Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Almost 20 years since he'd last done it, Blitzø Buckzo stood in front of a demonic summoning circle.

It was a little different from what he remembered. The circle and the candles were there, yeah. But he wasn't wearing a robe, for one, because that shit did not seem necessary. And there weren't a shit ton of brainwashed cultists standing around, either, because he wasn't a fucking cult leader.

But he did have two employees. And they needed to know the plan.

He spun around on his leather boots and flashed his pointy-toothed grin at M&M. “Okay, listen up guys,” he said, all fuckin’ businesslike and shit. “It’s the one day of the year we can do it, so today we're gonna summon! This! Demon!” He emphasized the point with little hand claps on each of his last 3 words. “And I happen to have some insider info that this particular demon is gonna be able to get us access to Hell–or at least info from Hell, I guess–any time! Not just on fuckin’ Halloween. But for now we've got just a couple of hours to sell him on this plan:

“We're gonna advertise on certain channels,” he looked at Moxxie significantly, “for folks who have just had some loved one or business associate or whoever die, and that dearly departed whoever? They knew the fuckin' offshore bank account numbers or where the bodies are buried, or shit like that, right?” He waved a hand vaguely. Dead people probably knew all sorts of shit. “But that very valuable info died with them, too bad so sad. And let's be real–none of these people we're talking about are getting into Heaven, so we're gonna go find them in Hell! Or, y'know, get our lil’ demon friend to find them in Hell. And then, we’re gonna find out what they want. I figure every poor bastard stuck in Hell probably wants someone else dead, too, right? So, we go do our thing and kill whoever the fuck they tell us to!” He stopped, thinking. “Unless it's our original client. That'd probably be bad for business in the long run. Anyway! We do the job, we let the dead asshole know we did the job, they give us our info, we give that info to the alive asshole, and then we get paid.” He paused. “Any extremely last minute fucking questions?”

“Um, yes, actually, sir,” spoke up Moxxie, his first employee, who he'd hired about a year ago after they'd both ended up stuck in the same jail cell and found they had certain shared interests. Like demons and guns and shit!

Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Alright, what is it, Moxxie?”

“Putting aside for the moment how absurdly convoluted that plan is…”

“Great feedback, thanks Moxx.”

Moxxie cleared his throat and kept speaking over him. “Even if this demon ‘Stolas’ you claim to know is real, despite his not appearing in a single demonology text with which I am familiar…”

“I fucking told you, he's like my age. No one knows about him. He's probably still a fucking child in demon years.” Which was gonna be weird, but what the fuck ever! “Christ, do you listen to a word I say?”

“Okay, so let's say he's real and you didn't just make up this seal we've drawn here…”

“I'm not letting you read my personal fucking letters, Moxxie.”

“And assuming this child demon has enough influence in Hell to even find these people…”

“He's a prince, Moxxie.”

“Okay. Even if all that is true–what's in it for him? Why would he help us?”

Blitzø blinked. He hadn't…really thought about that.

As usual, he defaulted to angry. “That's a pretty fucking big last minute question, Moxxie! You couldn't have asked this a little sooner?”

“Blitzø.” His other employee, Millie, said flatly. Millie was a bright, bubbly young southern woman, and also a stone-cold badass killer. He'd eagerly recruited her out of her hometown in west Texas after hearing about her work, and in return, she'd had the annoying fucking idea to date and then marry his other employee. And, sure, Blitzø would've definitely fucked either or both of them if they'd been down, but he wasn't jealous. It was just real fuckin’ irritating to have to see them be all lovey-dovey all the time. “You know you haven't actually told us the plan until now, right?” she asked, annoyed.

“Yeah, but you both knew it was gonna involve summoning this demon!” Blitzø said. “You guys didn't think about what he might want from us?”

“Neither did you, sir!” Moxxie whined. “And you were the one who knew we were going to be asking for his ongoing help!”

“Fuck, I dunno, I assumed he'd just want us killing more people or something! That's what my piece of shit dad fuckin’ did. And it's what we're good at, so let's capitalize on that as much as possible, hm?”

Millie grinned with all her teeth, the bloodthirsty bitch.

“Great plan, sir,” Moxxie said sarcastically.

“Aw, c’mon, sweetie, let's give it a try. The worst he can say is ‘no’!” Millie petted Moxxie's cheek lovingly. Gross.

“Yeah, Moxxie, the worst he can say is ‘no’!” Blitzø repeated smugly.

Moxxie looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown, but when didn't he?

“That is far from the worst thing that can happen when summoning a demon!” he shouted real loud in the tiny basement room they'd crammed themselves and a whole-ass summoning circle into.

“Yeah, well we're already here and we already drew the circle and I'm not gonna have wasted 30 bucks on all these dumb little candles for nothing,” Blitzø said over Millie’s annoyingly gentle shushing noises. “So let's get this demon show on the road to Hell!”

“At least we don't have to worry about tripping over any of your good intentions on the way there, sir,” Moxxie muttered, not at all under his breath.

“Kay, I don't even know what the fuck that means, sooo get chanting, you two!” He gave ’em the finger guns.

Moxxie sighed heavily and Millie gave him a double thumbs-up, and they both started chanting together, exactly in sync from the first word. Ugh.

Blitzø rolled his eyes again and started the incantation. He had it printed out in that font he liked–the one that anchored the letters to the page real nice–but he and Moxxie had spent so much time on it, he pretty much knew it by heart. It was adapted from an incantation they'd found in one of Moxxie's musty old books, but they'd made some changes based on what Blitzø could remember from his father's incantation–and who knows where the fuck that book he’d used had come from, but the incantation clearly worked so he had to have been onto something–and also based on what he could remember about what Stolas liked. Lotta stuff about the stars and the…fertile soil… thrown in there. Blitzø had just wanted to talk about plants, but Moxxie had insisted on getting weird with it. Whatever, the stars were the most important part.

Moxxie had spent fucking forever correcting Blitzø's Latin pronunciation, which was dumb because nobody even spoke Latin anymore so if demons wanted properly pronounced shit then they oughta be happy with English, or…Portuguese, or fuckin’...Tagalog! Blitzø assumed people in non English speaking countries wanted to summon demons sometimes, too. The point was… well, if he was honest, the point was that he was nervous as fuck about this, and he was trying to think about anything else except was was right about to happen or not happen in the circle in front of him. Because he wasn't sure which possibility he was more afraid of.

And then something started to happen.

The sigil in front of them started to glow with a red light shining up from each of the lines they'd carefully chalked onto the floor, and then a massive black shadow, tinged with deep red at the edges, came pouring out of the center, shrieking an ear-splitting screech. For a horrible moment, Blitzø wasn't sure what they'd summoned, but then it abruptly took the shape of a hulking, many-teethed, six-eyed…owl creature.

Blitzø finished the last few words of the incantation and smiled his most charming smile at the raging shadow demon in the center of the screaming chaos before him. “Hey there Stols,” he said, “long time no see.” He waved with a little wiggle of his fingers, and goddammit he could just tell it came off exactly as dweeby as it had the first time they'd met.

Blitzø heard Moxxie choke behind him, but he managed to keep the chanting going. Millie didn’t falter in the slightest, that sturdy ho.

The owl creature stopped shrieking, stopped flickering, stopped the roaring turbine of Hellish wind within the circle, stopped everything. It held very, very still.

Then all at once, it seemed to collapse on itself and solidify, and it became, like its father, not really the size of a man, but generally the shape of one. And he was definitely the same little owl boy Blitzø had spent a week with 25 years ago, but he was obviously not a child anymore.

He was the same blue-gray, with a white, owlish faceplate and two sets of wide, glowing red eyes. But he was tall–very, very tall–and lanky now, where he'd been small and round before. And his feathers, though a little ruffled in shock maybe, were sleek and shiny where they'd been all floaty and poofy before. Fuck, they still looked so soft, though.

His lower set of eyes seemed to have gained a small white pupil each, too. Blitzø could see them clearly as the demon in front of him stared in shock. When he finally spoke, it was in a soft, refined voice, almost a whisper. “B-Blitzy? Is that really you?” He asked, stunned.

He heard Moxxie stumble over his chanting again, for fuck’s sake, and good thing they had Millie there to keep carrying his ass. Blitzø cringed a little at the childish nickname, but he spread his arms wide to let Stolas have a good look. “In the living flesh,” he said, grinning wide and nervous.

“Oh! Oh my! Blitzy!” His eyes shot over Blitzø's shoulder at the two behind him, and his little white pupils disappeared, leaving only the red again. He hesitated. “I- I mean, Blitzø. I tried to– I didn't know if you were–” he'd looked over Blitzø's shoulder a few more times as he spoke, and he cut himself off to say in a pissy little voice, “You two know you don't actually have to keep chanting now that I'm here, right? It makes it very hard to think.”

Blitzø half-turned to see both Millie and Moxxie kind of slow their chanting, still disgustingly in sync, both looking to him in uncertainty. He made a quick slashing motion with one hand and they both snapped their mouths shut. He turned back to Stolas.

“Oh, well. It's quite quiet now, isn't it?” Stolas commented awkwardly, and Blitzø wasn't having to fake the grin plastered over his face anymore.

“We could start chanting again?” Moxxie asked, fucking obnoxiously.

“No need,” Stolas assured.

“Shut the fuck up,” Blitzø said at the same time.

Stolas turned a tender look on Blitzø, and he forgot all about Moxxie and his dumb questions. “I tried to find you,” Stolas said, gently but earnestly. “I know we didn't part on the best of notes, but I did try to find you. The day I came of age and my father could no longer track my comings and goings, I- I went to your father's commune, Blitzø. There was no one there, nothing left. There had been a–”

“Yeah, I know, Stols,” Blitzø cut him off, gesturing to his scarred-up face and hoping M&M didn't clock it. He wasn't interested in giving them his whole fucking life story.

Stolas looked at him sorrowfully but didn’t ask for any more details. “I didn't know if you were…But you said you'd find me if you ended up down there, and so I thought maybe you'd ended up…” Stolas's eyes filled with tears and Blitzø was torn between needing to comfort this giant fucking bird demon, and being absolutely mortified that this was all happening in front of M&M.

“Nah. Just still kicking in the living world,” he said, trying to split the difference, and totally unsure where he was landing. “Trust me Stols, they ain't letting me anywhere near those pearly gates. I pretty much spent the last two decades making sure of it.”

“Oh, is it terribly selfish of me to be so very glad to hear that?” Stolas asked, wetly.

“Nah,” Blitzø said with a cocky grin, “Heaven fucking wishes it could get its hands on this.” He grabbed the lapels of his leather duster and gave them a couple of tugs before patting them back down over his chest.

Stolas came toward him a few steps before seeming to realize what he was doing. He drew back from the edge of the circle, holding his arms back against his chest. “My dear friend,” he said, and Blitzø’s heart melted a little. “If only I could embrace you now.”

Blitzø took a step forward without thinking.

“Sir!” Moxxie called sharply.

“What!” Blitzø demanded, not taking his eyes off the pretty bird in front of him.

Very pretty bird.

And, okay, Blitzø had eventually had a… series of mortifying realizations about why exactly he'd been so eager to get in those tickle fights with Stolas when he'd stayed with him as a kid. And he fully acknowledged that he had a whole mess of weird kinks as a direct result of that very formative experience.

But COME ON. The mile long legs? The fancy cape and the little red romper? The wide eyes glittering with unshed tears? The weird-ass tophat, even? You didn’t even have to be a card-carrying monsterfucker to want to fuck that.

Not that Blitzø was one. Anyway.

“I hope you're not thinking of stepping foot in that circle, sir!” Moxxie was saying, like a judgmental little bitch.

“Oh!” Stolas said, drawing back and wringing his hands nervously, before Blitzø could tell Moxxie to go fuck himself, “No, I apologize for saying anything! I certainly didn't mean–”

“Go fuck yourself, Moxx!” Blitzø yelled back at him. Now the pretty bird was upset, dammit!

“I don't trust him, sir, and you shouldn't either! Demons are infamous for trying to lure humans into their summoning circles. You should know this, sir. They'll say anything, pretend to be anyone to gain your trust.”

Blitzø looked back at Moxxie for a moment, then turned back to Stolas and took a couple of steps back from the circle.

Stolas smiled at him earnestly. “It's alright,” he said. “You must keep yourself safe, Blitzø.”

“A prudent decision, sir,” Moxxie chimed in.

