for a moment—just enough to let out a long, strained moan. Blitz only had a split second to process his own soaring arousal, and then Stolas was chasing after his mouth again, groaning around his tongue, and groping him, pressing his hand against the taut fabric of his jeans.

“Mmhh—” Blitz pushed forward, hand curling around Stolas’ own. Despite the position he was in, he tried helplessly to shift his legs closed just so he could get those long, curling fingers to press more firmly against his soaked crotch.

It didn’t really work, though, his jeans just refusing to cooperate. Stolas must’ve felt the frustrated whine that stayed lodged inside Blitz’s chest, because a moment later both his hands were on Blitz’s belt, mouth going slack as he struggled with it, taking a few seconds to actually unbluckle it.

With shaky fingers, Stolas batted it aside and undid his button, his fly. Blitz keened, and sucked hard around his tongue, making Stolas pant and groan into the kiss.

Once he was done, Stolas hovered his hand just above the waistband of his boxers, a silent question. Blitz drew back from the kiss.

“Don’t—” He gulped around the raspiness in his voice. “Don’t put your fingers inside me, ‘kay? You can touch outside, just not… not inside.”

Stolas nodded, watching him intently. “Okay.”

After holding his gaze for a moment longer, Blitz rested his forehead against Stolas’ and guided that hand under his boxers. Letting his eyes fall closed, he leaned his weight on Stolas, his sole focus set on the feeling of those fingertips sinking between his legs, brushing past the thick hair there—then twitching against his searing wetness and feeling tentatively between his folds.

Oh, fuck…

He guided that hand up, just slightly—and gasped when wet, careful fingertips rested around his swollen cock.

“Oh,” Stolas breathed, and Blitz bit hard around his lip.

He was shaking. He was hard and throbbing under Stolas’ touch. And he was desperate for more—enough to hold Stolas’ hand still and rock slowly back and forth, grinding against the fingers that circled him.

His jaw slackened, a stream of broken gasps parting from his lips. Stolas shifted his head and captured his mouth, swallowing the sounds. And—holy shit—Stolas moaned as well, a muffled and high-pitched sound that traveled directly to Blitz’s cock. Stolas’ hips bucked up, too, like the mere act of touching Blitz was sending him into a frenzy.

With a groan, Blitz let go of Stolas’ hand, leaving it lodged between his legs. He ran his fingers across Stolas’ thin wrist, then he pulled out entirely, feeling Stolas’ thighs blindly and palming Stolas’ cock through his too-tight leather pants.

“Mmgh—ahh—” Stolas broke from the kiss, head falling back as he pushed up against his hand. “Bli-itz…”

The way his name cracked and broke on its way out of Stolas’ mouth had wetness trickling out of Blitz and coating the already-soaked fingers that were stroking him. Mind reeling, he pressed the heel of his palm into Stolas’ bulge again, determined to hear every single noise Stolas was physically capable of making.

Stolas moaned and writhed, fingers twitching around Blitz’s cock, eyes blinking blearily open to meet his own.

Fuck, Stolas was so beautiful. Lips parted, hair mussed, cheeks and neck and chest flushed—Blitz wanted to eat him whole. He wanted his name to keep falling from those pretty lips, wanted to rock Stolas’ world so hard he came apart under his touch.

More than anything, he just wanted Stolas to keep him. To keep meeting up with him, and seeking out his touch, and to keep laughing at his stupid jokes, and wearing his silly, washed-out horse shirts—

Fingers sank between his dripping folds again before enfolding his cock and pumping it.

Blitz cursed, more breathless than he’d fully realized, and pushed frantically into the touch.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whined, and he meant the fingers around his cock, but also the raging hardness twitching under his palm, and the hard body writhing underneath him, and the sounds falling from Stolas’ open mouth, and the heady scrutiny of those darkened, half-lidded eyes that fixated on the place where his hand got lost under Blitz’s boxers, like he was starved for what hid underneath. “Fuck, Stols…”

“I want to see you,” Stolas whined, the words laced with need. He searched Blitz’s face. “Is that—can we?”

Blitz tried to still his body, but his hips twitched again when Stolas kept stroking his cock.

“W-We sure can,” he managed after a moment, his own hand still a vice around Stolas’ bulge. “This might be a good time to take it to my bedroom, though. Shared living space, and all that.”

“Oh.” It seemed impossible, but Stolas’ flush somehow managed to deepen, reaching the tips of his ears. “Yes, of—of course.”

He moved his hand, but didn’t quite manage to pull it out of Blitz’s boxers. It made Blitz chuckle, and he shifted his weight back so he could tug at Stolas’ wrist and help him out.

Long fingers left a trickle of slick on Blitz’s stomach, and Stolas stared at it, almost in a trance.

Blitz chuckled. “Alright. Better clean these up so you don’t make a mess, yeah?”

One by one, he took Stolas’ fingers in his mouth, humming around his own taste, holding Stolas’ gaze as he suckled hard on them.

Stolas watched intently, jaw slack, each breath coming out in a tiny, barely-there moan. Blitz swore he could feel Stolas’ cock twitching under his hand.

When he pulled the last finger out of his mouth with a pop, Blitz smiled triumphantly. “There we go,” he said, and wiped Stolas’ hand on his jeans to clear it of his spit.

He wiggled back on Stolas’ lap, intending to stand—but Stolas didn’t let him. In an instant, he was gripping Blitz’s thigh and grabbing the back of his head to keep him where he was.

Lunging forward, Stolas kissed him, groaning around the aftertaste of Blitz’s arousal.

Holy fuck. Blitz opened up, letting him in, letting him taste. With frantic movements, he pushed off Stolas’ shirt, throwing it aside and grabbing at him, needing him close. Hot hands were back on him in an instant, digging into his thighs.

It was Stolas who unslotted their mouths a few moments later. His breath was hot, his hands perfect where they dragged up his legs. The last thing Blitz wanted was to let go, even if he knew it needed to be done.

Not without effort, he scooted back and got on his feet, pulling Stolas up with him.

And, look, Blitz was a strong man. And he knew they had to get to his room. But with a sight like this in front of him, how was he meant to keep his hands to himself? He trailed his fingers through Stolas’ happy trail and up to his chest, so busy marveling at the goosebumps that blossomed under his touch that he barely registered the sight of his own angry scars.

Stolas’ chest rose and fell quickly, ragged breaths filling the quiet of the room. Blitz touched his shoulders and biceps, committing the sight to memory. His arms were thin, his skin pale and unblemished, his body hair somewhere between grey and black. He was slim, and a bit on the lanky side, but in a way that made sense for him.

Stolas was organic, and so fucking hot Blitz had half a mind to charge forward and map him with his mouth.

“I do apologize,” Stolas broke the silence with a murmur, “if I’m not a—a particularly appealing sight.”

Blitz blinked. And again, gaze zeroing in on Stolas’ face as he tried to make sense of the words. “You’re joking.”

Stolas averted his gaze, heart beating noticeably fast as he gave a quick shake of his head.

Blitz blinked again. “...Okay. Well—” He let his arms fall; nodded to himself. He’d known from day one that Stolas was a praise kink bitch with zero concept of his own hotness, but the situation was clearly more dire than anticipated, and desperate times called for desperate measures. “Since the mess between my legs wasn’t convincing enough for you, I guess I have no choice but to resort to my original plan.”

“What was your original…?”

But Blitz was already moving—stepping onto the couch, pulling Stolas close, and hopping directly into his arms.

“Blitz!” A hoot-like guffaw filled the air as Stolas stumbled backwards, scrambling to hold him up.

“Ha, I knew climbing you would be fun!” Blitz said triumphantly. Once he was sure they weren’t about to tumble to the floor, he grabbed Stolas’ face with both hands and gave him a look. “Now listen here, you gorgeous little shit.”

Stolas blinked at him with big, beautiful eyes.

“I have not reverted back to being a horny teenager who can’t stop thinking about fucking you 24/7 just so you can go around saying shit like you’re not an appealing sight. Got it?”

“You—” Stolas flushed. “You’ve been thinking about fucking me?”

“Yes, jeez, you big idiot,” Blitz rolled his eyes, hands burying in Stolas’ hair. “Every single minute of every hour of every fucking—”

Stolas kissed him. Hard, and deep, and—fuck, Stolas was walking them across the living room and into the hallway, the world spinning around the heat of their mouths.

“Where—” Stolas gasped, a breathless laugh. “Bedroom?”

Blitz pointed at the door, and closed the distance between them again as Stolas carried him inside.

Stolas’ back was the first to hit the bed, Blitz crowding on top of him with a grunt. As soon as Blitz was no longer in the air, shaky hands moved to his waist, wrestling with his jeans, his boxers.

“Need me that badly?” Blitz laughed even as he helped Stolas push down his clothes. As soon as they were out of the way, and before he could think of going for the buttons of Stolas’ pants, he was yanked down into a heated kiss.

He shuddered and moaned when long, exploratory fingers sank between his legs, feeling his wetness and stroking his cock.

And, yeah, fuck, nothing could’ve stopped Blitz from grabbing Stolas’ face and sinking fully into the kiss. Not with the way those fingers were touching him, and definitely not with the way Stolas groaned around the heat of his tongue as he shifted and writhed under Blitz’s weight.

Mindless, Blitz clutched the hand between his legs, guiding it into a rhythm he could follow with his hips. Stolas whined into the kiss, leg twitching, bending up, and Blitz’s mind spun when a leather-clad thigh slotted right against his soaked crotch.

“F—Mghh.” He tried to pull back with a gasp, but Stolas followed him, chasing after his mouth, and Blitz had to press him down against the bed just to draw in air. “Christ on a—Will you let me breathe, you menace?”

“Sorry,” Stolas said, not looking sorry in the slightest. “I just really like kissing you.”

Blitz’s next breath ended on a tiny moan, and Stolas had the audacity to look pleased with himself, like he knew exactly what he was doing, riling Blitz up.

“Oh, you fucking—c’mere.” Blitz grabbed his hair and pulled him into another kiss, riding Stolas’ leg when it pressed harder against his folds. Stolas stroked him, the motions uneven as he got distracted sucking at Blitz’s lower lip, and, fuck, Blitz was going mad with want. This man was going to make him soak the entire fucking bed, and he wasn’t even fully naked yet.

Suddenly struck by the unfairness of this fact, Blitz wrenched away from the kiss and scooted back, pressing Stolas’ leg into the bed. He fiddled with Stolas’ high-waisted pants, undoing the first of the golden buttons, then the second.

As he struggled with the third, Stolas’ hand slipped from under him and reached out, hovering just an inch away from Blitz’s. Stolas’ gaze fell to it, and he spread his fingers, watching slick thread between them.

“You can wipe it on the blanket,” Blitz said, still fighting that damn button, “I’ll just throw it in the wash tomorrow.” But Stolas was already bringing his fingers to his mouth and poking out his tongue to have a taste. “... Or you can do that. Fuck.” He watched, entranced, as Stolas licked around them with tentative curiosity.

The memory of his stupid sketches from work flashed before his eyes, and Blitz couldn’t help but lean forward and seize Stolas’ wrist, thumbing at Stolas’ chin with his other hand to slacken his jaw. Under Stolas’ mesmerized stare, Blitz guided those long fingers slowly into his willing mouth.

With lidded eyes, Stolas held Blitz’s gaze as he suckled, breathing hard and fast through his nose.

“That’s it,” Blitz murmured, “just like that. Take them all the way in, there’s a good boy.”

Stolas moaned around his fingers as Blitz fucked them in, then slowly back out of his mouth.

“Yeah, bitch, that’s the sound I like to hear,” Blitz groaned, breath caught, making Stolas moan even louder as he tried and failed to buck his hips up under Blitz’s weight.

For just a few moments, Blitz allowed himself to enjoy the view, rocking his hips slowly, coating his own thighs with his slick as he humped Stolas’ leg.

Then he let go of Stolas’ hand, which fell from his mouth with a wet pop, and brought his fingers to that last rebellious button at Stolas’ pants, finally prying it open and palming the raging bulge underneath.

Heat rushed through his body when the leg that wasn’t trapped under his weight spread a little on the bed.

He snuck his fingers under the waistband of Stolas’ briefs, teasing them down alongside the leather pants—

“Wait.” Nervous hands curled around his, and Blitz paused, meeting Stolas’ gaze. “Can I—Can I ask you something first?”

“Uh. Yeah,” Blitz said, caught off-guard, and let go. “‘Course, handsome.”

“It’s just—you… you said you didn’t want me inside you,” Stolas stumbled over the words. “Which is m-my preference, as well.”

“Uh-huh.” Blitz raised his eyebrows, catching on. “Okay, so you’re a bottom. Big fucking surprise there.”

At his teasing tone, Stolas went adorably red.

“I—I mean, it’s not like I have that kind of experience,” he rushed to say. “But…”

“But you want me inside you?”

Oh, making Stolas blush this hard was never not fun.

“Is that… something you’d like?” Stolas asked, voice so tiny. “I mean, would it even be enjoyable…?”

Blitz let out an inelegant snort. “Would it be enjoyable to watch you cum around my cock? Yeah, I’m gonna go with yes.”

The smirk he gave Stolas threatened to crack into a grin at the way Stolas’ breath stuttered out of his lungs.

“In fact…” Blitz didn’t even need to clamber off of Stolas to reach the first drawer of his nightstand and pull out the box where he kept a good chunk of his sex shit, which he may or may not have left within reach on purpose when he tidied up earlier. “Here, have a look.”

Stolas pushed himself up to peer inside. Most dildos were kept inside individual little cloth bags, but Blitz could tell them apart by touch, and he pulled out a bunch of his personal favorites as well as the strap.

As he took the dildos out of their bags for Stolas to see, he got to watch Stolas’ flush trickle quickly down to his chest.

“Go ahead and feel them up,” Blitz encouraged, handing one to Stolas. “I got silicone, PHC, glass… smaller, thicker, ribbed, beaded and smooth, curved, and—ah, here it is,” he said, pulling another one out. “I got this realistic one, balls and veins and all. Not my favorite, but we can use it if that’s more your style.”

“Oh, lord.” Stolas seemed in equal parts overwhelmed and fascinated as he accepted it and ran his fingers over its surface, bending it gently before setting it aside. He tested out a couple other dildos as Blitz handed them out, but seemed distracted by the other contents of the box.