Blitzø took a deep breath, then used the few steps back he'd taken to get a running start. And, just as his foot crossed the line, he used every bit of his strength to fling himself up and into the arms of a very startled, very delighted 8-foot-tall owl demon. Stolas's arms came up around his lower back and boosted him up while he basically climbed the guy like a tree, until his own arms were wrapped around slim, feathered shoulders and he was buried face first in a soft, feathered neck, and he was hugging his old friend tight, like they were still two sad, scared little kids huddled under a blanket together. And Stolas was laughing joyfully in his ear in that same hooting way he remembered, and Blitzø thought his heart might actually explode with happiness in that moment.

“What the fuck?” He heard Moxxie shout, at the same time as Millie let out a squealing, sentimental little “Awwwwww,” and Blitzø simply could not have said which one was more fucking annoying.

But honestly? He couldn't give a fuck.

He was home.

—

Eventually they had to stop hugging, and so Stolas put him down. Blitzø grinned up at him as he backed up out of the circle. Stolas beamed down at him with his weird bird face that had somehow gotten both even weirder and even cuter in the years since they'd seen each other, with his hands pressed together and all tucked up under his chin in a picture of pleased affection. All in all, Blitzø had to say his second time in an active summoning circle was a lot more pleasant than the first one.

“Oh thank heavens, sir!” Moxxie cried when Blitzø was “safe” on the outside of the circle. “Never do that again, please!”

Blitzø smirked and raised an eyebrow at Stolas, then hopped back into the circle with both feet at once.

“Sir!” Moxxie shouted.

Blitzø grinned and hopped in and out of the circle a few more times. Stolas tittered behind one hand and Blitzø felt on top of the damn world. “Relax, Moxxie,” he said casually. “If Princey here was gonna kill me or drag me down to his palace in Hell to make me his royal concubine, he already would have.”

Stolas tittered some more, and his cheeks got pink under his feathers.

Moxxie made noises like he was going to have a heart attack.

Best Halloween ever.

“Charming as this is,” Stolas said, clasping his hands in front of him. “I imagine you didn't go to all the trouble of summoning me simply for a social call. Was there, perhaps, some deal you had in mind? I've never made one, but I'm interested to hear your proposal, darling.”

Blitzø nearly tripped as he hopped out of the circle one more time, but he covered it with a weird little bow and a flourish. Smooth as fuck. “Whoooo says it's not a social call?” He asked, grinning wide.

“It's not, Your Highness. We do have a proposal for you,” Moxxie said pointedly.

“Satan's balls, Moxxie!” Blitzø shouted at the ceiling. He looked back to Stolas. “Alright, yeah, I did have an idea that would, y’know, help people out here in the living world and make us a little money on the side,” he gestured between himself and M&M. “We'd just need you to do your portal thing for us once in a while to get us in touch with certain people in Hell.”

Stolas frowned. “You want me to get you in touch with sinners?”

“Yeah!” Blitzø said, like he thought the idea was no big deal. Fuck, he’d wanted to ease Stolas into this better. Fuck Moxxie for fucking up his rhythm. “I mean, specific ones. You can probably help us with the details there.”

Stolas glanced back at M&M. “Is this, uh, for your cult, then?”

“Nah,” Blitzø said. “This isn't a cult. No, I kill people now!”

Stolas’s eyebrows shot up. “You do? Why?”

“Welllll,” Blitzø said, “I mean, for money? But we're not shitty about it or anything. It's not like we torture them before putting a hole in their heads. I mean, they'll just wake right up again in Heaven or Hell, and they're gonna go there eventually, so what's the difference? It's not like Hell is that bad, anyway.”

Stolas frowned. “I suppose.”

Shit. He'd kinda forgotten Stolas seemed to be a little murder-avoidant for a demon. After all, he hadn't murdered Blitzø. But that'd been when they were children, and Blitzø hadn't been murdering anyone then, either! Still, Stolas didn't exactly seem excited about that part, so he tried a different tack.

“Anyway, this plan barely involves any murder at all. Maybe even zero murder, y’know! I mean I don't know what people in Hell want,” he said.

Millie was not gonna like that he was walking back the murder stuff. But at least she'd have the sense to bitch about it later.

“Alright, explain it to me from the start, please.”

So he explained the rest of his idea to Stolas, who listened intently but a bit doubtfully.

“But how do you know the sinner you're looking for will want something you can provide?” Stolas asked.

“Well, uh, I guess we don't, really. But everyone in Hell’s gotta have at least one person they wish was dead, too, right? And, I mean, they're probably not a good person if they're hanging out with people who went to Hell, right? So they should be A-OK on the murdering front, I figure.”

“Well if that's the case, why don't you just find sinners who want someone murdered and have them pay you directly?”

“What, with Hell Dollars? Or whatever the fuck you guys use down there? I mean, there needs to be a money-type connection to someone up here.”

Stolas tapped his beak thoughtfully. “I could give you power in exchange.”

Blitzø frowned. “Fuck that, I told you this isn't a cult. I don't want that shit.”

“Yes of course, I'm sorry Blitzø.”

He shrugged. “No big. Anyway, what were you gonna do, have them give you the money? Like you need it?”

Stolas hooted a laugh. “Ah, fair. I suppose I don't.”

“Shit, might as well just give me demonic power for doing fuck all.”

“I could, if you like,” Stolas said, looking way too serious.

Something about that made Blitzø’s heart race and his face flush. “Y-yeah, well, I told you I don't want that culty demon power shit,” he said, averting his eyes.

“Mm, if you insist,” Stolas said. “But the offer is on the table. In any case, would it be easier, then, to simply find sinners who both want somebody dead and have knowledge of some lucrative opportunity in the living world, which you can access directly? The offshore bank account numbers, as you say? Seems more direct.”

“Alright, and are you going to advertise for that in Hell for us? Or do you have some kind of network with the exact kind of shady-ass sinners we’d be looking for?” Blitzø stopped. “Y’know, that was sarcasm, but actually do you? I don't know what you've been up to all these years.”

Stolas smiled stiffly. “Ah, unfortunately, no. My social contact is rather limited to my fellow Goetia. But perhaps I could do some digging?”

“Nah. I think we try it my way, at least at first. Maybe we'll get a rep in Hell after a while and be able to cut out the living middle man. But for now I think we'd have better luck finding people up here who know the kind of dead people we're looking for. You think you can find an individual if we bring you a name? Maybe set up a meeting through a portal?”

“Hm,” Stolas tapped his beak again. “Not the sort of thing I've ever done, but it certainly doesn't sound dull! Yes, I think I could try it.”

“Hell yeah, Stols! We're in business” Blitzø threw his hands up in celebration, while Stolas laughed behind a hand again with his quiet little hoots.

“And what would you want from us in return?” Moxxie asked sharply.

Blitzø slapped his face into both hands. He should've kicked Moxxie out the second he started to ask questions.

Stolas dropped his hand, surprised. “Oh, I– I don't– I'm not asking for anything in return. As Blitzø said, I have no need for money, and your souls are not of interest to me. I'm simply happy to help an old friend with a business venture! It sounds quite fun!”

“Yeah Moxx, cool your jets,” Blitzø said, turning towards him.

Moxxie looked real fuckin serious for how well this all was going. “And have us owe you?” He looked to Blitzø. “Sir, you can't be this naïve.”

“Sure I can!” Blitzø said happily.

“Well, Blitzø, he is in fact correct,” Stolas said, and Blitzø turned back to see him smiling sadly. “It's the way of these things. Even if we don't make it an official, binding pact…if I do something for a living human without receiving anything in return, well. Your soul would belong to me. Possibly all three of your souls.” He chuckled. “I could of course refuse them, but my… next-of-kin may then make a valid claim.”

“Oh, shit,” Blitzø said. He wasn't sure if Stolas meant Paimon in particular, but he doubted he meant his friendly Uncle Bob Goetia, in any case.

Stolas coughed lightly. “Yes, well.”

“And you weren't planning to tell us this?” Moxxie demanded.

“Moxxie, c’mon…” Millie finally spoke up softly. “It seems like he's really willing to work with us, here, sweetie.”

“I didn't have to tell you that at all,” Stolas said, sounding annoyed now. “I'm sure I could've found a way to speak the truth while making it sound like you all needn’t do anything for me in return. And furthermore, though I can't lie to you in this circle, you have no way of knowing if that assertion is itself a lie. I suppose you must trust either your gut or your research, or stop meddling in demonic summonings altogether! But please stop making your anxieties my problem.” He sniffed haughtily.

Blitzø cackled. “He fuckin’ got you there, Moxx!”

“Sir!” Moxxie complained. “Alright fine,” he said to Stolas. “Then, what do you want from us for your help?”

“I, um, well…”

“Blitzø said his daddy used to go kill folks for his demon, back in the day!” Millie put in, and Blitzø snickered. Leave it to Mills to suggest more murder.

Stolas looked taken aback. “Who– who would I have you kill?” he asked, looking to Blitzø.

Blitzø shrugged. “I dunno, like, somebody saying global warming is real, or something?”

Stolas frowned. “Isn't it, though?”

“Well, yeah. But more people die if we don't do shit about it, right?”

Stolas frowned harder. It made Blitzø want to poke him in the forehead so he'd snap out of it and laugh. “Why would I want more people to die?”

“I don't know!” Blitzø tossed up his hands. “For the souls?”

“I told you I don't want souls! My thing is reading the stars, not collecting souls! That sort of thing has nothing to do with me!”

“Well what do you want then?” Blitzø asked, getting a little fed up. “‘Cause I'm all out of ideas unless you want me to just pay you with my fuckin’ body or something!” Then all at once he realized what he'd said, and he snapped his mouth shut, feeling his face flush uncomfortably fast. “O-oh, shit, I mean–”

Stolas’s feathers had all puffed up and his own face was burning bright red even through his feathers. Those little white pupils had appeared again in the centers of his widened lower eyes.

“I didn't–” Blitzø started.

“Well, that's… the most enticing offer you've made so far,” Stolas said, sounding a little faint, biting his lower lip with the tip of his beak. With the pupils still in his eyes, it was easy right now to see where his gaze was directed, and, well, Blitzø's eyes were up here, y’know?

Blitzø raised his eyebrows. “Oh shit, seriously?” he asked no one in particular. Then, in a much louder tone, he barked an order: “Moxx, Mills? Get the fuck out.”

He vaguely heard Moxxie losing his mind and Millie giggling madly as she presumably dragged her husband bodily from the room, up the stairs and out of the basement of their cutesy little starter home.

Meanwhile Stolas seemed to realize what he'd said, and was looking absolutely mortified, his feathers ruffling up even further and his little white pupils shrinking to pinpricks. “I– I– I–”

“Now then,” Blitzø said, leering up at him with a grin. “Your place or mine?”

Chapter Text

“I– I– I–” Stolas was still saying, seemingly stuck in an endless loop.

“I mean, I'm not picky,” Blitzø said. “We can go to your place if you want. I've been to Hell, you were there. Hey, you still got that big bed? With the posts? Ohh, how do you feel about ropes? Cause that bed would be fucking fantastic for that kinda thing. Whatever, we can talk about it. You wanna tie me up, Birdie?”

“Blitzø!” Stolas protested.

“No?” Blitzø shrugged. Seemed like a fairly demon-friendly activity to him. But Stolas wasn't a typical demon, so maybe– Oh– “Ohh, you want me to tie you up! Is that right?” He grinned wickedly up at the big blushing bird demon, and he thought maybe he'd hit the nail on the head. “I can definitely work with that,” he said in a low purr.

And fuck, wasn't that a goddamn gorgeous thought? This tall, pretty bird with his wrists tied, arms pulled up over his head, helpless and stretched all long across a big, pretty bed. Blindfolded, maybe. Begging for Blitzø to get his mouth on whatever kinda bits he was keeping down there between those pretty bird thighs... God, Blitzø would bet the feathers were extra soft on the insides of Stolas's thighs.

Stolas teetered on his long (very, very long) legs, and then just dropped to his knees and sat down in the middle of the summoning circle, looking dazed and flustered. And shit, Stolas had grown up to be really fucking hot and this was really fucking fun. Blitzø adjusted himself as discreetly as possible in his jeans. But honestly, even though maybe he should have been, he was way too into this right now to be embarrassed at popping a half chub over a little teasing.

Blitzø was slightly taller standing than Stolas was sitting, so he put his hands on his hips and leaned in to loom over Stolas, over the line of the circle. “So,” he started, eyebrow cocked. “You interested in a little… down payment?”