Hesitantly, he grabbed some other stuff to inspect it. First a pair of nipple clamps, then a leather flogger, Blitz’s matching set of ball gag and handcuffs. An aphrodisiacal, flavored lip gloss; a silicone, spiked cock sheath, which he seemed particularly entranced with.

“My, Blitz. You sure have a, ah, varied assortment of toys.”

“Yeah, well.” Blitz shrugged as he placed another dildo on the bed. “I like having options. Gotta make sure I can match your freak, yeah?” He wiggled his eyebrows, making Stolas giggle.

“Certainly.” Stolas checked out a silky blindfold, then folded it carefully before placing it back in the box alongside everything else. He glanced back at the dildos. “Though with so many options, I’m not sure where to even begin.”

“Hey, trial and error is your friend. Plus, these bad bitches ain’t going anywhere, we can try different stuff some other time.” Blitz frowned at the many toys laid out beside them. “Hmm. Let’s not go too big on your first time, though,” he said, putting a couple of his thicker dildos away. “Anddd, other than that, I guess… Do you have a favorite color?”

“Hmm, well.” Stolas seemed to genuinely ponder the question. “I struggle to pick just one. The combination of indigos, blues and lilacs that newly-formed stars emit when viewed in infrared is particularly enthralling. Though I can also appreciate the rich mauve of many heliotrope flowers in full bloom…”

He trailed off when he noticed Blitz staring dumbly at him.

“So, uh… purple?” Blitz asked, and grabbed a decently-sized, realistically-shaped dark purple dildo. “Does purple work?”

Stolas stammered a little before nodding, eyes set on the toy in Blitz’s hand.

“Purple works,” he confirmed, and his hands fell to Blitz’s thighs as he watched Blitz put on the strap and adjust it around his hips.

They shoved everything back in the box, but Blitz set aside some heat-effect lube before placing the box on the nightstand.

Then, he turned his attention back to Stolas’ leather pants.

“Can I?”

Stolas nodded, and lifted his hips so they could work his clothes down to his thighs.

“Yum,” Blitz purred at the sight of the damp spot on Stolas’ briefs. “Glad to see I’m not the only one who’s all hard and wet over here.”

The breathless laugh Stolas let out as they pushed his clothes aside ended in a hitched breath when Blitz grabbed his cock and pumped it lazily to full hardness. He ran his palm over the soft, milky thigh sprawled underneath him, and marveled at the dusting of hair on Stolas’ legs, which thickened at Stolas’ crotch.

Looking up, he drank in the sight of Stolas. His shuddered breaths, the rise and fall of his chest. The pale expanse of his body, perfectly unmarked save for the love bites on his neck and the star tattoo on his wrist—all marks of Blitz’s own doing, and wasn’t that an electrifying thought?

Sudden heat, almost possessive, flared in Blitz’s chest at the reminder that he was the first person to see—to have—Stolas like this. Stolas wasn’t a virgin, not in the traditional sense of the word, but that didn’t change the fact that Blitz was his first. The first to learn what brought him pleasure, the first to watch him come undone; and the first to give himself to Stolas, too—to offer himself up for Stolas to feel, to claim, to have.

Blitz picked up the pace, wanting to hear more of Stolas’ sounds, needing to know, to be sure of how much Stolas wanted this, wanted him—

“Nghh—” Stolas’ legs fell open, and Blitz hooked a hand under his knee to spread them some more, pumping his cock until he shuddered and moaned.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Blitz groaned, and even though the strap was in his way, he rutted slightly against the inside of Stolas’ thigh to get some friction going against his crotch.

“Blitz…” Stolas touched him everywhere he could reach—his thighs, his hips and waist, groaning when he couldn’t quite reach around to pull him closer.

Teasing Stolas’ tip, Blitz leaned forward, giving Stolas’ needy hands access to the rest of him. He stroked him all the way to the base, then up again, and Stolas’ legs kicked out, spreading further apart as Stolas pushed into his touch.

A small wail filled the space between them when Blitz let go, and clingy fingers dug into his sides.

“Shh, shh, just one sec,” he murmured as he poured some lube on his palm.

Nails dragged down his back when he grabbed Stolas’ cock again. “Ahhhh—”

“There we go, that’s it.” Blitz pumped Stolas’ cock until he felt the lube heat up from the friction, then slowed, circling the base with two fingers and feeling it twitch. He stroked his slow way up, making Stolas whimper and leak against the pad of his thumb.

Not wanting Stolas to get too close too fast, he let go and ran his fingertips down the underside of Stolas’ cock, smirking when he teased his balls and Stolas shuddered with another gasp.

Blitz was intending to take it slow, but Stolas seemed to have other plans, reaching down and grabbing Blitz’s hand to drag it down. He arched his hips up, sinking Blitz’s fingers between his cheeks, and—oh, fuck—let out a piercing moan when Blitz’s slick fingertip caught against his rim, head falling back with a thud.

If he wasn’t busy going absolutely fucking feral, Blitz might have teased Stolas about his impatience.

Instead, he met Stolas’ eyes as he twitched his finger against the sensitive spot, and watched him gasp and whimper, jaw slack, chest stained a dark red as it rose and fell with quick, ragged breaths.

“Please,” Stolas begged, oh, so sweetly, and Blitz wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Stolas so fucking bad. But with how fucking tall Stolas was, it was his nipples that were within reach of Blitz’s mouth when he leaned down. And so, as he teased and toyed with Stolas’ rim, Blitz licked, and suckled, and bit at a sensitive nub, head filled with nothing but the obscene sounds that fell from Stolas’ mouth as he fucked desperately against his fingers.

The hand that wasn’t gripping his own curled around his hair, keeping him there, and Blitz barely managed to pull back enough to see what he was doing as he poured more lube directly between Stolas’ legs, letting it trickle onto his hand and probably the bed, too, not that he gave a shit about that right now.

Blitz rolled Stolas’ nipple between his teeth as he pressed the tip of a finger more purposefully against Stolas’ rim, breath puffing out when Stolas’ body gave way and he slid slightly inside.

For a full second, Stolas went completely still.

Then nails clawed at Blitz’s scalp as Stolas gasped, and shook, and melted into the feeling of the finger that breached him.

“Fuck,” Blitz gasped, the word muffled against Stolas’ chest, and sat back before sinking his finger a bit further inside, wanting to watch, to see what Stolas looked like as he writhed and keened from the feeling of Blitz burying into him.

The hand grasping his own guided him deeper inside, and Stolas lifted his hips off the bed to take him in to the last knuckle, letting out a long and broken moan that had Blitz shaking and leaking and hard.

Blitz moved his finger slowly in and out, and Stolas let go of him, trailing his fingers up and down Blitz’s forearm, feeling the twitch of his muscles as they worked.

“More,” Stolas cried out, “please, Blitz—”

“Yeah?” Their eyes met, and Blitz searched his gaze. “You sure you’re ready? There’s no rush.”

Stolas’ nods were frantic as he followed Blitz’s rhythm with his hips, and his whimpers turned into a garbled cry when Blitz pulled out entirely and pressed two fingers against his hole.

“Okay,” he said, “but I need you to tell me if it’s too much, alright?”

“I will,” Stolas murmured, and his gaze fell from Blitz’s face to the hand pressed between his cheeks. “P-Please.”

Blitz nodded, and couldn’t help but lower his gaze too as he eased his fingers slowly inside.

Stolas’ moan was loud, and he heaved his hips off the bed again to guide Blitz’s fingers into him. Torn between watching Stolas take him and mapping his facial reactions, Blitz raked his gaze up and down as he let his fingers bury inside him, as far as they could go.

As soon as he paused there, Stolas clenched, attempting to rock back and forth, crying out when Blitz curled and angled his fingers to reach further inside.

He pulled out slightly and pushed back in, trying to move slowly, to give Stolas time to adjust; but Stolas grabbed his hand again—held it steady—and moved, his every hitched breath ending on a whimper when he managed to ride Blitz’s fingers with a purpose.

It took a full second for Blitz’s entire brain to reconfigure itself from the sight.

Then he snapped. As hopes of working Stolas open at a reasonable pace flew right out the window, he held Stolas’ body down and fucked his fingers into him, moving faster than the pace Stolas had been setting. Stolas’ delighted moan spurred him on, and Blitz took his leaking cock in hand and jerked him off, the sounds falling from Stolas’ mouth driving him to a state of near-insanity.

“Fuck, you’re a sight to behold,” he groaned, half-mad from the untouched wildfire raging between his legs. Stolas met his eyes, lips parted as he gasped through each thrust, and held his gaze even as his eyes lidded in pleasure. “This how you like it, handsome?”

Stolas nodded, frantic, arching off the bed a little and spreading his legs wider. “Y-you feel so g—nghh, fuck…”

Blitz kept working his fingers in at the angle he’d just shifted into, fascinated by the change in Stolas’ moans, now breathier, louder. Almost like he was close.

And wouldn’t that be just thrilling? To get Stolas off with just his hands? To make Stolas come around his fingers and all over his fist, and to know he was the one who’d done that?

Stolas struggled to breathe, and Blitz could tell, could feel just how close he was. Almost there…

“B-Blitz,” Stolas choked out, and circled Blitz’s hand with his shaky own to still it, “please, y-your—I need—”

His entire body trembled underneath him, and even as Blitz stilled both of his hands Stolas’ hips kept rolling, seeking his touch and the press of Blitz’s fingers inside.

“Tell me,” Blitz said, breathless with want.

“Your c-cock.” Stolas’ gaze lowered to the purple dildo. “Please, I—ple-ease…”

Oh, fuck, Stolas begged beautifully.

“Yeah. Yeah—” And then Blitz was sliding his fingers out, scrambling for the lube, smearing it all over the purple cock with rushed strokes. “Want me like this? Do you—need a pillow under your back, or—?”

Stolas shook his head. “Just—” He grabbed Blitz’s hips to pull him closer, legs spreading as far as they would go. Blitz lined them up, breath stuttering as he pressed the bulbed cockhead against Stolas’ hole.

Stolas fussed and arched his back, begging quietly to be fucked. But the dildo was significantly thicker than his fingers, and Blitz paused, caressing Stolas’ chest, his trembling tummy. “Breathe deeply for me,” he said, a soft command, and Stolas did, ever so compliant. As he breathed slowly out, Blitz coaxed the tip inside.

“Ahh…” Stolas held him there, panting for air, and Blitz watched his brows twitch under stray strands of fluffy hair, one streak lighter than the rest; watched the quick fluttering of Stolas’ eyelids as he tried to hold Blitz’s gaze, looking debauched, looking otherworldly under the low light of Blitz’s bedside lamp.

Blitz was speechless from the sight, and barely reacted when Stolas rolled his hips with a pleading little moan.

“Mhh. More,” Stolas whined, and wrapped his legs around Blitz, heels digging into his lower back to guide their bodies closer, making it easier for Blitz to press halfway inside in one slow motion.

The long wail Stolas let out as he was breached traveled right to Blitz’s cock—the real one, hardened and wet and pulsing under the strap—and suddenly it was impossible for Blitz not to roll his hips, rubbing himself against the textured base of the dildo, making Stolas cry out as he fucked in and out of him.

He lowered his gaze, watching the length of the cock disappear into Stolas’ body, and the sight was enough to make him leak.

“Oh, fuck, look at how well you’re taking me,” he rasped out, and shifted his weight, lifting Stolas’ legs, fucking him deeper. “Christ, you look so good like this. I could just about eat you up.”

“Blitz…” Stolas shuddered with effort as he fucked himself on Blitz’s cock, and if he planned to say anything else, it got lost in a sea of moans as Blitz moved faster, bending Stolas over and grinding against the strap.

“That’s it, fuck…” He gasped, and pulled out almost entirely before sinking back in, dragging a long wail from Stolas. “Can you take more? All of it, can you—”

“Yes, yes, please—” Nails dragged down Blitz’s sides, and he pushed, pushed until Stolas’ body gave way, and then he was buried to the hilt.

Choking on a moan, Stolas half-sat and yanked Blitz down, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss, gasping and moaning around Blitz’s tongue.

Blitz groaned, too, feeling Stolas’ cock press into his stomach. He gave an experimental roll of his hips, but he couldn’t fuck Stolas properly—not with how much he was stretching so their mouths could meet—and had to content himself with rocking them together. The angle was weird, but Stolas didn’t seem to mind, holding onto him and kissing urgently into his mouth, letting out a muffled moan with every thrust.

Still, Blitz was sure Stolas was straining his back, and tried to pull back a few moments later to let him slump back against the bed.

Stolas groaned, grabbing his hair and keeping their mouths slotted so he could feed Blitz another long and shaky moan.

“You’re—” Blitz barely managed, parting just enough to breathe, “you’re gonna hurt your neck, dummy—”

Stolas laughed into his mouth, a breathless, soundless thing, but stayed close, heels digging into the backs of Blitz’s thighs as he pushed into another thrust. “But you feel so good,” he cried out, voice broken and soft, and nipped at Blitz’s lower lip. “Don’t stop kissing me,” he murmured, “please…”

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” the words spilled from Blitz’s mouth, muffled against Stolas’ lips. Their tongues met for a brief second, but then Stolas’ cries compelled Blitz to pull back and say the words again, a stream of, “You’re perfect, you’re fucking perfect,” and, “holy shit, Stols, you’re—”

And then he couldn’t keep talking, because the sudden urgency in Stolas’ movements took his breath away. Nails scratched at Blitz’s back, long legs wrapping around his hips, and Blitz held Stolas close and matched his frantic movements, kissing into his slack mouth, feeling Stolas shudder, and whine, and come, wet heat spilling between their bodies in spurts.

Blitz didn’t let up until Stolas’ frenzied thrusts turned slow and his moans died down into small, throaty grunts that got lost in the heat of their mouths. He stilled entirely when Stolas drew back with a gasp, and though he ached from the sudden lack of stimulation against his cock, he kept quiet as he marveled at the line of spit that linked their parted lips, watching it stretch and then break when Stolas flopped back against the pillow with a breathless cry.

Blitz gave Stolas a moment to breathe, even as he himself failed to get his lungs to work. But who could blame him, with the sight before him?

Fucked out and pliant underneath him, Stolas looked beyond angelic. He looked otherworldly, his face and neck reddened, his make-up smudged, his hair pointing in every direction. His eyes were closed, and his lips slightly parted, letting out breaths that were quick and short.

He was perfect. He was a dream come true, and Blitz didn’t ever want to wake up.

It wasn’t until Stolas’ eyebrows twitched, almost as if in discomfort, that Blitz managed to move. He eased out of him as gently as he could, wincing at Stolas’ little cry as the dildo slipped fully out.

When he looked back up at Stolas’ face, Blitz almost expected him to seem bothered, or annoyed; maybe even disappointed that Blitz hadn’t fucked him harder, or more carefully, or just… better.

He was met with a look that could only be described as adoring.

And it made no sense, really, that Stolas would look at him like that. But when Blitz blinked, the look was still there, clear as day in Stolas’ lidded eyes, and its pull was stronger than Blitz could resist. He went, feeling hands trail down his back as he climbed up Stolas’ body to taste the heat of his mouth.

Stolas welcomed him with a muffled moan, and his hands fell to Blitz’s hips, where he fiddled with the strap, trying and failing to get it off.

“Wait, wait, there’s a—a method to it—” Blitz rested his weight on Stolas’ forehead to pull at the clasps at his sides. When he managed to undo them, Stolas shoved the whole thing aside, seeking his mouth again, fingers already sliding between Blitz’s drenched folds and circling his aching cock.

“Mmmhh…” Fuck, he was so desperate for release. He sucked around Stolas’ tongue, grabbing at fistfuls of his soft hair, and gasped when Stolas’ mouth suddenly left his and latched onto the underside of his jaw, tormenting the still-sensitive skin he’d bitten into earlier.

Blitz only had a few blissful seconds to rut against the fingers that stroked him. Then both of Stolas’ hands—one wet, one dry—fell to his hips, and Stolas guided him up to kiss his collarbone and chest.

With a soft cry, Blitz straddled his stomach, mind reeling from the wetness he could feel sliding against the warmth of Stolas’ skin. For a half-second, he worried Stolas might be put off by it; then Stolas pushed his back off the bed to press his stomach against Blitz’s crotch, once, twice, licking a long line up the column of his throat.

Choking on a gasp, Blitz pinned him down with the full force of his body, bending his body to keep that mouth on him even as he rode the softness of Stolas’ tummy.

And, God, fuck, Stolas’ touch was everywhere. A hand clasping his hip, a hot palm pressing to the curve of his lower back; thin lips trailing down his chest, straying from the healthy half of it to map the edge of his biggest scar. When he turned his attention back towards the left side of his chest, Stolas bypassed his nipple to kiss the long, hardened scar underneath.

Breath held, Blitz watched Stolas poke out his tongue and trace it, moving slowly from his breastbone almost all the way to his armpit. He locked his eyes on the soft, contented blush covering Stolas’ cheeks, and when that hot tongue pressed to the tender skin underneath, he leaked against the soft warmth of Stolas’ stomach, getting his happy trail messy and soaked.

Stolas met his gaze, and his lips curled into a sweet, private smile as he kissed the bumps of Blitz’s ribs. Then he looked back down, tracing Blitz’s tattoos with his mouth and fingers: first the pirate ship that sailed across the curve of his ribcage, and then the date written just below his heart, crowning the line of his top surgery scar.

He kept going, kissing every inch of his chest, every scar, every tattoo, open-mouthed and purposeful. Too stunned for words, Blitz curled his fist around Stolas’ hair, pushing into the heat of his mouth and committing this sight to memory. Fuck, he couldn’t look away.

For some dumb reason, he’d expected Stolas to eventually kiss his way back up to his mouth. But when Stolas shifted again, it was to guide Blitz up so he could lick his way down the quivering expanse of his stomach.

Now half-sitting up, Blitz grabbed hold of the headboard and craned his neck down to watch that searing mouth taste the horseshoe tattoo at the dip of his hip bone, then move to Blitz’s waist, which Stolas licked clean of what remained of his own cum.

“Fucking hell,” Blitz choked out, and Stolas smirked up at him before diving back in and biting into the soft curve of his waist, drawing a garbled whimper from him.

His mind spun, his body rocking back and forth against absolutely nothing. And when Stolas coaxed him closer, hands grabbing his ass, Blitz went, unthinking, shuffling forward on shaky legs.

Stolas’ mouth was smoldering as it traveled across his hip and pressed to the front of his thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” Blitz breathed, clutching at the headboard like his life depended on it. With his legs spread and his knees digging into the bed around Stolas’ shoulders, all he could do was watch as Stolas palmed the insides of his thighs and pushed himself off the bed to taste the throbbing heat between his legs.

The sight alone punched a whine out of Blitz’s chest, and the blinding torrent of pleasure that followed had him stuttering on his next intake of air.

“W-Wait,” he managed when Stolas tried to pull him down, “wait, we should…” Shit, his words just did not want to string together. “We should swap. To a position where you—h-have more control—shhhit.”

Not waiting for him to finish, Stolas pushed up again and closed his lips around his swollen cock, tasting it with his tongue.

Stolas drew back after just a moment. “I want you like this, though,” he murmured, and lapped at his cock again, making Blitz shake from the effort not to sink into his waiting mouth.

“Fuck, okay. O-okay. But—” Blitz gasped when Stolas kissed the inside of his thigh and his nose brushed between his folds, coming out damp. “Just—tap my thigh three times if you need to stop, okay? If you can’t breathe, or if anything hurts, or…”

“Mhm,” Stolas hummed, and tried to pull him down.

Blitz held still. “Show me how you do it.”

Curious eyes met his as Stolas placed a hand on the outside of his thigh and gave it three quick taps.

“Good. Okay.” Fuck, he was shaking so hard. “Sc-Scoot down a bit. Bring the pillow with you. Make sure it’s supporting your neck.”

Stolas complied, shuffling down until half his face was hidden from view by Blitz’s crotch.

“Anything else?” Stolas asked, hands trailing up Blitz’s spread thighs, eyes blinking innocently up at him.

“No, that—that’s a—ahh, fuck—”

Stolas’ mouth was on him again, and Blitz sank, barely managing to stifle a moan when Stolas’ searing mouth slotted fully around his cock.

“Oh, shit…” Stolas’ tongue was perfect against his cock, tracing and tasting it and pausing just long enough to feel it throb at the attention before moving again.

Fuck. Fuck. Blitz bucked his hips forward, needing more, and Stolas moaned, hands closing around Blitz’s hips and encouraging him to ride his face.

“Christ, you feel so fucking good,” Blitz gasped as he thrust, and fingernails dug into his ass as Stolas swiped his tongue between his folds and swallowed around his slick. Blitz’s head spun, and he brought a hand to Stolas’ hair, the other holding his weight against the headboard.

“Suck m-my cock into your mouth. Use your tongue around it.”

Stolas did, and holy shit, Blitz couldn’t hold back a cry.

He met Stolas’ eyes, and could almost read the question in the intensity of his stare. Am I doing well? Is this how you like it?

“That’s—fuck, that’s perfect, Stols,” he murmured, carding his fingers through Stolas’ hair, “keep going, lemme just…” He held Stolas in place and shifted his weight, then fucked hard into the maddening heat of his tongue. Oh. “D-Don’t stop sucking—ngh, fuck—”

A full-body shudder wracked through him, followed by another, and another. Stolas held his gaze, his cheeks reddened and coated in slick, and sucked hard on Blitz’s cock. He moaned when Blitz’s movements became erratic, and the sound was so fucking hot that tears pricked in Blitz’s eyes with the next swipe of that hardened tongue.

He was so close. So fucking close—

He ground down faster, bending forward until his forehead pressed into the wall, and Stolas matched his rhythm, the friction perfect from the new angle—

“Ah—there,” Blitz croaked, “don’t stop, Stolas, don’t—fuuuck…”

Tongues of pleasure fired up his trembling body, and as Blitz came, there was nothing in the world, nothing but frenzied static and the feeling of Stolas’ hot mouth wrapped around his cock, of Stolas’ hands guiding him messily back and forth, of Stolas’ soft moans echoing in the room alongside his ragged own.

Even when the pleasure began to dwindle, it took him a few moments to be able to get his breathing under control. He sagged heavily against the wall and the headrest below, but kept moving, twitching against the mouth still teasing his sensitive cock. A particularly hard flick of Stolas’ tongue drew a hiss from him, and Stolas stilled almost entirely, going slack underneath him, letting him set the pace.

For a moment, Blitz considered pulling back. But the mere idea of wrenching himself away from that mouth was unthinkable, and every cell in his wretched body begged to keep rocking slowly back and forth, riding Stolas’ tongue through the aftershocks of pleasure, flirting with the thrilling line between pleasure and overstimulation.

Fuck, he just could’t help himself. The warm slide of Stolas’ tongue against him was simply divine.

A quiet moan reached him through the fog in his mind, and Blitz opened his eyes and looked down at Stolas.

And, oh.

These days, gender euphoria was a rare and muted occurrence. It happened from time to time, sure, but never so hard as to rock his world, and never in any way that involved his naked body. Most of the time, if he was stupid enough to focus on it for long enough, the sight of himself just made him feel vaguely sick to his stomach.

And yet the sight that greeted him did something to his brain chemistry that had him slackening his jaw through a broken moan.

It was everything. It was the way his muscles twitched with every motion, his arm flexing where it stretched down to pull at Stolas’ hair, his quivering stomach granting him glimpses of the hardened abs underneath. It was the way his thighs clenched around Stolas’ head with every push of his hips, and his body hair, black and thick and ruffled in places, damp around his stomach and hip and the inside of his thighs. It was his flat chest, and his tattoos, and the thickened veins in his hands.

And it was Stolas. The desire flashing in his eyes, and his contentment as he lapped leisurely at Blitz’s cock. It was the way he followed every one of Blitz’s silent cues, focused on nothing but Blitz’s pleasure.

The soft waves of arousal coursing through him seemed to crash against the sudden sense of home in his own manhood, and as he focused on his cock, on the feeling of it in Stolas’ mouth, he felt the pleasure amplify, and pulse, and soar. Through hooded eyes, he watched himself come a second time, watched his body convulse, heard himself cry out as Stolas tasted and guided him through the blinding high.

Even as he quieted down, he could feel Stolas tracing his cock with the tip of his tongue. It felt almost curious, like Stolas was entranced by the way it pulsed and moved and felt, and it wasn’t until Blitz heaved himself off his face to ward off the painful overstimulation that Stolas let his mouth go slack. When he poked his tongue out again a moment later, it was to lick his lips and swallow the slick that coated them.

And though he was oversensitive and spent, the sight still made Blitz’s cock throb; made him sink down again, almost on instinct, drawing a surprised whine from Stolas even as he pressed out his tongue to greet him.

“Don’t move,” Blitz breathed before Stolas could attempt to suck him off again, and he, too, held almost completely still, his hips barely twitching as he ground his softening cock against the wet flat of Stolas’ tongue. Thick tremors rippled through him, each shock of pleasure lasting several seconds and leaving him hanging just on the edge of pain.

His third orgasm came and went quickly, and he barely made a sound as he quivered and ached. As soon as it passed, he pulled away and straddled Stolas’ stomach, leaning the rest of his weight on his hands at Stolas’ sides.

For a moment, they were both quiet as they caught their breath. Stolas held him close, hot palms leaving Blitz’s thighs to cup the softness of his waist, and when Blitz opened his eyes, he found Stolas was already looking up at him, watching him like he had just been granted the ability to stare at the sun unharmed. Like Blitz was the most beautiful sight in the world.

He didn’t know who moved first. All he could make sense of were Stolas’ hands tugging him down, and Stolas’ hot mouth meeting his own, and Stolas’ groan as he fed Blitz the taste of his own come.

They couldn’t kiss for long before they needed to pull back for air, but Stolas kept him close, light fingers trailing up and down his spine.

“You okay?” Blitz asked, and Stolas nodded, his breaths hot against Blitz’s lips. “Fuck, I didn’t—didn’t mean to take over like that. Is your neck okay?”

Stolas licked at Blitz’s lower lip and sucked it into his mouth, grabbing his hair, quieting him. Blitz let himself melt into it, sagging into the warmth of the body pressed against his own.

It was a good while before they pulled apart again. Stolas looked at him for just a moment, but then his eyes fell closed, and he let out a contented sigh, leaning into Blitz’s hand where it stroked his ruffled hair.

And even though exhaustion was weighing him down as well, Blitz gathered the strength to push himself up and slowly off the bed.

Unsteady on his feet, he grabbed his pyjamas from the wardrobe and threw them on, and when he turned around he found Stolas watching him, sprawled naked on the wrinkled bed. His gaze fell to Blitz’s shirt.

“Horse girl?” he mumbled, sleepy, a hint of humor in his voice.

Unable to help himself, Blitz finger-gunned and said, “Takes a man to be one.”

Stolas’ breathless chuckle was cut off by a shiver, and Blitz turned back to his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of pyjama pants that were a bit too big for him. “Shirt or hoodie?” he asked, not wanting to risk Stolas running cold overnight.

“A hoodie would be nice, thank you,” Stolas said, ever so polite. After some careful consideration, Blitz pulled out a woolly horse hoodie and handed it over alongside the pants.

“Be right back, just gonna clean this up,” he said, grabbing the dildo and stepping out of the room.

The apartment was quiet, lit only by the few low lights they’d left on in the living room. Sleepy and tingling all over, Blitz let his mind drift as he went through the motions of washing and leaving the dildo to dry. He used the toilet and quickly brushed his teeth, snatching his phone from the sofa to make sure Loona hadn’t texted. Then, he checked the front door to make sure it was locked and turned off the living room lights.

As he stepped back inside the bedroom, clicking the door shut behind himself, he was met with the sight of Stolas sprawled on his back, dozing off. He looked impossibly cozy in the brown horse hoodie, and just a little bit ridiculous with Blitz’s pyjama pants covering only two thirds of his legs.

He walked closer, and Stolas hummed in greeting, sounding only slightly awake.