Stolas let out a little whimper, eyes locked on Blitzø's, breathing hard, his beaked mouth dropping slightly open. But Blitzø just pulled back away, still grinning. He was enjoying this a stupid amount, and he wanted to do a little more teasing before he’d happily give Stolas the dicking down he so clearly deserved.

But, instead of that happening, Stolas was pulling his gaze away, and he turned his head to one side, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Goodness, Blitzy,” he said, a little shakily. Then he let out a breathy little laugh. “What a silly idea. A human and demon...You certainly know how to joke, don't you?”

The grin dropped from Blitzø's face all at once. “Uh, who says I'm joking?” He asked flatly, feeling like he'd been spritzed with cold water. Maybe not enough to douse the horny entirely, but…

Stolas chuckled and placed both of his hands against his cheeks, pressing and smoothing the feathers there. “Well, you must be joking, Blitzy.” He said, still looking away. “After all, you of all people would know that I'm a married man.”

Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, he'd fucking forgotten. Blitzø sat down on the floor outside the circle, his ass hitting the concrete hard, his feet kicked out in front of him. He flopped one arm over a knee and pushed the other hand into his forehead in disbelief. Then he looked up and blurted, “Oh shit! You married the queef girl!”

Stolas whipped his head around to boggle at Blitzø. “What the fuck?” he asked.

“The– you know! The queef girl! She was strangling the– whatever-the-fuck! The puppy thing! In her picture!” Blitzø word-vomited.

Stolas squawked a surprised laugh out, the way Blitzø had only seen him do a couple of times. “The! Oh!” He brought a hand up to his beak, also the same way he had when they were kids and he was trying to muffle his laughter. “You mean the queive!” He hooted, and Blitzø’s ears were burning in embarrassment and the horny had officially been fully doused. Fuck, what a turn for the fucking worse. “Although,” Stolas mused, still giggling, “I daresay they're likely to be etomologically related. Still. Goodness!" He hooted again.

“Uh…huh…” Blitzø said. He liked watching Stolas laugh as much as he had 20-odd years ago, but, shit, he'd kinda rather it wasn't aimed at him.

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Blitzy,” Stolas said, wiping tears of mirth from his lower eyes, and sounding not at all sorry. “It was a reasonable leap, and of course you didn't grow up with the silly little things.”

Blitzø shrugged.

“But yes, you are correct! I did indeed marry the ‘queef girl'” He giggled and made stiff air quotes with two long, taloned fingers on each hand.

Alright, maybe that was kinda funny. “Okay, okay, moving on,” he said, only faking a little annoyance. “Did she turn out to be a psychopath, or what?”

Stolas’s smile froze. “Ah. Well. I– No. No, I'm not sure psychopath is the correct…" He gave a little hum of thought. "Well, perhaps… But, no. Probably not.”

Blitzø raised an eyebrow. “Well, I'm convinced.”

“I’ll admit, we've had our…difficulties.”

Wow, Blitzø really wanted to know what the hell that was code for.

“But I'm fairly sure she holds some affection for our daughter, Octavia.” And Stolas's voice warmed at the name, showing his own affection pretty clearly.

Oh, well shit! “No way, I've got a daughter, too!” If he wasn't gonna get laid, he could at least talk daughters with the guy.

“Really?” Stolas asked, sounding delighted. “How old?”

“Twenty-two!” Blitzø said brightly, wondering how quick Stolas would be with the math.

Very quick as it turned out.

Stolas looked alarmed almost immediately. “Twe– Oh dear, is everything– I mean, what were the circumstances– no, sorry, you don't have to tell me. Goodness, she must've been born only a few years after we met!”

“Yeah, guess that's true,” Blitzø laughed. “But I didn't adopt her until about five years ago, so you can calm your feathers, pretty bird.”

Stolas did not calm his feathers, but he moved on from deeply concerned to flustered. So that was a win. “I– Well– I'm glad to hear that,” he managed.

“Yeah,” Blitzø said leaning back on his hands, feeling a little wistful and bittersweet. “Wish I could've found her earlier, but I'm just real grateful I found her at all.”

Stolas smiled gently at him. “It sounds as though you care very deeply for her.”

“Heh. Yeah. I mean, I love her so much, you know? She's going to community college right now, but she doesn't really know what she wants to do. I figure sending her to a four-year might help, so I'm trying to save up for that. Hence all the…” he waved vaguely, meaning the assassin gigs, the summoning, the plans. “And I dunno if you even know what the fuck any of that even means, so I'll shut up now. How old’s yours? Uh, you said Olivia?”

“Octavia,” Stolas corrected with a sweet smile. “Via. My precious Starfire. She's 17 already, it's hard to believe.”

It was Blitzø's turn to do the math and raise his eyebrows. “And she's… not adopted?” He asked.

“No.” Stolas was still smiling, though now it was tinged slightly with melancholy. “I was concerned for you, knowing how…Strange it can be, I suppose, to have had a child at such a young age. And thinking you'd had yours even younger, and likely without the kind of help I was afforded.”

Blitzø felt a little shock of reactive defensiveness jolt through him. Was Stolas saying he couldn't have done it if he'd had to? He didn't need fucking help to care for Loona. He snorted dismissively. “I dunno, did all the help make it any easier having a kid with a psychopath?”

Stolas’s expression closed off, all the warmth he'd been directing Blitzø's way this whole time pulling back in an instant. and Blitzø's irritation cleared with a sudden stab of guilt.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was shitty. I don't know why I said that.”

Well, he did, actually. He just knew his reason wasn't a good one.

“It's fine.”

“Tell me more about Via?” Blitzø offered.

“Some other time, perhaps,” Stolas said, getting to his feet. He didn't seem angry, but Blitzø still felt like he'd fucked up big time. Like he'd just slam dunked any rapport they'd been building straight into the shitter.

“Sure,” was all he said, picking himself up off the floor, too.

“I want to help you with your venture,” Stolas said, abruptly businesslike. And, well, okay, maybe they were still good? “Let me make certain I understand. You'll find your clients up here. You'll let me know who to contact and what information they need. I'll find the sinner, find out what they want–if anything–from you. If applicable, you do the job. Then I'll report the completion back to the sinner, who will then give me the promised information. Finally, you relay said information to your client and receive your commission.”

“Yep, sounds right.”

“And, if you will agree to the following proposal:” Stolas began, “once a month, in return for my help, you and I will…” he stopped, looking embarrassed.

Blitzø raised his eyebrows. Oh shit, was he gonna get laid after all? “Yeah?” he asked, a little breathlessly.

Stolas took a breath. “You and I… will Hang Out.”

The capital letters were somehow clearly enunciated.

Blitzø felt like he'd hit his head. “Hang Out?” he asked, saying the capital letters, too.

“Hang Out,” Stolas confirmed.

“Yeah okay, but what the fuck does that mean?” he asked, bewildered. “Is that like Netflix and chill? Cause I'm pretty sure you nixed the fucking, pretty bird.”

“I– what? Netflix? Is that like Voxflix?”

“What?”

“Anyway, what does it sound like it means, Blitzø? It means Hang Out!”

Blitzø closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't gonna fuck this up. “Can you… give me an example of the kinds of things we might do while we Hang Out?”

“I don't know! I guess–You mentioned Voxflix- or- or- Netflix or whatever. We could do that! We could watch a movie, or- or- go to fucking Loo Loo Land, I don't know! What do you do with your friends?”

“Uh, drink, mostly.”

“There you go, we could have a drink! We could watch a movie and drink alcohol. Once a month.”

Blitzø squinted. “Wait. You literally just want to hang out?”

Stolas made a weird birdlike noise of frustration. “When did you become so infuriating? Yes, I want to Hang Out, that's what I've been saying this whole time!”

“I dunno, you were saying it all weird! I thought you meant it like, like you were saying something else!”

“No! I don't want anything from you in return for my help, but if I must have something, then all I ask for is some of your time!”

Ugh. Ouch. Why did that hit so hard? Yeah, he hadn't been planning to actually offer anything until Moxxie opened his fat mouth, but knowing there was actually nothing he could give or do for Stolas that this pretty bird would want from him…It didn't feel great.

But…if Stolas was willing to do his part of Blitzø's fucked-up plan and he'd let Blitzø keep his soul through some bullshit loophole where Blitzø visited him once a month to drink his booze and watch a movie or talk his earfeathers (or whatever the fuck) off about nothing, and they called that ‘repayment’... Well, who was Blitzø to say no to a deal like that?

Blitzø thought carefully about how to ask his next question. “So, in return for your help–and I mean all of those things we just discussed… if I come to Hell once a month and just hang out with you for, like, two hours each time… You won't have any claim on my soul, Millie’s soul, or- or my daughter’s soul?” Blitzø was this close to saying Stolas could just have Moxxie's soul. “Or Moxxie's? And no other demon will be able to claim them either? Oh, and I only have to come there once a month for as long as you're still helping us with this plan. Or until you say I don't have to come anymore, and then we consider the debt paid.”

“Well…” Stolas tapped a finger on his beak. “You don't necessarily have to come to Hell–I could come to you! And let's say, four hours each time. Otherwise, yes, spot on.”

“Ugh, that's so long. Three hours and you've got yourself a deal.”

Stolas smiled serenely. “Very well.”

“And you're sure you don't want me to tie you to the bed and fuck your brains out?”

Stolas’s feathers puffed up again and for a second he looked like maybe his brains had already been removed. Or at least stopped working. Then after a moment he pasted his serene smile back on. “Oh, haha Blitzy. You are so very amusing,” he said like a pleasant, English robot.

“Alright,” Blitzø shrugged. Literally no one could blame him for trying. “Then, can you, I dunno…Say all that back to me, then, but better? Not that I don't trust you, but I just wanna hear it all at once while you still can't technically lie to me.” Make sure his bullshit detector didn't go off.

Stolas smoothed his feathers down again, took a deep breath, collected himself, and said all that back at once, but better. Blitzø's bullshit detector didn't make a peep.

—

When Stolas had left and Blitzø came back upstairs, Moxxie and Millie were sitting in their small, cozy kitchen, heads together, deep in discussion. They both turned to look at him as Blitzø pushed open the door at the top of the stairs.

“Did you fuck a demon in our fucking basement?” Moxxie immediately demanded, going from 0 to 100 real fuckin’ quick.

“Moxxie!” Millie chided. “Obviously he didn't fuck a demon in our basement. I mean, he would, but we woulda heard it.”

“Yeah and I'd be a lot more fucking relaxed right now if I'd gotten off, and then maybe you wouldn't be pissing me off so bad!”

“Okay, why are you covered in feathers, then?” Moxxie asked accusingly.

Blitzø looked down at himself. He was kinda covered in feathers. “We just hugged again, okay!” He said, brushing himself off a little frantically.

“Yeah! What was up with that?” Millie asked, sounding way too fucking interested.

“Ugh. Nothing. Nothing was up with that. He's gonna help us with our thing.”

Millie gave him a huge grin. “And you're gonna help him with his thing?”

“Ugh, no. I'm not gonna fuck him, Millie.”

“Aww, why not? Looked like he was into you.”

Blitzø slumped down into a chair across from the two lovebirds, kicking his feet up on the edge of the table. He ticked off on a finger, “Well, one, he's a demon.”

Millie and Moxxie both burst out laughing.

“What?” he demanded.

“Sir,” Moxxie said condescendingly. “It was pretty obvious that that isn't a problem for you.”

“Okay, fuck you guys,” he said, though he felt his ears getting hot. “Just because I was working my charms on the guy…”

“Mhm, sure,” Millie said. “What's the real reason, B?”

“Okay well it's none of your guys’s fucking business, but he's fucking married, okay?”

“Awww,” Moxxie said, smiling at Millie like the fuckin’ turbo-simp he absolutely was.

“No, not awwww, Moxxie! She's a psycho bitch he was forced to marry even though he didn't want to ‘cause he's fuckin’ gay.”

Moxxie blinked. “He said all that?”

Blitzø cringed. He…probably shouldn't have brought any of that up. For so, so many reasons. “Eh, maybe I made some inferences. It's called deductive reasoning, alright?”

Moxxie made a face halfway between “what?” and “where did you learn those words?”

Blitzø ignored him.

“Wait, hang on,” Millie said. “So... If he's gay, and in some kinda… forced marriage? And his wife's a bitch…” she trailed off.

Blitzø frowned. “What?”