“You could’ve gotten into bed, silly,” Blitz said with a huff, sitting next to him on the bed. Stolas cracked an eye open, searching his face, and Blitz smirked as he tugged at the hood thrown over his head. “Horse ears look good on you,” he declared, and then showed Stolas the towelette he’d brought from the bathroom. “Close your eyes.”

Stolas did, letting out a contented sigh as Blitz wiped the make-up off his eyes and cleaned the area around his mouth and chin.

When he was done, Blitz set the towelette aside and pulled back the bedsheets, helping Stolas crawl underneath and getting in right behind him.

He swore Stolas was asleep before his head had even hit the pillow, his breathing steady in the quiet of the night.

And even though his eyelids, too, were heavy, Blitz allowed himself a few moments before turning off the lights. Just to watch Stolas sleep in his bed; just to enjoy his warmth. When he did switch off his lamp, he rolled onto his usual side, his back turned to Stolas and his arms wrapped around himself.

His mind spun with exhaustion, already drifting, and it was through the fog of a half-formed dream that he felt an arm draping over his waist, wrapping around his torso, keeping him close.

Chapter Text

That tickles, was Blitz’s first semi-conscious thought of the day.

He scratched his cheek and returned to chasing some vague, indescribable memory of a dream, but was interrupted by another flurry of warmth brushing his face.

His eyes snapped open as a second thought pushed through the fog in his mind, and he blinked fast at the lines of morning light that cracked in through the drawn curtains.

Stolas.

He tilted his head to the side—and, sure enough, there Stolas was: curled up next to him in a tiny cocoon of warmth, forehead almost touching Blitz’s temple, with a heavy arm draped over Blitz’s stomach and his knees pressed to the side of Blitz’s thigh.

He was still here. He hadn’t left.

And he looked so peaceful as he slept by Blitz’s side; he looked soft. His hand was trapped under his cheek, squishing it adorably, and his hood had fallen back at some point during the night, though not before wreaking some serious havoc on his hair. The sight was so darling Blitz couldn’t help a huff.

He reached a hand up, but stopped himself before he could card his fingers through Stolas’ hair. He didn’t want to wake him up just yet.

Instead, he stretched out carefully to grab his phone from the nightstand.

After checking he had no messages from Loona, he opened the front camera and stuck his arm up. The bed was cast in shadow, and from this distance he could barely make out their silhouettes on the screen. All he could really see was how close they were, but that alone was enough to send his heart galloping as he felt for the volume button and snapped a selfie of them both.

He locked his phone and turned to his side, coming face to face with Stolas.

And there was no dawning sense of unease, he realized with a start. There was no shame, or disgust, or regret, or any other of the varied array of unpleasant feelings he’d long learned to expect when waking up next to someone else. He’d tensed, bracing himself for them, but when he released his breath all that came was a trickling ache of longing as his breath brushed the strands cascading over Stolas’ forehead.

Tentatively, Blitz pushed those rebellious strands out of Stolas’ face, earning himself a sigh, then a soft hum when he gave in to the urge to card his fingers through Stolas’ soft, messy hair.

“Morning,” Stolas mumbled, voice tiny, and cracked open a single eye to look at Blitz. The arm that was resting on Blitz’s waist pressed a little against his back, as if to keep him close.

“Hey,” Blitz tried to say—but his voice came out all sorts of croaky, and Stolas’ face split into a sleepy grin as Blitz cleared his throat. “Sleep well, big guy?”

“Mhm.” Stolas yawned, then nuzzled Blitz’s palm.

“Feeling sore?” Blitz asked. “Hungover?”

Stolas was close enough now that his forehead brushed Blitz’s as he shook his head. “Just a tad cold.”

Blitz slipped a hand under his hoodie and, sure enough, Stolas’ back was cool to the touch.

“Yeah, well… a horse hoodie with nothing underneath is objectively the hottest look on a jaw-dropper such as yourself,” Blitz said, smiling when Stolas giggled at the words. “Buuuut maybe not the best choice for November. Especially for someone this sensitive to cold,” he teased, and tickled Stolas’ side for good measure, just to hear that pretty laugh of his again.

Stolas’ startled squeal was delightful, and Blitz cackled as the man kicked the sheets, trying to wriggle away from the offending touch. As soon as Blitz stopped, though, Stolas chased after him again, his ongoing giggles planting a toothy grin on Blitz’s face.

“What was that for?” Stolas demanded even as he burrowed close.

“Your fault for being so damn cute,” Blitz said, and gave Stolas’ back another light tickle for good measure.

Stolas squirmed. Raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?” And there was a hint of mischief in his voice. “In that case…”

That was all the warning he gave before long, devilish fingers landed on Blitz’s waist and sent him into a howling fit.

“Y—Aaahhah—Y-you fucking bastard!” Blitz jerked back, and Stolas cackled and chased after him, unrelenting.

“Your fault for being so cute!” he fired back, tickling Blitz’s stomach, and ribs, and—fuck, Blitz was dying, he couldn’t bear this torture, he was—falling, shit—

“FuuuUUCK ME—”

Stolas wound an arm around his waist just in time for Blitz not to land ass-first on his bedroom floor.

For a long, shocked second, Blitz just stared dumbly into Stolas’ eyes, comically wide and crinkling with quickly-growing amusement. Stolas had the decency to at least try to stifle a snicker.

Still. He was laughing. Blitz had almost cracked his ass in half, and Stolas was laughing.

“You asshole,” Blitz grouched, scooting a safe distance away from the edge of the bed, “you almost killed me!”

Stolas’ giggles turned into outright guffaws, and an inelegant snort escaped him, making him pause, mortified, and then laugh even harder.

And this was real, Blitz thought with a start. Stolas was really, actually in his bed, laughing and grinning and touching him. This wasn’t a fantasy, or a—a nice little dream he was about to wake up from, or a product of his cruel and wicked imagination. Stolas was in bed, with him, acting like there was no place he’d rather be.

And he seemed unable to stop smiling. Even when his radiant glee dimmed, it didn’t fade away completely, instead settling into a pretty, contented smile—one that sent Blitz’s big, dumb idiot of a heart into a thundering fit.

His breath hitched, the sound noticeable enough that Stolas’ gaze lowered to his slightly-parted mouth.

Stolas’ next exhale seemed deliberately slow in the way it lingered on Blitz’s lips. His own breath held on a high note for an infinite second as thoughts rushed through him.

He’s still touching me. He’s still here.

“Can we kiss?” Stolas asked all of a sudden, and Blitz startled when he felt Stolas’ jaw move under his fingers. He hadn’t realized he was touching Stolas’ face.

Then he processed the question, and his heart stuttered.

Even after everything that had transpired the night before, after everything they’d already done, Stolas was still looking to him for guidance. Trusting Blitz to hold the answer to his every question.

And up until this point, Blitz had been able to deliver.

But… well. He’d never been any good at this ‘morning after’ bullshit, had he? No—that was usually around the time he fucked things up, if he hadn’t already. Hell, he had way more fucking questions than he had answers right now.

No, he’d never been any good at the complicated sort of intimacy that came after sex.

But, for Stolas, he’d just have to try.

“I meannn… we might taste like morning breath,” he warned, going for nonchalant and amused and only half-succeeding, his tone a bit too breathless to be convincing.

“Oh.” Stolas deflated a little. “Of course, you’re—you’re right.”

His breath was hot on Blitz’s lips. Blitz clung to his jaw and drew him closer.

“But, hey,” he murmured, and the words made their drying lips catch. “I won’t complain about it if you won’t.”

And what a fucking experience it was, to feel Stolas’ smile widen against his own.

“Deal,” Stolas whispered. Still, he didn’t close the gap between them, waiting for Blitz to take the lead.

Blitz was more than happy to oblige. Carding his fingers through soft tufts of messy hair, he tasted Stolas’ mouth, drinking in his pleased moan and replying with one of his own when tentative nails dragged over his sensitive scalp.

And, sure, the kiss did taste a bit like morning breath. But that didn’t stop Stolas from tracing the inside of his mouth, and Blitz was all too happy to reciprocate the enthusiasm, grabbing Stolas’ hip and swallowing his hushed moan when their bodies pressed closer.

Distracted as he was by the exploratory tip of Stolas’ tongue inside his mouth, it took him a moment too long to notice the knee nudging his thighs apart. When he did, he shifted, allowing it access—and blanked out for a full second when Stolas’ leg slid between his and slotted flush against his crotch.

Fuck, the pressure was heavenly. His next breath was a ragged puff of air against Stolas’ parted lips. And Stolas seemed to like that, whining in approval and pulling at his hair. It made Blitz feel bold, and he clenched his thighs and grabbed hold of Stolas’ jaw, feeding him a long, pleased moan as he rode his thigh a little.

He only had a moment to taste the mewling sound that broke from Stolas in response. Then Stolas was on top of him, leg still caught between Blitz’s own.

“Oh, fu…” Blitz didn’t get to finish the sentence—Stolas was already kissing him. His whole body buzzing with arousal, Blitz grabbed Stolas’ head and kissed him urgently back.

And Stolas was just so responsive, whining and keening into the kiss… just… fuck. Fuck, Blitz wanted to give this man everything. Every brand of pleasure, every experience under the sun. He wanted Stolas to take all that he had to give. The feeling spilled like light through the gaps between his ribs, earnest and blinding, and he grasped Stolas’ hips and guided him down, panting hotly into his mouth.

Stolas sank down with a shudder, and for a full, blissful second his crushing weight was so divine it obliterated every thought in Blitz’s scrambled brain.

When Stolas stayed put and rested more of his weight on him, though, Blitz did regretfully have to push him back a touch.

Stolas blinked owlishly down at him, panting for air.

“Easy there, big guy,” Blitz managed, “or I might start to think you’re against me breathing while we kiss.”

“O-Oh.” Stolas’ smile was sheepish and soft, his voice raspy from making out. “Sorry. It’s, ah—rather easy to get carried away.”

Blitz shook his head with a huff. Cupped Stolas’ cheek. Breathed, “You’re so ridiculously hot it’s not even funny,” and kissed the marveled gasp right out of Stolas’ searing mouth.

Stolas was more careful with his weight as he melted back into the kiss. It left some space between them that was just begging to be filled, and Blitz slid his hands under the soft hoodie and felt up Stolas’ tummy, his waist and sides. His skin had heated up from their kissing, and Blitz couldn’t help but trail a hand down, curious as to whether Stolas had perhaps had any other… reactions…

He’d barely grazed Stolas’ crotch when a hand grabbed his and pressed it flush against that hardening bulge.

Blitz’s groan paled in comparison to Stolas’ own. His own cock aching against the blinding pressure of Stolas’ leg, Blitz teased him through the fabric, kissing up into Stolas’ mouth even as it slackened against his, held on a half-formed moan.

Oh, but Blitz wanted to hear so much more than just a held-back sound. He fumbled with Stolas’ waistband and took his cock in hand, stroking him with long, steady motions. And, sure enough…

“Mmmgh…”

Blitz’s mind spun. He could feel Stolas trying to keep focused on the kiss and failing, shivering as groans that were outright filthy fell from his slackened mouth.

Suckling on his tongue, Blitz stopped at his cockhead and massaged it until wetness trickled into his working fingers.

When he stroked his full length again, Stolas dropped his head to the side, smearing a wet trail of spit across Blitz’s cheek before pressing a broken sob into the pillow.

“That’s it,” Blitz encouraged, half-mad with want, “that’s it, Stols. So good for me…”

Stolas pulled at his hair with a needy cry that fell right by Blitz’s ear. Blitz gasped, desperately wet against the leg caught between his.

“You’re so good,” he breathed again, wanting to hear more of those addictive sounds, and, “you feel so fucking good…”

Stolas’ groan was muffled by the pillow, and he turned his head slightly, his breath hot against Blitz’s neck. “Y-You too,” he mewled. “Mmmmhh…”

Blitz was sure his throaty chuckle betrayed just how overwhelmed he felt. “Gosh, you make such pretty fucking sounds.”

There was so much he wanted to do to Stolas, just to see what sounds he’d make. Stolas was inexperienced, and Blitz was determined to let him set the pace, but… fuck. The way Stolas had eyed the nipple clamps last night, and inspected the flogger, and held the ball gag in his hands…

Fuck, Blitz wanted to help Stolas try out all those things and more. He wanted to learn every single thing that could get Stolas off, wanted to be trusted to help him test the edges of his pleasure.

Clenching around that maddening thigh, he buried his face in Stolas’ hair and jerked him off with a purpose, loving the way it made Stolas thrash, and sob, the sounds pouring from him in quick waves until he choked on a beautiful cry and tensed all over, his cock twitching in Blitz’s working hand.

“That’s it, good boy,” Blitz murmured, feeling him come, guiding him through it. With his hitched breaths matching Stolas’ heavy own, he kept the pace until Stolas sagged in his embrace, shivering with a cry.

Even as Stolas stilled on top of him, Blitz didn’t fully let go. He couldn’t help himself—the breathy sounds Stolas pressed into his ear as Blitz ghosted his fingers over his twitching cock were just too good to pass up.

As he did so, he tangled his fingers in Stolas’ hair and rolled his hips up, just a bit. Fuck… He gasped and repeated the motion, riding Stolas’ leg to the slow rhythm of Stolas’ tiny gasps.

When he realized what Blitz was doing, Stolas pressed his leg down slightly, following his beat. The angle was weird with Stolas half sprawled on top of him, though, and Blitz felt him try to shift his weight to his arms and knees.

As he helped Stolas up, Blitz didn’t miss the way he wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. Fuck, the knowledge that Stolas had come hard enough to drool made him ridiculously wet.

Blitz hissed in pleasure when that mouth latched onto the side of his neck. Fuck, he must’ve still been sensitive from last night’s biting session, because Stolas’ hot tongue against his skin had his brain buzzing like it’d been dunked in sparkling water.

It didn’t help that Stolas grabbed his head and angled it to the side to lick a long line up his throat. By the time his earlobe was in Stolas’ mouth, Blitz had been reduced to a shuddering, panting mess.

All too soon, Stolas pulled back, making him whine. He sat up and brought his hands to the waistband of Blitz’s pyjama pants.

“Oh, fuck,” Blitz heaved. “Okay. Okay, yeah—” He helped Stolas shove them off alongside his boxers, heat racing through him as Stolas settled opposite him on the bed.

Blitz sat up against the headboard, giving Stolas more room. Fuck knew those long-ass legs of his would need it.

Warm palms cupped his knees and lingered there, twitching slightly—a silent question.

Meeting Stolas’ eyes, Blitz felt his face catch on fire as he let his legs fall open.

Stolas’ gaze was hungry as it lowered, and Blitz watched him lick his lips as he trailed those warm hands down his inner thighs.

The touch was sweet, almost reverent, and left goosebumps in its wake. It was so much, too much, and Blitz buried both hands in Stolas’ hair, needing something to cling to that wasn’t the bundle of nerves swirling somewhere in the endless pit of his stomach.

Stolas repositioned himself and kissed the inside of Blitz’s thigh, just by his knee. Blitz tracked the motion of those lips on his skin, untangling the knots in Stolas’ soft hair with quick but gentle fingers. The attention made Stolas hum as he moved further down his thigh, making Blitz moan a little.

Stolas, the fucking tease, smirked around the patch of skin he was tormenting, like he found Blitz’s needy sounds entertaining.

“Fuck, Stolas, you’re—ngh…”

Whatever half-assed complaint Blitz was about to mutter was obliterated by the press of a wet tongue across the length of his thigh, getting close, so close to where he needed it—

A shock of pleasure-pain shot through him when Stolas bit the curve of his groin and soothed the area with his tongue.

Blitz choked on a cry, legs quivering when Stolas held them open with careful hands and sucked on the abused spot. He sank his teeth in again, and by the time Blitz could make out his own sounds past the rushing in his ears, his cries were garbled beyond any sort of comprehension.

He could barely keep his eyes open, but he made the extra effort just so he could watch this, because holy fuck Stolas looked good between his legs. The clouds outside must have cleared for a second, because the light that spilled in through the drawn curtains was enough to reveal the warmth pooling on Stolas’ cheeks and the little, self-satisfied smile curling his mouth, locked around Blitz’s skin.

Fuck, that sight alone was enough to get Blitz dripping fucking wet.

Shivering from the ongoing bite, Blitz trailed his fingers down to Stolas’ tense jaw, feeling the scratch of his stubble. A hot breath ghosted over his skin in reply, and Stolas let go, licking the reddened area before looking up into Blitz’s eyes.

Whatever he found there made him smirk, and when Blitz twitched his fingers around his jaw, trying to angle his head, Stolas let himself be guided, just a bit to the side, just—just there—

They both moaned as that mouth buried between his legs. Except Blitz kept going, because Stolas’ lips and tongue were immediately on his cock, tearing a cry from his stuttering chest.

“Sh-Shit, fuck—” He gripped Stolas’ hair hard and pushed off the bed and into that maddening heat, head rolling back when Stolas hummed around him and sucked, hard enough for Blitz to feel himself throbbing inside his mouth.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck, his head spun as he folded forward almost in half and guided Stolas down by the hair, fucking into his mouth, taking control. Stolas matched his rhythm, sucking, licking, and Blitz heaved, feeling wetness trickle down his thighs and Stolas’ mouth and chin.

“Y-your tongue,” Blitz said in a rush, blushing with the words but needing them out, needing Stolas to— “Move it f-fa—ahh, fuck…”

Even through the wave of pleasure, there was no mistaking the growl Stolas let out as he complied.

Warm hands slid under his horse girl t-shirt and grabbed his hips, making him very aware of just how much he was trembling. Itching fingers urged Blitz up, and as he fucked faster into that white-hot mouth, sounds fell from his throat that he shouldn’t have been capable of making. Except he was, he was, and he couldn’t—couldn’t stop—

“F-Fuck, Stolas…”

The pleasure built, and built, and Blitz pushed Stolas’ head down roughly, his entire existence zeroed in on that mouth on him. He gasped, and shuddered, and heaved, almost, almost there—

For an everlasting instant, Blitz tensed all over, suspended on the edge of release.

Then the pleasure spilled, and Blitz spasmed and leaked against the mouth sealed around him.

“Fu-uuckkk…”

He barely noticed the tears trickling down his temples. His sole focus was the tongue that drowned him in waves of pulsing pleasure, curling the soles of his feet and tensing the line of his throat.

Gradually, the shocks of pleasure slowed, and eventually dwindled into a buzzing in his ears. With one last, heavy breath, he tore Stolas away from his crotch, only vaguely registering the aching in his knuckles from how hard he’d been gripping Stolas’ hair.

Fuck, he already missed having that tongue on him.

Before he could even contemplate catching his breath, Stolas was back on him and kissing his next gasp right out of his mouth.

Blitz let him, moaning in surprise but clutching him close, opening up into a sloppy kiss.

Stolas’ hoodie must’ve rolled up, because when Blitz thrust up against his weight, it was bare skin that wedged against his soaked crotch. Blitz pushed into it, licking deep into Stolas’ mouth, and Stolas moaned, shifting closer, pressing against his leg, and—fuck. Was that…?

Blitz palmed between them, checking.

Stolas was hard. He’d gotten hard again from sucking Blitz off.

“Mhh. Fuck,” Blitz mumbled into the kiss. “Shit—c’mere.”

And Stolas might be a big guy, but he was oh, so easy to manhandle—Blitz really had no trouble turning them around and pinning him against the headboard.

A stifled moan came from above him as he worked down the waistband of Stolas’ pyjama pants, and upon a glance Blitz found Stolas had covered his mouth with the back of his hand, the other holding onto Blitz’s shoulder like a lifeline.

He reached up and tugged at Stolas’ sleeve until that hand fell to the side.

“Lemme hear you,” he murmured, a soft command. “Grab my hair, there’s a good boy.”

Then, he held Stolas’ cock at the base and took it in his mouth.

As if on cue, a string of stuttering moans filled the room and twitching hands curled around fistfuls of his hair. The sounds were very distracting, but Blitz kept his focus on the task at hand, taking Stolas as deep as he could manage with none of the decorum he’d attempted the previous night, using his tongue, his throat, his hands.

It’d been a while since he’d sucked dick, and—fuck, he’d kinda missed this. Plus, Stolas was reactive to it, holy shit. Shuddering, and pushing into Blitz’s mouth, and grunting—gasping—mewling in the most irresistible way as his cock twitched and leaked.

Fuck, the mess between Blitz’s legs wasn’t fixing itself anytime soon.

He used his weight to pin Stolas down, and bobbed his head with a purpose, teasing Stolas’ balls with his free hand, needing to drown in Stolas’ perfect sounds.

“I-I’m—” Stolas choked out, “Blitz, I-I—fuck—”

Quaky thighs squeezed his head and nails dug into his scalp, stilling him. Blitz obliged, working the back of his mouth around Stolas’ cock. A moan came from above him, long and loud enough to make his entire brain rattle, and a thrill ran down his spine as Stolas pulsed and came inside his mouth.

Fuck, Stolas was loud enough that it was entirely possible someone might be hearing them through the walls. The notion filled Blitz’s head with wild static, and he groaned as he worked Stolas through it with his hands and mouth.

All of a sudden, urgent hands clawed at his sides, hauling him up. A line of spit and cum stretched between his mouth and Stolas’ cock as he drew back, and Blitz swore it followed him all the way to Stolas’ mouth—swore Stolas broke it with his own lips as he licked into Blitz’s still-parted mouth with a deep and hungry moan.

Fuck, Blitz was burning up. His head spun as Stolas sought his own taste, and he pressed his tongue into Stolas’ mouth to feed him some more of it. He was rewarded with a lovely whine, loud enough to make his ears ring.

As they made out, soft tingles of after-pleasure erupted on Blitz’s skin everywhere they touched. They gathered in his stomach, softening him, making him sigh and melt into Stolas’ welcoming embrace.

The taste of their pleasure didn’t take long to fade. When it did, Blitz dragged his mouth down Stolas’ scratchy jaw and throat. Feeling boneless and heavy, he suckled and lapped at the angry red marks of his own making.

Warm hands trailed up his back under his shirt, and Stolas shuddered in his arms, panting hard close to his ear.

His sounds ended on a high note when Blitz pulled back to take a look.

Stolas’ half-lidded eyes settled carefully on Blitz’s mouth. His hair was in complete disarray, and the love bites littered across his neck seemed to beckon Blitz’s mouth to have another taste. His lips were parted and dry from his heaving breaths, and were so enticing Blitz simply had to steal another quick kiss as he sank his fingers in the mess between his legs.

Sitting up a little, he brought his soaked digits to the tip of Stolas’ soft cock, gathering what little wetness remained there and mixing it with his own under Stolas’ quizzical gaze.

“Open up” he instructed, his tone quiet, and quivered with accomplishment when Stolas immediately complied, parting his lips and poking his tongue out to welcome Blitz’s fingers into his mouth.

He guided a quietly-keening Stolas through sucking his fingers with slow, gentle motions. Pushing them in, then out, adoring the pressure of Stolas suckling eagerly around him, trying to keep them inside.

“You’re really into this, huh?” Blitz said curiously, pressing back in. “You like tasting our cum?”

Stolas, adorably red in the cheeks, nodded, swiping his tongue over the pads of Blitz’s fingers as they retreated.

Blitz pushed in one last time, then took them fully out.

“More?” he asked, already gathering more of his slick.

Stolas’ nod was a beat too fast, and his blush deepened visibly even in the low light of the room. “Please.”

“Yeah?” Blitz hovered his fingers over Stolas’ lips—felt them part to allow him access. Smirking, he swiped his fingers over his own lips instead. “Come and get it, then.”

Stolas’ incredulous huff made Blitz grin—and then squeal as Stolas chased after his mouth and sucked loudly at his bottom lip.

A stuttering sigh escaped him when he felt tentative fingers explore his drenched crotch. Stolas began to pull away, but Blitz grabbed his wrist to keep him where he was, drawing back from the kiss.

“Hold your horses, handsome.” He offered a flushed Stolas a breathless smirk, cupping the back of Stolas’ hand and guiding those slick fingers to his sensitive cock. “Why settle for scraps? It’s not like it’s hard for you to get me wetter than this.”

A hot breath mingled with his own, Stolas searching his face with eyes that were blown wide. Blitz held his gaze, gasping as he used those wet, fluttering fingers to jerk himself off at a slow but even pace.

“Christ, you feel so fucking good,” he breathed, rocking slightly into it, so turned on and oversensitive he knew he wouldn’t last long.

“I do?”

Through the haze of building arousal, Blitz studied Stolas’ expression.

There was something there in the back of Stolas’ gaze—fear, or maybe uncertainty. Whatever it was, the emotion was so offensive Blitz wanted it obliterated. Hell, he’d burn it to the ground himself if that was what it took to get rid of it.

“So fucking much, Stols.” Not looking away from those agitated eyes, he repositioned their hands to stop them from cramping. Then he leaned in, cupping Stolas’ jaw, brushing their lips. “Let me show you.”

He savored Stolas’ bottom lip before feeding his next, quiet gasp directly into Stolas’ mouth. With carefully-practiced motions, he moved those thin fingers over his cock, hips twitching in tandem with Stolas’ faint, stifled moans.

Blitz grabbed the headboard for some extra balance and picked up the pace. With his eyes closed and Stolas’ tongue toying with his own, it was as easy as breathing to get lost in the feeling of Stolas underneath him: the quick breaths through his nose, the stifled whimpers he kissed into Blitz’s mouth; the way he seemed so overwhelmed just from having Blitz use his hand to seek his own pleasure, gripping Blitz’s thigh hard enough to bruise.

It maddened him that Stolas had no concept of just how fucking wild he drove Blitz. He needed Stolas to see.

With a groan, Blitz leaned all of his weight forward, making their mouths slot as he rocked on Stolas’ fingers at an unforgiving pace.

He needed to gasp, but couldn’t through his mouth, and his quick breaths became audible through his nose as his pleasure mounted. They quickly morphed into muffled moans, and then Blitz stopped registering his own sounds altogether, too busy shuddering and tipping over the edge.

Mind reeling, he gripped Stolas’ hand hard and rode out his orgasm against those wet, twitching fingertips.

Even as he rested his forehead against Stolas’ afterwards, he kept slowly thrusting back and forth, needing Stolas’ touch on him while he caught his breath.

“Th-There you go,” he croaked, finally guiding Stolas down to collect his slick. “Now I’m properly wet for you.”

He loosened his hold on Stolas’ hand, allowing Stolas to take the lead and bring his own fingers to his mouth. But Stolas stayed stuck on a breath, pupils blown wide as he stared down at his hand still placed between Blitz’s legs.

Blitz pulled back a little and stroked Stolas’ flushed cheek. “Hey,” he murmured, and Stolas finally met his gaze. “You doing okay, big guy?”

Stolas gave a nod, then glanced back down between them, eyes glazed. “Yes, I…” He shook his head. “I just wasn’t aware I could… do that.”

Blitz huffed. “What, get me off with your hands?”

Stolas blinked. “Well, it—it sounds silly when you put it that way,” he mumbled defensively, making Blitz snort. Stolas echoed him, huffing as he twitched his slick fingers between Blitz’s folds.

With Stolas’ next breath, though, his eyelids fluttered closed, and his head fell back against the headboard, like he needed a second to rest.

Cupping Stolas’ nape, Blitz scooted back to give the man room to move.

“Here, I got you,” he murmured, helping Stolas shuffle down until his head was on the pillow.

Stolas blinked slowly up at him. His mouth was parted again, his gaze unwaveringly set on Blitz.

Blitz brushed a few wayward strands from Stolas’ forehead. “We can stop if you want,” he said—but Stolas shook his head and wet his fingers between Blitz’s legs again, making Blitz shiver.

“Can you—help me?” Stolas asked shyly. “It feels better when you do it.”

Oh, fuck. Would this man ever stop making Blitz too horny to function?

“Well,” he teased, “since you ask so nicely…”

Stolas smiled, and the glint stayed in his eyes when Blitz guided his hand up and pressed those fingers into his mouth. Stolas moaned around the taste, and though his eyes hooded, they remained set on Blitz as he suckled and licked.

Almost like he was putting on a show.

“Just look at you,” Blitz purred, wanting to reward him for it. His voice lowered into a husky whisper. “Such a horny bitch for me, aren’t you?”

Stolas trembled underneath him, moaning as he gave a nod.