“I dunno! Why didncha fuck’im in our basement, then?”

“Millie!” Moxxie shouted.

“What? I'm just sayin’!”

Blitzø rolled his eyes. “I don't know! He didn’t want to! We talked, and he just wants, like, a bro thing.”

They both stared at him, bewildered.

“A… bro thing?” Moxxie asked.

“Yeahh!” Blitzø said, feeling like a dumbass. “He doesn't want sex, he just wants to hang out!”

“...Hang Out?” Millie asked.

“Why does everyone keep fucking saying it like that?” He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. “Look. He's gonna help us with our dumb plan–”

“Your dumb plan, sir.”

“And in return, so we don't get our souls fucking stolen, Moxxie, I'm gonna go down to Hell once a month and watch a movie or some shit with him.”

“You– I– WHAT? You're going to HELL?” Moxxie looked like he was trying to keep his head from actively exploding.

“Yeah, it's fine. I've been there before,” he said dismissively.

Moxxie put his head down on the table and possibly passed out. Or maybe just decided he was done with this conversation. He just let out a little sigh like his soul was escaping his body.

Millie laid a soothing hand on Moxxie's back, lightly stroking it. And… she just kept stroking, not saying anything. And she was giving Blitzø a weird, concerned look.

“What?” He demanded, getting ready to bolt if she asked any questions he didn't like the sound of.

“It's just, well, doesn't that sound a little…” she trailed off. Again.

“Fuck’s sake, Millie. A little what?”

“Sus?”

Blitzø sighed heavily.

She quickly went on, “I mean, he seemed real friendly an’ all! But he's gonna do all this work for us and you're just gonna… Chill with him sometimes? That don't strike me as a very fair trade, Blitzø. There's gotta be a catch somewhere.”

Blitzø grinned at her, dead-eyed. “Think my sparkling personality ain't enough for his royal highness, Millie-Billie?” he asked.

“Blitzø, you know I love you. But this is a real demon we're talkin’ about! From Hell. We could make a lotta money here, but we need to take this seriously.” She looked like she was all done playing around, and Blitzø gave in.

“Yeah alright, you're right, Mills. You're right about it not being a fair trade, too, but I don't think there's a catch. I think it's a loophole. He wants to do this, for whatever weird-demon-bird reason, probably cause he's bored and his wife is a huge cunt. And me going there to fuckin’, I dunno, play pirates with him or whatever, is just something I can do to say I did something for him back. It's just nostalgia, he'll probably get bored of it pretty quick. We said any debt would be paid in full if he decides to cut it off.”

“Nostalgia?” Millie asked, her brow furrowed. “Seriously, what's the deal with you and this guy?”

“Look, don't worry about it,” he deflected, annoyed she’d gotten hung up on that. “I had him say the whole agreement back to me, and I know demons are supposed to be tricky and all that, but I'm good at seeing through that kinda shit, Mills. You know I am. He woulda had to tell me like ten bald-ass lies right to my face, and there's just no way he could do that inside that circle.”

“Unless we fucked up the circle, or the incantation, or anything else in this idiotic excuse for a business idea,” Moxxie said, straight into the laminate surface of his kitchen table.

“Moxx,” Millie said, sighing. She looked back to Blitzø. “Alright. I just don't wanna see you get hurt, B.”

“And I told you, if he wanted to hurt me, he already could've done that a hundred times over. I know he's a demon, but… He's not, I dunno, he's not bloodthirsty.” Blitzø flashed a grin. “Not like you’n’me, Mills.” He sighed. “He just wants to look at his stars and shit and be left alone.”

“Not entirely what I meant, but Blitzø…If all he wants is to be left alone, I still don't see why he'd be doin’ all this for us.”

Blitzø finally kicked his boots down off the table and leaned in to rest his forearms on it instead. He fiddled with his own scarred-up hands, wrapped in his favorite pair of fingerless gloves. “I don't know, okay?” He admitted. “It doesn't really make sense to me either. I thought there'd be something we could give him in return, but he literally said there's nothing he wants from me. I…I don't know how else to interpret that except that he just wants to do this. Only reason I can come up with is that he's bored, but, man, there's gotta be other shit to do in Hell. Especially for a fucking Prince.”

Millie sat back in her chair thoughtfully, still lightly stroking her husband's back. “Hmm,” she said.

“Hmm what, Millie?” He asked, suddenly tired.

“Just thinking some thoughts. But it ain't important.” She smiled her cute gap-toothed smile at him. “Well Blitzø. If you think it's all worked out, then we trust you.” She thumped Moxxie on the back and Moxxie groaned loudly. Blitzø wasn't sure if it was in response to the “we” phrasing or to having the air knocked out of him by his wife’s little love tap, but it didn't really matter. He'd go along with it if Millie did.

Simp.

“Really, Millie?” Blitzø asked, getting sentimental and putting on the voice he usually reserved for his Loonie-Toonie.

“Absolutely,” she said with a grin. “‘Sides! All three of us are goin’ to Hell when we kick it, anyway! What's it matter if some big bird-twink’s got our souls in particular?”

“Yeah, that's the spirit!” Blitzø cheered, and Millie laughed with him, long and loud.

Moxxie just groaned again.

Chapter Text

Blitzø was hanging out on the couch early the next morning, still in his sleep shirt and shorts, staring blankly at his phone, when Loona very quietly opened the front door and tiptoed inside the apartment. She was still dressed in (most of) her costume from last night, which she'd shown off to Blitzø before they both headed out to their respective Halloween activities. It'd been some kind of goth werewolf deal then, but this morning she was missing the ears and the teeth, though she seemed to have retained the tail and the… furry leg warmers? Whatever the fuck those things were. Her makeup was smeared, but not with tears, looked like, and nothing else seemed out of place, so Blitzø was pretty sure he wasn't going to have to kill anybody.

“Oh, hey, you're awake,” she said blearily, and dropped the tiptoeing.

“Mornin’ Loonie!” He called cheerily. “You have fun at your party? You want breakfast?”

“Ugh,” she said. “Yeah, I had fun. No, I don't want breakfast, I want you to turn it down, like, 8 notches.”

“You got it sweetie,” he said in a stage whisper, miming turning a dial down over his mouth. That must have been good enough for her because she came over and sat down on the couch next to him. She smelled like a distillery. “You want some water?” he asked, still whispering.

She snorted. “Sure.”

Blitzø hopped up and strode over to the kitchen, where he grabbed a cup and started filling it from the tap.

“How'd your… fuckin’...demon thing go?” Loona asked.

Blitzø contained his joy at the question quite admirably, he thought, for his daughter's sake. “Oh, Loonie!” He couldn't help but say, though, as he brought over her water. “It means so much to me that you'd ask.”

She sighed so hard it was practically a growl and snatched the water out of his hands. “Ugh, stop!” She complained, and downed the water all at once. “Christ, you claimed you were summoning a fucking demon on Halloween and you wouldn't let me be there. Of course I wanna know how it fucking went.”

Blitzø took her cup and went to refill it. “Aw Loona, I didn't mean to exclude you! You're young, you're in college! You should be going to parties and shit, not getting all wrapped up in your old man's work!”

“Okay, yeah, well. Except most of the other people at that party didn't have dads who were summoning demons on Halloween.”

The cup he was holding overflowed with water, just as Blitzø's heart overflowed with fatherly love. She'd indirectly called him her dad again! This was like the second time this year! He wasn't gonna make a big deal out of it and freak her out again.

His face must have given him away when he returned with her water, though, because as soon as she saw him, she growled, “Oh my God, just shut up and tell me how it went!”

He schooled his face into a relatively neutral expression, then smiled brightly. “It went good!” He said, sitting down with his daughter since she seemed to be taking her time more with the second water.

“Okay, so usually ‘good’ means ‘no demons showed up’, but in this case…?” She prompted.

“Oh, yeah, no, I mean ‘good’ like ‘we did it, we summoned the demon, woohoo!’” he said with jazz hands.

“Oh shit,” she said. “I didn't actually think it would work.”

Blitzø slumped over sideways on the couch, holding his chest like he'd been shot through the heart. “You wound me, sweetie!” He cried. Then he sat back up, remembering he'd agreed to take it down several notches. “I told you, I've done this before! Used to do it every year on Halloween.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “Maybe you had some weird false memories or some shit from growing up in a fucking demon cult. Actually, I'm still not entirely sure you're not just crazy or making this shit up. I mean, what proof do you have?”

“Hey! M&M can vouch for me!”

Loona smirked. “Sure, but Millie would totally lie to me if she had a reason to, and Moxxie would be too scared of her to say anything different.”

Blitzø cackled out a too-loud laugh and Loona winced, taking a long sip of her water. “Sorry Loonie,” he said. “But you ain't wrong. Anyway, I do have proof,” he bragged, holding up his phone. “I got his number.”

She frowned. “You got his number.”

“Mmhm,” he said smugly.

She frowned more. “So you can call him?”

“Daddy's a millennial, sweetie, I'm going to text him.”

“Gross. Whatever. You're going to text him, and he's going to get your text. In Hell.”

“Uh huh…”

“Fucking how?!” She demanded, and then winced at her own outburst. She leaned back against the couch and slid down with her cup of water propped on her stomach.

“Oh, let me get you a straw, sweetie.” Blitzø was gone and back with a straw in about two seconds. He popped it in Loona's water and she drank from it begrudgingly.

“Seriously, though,” she said. “Do they have cell towers in Hell? How does the signal get through?”

Blitzø stared into space for a moment, stumped. Then he turned to Loona and beamed. “Dunno!” he said.

She rolled her eyes, then closed them and sipped from her straw noisily.

Blitzø opened his phone up to the texting app he'd been staring at when Loona came in. On screen was a chat with exactly two messages from “Stols”.

The first read, “Hello Blitzy! This is my personal cell number, should you wish to get in contact with me for any reason! Don't hesitate to call or text whenever you like! If I am unavailable I shall simply call or text you back at a later time, but please know that I will always be utterly delighted to hear from you!”

The second read, “This is Stolas, by the way.” As though the bird hadn't composed and sent the text right in front of him last night.

And also as though a text that insane could've been written by anyone who wasn't a literal demon from Hell.

There was a single message back from Blitzø, to confirm for Stolas that he had the right number, despite the fact that Blitzø had just successfully received his first two texts.

It read, “cool”.

He composed another text while Loona nursed her water.

Blitzø: how u get txts n help?

He quickly typed another one.

Blitzø: hell

The three little dots that meant Stolas was typing started wiggling. Then they stopped. Then they started again. Then they stopped again. This happened several more times.

Blitzø had to put down his phone or he was going to lose his mind.

Loona was starting to doze on the couch, so he picked her water cup up off her stomach and nudged her until she was actually lying down instead of crunched up in a half-sitting position. She mumbled something and grabbed Blitzø's pillow, and then started gently snoring into it.

Blitzø picked up his phone again and ambled over to the beanbag chair in the corner, which he then flopped down upon. The dots. They were mocking him. He put the phone down again. Maybe this was just a thing phones from Hell did? Like, for torture purposes?

His phone buzzed.

Stols: Sorry?

He slapped a palm over his forehead and dragged it down over every last one of his fucked up facial features. His phone buzzed again.

Stols: Only, I'm not entirely sure what you're asking.

He typed back, sticking his tongue out for extra concentration.

Blitzø: yeh got tht
Blitzø: Loonie want 2 kno how u get txts in hell

Stols: With my cellphone? I’m quite sure you saw it last night. And who is “Loonie” if I may ask?

Fuck. How did you spell ‘daughter’? He should probably know, but the spell check and autocorrect on his phone had seemingly given up on him a long time ago. Loona had called him a Boomer and taken his phone away once, trying to turn them back on for him. She'd eventually just thrown his phone back at him, frustrated, and wouldn't speak to him for the rest of that day.

Blitzø: Loona sh's my dawter
Blitzø: i kno u gt thm wif ur phon
Blitzø: i meen how txts get 2 help
Blitzø: fuck hell
Blitzø: hell cel towrs?

Stols: Oh, I think I see! She wants to know how your phone in the living world can communicate with mine in Hell, through our respective cell networks?

Blitzø nearly cheered. Probably would have if it wouldn't have woken Loona.

Blitzø: yes!!!!!!!!?!!

Stols: I honestly have no idea.

Blitzø: fuk u stols!??!!!!!!

He'd have thrown his phone across the room if it wouldn't have woken Loona again.

Stols: Well, I apologize, but I've never given it much thought! I suppose it must be some kind of magic, since our realms are not physically connected in the literal sense, but I'm not sure who is putting up the energy to facilitate this transfer of data from one realm to another.
Stols: Perhaps Mammon, as he owns most of the networks down here.
Stols: Perhaps Asmodeus? His people are generally the most likely to be in need of such a function.
Stols: I don't generally take much of an interest in the inner workings of our technology down here, but I confess I'm quite curious now! Would you like me to find out?
Stols: As part of our prior arrangement, of course. No additional hanging out required!

Stolas’s texts came in faster than Blitzø would've thought it was possible to type all that. He didn't know if this was exhausting or hilarious.

Blitzø: all gud, pritty burd. Jus wondrin

Stols: Very well, then we will leave the question unanswered, for the time being.

Blitzø snorted and Loona stirred a little on the couch.

Stols: How are you this fine morning, Blitz?

Blitzø: prtty gud, igess. U?

Stols: I'm doing very well, thank you! I simply cannot tell you how very glad I was to see you last night, after all these years. I confess I hardly slept a wink last night upon returning to my palace after our little chat!

Blitzø: yah waz cool 2 see u2

Blitzø stared at their messages, feeling like maybe he should add something more.

Blitzø: :)

Well, better than nothing. If he wanted to send Stolas a fucking novel it'd take him all year.

Stols: What are you up to? Getting a jump on finding your new clients? Do let me know when you have the information for me for our first little venture! I'm so very excited to get started!

Blitzø: nah, moxies werkin on our as
Blitzø: ad

He raised his phone and snapped a quick, sharp-grinned selfie.

Blitzø: image attached
Blitzø: jus chullin @ hme wif Loonie

The three dots appeared, then disappeared several times. Then there was a very long pause where they didn't appear at all. Blitzø's brain felt like it was leaking out of his ears once drop at a time, and he didn't even fucking know why.

He put his phone down and watched his daughter snooze on the couch, instead. She hadn't taken her stompers off, and she was getting eyeliner and smudges of black face paint from her nose all over his pillowcase. Her wild platinum hair was a less-than-artful mess and she was drooling slightly. He loved her more than anything, anything in this world.

His phone buzzed on his chest and he practically jumped off the beanbag. He checked his texts.

Stolas had sent him a selfie in return. He was sitting up against a fancy headboard–a different one than Blitzø remembered, which he guessed made sense–and he could generously be said to be wearing a red robe. Though it was more like it was carelessly falling off of him. He had a steaming mug of something in the hand that wasn't taking the selfie. The mug read “I'm a hoot,” and Blitzø wanted to fucking die about that part alone.

He apparently didn't wear the tophat to bed, and his head feathers were all puffed up and sleep-mussed. He had a goofy wide smile on his goofy bird face and his two right eyes were closed in an exaggerated wink. The small floof of feathers on his chest–which Blitzø had noticed last night, don't think he hadn't–was just… all out there. Being floofy.

God, Blitzø wanted to smother himself on those chest feathers. He wanted to stick his face in them and motorboat them like a nice pair of tits, he wanted to–

Shit. He hopped up and locked himself in the bathroom so he could quietly rub one out to this gooberish fucking selfie a bird-demon had sent him. Fuck he wanted to fuck him so bad.

This was gonna be a fucking problem, wasn't it?

—

Later that afternoon, Blitzø was making grilled cheeses in the fucking panini press he’d bought on a whim 3 months ago and so he was gonna fucking use it. Loona finally roused from her beauty rest on the couch, looking, yes, beautiful and, as it happened, hungover as shit.

“Grilled cheese?” He asked while she slid, groaning, into one of the chairs at their little kitchen table.

“Fuck. Sure,” she said, eyes closed.

Blitzø cheerfully plated the better-looking of the two sandwiches and used a butter knife to cut it into two triangles before setting it in front of her. He followed it up with a fresh cup of water for good measure. Then he dug through the fridge and found a small bottle of purple liquid shoved in the back. He yanked it out and held it up with a little waggle. “Y’wanna pedialyte?” He asked, trying to make it sound enticing.

“Ugh. No.” She bit into one of her grilled cheese triangles with a glare. “How old do you think I am?”

“Exactly the right age for the kind of hangover these babies kick right in the ass,” he said proudly.

Loona gagged a little on her grilled cheese but managed to keep everything down. She eyed the bottle of pedialyte warily. Blitzø waggled it again. “Alright, give it,” she growled, grabbing for it.

Blitzø happily handed it over and watched delightedly as she downed the whole thing. Unironically, dad of the motherfucking year right here. He sat down across from his daughter with his own grilled cheese and chomped on it joyfully. She looked like she was ready to murder him with the costume claws still stuck to each of her fingernails, but at least she looked less like she wanted to hurl.

“By the way,” he said, “I still don’t know how texting in Hell works, but I did get some real, actual, proof about that demon I summoned.”

“Oh, yeah?” She asked, somewhere between her usual IDGAF attitude and one of her rarely-seen intrigued moods.

“Ta daaa,” he said, holding out his phone with Stolas’s selfie pulled up.

“Oh shit,” Loona said, looking at it with wide eyes. She looked up at Blitzø. “That’s a demon.”

“Sure is!”

“Could be AI generated,” she said smugly.

“It's not,” he replied, unamused.

“Huh.” She looked back to the selfie and squinted. “He looks a little…”

“Hm?”

“DTF-y.”

“Whaaaat?” Blitzø asked, immediately breaking into a cold sweat. He turned his phone back around to look at the selfie himself. “No he doesn’t! I mean, what? Look at that dumb face he’s making! Look at the dumb mug he’s holding!”

Loona grabbed his phone and turned it so she could see again. “Nah,” she said. “Check out that robe he’s barely fucking wearing. And he’s texting you from his bed.” She shook her head. “Fifty bucks says there’s a way sluttier version he took just before that, but he chickened out at the last second and sent you the one where he’s making a stupid face instead.”

“No way,” Blitzø said, grabbing his phone back and shoving it in his pocket where neither of them could look at it. “He’s still in bed ‘cause we were talking about our mornings and shit! I’d just sent him one from the beanbag while you were napping.”

She held out her hand expectantly. Blitzø sighed and pulled his phone back out, flipping to the selfie he’d sent and handing it over with an eyeroll. “See?” He asked, “Completely normal morning selfie exchange between a normal dude and his demon buddy.”

She took a half second’s look at Blitzø’s selfie and slammed the phone face down on the table. “Oh my God, Blitzø, that is not a normal fucking selfie! You look like you’re half a second away from texting him ‘u up?’!”

“What? No I don’t!” He grabbed the phone again and looked at his selfie.

Oh shit, he did, actually. He really, really did.

“You look like you’re about to dig yourself to Hell with your bare hands so you can–”

“Alright, Loonie! I get it! Fuck! Alright, I accidently took a horny selfie and sent it to a demon.”

“Gross! Shut up!”

“You’re the one who pointed it out!”

“Yeah but I don’t wanna fucking hear about it!”

“Then can we please stop talking about it!”

“Okay!”

They ate their grilled cheeses in silence.

After a moment, Loona started snickering to herself.

“What?” Blitzø asked.

“I can’t believe you were sexting a fucking demon while I took a nap on the couch.” She said, laughing outright now. “You’re such a freak.”

“Haha, that’s me!” He laughed weakly. “A real… fuckin’ freak.”

Chapter Text

Moxxie posted their ad, and they had their first client a week later.

Moxxie'd been real fuckin’ secretive about where and how exactly he'd posted the ad, but–absurdly–Blitzø had learned to trust him on this stuff. And Moxx had come through again, because they'd been contacted by some rich bitch whose rich prick husband had died unexpectedly. Blitzø hadn't even met her yet, but she’d definitely had the guy killed–especially since she was using whatever fucking shady service Moxxie had put their ad on. You'd think she'd be smart enough to’ve gotten the passwords to his E-Trade account or what the fuck ever first, but that was her loss and their gain.

She was local, and willing to meet in person. But it's not like they had an office for their fucking professional murder services. And there was no way in, well, Hell, that they were inviting a client to either Blitzø's apartment or M&M’s house, so they did their usual of renting a shitty motel room for a few hours to have the meeting there. If course, their richer clients were usually pissed off about (or looked way too comfortable with) the ambiance, but that was fucking life for you. You wanted someone dead? Or, like, wanted to talk to someone who was already dead, in this case? You had to go to a shitty motel room for an hour to talk about it. Or something.

Anyway, they'd scheduled the meeting for later that same day, ‘cause Blitzø was so fuckin’ psyched, he couldn't wait. And apparently that was good with Virginia, their client, because she had nothing else to do–in classic rich-bitch-style–and she really wanted her money or whatever, he guessed.

He was in his van outside M&M’s house, where they’d just talked all that through and set shit up with the client. He was gonna go home and prepare for the meeting, but he was too fucking excited, so he kicked his feet up on the dash and texted Stolas., instead

Blitzø: Btch gess whos gt a cliiiiiiieeeeen????
Blitzø: cloet
Blitzø: clint

Stols: A client?

Blitzø: yea!!!!!
Blitzø: It us bithc!!!!!!

Stols: Huzzah!

Blitzø snickered and scrunched down further in his front seat, getting more comfortable. What a fuckin’ nerd.

Blitzø: bet ur ass huzah

Stols: Do tell me all the details! I am on tenterhooks!

Blitzø squinted at his phone.

Blitzø: on wat?

Stols: Tenterhooks! I am eager to hear what you have to say.

Blitzø: k wsnt shure if i shud be gttng horny bout it or wht

(And hot damn, for a guy who took fuckin' forever to type a text, Blitzø sure had a talent for firing off stupid shit without thinking about whether he should or not!)

The fucking dots came back.

He and Stolas had been texting basically non-stop for the past week and a half, since the summoning on Halloween, and those goddamn dots were now the bane of Blitzø's goddamn existence. They were basically just there to tell him when he’d been a fucking idiot, and that was it. Like saying some inappropriate shit to his childhood friend and then having him not reply for like 15 fucking minutes wasn’t enough of a fucking clue. No. The dots had to get in on it, too. And they always ended in some 3 word non-reply from Stolas.

Stols: I expect not?

Fuck his life.

Blitzø: nvm bad joke
Blitzø: neway
Blitzø: sum rich btch killd her hsbnd

Stols: And this is our client?
Stols: Your client, I mean.

Blitzø: yah

Stols: I don’t wish to overstep.

Blitzø: i meen yah its or clint
Blitzø: our client
Blitzø: step wherver u wanna

As far as Blitzø was concerned, Stolas was basically a founding member of this shitshow, along with him and M&M. So yeah, it was Stols’s client too, if that was how he wanted to think about it.

Stols: You’re very sweet, Blitzø, thank you. Now, do you have a name, yet, for the sinner she would like to contact? Presumably her deceased husband? It would also be helpful to know where and when he died. Perhaps even how.

Blitzø’s cheeks burned at that compliment at the start of the text, which was fucking ridiculous, because he was a grown-ass adult and also very much not sweet.

Blitzø: not ytt
Blitzø: mettin wif hr l8r 2dy
Blitzø: nethin els?

Stols: Very well, I shall try to be patient while you do your work! Though I’m not sure I understand your last question. “Nothing else?” Do I have that correct?

He sighed. Fucking texting. Sending Stolas funny memes was one thing, but trying to actually talk business over text was frustrating as shit. He could call, but they didn’t call each other. This would just be a lot easier in person, actually.

Blitzø: no
Blitzø: fck cn u jst portl 2 me?
Blitzø: if ur not bzy

Stols: Oh! I suppose I could! You wouldn’t happen to still be near the spot you summoned me to on Halloween, would you? I could quite easily open a portal to that same location.

Blitzø glanced out the window at M&M’s house. Ah shit, how long had he been here? They were gonna think he was spying on them…again.

Blitzø: eh sortta
Blitzø: not a gud spot tho
Blitzø: cn u jst portl in2 my van?

Stols: Perhaps, though I couldn’t be entirely certain of the accuracy, not having seen it before. If I, for example, opened the portal just outside your van, would that be a problem?

Blitzø: fck hang n

Blitzø pushed himself up in the seat and started the van, then he mashed it into gear and sped off from the run-down semi-suburban street where M&M lived. There were a couple of abandoned warehouses he knew he could park at not too far from here, where there’d be no one around to see an 8-foot-tall owl step out of a magical swirling portal to Hell. When he swung into the gravel lot and came to a skidding halt between two buildings, he was already texting Stolas with one hand.