Moving those fingers slowly in and out, Blitz inched closer, allured by the mesmerizing sight of his working jaw.

He could feel Stolas’ ragged breaths on his lips, and he lingered there, letting their lips brush and their breaths mingle as he pushed Stolas’ fingers slowly into his mouth.

Stolas whined, and, wanting to taste it, Blitz closed the distance between them and kissed Stolas around his fingers.

Stolas moaned beautifully in response, arching his back up into Blitz’s weight, grabbing Blitz’s hip with his free hand.

But that wasn’t all. When their tongues met, Stolas’ moan turned into an outright wail. He tried to kiss back, but his jaw went slack; and he jerked, gasping and groaning around their mouths.

Almost like he was coming.

Holy fuck. Was he?

Blitz deepened the kiss, licking into the heat of Stolas’ mouth, feeling Stolas drool in his frenzy to kiss back. Blitz made out with him until he quieted down, and then pulled back in a haze, watching Stolas struggle to catch his breath, watching him drop his drenched hand to the side, leaving a smear of spit across his own cheek.

Wide eyes met Blitz’s shocked own.

“Did you just…?”

A slow, bewildered nod. “I—I think so.”

Blitz kissed him. He couldn’t fucking bear not to—he just needed Stolas’ mouth on him again.

Stolas grabbed him by the hair and kissed eagerly back.

They made out until they were beyond out of breath, until Blitz’s head felt too heavy to hold, and then they made out some more. Even as they attempted to pull back, Stolas chased after his tongue for one last taste before he rolled his head to the side and gasped for air.

Planting his face on the pillow in the crook of Stolas’ neck, Blitz melted on top of Stolas like warm butter on toast.

He had half a mind to eventually move away so as not to crush Stolas with his weight, but he was just so tired. So, instead, he let himself be lulled into a state of near-lethargy by a quick but quiet heartbeat.

Their breaths gradually slowed, and he sighed as he felt careful hands tracing lines up and down his spine.

⋆★⋆

He had no idea how long they stayed there, but it was enough for the edges of his consciousness to blur. His thoughts were pleasantly scattered, thrumming alongside each of Stolas’ quiet breaths, and he was an instant away from dozing off when he shifted his weight and several of his internal organs began screaming all at once.

“Hmph…”

Stolas’ fingers stilled under his t-shirt, warm palms spreading over the expanse of his ribcage. “Blitz?”

“‘M sleepy,” Blitz mumbled, “but I need to fucking piss.”

Stolas’ rumbling laughter only served to jostle his bladder, and Blitz groaned as he pushed himself off of the perfectly warm man underneath him, threw on his boxers, and dragged himself to his cold and unforgiving bathroom.

Of course, as soon as he took care of that particular source of discomfort, his stomach started rumbling like it hadn’t been fed for days.

“Oh, shut up,” Blitz mumbled to himself, procrastinating getting up from the toilet seat as the cogs in his brain screeched painfully into motion.

It was daytime. Which meant he and Stolas couldn’t stay in bed indefinitely. Well, they could, but not without feeding themselves at some point.

Breakfast. He could make breakfast for them. That was a thing he was good at.

Yes, he’d do that.

And afterwards…

He’ll go home. He’ll leave.

Blitz shook off the thought. Then, before it could plague him again, he jerked into motion, flushing the toilet and washing his hands. Sleepy and with an empty stomach just wasn’t the time to grapple with his pathological degree of insecurity in his relationships. His sufficiently-fed and much-wiser future self would surely be suited to deal with the matter.

“Hookay,” he said as he stepped back into his bedroom, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a hole in my stomach the size of a triplet pregnancy.”

He pushed the curtains open and grimaced at the street below. The weather was still grey and honestly kinda shit, even if it at least wasn’t raining.

The view was much nicer once he turned around, with a ruffled, flushed Stolas sitting on the edge of his bed and blinking expectantly up at him.

“Hey.” Blitz smiled, and took Stolas’ hands in his, unlacing his long fingers that betrayed he’d been fidgeting. “You up for some breakfast, handsome? I could make pancakes, waffles, scrambled eggs on toast… I got coffee and milk… I think there’s tea in the pantry somewhere, but it might be a few weeks or years past its use-by date.”

Just as he’d hoped, Stolas’ perplexity melted into a warm smile. The crinkles it revealed in his eyes made Blitz’s heart gallop.

“Waffles would be lovely,” Stolas murmured, “i-if they’re not too much trouble to make.”

“Eh, I make ‘em for me and Loona all the time.” He tugged at Stolas gently, helping him stand, and craned his neck up. “Christ, we’ve been horizontal for so long I forgot how fucking tall you are.”

Stolas snickered, still holding his hand as they walked out of the room.

Blitz gave his hand a light squeeze. “D’you want coffee, then?”

“Oh, um. Waffles are more than enough, thank you, I—I wouldn’t want to abuse your generosity.”

Blitz’s eyebrows shot up. Jeez, one would think putting your fingers inside a guy’s ass would deprogram his need to be constantly polite. He’d have to try with his tongue next time.

Distracted by the yummy thought, Blitz didn’t realize he hadn’t replied to Stolas until they were standing in the kitchen, still hand in hand.

Turning to Stolas, he gave a decided nod. “I’m making coffee.”

Stolas looked down at him, puzzled, and beautiful, and entirely too kissable. “O-Okay.”

“And you,” Blitz added, squeezing his hand for emphasis before letting go, “are getting showered in the meantime, because as much as I enjoy the fire you light up in my pants, I don’t want it to turn into a fire in my kitchen, which is what’s gonna happen if I try to cook with you existing in my vicinity looking this fucking hot.”

Stolas’ eyebrows shot up, and his smile widened as warmth spread down his neck like liquid ink, connecting the splotches of crimson on his skin. The sight was so hot it was almost offensive, and had Blitz itching to add a few more love bites to the collection.

Which was exactly why Stolas needed to get out of his sight, stat, for both of their stomachs’ sakes.

“Oookay, let’s grab you a towel.” Blitz marched out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom with Stolas in tow. “You can use whatever you need. Just don’t use the top shelf products, ‘cause those are Loona’s and she can be pretty territorial with her stuff—”

When he turned with a clean towel in his hands, he was alone in the bathroom. Just a moment later, though, Stolas rushed in behind him, a heap of his own clothes bundled in his arms.

“Sorry, sorry, I heard you,” Stolas said, “I won’t touch Loona’s things.”

Damn, it’d been a hot minute since Blitz had seen that mauve button-up. It must’ve spent the night on the couch.

“Perf.” It was hard, but Blitz resisted the urge to put his hands on Stolas as he walked around him towards the door, dropping the towel on the stool. “Laundry basket’s over there, just throw in whatever you need to, I’ll take care of it.”

He stepped backwards and out of the bathroom, but paused there. Stolas was turned towards him, eyes big and expectant.

Blitz raked his eyes down his spindly frame. Without his permission, his mind flooded with visions of Stolas undressing; of Stolas stepping under the hot stream and lathing his body in soap.

He could almost visualize it: the steam rolling up as rivulets of water traced sinuous paths down his collarbone and chest, his stomach and thighs. His arms and chest flexing as he pushed back his dripping hair.

And if Blitz were to follow him into the shower, well… with their height difference, who would blame him for leaning in and tasting the thick water drops off his chest?

Oh, and what beautiful sounds Stolas would make if Blitz were to wrap his mouth around a nipple…

Yum. Blitz would suck on them, roll them between his teeth until he got Stolas all worked up. And when those pretty moans had turned to pleas and desperate fingers were curling in his wet hair, he’d turn Stolas around, pin him against the shower wall. He’d get on his knees, and spread Stolas’ cheeks to make room for his mouth, and he’d make Stolas wail loud enough to drown out the roaring of the running water…

“Blitz?”

He blinked, and the vision faded. Stolas, very much still dry and dressed, was giving him a quizzical, if slightly amused look.

“I—Waffles,” was what came out when Blitz opened his big, stupid mouth. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m gonna…” And he pointed towards the kitchen, hoping that was clarification enough. “Just—Just shout if you need anything.”

He really hoped the amused smirk he caught in Stolas’ expression as he trotted away was just a product of his imagination.

⋆★⋆

Against all odds, Blitz didn’t burn down the kitchen—not even when the sound of running water that started up a few minutes later made visions of a wet and naked Stolas flock back to the forefront of his mind.

In fact, by the time the bathroom went quiet, he’d managed to make enough waffles for both of them with some to spare, as well as set the table, check his phone for messages from Loona, and throw on socks and a hoodie to fight off the cold.

He’d stayed in his boxers, though. Just to taunt Stolas a little.

Blitz was taking the last waffles out of the iron when he heard shuffling coming from the kitchen door.

“Alllmost done over here!” he singsonged, placing the hot waffles on the plate. “Did you have a nice shower, pretty guy?”

No reply came. Blitz turned, plate in hand, and caught Stolas’ eyes trained on his bare thighs.

Heh. Score.

He shook his hips, putting on a bit of a show, and beamed when Stolas’ gaze flitted quickly up to meet his, adorable and slightly embarrassed.

Blitz winked at him, setting the plate on the table by their coffee mugs, watching the redness on his cheeks expand. “Thought you’d like the view.”

“I—Yes, I very much do,” Stolas smiled, but didn’t step into the kitchen. He seemed almost… hesitant, and Blitz couldn’t help but notice a carefulness about him that hadn’t been there before.

Ah. Back to spooked kitten it is.

Drawing near, Blitz extended a hand, which Stolas took. His palms, just as his cheeks, were warm from the shower; his fingers gentle around Blitz’s scarred skin. His smile was genuine and soft as he let Blitz walk him backwards toward the table.

His expression did twitch with amusement when his gaze lowered to Blitz’s baggy white hoodie, though.

“I’m sorry… is that—is that the Queen of England’s face on a race horse?”

Blitz followed Stolas’ line of sight and snickered down at his hoodie. It was, indeed, the Queen of England’s face on a race horse, with the words YAS QUEEN NEIGH overlaid on top in bright, glowy colors.

“Heh. It is.” Blitz pulled out a chair for Stolas before settling down himself. “Couldn’t let you be the only one wearing horse merch around the house, could I?”

Indeed, Stolas was still wearing Blitz’s brown, fluffy, horse-eared hoodie, now on top of the mauve button-up. He’d put on his leather pants and black socks, and the way he’d towel-dried his hair made it stand in all directions like a spiky storm cloud—one with a single, light grey streak peeking out at the front.

Fuck, he looked so hot and homely Blitz kind of wanted to straddle him and have him for breakfast instead.

“Okay,” he said, willing himself to snap out of the horny thoughts and focus. “I don’t know what toppings you like, so I brought out a little bit of everything in hopes something works for ya. We got maple syrup, whipped cream, Nutella… oh, and honey, I left it in the pantry but I can grab it if you want. Then we have strawberries, banana slices, chocolate chips, marshmallows…”

He served Stolas a waffle, then placed two on his own plate and covered them in Nutella and chocolate chips.

Stolas picked the whipped cream and eyed it carefully. After a moment of hesitation, he took off the lid and struggled with it, seeming startled by how much came out. It was so painfully obvious he’d never used a can of whipped anything before Blitz couldn’t help but snort around the waffle he was biting into.

Even though Stolas smiled apologetically back, he didn’t reach for his waffle. He seemed to want to, but his hands hovered around it, unsure of how to proceed.

After staring at him for a moment, something in Blitz’s mind clicked. Dropping his waffle, he stood and grabbed a fork and knife from the drawer, handing them to Stolas.

The tension in Stolas’ shoulders immediately eased. “Thank you,” he said, sounding so relieved one would think Blitz had saved him from a fate worse than death.

“You are most welcome,” Blitz teased in a very poor imitation of Stolas’ accent. Damn, he’d have to work on that.

Not now, though. Now, his only goal was to stuff the empty void in his stomach full of chocolate-covered waffles. He dove back into his food, uncaring of how sticky his fingers and mouth got in the process. Fuck, he was starving.

Still, he didn’t miss the way Stolas faltered as he cut into his waffle, staring down at it like he was transfixed by its existence.

As they ate, Blitz quietly kept track of the line of worry that creased Stolas’ brows. It didn’t go away—not when Stolas complimented Blitz on the taste, not even as he served himself a second, then a third waffle—and by the time Blitz stood to put everything away, he felt distinctly like he was in the presence of an anxious foal.

The feeling only grew as he moved to and from the table, putting everything away in silence except for Stolas’ half-full coffee mug.

By his third trip back to the table, Blitz faltered in his step by Stolas’ chair.

Stolas didn’t acknowledge him, seeming lost in thought. Blitz made sure to keep his voice soft and steady as he said, “Hey.”

Gaze clearing, Stolas blinked up at him.

Christ, he was gorgeous. Blitz cupped his rosy cheek and stroked Stolas’ cheekbone with a thumb. “Everything okay?”

Stolas exhaled—shifted in his seat. Averted his gaze, but smiled, tender and warm, leaning slightly into Blitz’s touch.

“Yes,” he murmured, and though he didn’t continue, his heavy sigh told Blitz there was something on his mind.

Blitz waited, brushing Stolas’ soft cheek, his prickly jaw.

Another sigh, and then Stolas looked up at him. “You just…” And he paused again, gulping. It didn’t take away the thickness in his voice when he said, “You take such good care of me.”

Blitz stilled in his gentle strokes to Stolas’ face.

His heart went quiet in his chest, too, only to trip into a quick gallop with its next unsteady beat.

“Is that what this is about?” he chuckled, nervous despite himself. With the help of his hip, he pushed the table aside so he could use Stolas’ lap as a seat, both legs hanging off the same side. He turned towards Stolas and carded his fingers through soft strands of grey hair. “It’s just breakfast, silly. I know I’m a snack, but I do still want you to be fed while you’re in my house.”

Stolas smiled, but didn’t reply. He looked agitated still, and his touch was tentative as he held Blitz’s waist at his back.

Blitz stroked his hair, keeping in the breath that wanted to stutter out of his lungs. Stolas didn’t have the same reservations: he closed his eyes and let out a sigh as he traced Blitz’s back with infinitely careful hands. His light fingertips followed the line of Blitz’s column, all the way up, then slowly down, down, down.