Blitzø: k wnevr ur reddy

About two seconds later, a magical swirling portal to Hell did appear–just in front of the van, so good thing he’d gotten out of M&M’s neighborhood–but no 8-foot-tall owls stepped out. Instead, stepping out onto the gravel in between two sketch-ass abandoned warehouses, was… a guy. A really fucking pretty guy, actually, in a flouncy fucking outfit, complete with a little brooch at his neck.

Blitzø started to sweat. He suddenly remembered the van was a junky piece of shit and its interior was covered in a bunch of fucking garbage. Maybe this'd been a bad idea.

Stolas easily caught sight of Blitzø in the giant fucking vehicle immediately in front of him, and waved excitedly to him through the windshield. He ran around to the passenger side door and tugged on the handle. Blitzø scooted over, sweeping some papers off the bench seat and onto the floor, and stuck a leg out to give the door a good kick to get it to pop open. Then he gave Stolas a hand up into the van. Not that he really needed it, ‘cause even as a human he was tall as shit. Had to be 6’3” at least.

“Blitzy!” He practically squealed, and Blitzø suddenly found himself with an armful of lanky human-bird-prince-demon. Stolas threw his long arms around Blitzø’s shoulders and squeezed, and Blitzø felt his own arms come up to steady Stolas and hug him back without any particular input from his brain.

“Hey, Stols.” Apparently Blitzø was a hugger now.

“How did you know it was me?” Stolas asked teasingly, pulling back after just a quick second to settle into the passenger seat.

Blitzø couldn’t help snickering. “Well there was another guy just before you–also walked out of a portal, but he looked nothing like you, so I told ‘im to fuck off.”

Stolas giggled into one hand.

And even beyond his unique mode of transportation, he actually was pretty obviously Stolas. His adult human form looked just like a grown-up version of the human form he’d shown Blitzø when they were kids. Which maybe shouldn’t have been surprising? But it felt weirdly like Stolas had gone down to fuckin’ Spirit Helloween and just grabbed the same human costume off the shelf in a bigger size.

“So tell me about our client!” Stolas prompted, and Blitzø realized he’d just been staring for a weird amount of time.

“Oh, yeah! I mean. Not a lot to tell yet, actually. I was trying to ask if there was anything else you needed to know. Uh, with that last text. But otherwise I won’t know more till I meet up with her.” Well shit, suddenly he started to feel kind of like an asshole for getting Stolas to portal all the way up here just to clarify a single text.

“Oh!” Stolas said, smiling. “En-Ee-Thing! I see! My, you certainly are creative with your texts, Blitzy!”

Blitzø grimaced. Uh, was that a backhanded compliment, or what? “What? Shit, I just– I don’t think about ‘em that hard,” he said. “We can’t all have perfect fuckin’ grammar and shit.”

Stolas’s eyes widened. “Oh, I, I didn’t mean– Apologies, Blitzø. I’ve just never, um, texted anyone with such frequency, before, and I’m having to learn the standards as we go. I don’t really know all the ‘lingo’, just yet.”

Blitzø eyed Stolas warily, waiting for a smirk to appear or anything indicating he was less than 100% just a nerd who hadn't encountered any texts of Blitzø's particular caliber before. Stolas only looked back, eyes worried and mouth pulled down into a little frown. And Blitzø’s hackles lowered fractionally. “Nah,” he said, sighing. “It’s not really you, I’m just a shitty texter.”

“Oh, are you?” Stolas looked perplexed. “I find them quite delightful! Via has been asking me recently what I keep smiling at my phone about all the time," he said without a trace of irony or self-consciousness.

Christ.

“Hey, have you had lunch?” Blitzø asked, changing the subject completely. And it was also a stupid question, because it was like 2pm. Of course he'd fucking had lunch.

“Oh, um. No, actually?”

Or not. “Perfect,” Blitzø said, starting up the van.

—

“Behold the finest fucking dining Earth has to offer,” Blitzø announced, leading Stolas to the door of his favorite hole in the wall diner with a hand on the middle of his back.

“Ohh!” Stolas said, managing to sound excited and nervous and a little doubtful but willing to go along with it, all with one non-word. Impressive, honestly.

The bored-as-shit waitress behind the counter waved them in the general direction of an open table and Blitzø made sure Stolas was situated on one bench of the little booth before scooting around and taking his own seat across the way. Stolas immediately started poking around at the ketchup bottle and the little square thingy three-quarters full of five different kinds of sugar packets.

The waitress stopped by with two waters in two big greenish plastic cups, and a couple of menus, which she tossed on the table without a word. Blitzø nodded at her, and she rolled her eyes. He chose to believe it was at Stolas–no, wait, that was more annoying. He chose to believe it was at himself.

Completely ignoring their server, Stolas blinked at his cup and then delicately took hold of the flimsy plastic straw sticking out the top. He gently swirled the water around, the ice cubes clinking as they came along for the ride.

“You drink it, Stols,” Blitzø said, amused.

Stolas gave him the side-eye. “Yes, I had managed to work that out, thank you.” He took a small, experimental sip from the straw, handling it with such care that Blitzø started to sweat a little. “Hm,” he said.

“Hm what?” Blitzø asked.

“Strange, without a beak.”

Blitzø laughed. He'd absolutely been expecting a comment about the quality of the water. “What, you haven't spent a lot of time beakless in the past 20 years?”

“No. Not much cause for it, in fact.” He took another sip of his water.

“What can I getcha?” The bored waitress had approached again–Raquel if her name tag was credible–without either of them noticing. Stolas inhaled a bit of water in surprise and fell into the prettiest, most well-refined coughing fit Blitzø had ever witnessed. Raquel turned to Blitzø. “Guess I'll start with you.”

“Uh, yeah.” Blitzø said, eyeing Stolas with worry. “Patty melt.”

“Fries okay?”

“Fries’re great. Y’okay there buddy?” He addressed the last to Stolas.

Stolas wheezed. “I'm okay,” and dabbed at his eyes and two spots on his forehead with a napkin. Cute.

“How ‘bout you?” Raquel asked Stolas, uncaring of the pretty man's discomfort. Did this bitch even have eyes, or what?

“I don't suppose you have… rats, or mice perhaps?”

Blitzø facepalmed.

“Huh? What’re you tryin’ to say, asshole?” Raquel demanded, suddenly not so bored anymore, “We run a clean– Well, we ain't got no rats and mice in the kitchen!”

Blitzø leaned over the table to insert himself between Stolas and their irate server. “He means to eat. It's a joke! I call him an owl all the time ‘cause he's such a nerd, and owls eat rats, so he thinks it's funny to ask for that shit at restaurants. Real hilarious, buddy!” He shot Stolas a big, fake sarcastic glare.

Raquel frowned. “Okay, you freaks keep your roleplay in the bedroom, and tell me whatcha actually want.”

Stolas’s face was twisted into an uncomfortable looking parody of a polite smile. “Oh, uh, what did you say you were having, Blitzø?”

“Patty melt.”

“I'll have one of those.” He laughed awkwardly.

Raquel seemed unimpressed. “Fries okay?” she drawled.

“Perfect!” Stolas squeaked.

She wrote a bitchy little “2” next to Blitzø's order on her pad. “Comin’ right up.” She gave them both a parting glare and ambled off to put their orders in.

Stolas turned to Blitzø in embarrassed horror, and Blitzø couldn't help it, he cracked the fuck up. “Don't worry so much, Stols, you're probably not even in the top five freakiest weirdos she's had to deal with today.”

“Very comforting,” Stolas wheezed.

“Yeah, I'm great at that shit,” Blitzø said dismissively, and was gratified when Stolas let out a little huffing laugh. He leaned an elbow on the table. “So what've you and your beak actually been up to in the past two decades then?”

Stolas chuckled, his mortified expression thawing a bit. “Ah, well, since we last saw each other… well, as you know, I married my betrothed and had a daughter… And, um, let's see, I ascended into my full demonic power as a prince of Hell, and… I've mastered a vast majority of the spells in my grimoire. Oh, and began my work extracting prophecies from the stars and other celestial bodies!”

“Very nice!” Blitzø said. Stolas wasn't exactly being… discreet. But Blitzø wasn't too worried. Stolas was pretty cute and put-together for a guy so clearly off his meds, but that didn't mean it wasn't the obvious explanation for this conversation.

“Yes! I’ve been doing it for some time now, but I enjoy the work. And I can tell you, as soon as I came of age, it was quite a relief to gain my full autonomy and get out from under my father's thumb.”

“Oh, I bet,” Blitzø said mildly.

Stolas smiled wistfully at Blitzø. “I never really forgave him, you know. For, well… for your little trip downstairs.”

Blitzø cocked his head. “No…?”

“Frankly, I'm surprised you seem to have forgiven me,” Stolas said, still smiling sadly.

Blitzø huffed a little laugh. “Birdie, I forgave you, like, that first day. Shit, there wasn't even anything to forgive. Pretty sure I remember telling you like fifty times that it wasn't your fault.”

“You did.” Stolas confirmed. “But it's hard to believe it, myself. And in my head, I always just assumed you’d… reconsidered my involvement in your abduction. Come to think of me poorly, or– or not at all, I suppose.”

Blitzø sighed. “Stols…” He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a grimy, folded up piece of thick, high-quality paper with neat, loopy writing still visibly covering it. Though the ink was pretty faded on the outer flaps where it'd rubbed against the inside of a hundred different pockets over the past 25 years. He placed it, still folded, on the table between them and tapped it significantly, not meeting Stolas's eyes. He glared out the window at a scraggly tree in the parking lot instead.

“Oh,” Stolas said, thankfully not needing a fucking reminder as to what exactly he was looking at. “Blitzy…”

Blitzø grabbed the folded up letter back up off the table and tucked it away again. “Yeah, well, where did you think I got your seal from to summon you, huh?” he asked, trying to set the little tree on fire with his mind.

“Well. I suppose… These things have a way of making themselves known.”

Blitzø snorted. “Yeah and my way was by copying it off a letter I've had since I was a kid. Anyway.” He risked a glance back at Stolas, and he was smiling fucking intolerably softly back at Blitzø.

Raquel saved him by appearing out of nowhere and dropping their plates off in front of them with a clatter. She left without asking if they needed anything. He didn't blame her.

“Shit yeah!” Blitzø said, shaking off the mood. He grabbed the bottle of hot sauce out on the table and started drowning his melt in it.

But Stolas apparently hadn't gotten the memo that the mood had been fucking shaken, because he was still smiling way too softly at Blitzø's usually-horrifying-to-others eating habits.

“What?” He asked, slowing the drenching process.

“Hot sauce, right? Can I try some?”

Blitzø frowned. “You never had hot sauce before?”

“No, I don't believe so!”

He handed it over warily. “Kay. Don't use as much as I did.”

Stolas beamed and poured, well, less than Blitzø had used, for sure–but it was still a stupid fucking amount–over his own melt. He handed the bottle back to Blitzø proudly.

Blitzø ignored the offered bottle, grabbed Stolas's plate and a couple of napkins, and wiped off like 90% of the sauce he'd just poured. Then he slid it back over to Stolas, took the bottle back, and continued on to his fries. “Try that,” he said.

Stolas pouted a little but picked up his melt and took a big bite. “Oh!” He said brightly, swallowing it down, “that's very…” a sweat broke out on his forehead and his eyes started to water. He coughed. “It’s, um.” He coughed again, harder.

Blitzø snickered and pushed Stolas's water cup towards him. “Yeah, the kick takes a second, doesn't it?”

“Augh!” Stolas cried, grabbing for his water and drinking frantically through the straw. Tears streamed from his eyes now. “That barely helps at all!” He complained, glaring at the water itself.

Blitzø laughed harder. “I said not to use too much!”

“You said to use less than you did!” He said indignantly, gesturing at Blitzø's monstrosity.

Blitzø picked up his melt and smugly took a bite. Fuckin' delicious.

“Why would you want your food to physically attack you?” Stolas wailed, and went back to drinking his water.

Blitzø cackled.

“I will kick you two out,” Raquel warned from behind the counter.

“Yeah, yeah, we'll shut up,” Blitzø waved her off.

Stolas sunk low in the booth, face red from both embarrassment and spice, and sucked down his ice water.

—

Stolas cut away the part of his melt with the hot sauce on it and claimed to enjoy the rest of it, but he kept sneaking little glares at Blitzø, for, well, tricking him into letting him try the thing he'd asked to try?

They talked for a while. Stolas gave more detail on his star charts, which Blitzø couldn’t understand half of, and Blitzø talked about his own work (in fairly vague terms) with Moxxie and Millie, and the little underground business he’d been running with them, doing everything from digging up legit occult shit for people who paid them to do it, to offing assholes for people who paid them to do that.

“How exactly did you get into that business, if I may ask?”

“Ehh,” Blitzø said. “It’s kind of a long story. I mean. Couple’a years after I got back topside, my dad eventually had me go out helping him out with your dad’s little jobs, so, y’know. And a lot later, I was doing some bodyguarding for my girlfriend at the time, and she had all kindsa freaks trying to get all up in her business. Eventually I just kinda… started takin’ care of them. Let ‘em find someone downstairs to harass instead, y’know? But things went south with her, and, I dunno. I figured I could be getting paid a lot more to do the kinda work I was basically already doin’ for free.”

“What did, um, what did your girlfriend do that she needed that kind of protection?” Stolas asked.

Blitzø laughed. Kind of a weird takeaway from him admitting to his former hobby as a stalkers-only serial killer. But fair enough. “Entertainment. Pop star, actually.”

“My, Blitzø! A pop star! Quite the, ah, basis for comparison you must have had with any, erm, partners since, hm?”

“Hah! Yeah!” Blitzø agreed, way too loud. “Well, none of ‘em’s given me an STD since her, so I’d say the comparison’s pretty fuckin’ favorable in everyone else’s direction!”

Stolas just blinked at him, eyebrows raised.

Shit. Blitzø should not be allowed to talk to anyone prettier than a 7.

He coughed awkwardly. “I mean. It was one’a the treatable ones. Y’know. In her defense.”

—

“My mouth still hurts,” Stolas complained as Blitzø filled out the check, leaving Raquel a big ol’ apology tip. He could afford to be generous–he was about to get a fat fucking advance on a fat fucking job.

“Poor thing,” Blitzø smirked at him. Speaking of the job, though… He checked his watch. “Client meeting’s soon,” he mentioned.

“Oh, how very exciting! Do let me know afterwards who I should be looking for!” Stolas said cheerily, apparently forgetting about his plight for the moment.

They made their way out to the van.

“So you wanna know the sinner’s name, and where and when and how they died, right?” Blitzø asked, kicking open the passenger door for Stolas. “What else would help you find ‘em?” He scurried around to the driver's side.

“Well,” Stolas mused after they'd both gotten in. “How they died may or may not help. Perhaps you could also ask about the sort of person they were, or, um, any animal or object they had a particular affinity for or aversion to… the sort of things they did as a living human. Their profession. Those could all help, possibly. Or at least help confirm we have the right sinner once we've located them.”

“Uhhh,” Blitzø said. “So you want, like, what? Vibes?”

Stolas smiled. “Yes, I suppose! Vibes!”

Blitzø frowned. “Hey, uh, you're already here, so. How about you just come with me?”

“What a wonderful idea, Blitzy!” Stolas gushed.

—

“Oh, just get a look at you, pretty thing,” Virginia cooed at Stolas soon after they'd all arrived. “If my husband had looked like you, I would've thought twice about having him killed!”

Blitzø’d called it.

Also? She needed to back the fuck off.

Stolas chuckled lightly. “I assure you, my wife has thought about it where I'm concerned. More than twice, I imagine.”

Blitzø frowned at him. What the fuck?

The client was also frowning, looking between Stolas and Blitzø. “You have a wife?” She asked Stolas suspiciously.

“Yes.” Stolas said, as though this was an entirely neutral fact.

“Never would've guessed,” she said, mildly.

Blitzø glowered at her.

She turned her smile to Blitzø, unfazed. “How about you, then? Got a little wifey at home, too?” she purred.

Stolas stiffened beside him.

“Yep, locked up in the attic. So, y’ know. All full up on crazies, here.”

Stolas laughed with a little pfffft sound, and the client gave them both an amused smirk.

Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Aaand, if you’re done asking about our love lives, let’s get to business. Your husband’s dead, but you need some info outta him, right? We can help with that. Well, unless he went to Heaven. We can only help if he's in Hell.”

“Oh, believe me: if Felix is anywhere, he's in Hell.”

“Perfect!”

“So, what are you guys, anyway?” She asked. “Some kind of mediums who can talk to ghosts, but only if they were awful people?”

“No,” Blitzø said.

“Ghosts don't exist,” Stolas said.

“Uh, the fuck they don't?” Blitzø objected.

The client laughed. “You're trying to tell me Hell is real, but you draw the line at ghosts?”

“Well, yes,” Stolas said.

“No,” Blitzø said.

“Blitzø, please,” Stolas said.

She looked between the two of them. “I'm confused. Do ghosts exist or not?”

“Yes,” Blitzø said.

“No,” Stolas said, then he sighed heavily. “Souls go to Hell, or they go to Heaven. They don't stick around Earth, haunting things. Or, places, I suppose. So, unless you vastly broaden the traditional definition of ‘ghost’ to include deceased souls not hanging around, haunting things on Earth, then, no, ghosts don't exist.”

“Okay, then what did Bethany Ghostfucker fuck in Ghostfuckers 2: Ectoplasmic Ectogasm? Hmm?”

“What?” Stolas asked.

“What?” the client also asked.

Blitzø suddenly realized he wasn't winning this one with his encyclopedic knowledge of afterlife-themed pornography. “Nevermind!” he said, feeling his cheeks getting hot. “We're not mediums, we just know a guy in Hell.”

"You…know a guy. In Hell.” the client stated doubtfully.

“Uh huh. And he's kind of a big deal down there, so he's gonna find your husband, easy-peasy.”

“Well, I wouldn't really say he's that big a deal,” Stolas said, laughing self-consciously.

Blitzø shot him a look. “Uh, yeah he is? He's a fucking Prince of Hell?”

“Oh, there are so many princes down there, who can even keep track? He's also very new at this, so I'm not sure we should over-promise and under-deliver, Blitzø! Do you see what I mean?”

“Well he's basically the smartest guy I've ever met, so I'm sure he'll think of something to come through for us, Stolas!” Blitzø said, and so help him if Stolas scared off their first client before she'd even made the down payment…

“As flattered as I'm sure he'd be to hear you say that, Blitzø, he's not a miracle worker!”

“He's literally an 8-foot-tall magical bird demon from Hell, Stolas! He's gonna kick ass and look sexy as fuck doing it!”

Stolas blinked at him several times, pulling away suddenly, and it was only then that Blitzø realized how close their faces had gotten while they were arguing. And then he realized what he'd just said.

“I- I mean–” Blitzø started.

“You do realize that all sounds super made-up, right?” Virginia asked.

“He's not made up!” Blitzø turned his annoyance on her. “He's m– He’s real!”

Ah shit, he'd almost called Stolas his best friend. Which was both really pathetic after a total of like 2 weeks knowing the guy, 25 years apart, and also sounded even more made up. He might as well be telling her his girlfriend went to a different school.

“Well, you haven’t really convinced me this isn’t a scam, or a particularly stupid shared delusion, so you’re not getting a dime out of me unless I get results."

Fuck. “Alright, we’ll waive the down payment.” It was fine. He wasn’t expecting his first few clients to really believe, anyway. Eventually, it was all going to be about word of mouth, but they had to build a reputation first. Woulda been nice to have some cash to work with, though.

“I mean, you guys seem completely crazy, no offence. But…” she frowned. “I’m willing to try just about any crazy thing to find my babies.”

Blitzø and Stolas exchanged a look. Oh, shit, this was about her kids? “And you think your dead husband knows where they are?” Blitzø asked.

“He’s the one who sold them. So, yes, I expect he does.”

Blitzø and Stolas exchanged a significantly more alarmed look. “Okay, yeah, this is the first time I have ever said this to a client,” Blitzø said, “but have you thought about going to the fucking police instead?”

She sighed. “The police can’t help me. Their papers were all in his name, since he was the one who bought them originally.”

“Uhhh,” Blitzø said. He was starting to get the feeling he didn’t wanna have anything to do with this client.

“I just want my precious little fluffballs back,” she said, tearing up.

Ohhhh. Blitzø and Stolas exchanged a relieved look. “Okay, yeah, sure. We’ll help you get your dogs back,” Blitzø said. He wasn’t sure why she’d want to pay their exorbitant fee for a couple of pets, but he wasn’t gonna tell her how to spend her money. Especially if that money was going to him.

“Dogs?” She asked, offended. “I’m talking about my babies! My Himalayans!” She held up her cell phone, and her lock screen was a photo of two very content-looking, extremely fluffy cats, curled up on top of each other and basking in a ray of sunlight. “He bought them for me as a gift last year, but then we found out he was allergic. I just knew he was going to sell them, and I tried to have the bastard offed before he could do it, but my guy messed the whole thing up, and by the time my husband was gone, so were they!” She waved her phone and its photo of her cats.

Blitzø shook his head. “Hard to find a good assassin these days, huh? Call us next time. We do that, too.”

“Get me my babies back, and I’ll recommend you to all my friends. Half of them are looking for someone to bump off their own husbands, and I can't in good conscience pass along the name of the one I used.”

“Oh, yeah, send 'em my way. I've killed plenty of husbands!” Blitzø said, grinning. “But for now, we got a couple of questions about *your* dead husband…"

—

Turns out it was real useful having Stolas at the client meeting. He’d asked a bunch of questions Blitzø would never think to ask. Like, “Was your husband a cannibal, as far as you know?” – The answer had been no, but apparently that would’ve narrowed down Stolas’s search a lot.

“We should put together a questionnaire!” Stolas suggested later, apparently excited at the prospect of paperwork.

“Knock yourself out, pretty bird,” Blitzø said from the driver's seat. He was taking them back to the abandoned warehouses so Stolas could portal home.

He glanced over, and Stolas was blushing furiously, looking out the window with a small smile on his face. And alright, Stolas had made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested in fucking Blitzø, but he sure as shit didn’t seem to mind the flirting.

“You know, Blitzø, I was wondering…”

“Mm-hm?” He asked, turning into the gravel lot with a fair bit more care than he’d done earlier.

Stolas cleared his throat nervously. “Ah, well. I was wondering… Well…” he hesitated, then continued, “I was wondering if you’d like to be there when I interview Mr. Dentada, as well!” Their sinner. Blitzø hadn’t known Virginia’s surname before, for anonymity reasons on whatever shady platform she’d hired them through, but she’d been willing to give it during the interview, if it’d help them find her dead husband. Or more accurately, if it'd help find her cats.

Blitzø took them to a stop between the same buildings as before. He raised an eyebrow at Stolas.

“Well,” Stolas said, laughing awkwardly. “You’d probably know better than I would how to find out what he wants in exchange for the location of the cats.”

He considered this. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, especially if he wants someone offed, there’s a couple questions I’d wanna ask, but… Isn’t it gonna be a problem for a sinner to see a living human in Hell? I don’t exactly have a giant bird demon costume lying around.”

“Oh, no, you wouldn’t be a Goetia,” Stolas said flippantly. “It’d be very obvious you were in disguise. I’m thinking, I could give you an imp disguise?”

Blitzø was taken aback. “Like one of your little butler guys?” Like Stolas didn’t think he could handle pretending to be a fancy royal bird for an hour?

“Yes, just like that!” Stolas said with a genuine smile.

Wow, okay. “I’m not gonna pretend to be your servant, Stolas,” he said flatly. And his eye twitched, remembering being a kid and thinking that wouldn’t be so bad. What a fucking dumbass he’d been. Though granted, at the time he’d kinda thought the alternative was eternal torture, so…

“Oh dear, no, I’m not saying that! Not all imps are servants, you know. Some are farmers!”

“Oh! So I can pretend to be some kinda inbred chucklefuck instead, huh?”

“Annnd many find employment as assassins.” Stolas gave him a surprisingly sassy look. “Just like yourself! I think it’s a natural fit.”

“Huh.” Well. Okay, he could probably rock the horns look, actually. “And you can just magically make me look like one of those imp guys?”

“Yes!” Stolas said.

Blitzø frowned. Had Stolas always been able to do that? He’d had a human disguise when they were kids, so, probably yes? So… back then, when Blitzø’d been begging like a pathetic loser not to make him go back to his shitty dad and his shitty cult, and Stolas’s excuse had been that he was human and not supposed to be there... He could’ve just… disguised Blitzø instead?