Warm palms paused and rested on the lowest point of his back, then. And in the quiet, long second that followed, Blitz was positive he was about to be pulled into a hug.

Then Stolas’ hands fell to their sides, and the loss of that touch had Blitz’s breath catching in his chest.

Caught off guard by his own reaction, Blitz tugged at Stolas’ hair. Just a little—just to lighten the mood and make Stolas’ breath be the one to hitch.

Ah, there it was. Stolas met his gaze, all warm cheeks and wide, earnest eyes.

“Alright,” Blitz murmured, and with one last, slow stroke to the love bites littered across that long pale neck, he heaved himself off of Stolas’ lap. “I’d better take care of those dishes, otherwise they’ll get crustier than the Pope’s asshole.”

“Oh.” Stolas sat up straighter. “Um, should I—Do you need help? I can—”

“Nah, don’t worry.” Blitz gestured towards Stolas’ mug. “You haven’t even finished your coffee yet.”

Stolas blinked down at it, like he’d forgotten it was there. He picked up the mug, and Blitz nodded in approval and skittered towards the overflowing sink.

He hummed a low tune while working through the dishes. After years of trial and error, he’d determined that music was the easiest way to avoid overthinking while doing menial tasks. It only sort of did the trick this time, though—he could still feel Stolas’ eyes on him, could feel the tension building in his shoulders at the thought of Stolas leaving.

He knew he was playing a dangerous game, letting these feelings grow—hell, letting them exist in the first place. Nothing good ever came out of him getting attached, and the third of his body that was covered in scar tissue was proof enough of that.

But even that constant, painful reminder was hard to pay heed to when Stolas touched him as softly as he did. When Stolas had that look in his eyes, like Blitz was something more than just a bottom-shelf erotic product someone should’ve tossed away long ago. Like he was someone worth wanting, like…

A hand rested on his waist, making him jolt. The plate he was holding landed directly under the water jet, splashing his front.

“Oh, gosh, I-I—” Stolas stuttered, retrieving his hand. But Blitz just let out a laugh, taking stock of the now-soaked face of the equine Queen of England. Christ on a stick, Stolas was stealthy. “I’m sorry,” Stolas weakly finished, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He handed Blitz the empty mug, which Blitz placed in the sink.

“You’re all good, silly,” he chuckled—and, see, there it was again. The other reason his feelings were so damn hard to fight back.

The relief that washed away Stolas’ worry with Blitz’s casual reassurance.

Really, how was he meant to stay cool and casual around Stolas when a simple smile, a thoughtless comment of affirmation, were enough for every tense muscle in Stolas’ body to soften?

Stolas stepped tentatively closer, and, still washing the dishes, Blitz leaned against him, shivering when that firm body pressed against his back and the tickling touch of Stolas’ hands trailed across his stomach.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Stolas asked after a moment. “I wouldn’t want to—to be a bother, or—”

“I’m sure,” Blitz cut in. “Just… sit tight, make yourself comfortable, alright? I’ll be done in no time.”

And then I can take you home. He knew he should, but he couldn’t bring himself to add that last part out loud.

Delicate fingers ran through his hair, distracting him from his antsy thoughts.

“If you’re sure.” Stolas held him close for another long moment. Then he stepped back, saying, “I’ll go wash my teeth, if that’s okay.”

Mourning the loss of that body against him, Blitz fought hard to focus on the fork he was scrubbing, and not on the incredibly annoying stampede that was happening in his chest from just a few intimate touches. “Yeah,” he murmured. “‘Course, handsome.”

A second later, Blitz was alone in the kitchen, with no company but that of his tangled thoughts.

⋆★⋆

The minutes ticked by, and Stolas never made it back into the kitchen. With the last of the dishes washed and set to dry, Blitz stalked into the living room, half-expecting to find Stolas standing by the front door, shoes on and jacket draped over an arm, waiting for Blitz to throw some pants on so they could get going.

Instead, still only in his socks and with his back turned to the kitchen door, Stolas was studying Blitz’s picture wall.

Walking up to him, Blitz noticed Stolas’ focus was set on the centerpiece of the colorful, mismatched mural, and the biggest picture of the lot.

“It’s from the day Loona’s adoption was finalized,” Blitz offered. “Don't let her death stare fool you, I caught her trying to hide a smile like two seconds after I snapped the pic.”

He stole a glimpse of Stolas’ smile, but looked away before the man could catch him staring.

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-two. Was seventeen when I adopted her.”

He could tell Stolas’ eyes were on him, silently intrigued. But he didn’t elaborate, and didn’t look away from the picture, flooded with memories of the day it’d been taken.

They’d gotten ice cream on the way home from the courthouse. Out of all of the day’s events, the ice cream was Blitz’s clearest memory.

It hadn’t even been good ice cream. They didn’t have any fancy flavors, not even chocolate, so they’d had to settle for fucking vanilla—but he’d been so hungry after hours of stressful paperwork that he’d shoved it in his mouth hard enough to choke on the damn thing and drop half of it on the scorching pavement.

It would’ve become one of those memories he’d pay to forget, were it not for the fact that Loona had laughed at him.

It had only lasted a second, and she’d quickly schooled her expression back into a grimace. But, for the first time in his presence since the day they’d met, Loona had laughed.

Before that day, Blitz had been certain he’d never get a date tattooed again. Not after the fire had taken away the previous one.

He’d been eighteen years old and a couple of months into his recovery when he’d graved his top surgery date underneath his right-side scar. Like the childish, lovesick idiot he was, he’d placed it there in a naive attempt to save his heart’s side for a different kind of milestone. For the very milestone, in fact, that had charred half his body and ruined the life of the boy he’d wanted to share it with.

After finding the fire had wiped out the tattoo, Blitz had made a promise to himself that he would never be stupid enough to engrave any dates on his skin. His love was poison; his hands ablaze. His ties to people were coated in gasoline, waiting for the day he’d lay his wicked fingers on them.

And then Loona, his daughter, had laughed, and everything he’d thought he’d known about himself had gone flying out the window.

Tattooing her adoption date on his heart hadn’t even been a question after that. Loona was someone he knew he could never regret loving.

“She looks so much happier now.”

The hushed words brought Blitz back to the present. Stolas was eyeing a selfie Loona had posted on Instagram a couple of months ago, and which Blitz had printed and framed, much to her dismay.

“Yeah?” Fuck, Blitz hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question. “I mean, yeah, I—I guess she is. Well, maybe not when I’m actively getting on her nerves, but, y’know. The rest of the time.”

Stolas smiled at his words, and shifted his attention to the rest of the pictures on Blitz’s wall. Moxxie showing off his finished project in the art class where they’d met; Millie covered in mud and sporting a huge smile, holding the trophy for her town’s Pain Games. Loona, Millie and Moxxie standing outside the tattoo shop on their opening day, holding the I.M.P. sign Blitz had designed.

Even though it was small enough to be easy to miss, M&M’s wedding photo caught Stolas’ attention. It pictured the newlyweds smiling sweetly at one another as they shared their first dance. They’d turned it into a magnet as a gift for all the attendees, and Blitz had placed his on the metallic frame of a circus poster for his twin act with Barbie—the first to feature his chosen name, though he’d conveniently covered the O with a horse doodle on a sticky note.

“You know,” Stolas broke the silence, the words quiet and tentative, “I’ve never danced like we did last night.”

His eyes were still fixed on M&M’s wedding photo, and Blitz wondered if Stolas had had a similar picture taken on his wedding day. If he’d forced himself to smile for it; for a woman who hadn’t known how to hold him right.

“Believe me,” Blitz chuckled, “I could tell.”

Stolas’ smile widened, his gaze finally leaving the picture and settling on Blitz.

Blitz smiled back. It was impossible not to at the memory of those first songs they’d danced to, and how adorably nervous and excited Stolas had been.

Then he thought of the way Stolas had dragged him to the dance floor when Dancing Queen had come on, and he just had to know…

“Did you really not know any of the songs they played last night?”

Stolas bit his lip; averted his gaze before giving a shake of his head.

“Damn.” As much as Blitz turned this information around in his brain, the idea that there were people out there who didn’t know Britney Spears seemed absurd to him. “No wonder your kid’s desperate for you to expand your musical horizons. Those were all pretty much classics.”

Stolas’ expression shifted with several emotions, all passing too quickly for Blitz to read.

“She’s definitely more well-versed in modern music than I am,” he agreed. “I’m sure she’d recognize at least some of last night’s songs, even if her tastes seem a lot more… somber in comparison.”

His face twisted, like he’d witnessed horrors beyond his comprehension coming out of his daughter’s speakers. Blitz snorted.

“At the very least,” Stolas added quietly, “I know she used to love the Mamma Mia song we danced to last night.”

Blitz raised his eyebrows. Surely Stolas had meant to say ABBA, not Mamma Mia. And yet…

“We used to watch that movie all the time when she was little. To the point where we could quote it line by line.” Stolas’ smile was fond—melancholic. “She was nine, if my memory serves me right, when we spent the better part of a week communicating exclusively through lines from the movie. Most of them in song,” he confided, his hushed laughter so contagious Blitz found himself smiling alongside him.

Fuck, Stolas was such a loving dad. That had to be the cutest—and, frankly, the least fucking neurotypical—dad-daughter anecdote Blitz had ever heard.

“I do wonder if she remembers,” Stolas mused. “We stopped watching it so abruptly.”

“Yeah?” Blitz murmured, barely daring to interrupt Stolas’ speech for fear he’d cut it short.

“Mhm.” Stolas looked away again, and Blitz caught the way the corner of his mouth curled downwards in displeasure. “Her mother did not care for it, I guess you could say.”

It seemed like there was more to it, but Stolas didn’t elaborate. Blitz frowned. Okay, yeah, he could get being annoyed by one’s family’s antics—Lord knew he had plenty of first-hand experience with annoying his loved ones and being annoyed in return. But there was a bitterness to Stolas’ expression that spoke of something deeper than light-hearted irritation, and that sort of vitriol was so unlike the Stolas Blitz knew it caught him completely off-guard.

He’d given plenty of thought to what it must’ve been like for Stolas to be married to a woman, but the woman in his imagination could’ve been anyone at all. Now, Blitz found himself contemplating what Stolas’ ex-wife must’ve actually been like.

He pictured her tall. Pale, and rigid—a marble statue come to life. She was probably filthy rich, which meant she was extremely likely to be prissy. Scathing, touch-averse, and eternally displeased. Quiet, and cold, with a hard stare and a self-aggrandizing vein.

… Okay, he was just making shit up on the spot. But even if he was probably wildly off the mark, there was one thing he was sure of: Stolas did not like her and, therefore, neither did he.

“Some details are coming back to mind, though, and, oh, it was such a fun movie to watch,” Stolas gushed, his train of thought having taken off in a clearly different direction. The smile was back on his face, dreamy and beautiful as ever, and that sight alone was enough to dissolve Blitz’s tension into a swarm of excitable butterflies. “I especially loved Donna’s character. Her passion, her ability to push through adversity and stand up for herself, and…”

“Her love story?” Blitz took a wild guess when Stolas trailed off, clocking Stolas as a rom-com lover just on the basis of the blush blooming on his cheeks as he bubbled about Mamma Mia.

“That… Yes, that too,” Stolas admitted, his blush spreading at Blitz’s knowing snicker. “It was, ah, rather momentous to watch someone her age find love. And in such a bittersweet way, too. I mean, she spent so long believing Sam had never loved her—that she would never have him, or anyone. And then, to realize after so long that you were wanted all along, and to be so scared of losing it that you won’t allow yourself to open up once more… I just found it so incredibly heartbreaking. But there was also something so beautiful about it. About how Sam did not give up on her. Plus…” Stolas paused, sending Blitz a conspiratorial look. “Sam was rather sexy, I must say.”

Blitz rolled his eyes with a fondness he didn’t even try to conceal. “Sure was,” he said, finding it exactly 0% surprising that Stolas would have a celebrity crush on Pierce Brosnan.

“And the songs,” Stolas squeed, fists clenching close to his chest in excitement. “They were all so wonderful and fun. Oh, I wish I could listen to them again. I feel like I’ve forgotten so many of them. It’s such a pity I lost the DVD.”

“I mean,” Blitz laughed, “you do know there’s such a thing as YouTube, right?”

Stolas just stared at him, blinking his owlish, expectant, unfairly-beautiful eyes down at him.

“... And Spotify,” Blitz went on, “and a million other streaming platforms that are dying to suck your bank account’s titties dry in exchange for letting you listen to music? No?”

Another confused blink. Blitz sighed. “Christ on a stick, you’re never beating the vampire allegations,” he muttered. “Just gimme a…” He pulled out his phone—still no messages from Loona—and looked up the Mamma Mia soundtrack on Spotify. “Here. Have at it.”

Stolas took his phone, brows scrunching up with concentration as he scanned through the titles. Honey, Honey started playing, and Stolas jumped, like he hadn’t meant to tap it. Still, he let it play for a few seconds, though it wasn’t long before he moved on to Our Last Summer instead.

In his concentration, Stolas began to bounce on the spot to the beat of the song, a sight too adorable for Blitz to process. But he stopped a moment later, his excitement washing off and turning his expression into something fragile.

“Hm,” Stolas murmured. “I believe this is the song that always made me cry.”

A moment later, Slipping Through My Fingers started playing.

Meryl Streep’s voice drifted out of Blitz’s shitty phone speakers, soft and sad, and Stolas stood very still. His eyelashes fluttered and fell closed, and his lips trembled with words that wouldn’t come out, like the lyrics were coming back to him a second too late to sing along.

That was until the chorus came around. Then Stolas’ frown cleared, and his lips parted. He caught up, singing along.

“... All the time, I try to capture every minute, the feeling in it…”

“Holy shit.” Blitz only mouthed the words, his vocal chords failing him entirely.

“Slipping through my fingers all the time, do I really see what’s in her mind? Each time I think I’m close to knowing…”

And as Stolas sang, Blitz found he was no longer in his living room. He was soaring, soaring thousands of miles into the sky, and then, lulled by Stolas’ otherworldly voice that blended with Donna Sheridan’s in a perfect harmony, descending into a different point in space and time.

He was on a tiny, sun-kissed island in Greece, watching a single mother help the child she had raised get ready for her wedding day. And he was in a dark and cold living room deep inside a lifeless mansion, watching a heartsick Stolas hold his daughter in his lap, both their gazes set on the television, silent tears painting his reddened cheeks with the moving screen lights.

Stolas’ voice was uneven as he attempted to sing the next verses, hints of wetness clinging to his closed eyes. Blitz tried to make sense of what he was witnessing, of how ethereal Stolas was, but then the chorus rolled back around and all he could do was watch—watch Stolas’ face twist with pain as he sang, his arms rising to hug himself, as though recalling what it felt like to have his daughter in his embrace.

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture

And save it from the funny tricks of time

Slipping through my fingers…

The instrumental part of the song played, and Stolas blinked his eyes open, but didn’t look at Blitz. Even as he wiped away his unshed tears, he seemed very far away.

When the song ended, Stolas paused it before handing Blitz his phone.

The silence that followed was jarring; Stolas’ movements slow. His hand shook as it retreated and pressed close to his chest.

“S-Sorry,” Stolas said, the words barely a murmur. “If that was—a lot.”

Blitz opened his mouth to disagree. Unfortunately, words were very much not happening at the moment, so he shook his head instead.

He’d thought he’d heard Stolas sing at the club, was the thing. Up until a minute ago, he would’ve sworn he had.

Except he clearly hadn’t. His brain must’ve been clogged with alcohol and horniness and the blaring music of the club. There was no other way he could’ve missed the memo that Stolas had the singing voice of a fucking angel.

He didn’t deserve this man. He just didn’t. Holy fucking shit, Stolas was perfect.

“Blitz…” Stolas broke the silence, his voice low and still rough with emotion. “Can I ask you something?”

“S-Sure.” Fuck, his voice was strained as hell too. “Yeah, I mean, of—of course.”

Stolas stepped closer, but his gaze only met Blitz’s for a fleeting moment before it lowered to his fiddling fingers. “Would you… dance with me again?”

When Blitz struggled to conjure words, those fingers wrung faster until Stolas’ knuckles were turning white.

“It’s okay if not. I wouldn’t want to impose, o-or make you uncomfortable in any way—”

“Stols.” And Stolas looked down at him, spooked as a deer in headlights. He chuckled. “Of course I want to dance with you, you idiot.”

“Are you sure?” Stolas pressed on. “I-I’m aware you only invited me to spend the night, and you’ve already been more than kind and accommodating enough. I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome—”

Now that pulled a laugh from Blitz. The sound stunned Stolas into silence, and—fearing Stolas might twist his fingers into a knot—Blitz unlaced them and took Stolas’ hands in his own. “D’you have a song in mind?”

Stolas searched his gaze. Whatever it was he found there, his lips curled up with a tentative, slowly-blossoming smile. “Well, it’s not so much a song as it is a piece that’s part of a nineteenth century ballet… b-but yes,” he finished at the sight of Blitz’s arched eyebrows. He let go of Blitz’s hand to raise his palm up in request. “May I?”

Wordlessly, Blitz unlocked his phone and handed it to him again. He stepped closer to peep at what Stolas was typing. “Pass the douche?”

Stolas giggled. “Pas de deux,” he corrected, scrolling down the list of results.

“Pah-dah-duh,” Blitz echoed in an exaggerated imitation of Stolas’ perfect French accent, and grinned when Stolas’ smile cracked and grew. Even if Stolas shook his head in dismay, a small laugh made it past his lips, and that, in Blitz’s book, was a resounding success.

“Okay, I think this is the one I’m looking for. There are many beautiful interpretations of this piece, don’t get me wrong, but I do have a predilection for the production of the London Symphony Orchestra,” he confided, like the words meant anything to Blitz.

Against all odds, though, the melody that started up was familiar to him. Harp notes rose and waned in quick and gentle waves, and Blitz could almost feel the heat of the circus lights on his skin, the scratch of the tight, restrictive fabric of an imitation ballerina costume. “Hey, isn’t this from The Nut-buster, or whatever the fuck its name was?”

“The Nutcracker, yes, precisely!” Stolas squealed, and their joined hands flew up as Stolas squeezed around Blitz’s knuckles in excitement. “It isn’t the most intuitive piece to dance to in the context of a living room, but I’m content to just rock back and forth to it, honestly—”

Blitz gave a shake of his head. “Play it from the start again,” he said, and guided Stolas towards the couch. When the music started back up, Stolas placed his phone on the armrest, turning the volume up before turning back to Blitz.

“Wh—” A startled laugh pushed out of Stolas’ chest as he watched Blitz clamber onto the coffee table. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” Blitz grinned, stretching out a hand that Stolas took in his warm own. His cheeks heated up as Blitz pulled him close, and his eyes lidded in adoration, a look Blitz could barely comprehend being on the receiving end of.

“Thought I’d get a little creative, y’know,” Blitz murmured, wiggling his eyebrows and holding Stolas’ gaze, “give you a much-needed break from being the taller one.”

“I see.” Stolas’ playful smile grew as Blitz guided them into an unhurried step. “How very selfless of you.”

“I know, right?” Blitz laced their fingers together. “I mean, ‘selfless’ is practically my middle name.”

Stolas hid a giggle into the crook of Blitz’s neck. Even when he straightened, the slow flow of the music made it easy for Blitz to keep him close, a hand to the small of Stolas’ waist as they danced and swayed.

And it was stunning, really, how easy it was to fall back into a gracefulness he hadn’t practiced in fifteen years. Almost like a dormant instinct, his body still remembered how to flow alongside this kind of melody; how to move with someone else, adjusting his balance to accommodate Stolas’ weight until guiding him through the motions came as naturally as breathing.

The melody, which had begun to gently swell, dwindled back down into a pleasant hum. Stolas let out a breathless laugh as Blitz twirled him, and let himself be pulled close again, resting a warm palm to the curve of Blitz’s collarbone.

Rocking together, they shared a look, the glint of a complicit smile.

Then the music rose again, growing in intensity.

And it didn’t stop. It escalated into a melody that was majestic, that was passionate, and as Blitz matched it with his motions, Stolas transformed before his eyes. Graceful, and precise, he followed each of Blitz’s steps with little effort; and even though all he had was the tiny space between the table and sofa, Stolas made it his, easing in and out of Blitz’s embrace, putting the trust of his full weight on Blitz’s steady hands.

It was ethereal. It was euphoric. Blitz’s breathing matched the rapid stream of the orchestral melody, and as the music soared and hit its highest point, faint, quick flashes of circus memories came rushing back. Glimpses of faded-red fabric and beams of bright yellow light. The taut, uncomfortable pull of make-up on his tense skin. The strong smell of roasted peanuts and overheated cotton candy machines, mixed with manure and the sting of human sweat.

But Stolas kept him in the present. With his rich, brown-red eyes that found Blitz’s after every turn, crinkling with an overjoyed smile. With hands that clung to his steady form, hands that touched him without fear or disgust.

Stolas kept him anchored to the here, the now, beautiful and real under Blitz’s marveled touch.

Blitz led Stolas through one last twirl, and then, as the music ebbed back down just slightly, dipped him with infinite care, a hand splayed across the curve of his back. Thin lips parted with a measured breath, and Stolas threw his head back to reveal the long column of his throat, his pale skin mottled with angry red marks that beckoned Blitz to kiss and taste.

Slowly, Stolas straightened and—as the song played its last, booming notes—went still in Blitz’s arms.

In the beat of silence that followed, Stolas’ labored breath was a caress to Blitz’s lips.

The new melody that played, chosen for them by the almighty Spotify randomizer, was soft and unfamiliar. It was also the perfect background noise to match the buzzing in Blitz’s mind when Stolas, flushed and warm and out of breath, stroked his scarred temple and pushed a strand out of his face.

Blitz clung to that soft hoodie and the hard body underneath. Outside, it started to rain, but he was so warm in Stolas’ arms…

Boneless and distracted by the long fingers that carded through his hair, Blitz took a second too long to notice that Stolas’ expression was almost sad.

“It’s just as I thought,” Stolas murmured before Blitz could ask. He met Blitz’s eyes, and said, like it was the most natural thing in the world, “Even this feels right with you.”

All Blitz could do was gape, helpless to the way his heart cracked open at Stolas’ words and spilled with hot and liquid light.

“Anyway.” Stolas chuckled, and bowed his head. “Please, don’t mind me. I’m just—being silly.”

“Hey.” The word took Blitz as much by surprise as it did Stolas, too loud over the soft piano music in the background. Worried eyes met his, and he scrambled for words. “No. None of that. Y—Stolas, you are not being silly, ya hear me, you s…silly man?”

And though Stolas bit his lip, he couldn’t contain a snort at Blitz’s stupid, failed attempt at reassurance.

“How persuasive,” he said, and, goddammit, the mischief that shone in his eyes made him entirely too kissable. Not that he wasn’t kissable the rest of the time…

“Well, what do you know? ‘Persuasive’ is basically my second middle name,” Blitz said, deflecting with a noncommittal shrug—though he did sneak a peek at Stolas’ infectious giggles. “Yeah, that’s right, bitch. Full name’s Blitz… uh, what was the other one I said?”

“Selfless,” Stolas supplied, alight with laughter.

“Blitz Selfless Persuasive Buckzo. Has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Entranced, he watched that pretty laugh wash over Stolas’ features, leaving a warm, lingering smile in its wake.

It took him a long moment to be able to tear his gaze away from it and look up into Stolas’ eyes.

Stolas’ eyes, which were similarly trained on his parted lips.

Oh…

Stolas didn’t want to leave at all, did he?

In retrospect, that seemed like a realization he should’ve maybe had sooner. It hardly mattered now, though, his every scattered thought washing away with the soft brush of Stolas’ lips against his own.

Blitz held Stolas’ face and kissed him gently back. A thrill ran through him when Stolas opened up into it, letting Blitz taste the inside of his mouth.

He guided Stolas into an angle and suckled on his tongue. He took his time with it, steady and slow, feeling each needy sound he drew from Stolas travel all through him and directly to his groin.

And, fuck, the fact Stolas tasted of his toothpaste and smelled of his shampoo shouldn’t have made him as horny as it did. It didn’t exactly help that Stolas was wearing his clothes, and bearing the marks of his mouth. In fact, it all just made Blitz feel wildly like Stolas was his, an idea that should’ve terrified him but instead made him drool and groan around that warm tongue.

Fuck, Stolas’ whimpers were addictive. Needy hands ran down his back and latched to the backs of his bare thighs, and Blitz pressed closer, parting from the kiss to suck the soft underside of Stolas’ prickly jaw into his mouth.

“Oh, god,” Stolas breathed, soft, soft, unbearably soft under Blitz’s hands and mouth.

Blitz wanted him. All of him. He wanted Stolas so fucking much.

Hot hands slipped under the legs of his boxers to grab his ass, and Blitz gasped into Stolas’ neck. The sound morphed into a startled moan when a hand grabbed his hair a moment later and yanked him away from that tortured throat.

Before he could so much as gasp for air, Stolas captured his mouth and swallowed eagerly around his broken moan. The kiss was hungry, almost possessive, and it left Blitz instants away from spectacularly fucking losing it.

The hand around his ass lowered and grabbed his thigh, making as if to hoist his leg up. It landed more of Blitz’s weight on Stolas, and he let it happen, practically hanging off of Stolas’ shoulders as they made out.

When Blitz used the foot still planted on the table to help grind his hips forward, a hard bulge made the mess in his boxers press up against his crotch.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped, inching back from the kiss to gasp for air.

Stolas chased after his mouth again, but Blitz held him where he was, needing another moment to fucking breathe.

“H-Hey,” he rasped out, and had to gulp before adding, “we—y’know, we could…”

He glanced towards the hallway, and felt the second Stolas caught on and his hands tightened around his thigh and hair.

Clinging to Stolas, Blitz searched his gaze. “D’you want to—”

A horrifying screech blasted from behind Stolas’ back at full volume, sending them jumping about ten feet in the air.

“Fuck,” Stolas cursed as Blitz scrambled down from the coffee table, almost tripping over his limbs in his rush to get to his phone.

“Sorry, shit—stupid fucking ringtone—”

It was Loona calling. He picked up, barely managing to talk over his frantic heartbeat. “Hey, Looney, h-how you doing? Are you all right?”

A sniffle came from the other side of the line. Loona was crying. His baby girl was crying.

“Hey… Dad, can you… can you come pick me up?”

He turned around, and watched understanding dawn on Stolas’ face when he said, “Of course, sweetie, I—I’ll be right there.”

“Okay.”

She hung up, though not before Blitz heard her sniffle again.

“Shit. Okay.” He threw his phone on the couch and looked down at his naked legs, mentally running through the concept of pants and where in his house he could find some. Bedroom. Yes, that sounded like a likely option. “Fuck, Stolas, I’m sorry, I—it was Loona, and I—I have to go—”

“Blitz, it’s okay—”

“I mean, I could drive you home on the way there, you’re not that far away from her friend’s house—”

A hand rested on his shoulder, and Blitz’s vision cleared, zeroing in on the kind eyes of the man towering over him. “It’s okay, darling. Your daughter needs you. I can just take the bus.”

Darling. The word rattled in his brain, and for a full second he gaped, unable to conjure words.

“A-Are you sure?”

Stolas nodded, his smile sweet and reassuring. Still, Blitz gulped, faltering for one more moment before finally making for his room.

By the time he walked back out and grabbed his keys and phone, Stolas was waiting for him by the door, ready to go.

They walked down the stairs together, Stolas keeping up with Blitz’s rushed pace. He’d forgotten it was fucking raining again, but Stolas walked him to the van with his umbrella, holding it up for Blitz to climb in without getting soaked.

“Thanks,” Blitz said, meaning it more sincerely than his tone probably conveyed, and looked up one last time into Stolas’ face.

“Of course.” Stolas’ smile was adoring; his cheeks still retained some warmth despite the chilly outside breeze. “Text you later?”

“Yeah.” He shut the car door, but still stole another glance at Stolas through the dirty window, reciprocating his gentle smile.

As he drove off, he watched Stolas through the rearview mirror. Even when he was out of sight, Blitz searched instinctively for his reflection, over and over, his mind still echoing a single, tender word.

Darling, darling, darling…