“Does…that sound like something you’d like to try?” Stolas asked hesitantly.

Ugh, whatever. The past wasn’t worth thinking about. It’d happened how it’d fucking happened. “Yeah, sure, Stols. Sounds like a good idea.”

“Excellent, I’ll let you know when I’ve found him,” Stolas said, though he still sounded a little off-balance.

Well, Blitzø was pretty off-balance himself. “Sure, send me a text,” he said, trying not to be a prickly asshole.

“You know,” Stolas said, obviously trying to regain some momentum, “I’m really looking forward to our first Hang Out later this month! I was thinking we could–”

“Ugh, this didn’t count?” Blitzø asked, going for teasing and ending up… short of that.

Stolas jerked back a little. Not quite like he’d been slapped, but maybe like Blitzø’d flicked him pretty hard in the forehead. “Oh, well, I suppose. Yes, I suppose it could. We didn’t spend the whole time on business after all.” He laughed awkwardly. “I’m not sure lunch was quite 3 hours, but let’s call it good for this month anyway, shall we?” His smile was wide and brittle.

Blitzø slapped a palm on his face, scar tissue hitting scar tissue. “No– no, I– I’m–” he grimaced and slapped both hands down on the steering wheel, and didn’t quite look Stolas in the eye. “Fuck. I didn’t mean that, okay? We can Hang Out. It was supposed to be a joke and it came out real shitty.”

Stolas hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry if I've said something to–”

Blitzø cut him off. “No. You didn’t do anything, okay Stols? I’m just an asshole.”

“You’re not– I mean–”

And apparently even Stolas couldn’t justify telling Blitzø he wasn’t an asshole, because he cut himself off this time.

“Well, how about you take a day and think about it.” Stolas smiled a little more genuinely. “Text me your decision!"

Blitzø snorted. “I can tell you right now it’s gonna be a yes.”

“Text me,” Stolas said with a little half-amused huff.

“I was gonna do that anyway.” Blitzø gave him a low-wattage grin and Stolas rolled his eyes with a small smile. “Alright, get outta here.” Blitzø said, leaning over Stolas to pop the door.

“Oh!” Stolas said, as Blitzø sat back in his seat. “Um, I just recalled– I wanted to ask, do those seats in the back fold down?” He squirmed around to look in the back, kneeling up on the seat, and the mood was still a little off, but fuck Stolas had a cute little ass as a human. It was kinda fucking hard not to notice, okay?

“Uh, yeah, why?” he asked, distracted.

“I was wondering if there might be enough room back there to fit a small portal. That way you wouldn’t have to go out of your way to find somewhere unpopulated, I could just come right to you! I-if I come up again, I mean.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s find out.” Blitzø hopped out and slid the back door open, then wrestled with the mechanism till the seatback was folded down flat, leaving the whole back of the van open. “We sometimes use it like this if we’ve got a lotta gear and only a couple of us on the job,” he explained while he worked, since Stolas seemed to be watching curiously. When he'd finished, he ushered Stolas up into the back with him and shut the sliding door again. “Here you go, give it a shot."

Stolas waved a hand and a small-ish portal appeared. “Excellent!” He smiled proudly. “Now that I have a feel for it, I should be able to meet you wherever you are.” He looked around, assessing. “I do think the seats need to be down to make enough room, though.”

"Yeah, I can leave 'em down for you."

Stolas beamed at him.

Blitzø eyed the portal. He could see some of what he thought was probably Stolas's bedroom through it, based on the selfie Stolas had sent, the morning after the summoning. And Blitzø had looked at that selfie... a few times now. A reasonable number of times. Anyway, the bedroom had clearly gone through some remodeling since they were kids, but if he moved his head right, he could kind of see the half circle of bookshelves he remembered, so it was definitely the same room. He wondered if Stolas shared the room with his wife now. He hated the thought.

“Hey, you think your big birdie form is gonna be able to fit through that?” he asked. It was the first unrelated thing that came to mind.

“Hmm. Perhaps. Though it may be… somewhat undignified…”

“You should change back, give it a try!”

Stolas flushed. “Well, I- I'll likely be in this form whenever I come up here, anyway. It's probably not necessary.”

“Aww, c’mon, put your feathers back on,” Blitzø goaded him.

“Oh, alright. If you insist,” Stolas said primly, and there was a flash of light and he was in his owl demon form again, hunched and looming over Blitzø in the back of the van.

“Hey, there he is,” Blitzø said, smiling up at him.

Stolas just chuckled nervously.

“Forgot how big you are like this. The extra foot and a half or whatever really makes a difference.”

“Ah, yes, sorry,” Stolas said, clutching the edges of the fancy cape he now wore over his shoulders. The hat was back, too, and it crumpled slightly against the van's ceiling.

Blitzø's quirked his lips up in a half-smile.“Did I say I minded? You're all good, Stols.”

Stolas smiled back, his upper eyes creasing into little crescent moons. “Now then, let us see if I can…” He bent his head down to roughly the center of the small portal in front of them, his back curling, and Blitzø’s jaw dropped a little. Stolas usually held himself so stiffly, but turns out he was fucking flexible when he wanted to be. He pushed himself through the portal on his hands and knees, using the back of the van’s front seat for leverage. At one point he momentarily got his foot stuck in the dip between the front and back seats, and his long tail feathers swished wildly, smacking Blitzø in the face.

“Stolas!” he complained.

“Sorry Blitzy!” came Stolas’s distressed voice from the other side of the portal. He reached one long, spindly black arm back and swept his tail forward through the portal so it was no longer trapped in the small space of the van and holy shit Blitzø had thought Stolas’s human ass was cute. Without the tail feathers in the way, Blitzø was being treated to a close up, personal view of the backs of some surprisingly thick thighs, wrapped in a skin-tight pair of tan trousers, and a shockingly plump ass he wanted to bite into like a peach. Holy fuck, he could not afford to be this horny for someone he wasn’t actually fucking.

Stolas’s ass flexed and wiggled as he freed his foot and pulled first one long leg, then the other through the portal, leaving him on his hands and knees on just the other side of it, his tail feathers still flipped up out of the way, and all of Blitzø’s blood was rapidly leaving his brain and rerouting to his dick. He had only the most fleeting glance of that gorgeous view before Stolas turned and sat on the floor of his bedroom, legs tucked up under him and facing Blitzø through the portal. He looked extremely embarrassed, which was not helping Blitzø’s general blood distribution problem.

“As I said,” Stolas murmured through a hand at his mouth, “rather undignified.”

Blitzø blinked, unable to formulate words at the moment.

“Well, despite that, I had a lovely time with you today, Blitzø. Thank you for lunch, and for bringing me to the client meeting. I’ll certainly let you know when I’ve found Felix Dentada, and I’ll set up a meeting for the three of us.”

Blitzø nodded. Then he realized he should at least try words. “Uh huh, sounds good. Can’t wait.”

Stolas smiled cheerfully and waved to him, and the portal closed.

Blitzø vaulted himself back into the front seat. He thumped one forearm down over the top of the steering wheel and laid his head down on it, opening the fly of his jeans with the other hand, imagining Stolas stuck in that tiny portal, begging for it, Blitzø yanking those tight tan trousers down and opening him up with fingers and tongue before getting his cock in that tight, feathered ass. Fuck, he bet it’d be so fucking good, he couldn’t stand it. Ten seconds of watching that bird struggle and he was harder than he’d ever been in his fucking life, imagine if he actually got to touch him, fuck him, dick him down good and hard and rough–fuck!

Faster than he’d ever admit to anyone, he came hard into his hand, biting down hard on the sleeve of his jacket, his hips jerking fruitlessly a couple of times into nothing. Then he sat there in the empty gravel lot, breath huffing against his arm, dick twitching, holding a handful of his own rapidly-cooling cum.

Yep, this was a fucking problem.

Chapter Text

Blitzø updated M&M on the results of the client meeting. Of course he did. Though, somehow, he found he just… neglected to mention that Stolas had come along with him for it.

He wasn’t sure why. He tried telling himself that it just wasn’t that important, and he’d overlooked it. But that was pretty thin even for someone as good at lying to himself as Blitzø was. He just…felt weird about telling them.

He had let them know that he was going with Stolas to meet with the client’s dead husband, but he may have allowed them to think that he and Stolas were bringing the sinner up to Earth for the meeting.

Blitzø wasn’t even sure sinners could come back to Earth. What would happen? Would they explode or something? But the idea seemed better than trying to explain the whole imp disguise thing he and Stolas were planning, and M&M had been kinda freaked out last time Blitzø mentioned going down to Hell himself.

He could see how the idea could take some getting used to.

Shit, it’d taken him some getting used to, back when it’d happened to him.

But he was actually pretty comfortable with the idea, now. Strangely eager, even, if he was honest. He had fond memories of the place, fucked up as that was. And…the fact that he, Blitzø fucking Buckzo, was going where no one else living could, at the personal invitation of an immortal being of immense demonic power… Well, there was some kind of feeling about that, curling low and heavy in his stomach. And it wasn’t just horniness. Though maybe it wasn’t entirely not horny, either…

He groaned, putting his face in his hands. He had to stop thinking with his dick. He was absolutely not gonna try to put it anywhere it wasn't wanted. That was a pretty hard fucking limit for him, actually!

Anyway, he was in the back of his van, again, with its seats down, parked in its usual spot on the street outside his apartment building. Stolas had found Felix Dentada pretty easily (like Blitzø fucking knew he would), and had arranged a meeting with him for only a few days after their original client meeting. Apparently taking his cues from Blitzø, he’d rented a room at a crummy motel in Pentagram City, where the guy lived. Or…didn’t live. Whatever. That was where they were all going to meet.

So now, a couple of hours ahead of time, Stolas had texted that he was at the motel. And Blitzø was just sitting around like an asshole, waiting for a portal to Hell to appear in the back of his van. He felt a little weird about trying this in a more populated area, but his windows were tinted, and the portal would be open all of, like, 30 seconds, max. So if someone thought they saw something, no they didn’t.

His phone buzzed.

Stols: Ready for me to open a portal to your van? It’s just me here now, so you don’t need to worry about still being human. I’ll apply the imp disguise once you’ve arrived.

Blitzø: yep bin reddy

Stols: Very well!

A small portal, just like the one Stolas had left through the other day, appeared in front of him, and Blitzø had a bit of a Pavlovian response. Said portal had had a seriously recurring role in his jerk-off fantasies since then. He shivered a little, but managed to contain himself. And he ducked through the portal and into, truly, the shittiest motel room he’d ever been in. Which was fucking saying something.

The portal disappeared behind him.

“Welcome back to Hell, Blitzy!” Stolas said, with far more cheer than that sentence deserved. He was barely able to stand to his full height without crunching the top of his hat into the ceiling of the small motel room, but he was beaming down at Blitzø like he was pleased to welcome him into the fuckin’ Garden of Eden instead. Which… Shit, was that a real place, then? Huh.

“Thanks, Stols.”

“How was your trip?”

Blitzø snorted. “You mean, hopping through the portal just now?”

Stolas nodded, smiling. His hands were clasped in front of his chest and he looked, just, real eager to hear all about it.

“Well, uh, it sure beat my last trip here,” Blitzø said, not really sure what else there was to say. He’d stepped through a portal. It was like stepping anywhere else, except Hell was on the other side.

Stolas did a weird smiling cringe thing. “Ah, yes, I…I should hope so.”

“Mmhm,” Blitzø said, distracted and looking around. Christ, this place was a real shithole. Peeling wallpaper, obvious stains on the bedspread, a couple of mismatched wooden chairs at a table with a missing leg that’d been replaced with…a long femur bone? Alright. He was impressed; just in general, but also that Stolas had willingly stepped foot in a place like this. “Guess not everywhere in Hell’s as nice as your palace, hm?” he asked.

Stolas frowned. “Well. No. This is a motel.”

Blitzø cackled and Stolas looked at him questioningly. Blitzø waved him off.

“So! Do you need a minute to settle in, or shall I apply your disguise now?” Stolas asked.

“Oh shit, yeah! Imp me up!” He’d been thinking about this since Stolas’d suggested it, and he’d really come around to the thought. He was actually pretty hyped to see what he’d look like as one of those little red guys. Which reminded him, “Oh, hey, do you, y’know, choose how your disguise looks? Cause you should make me, like, crazy hot if you do. I always wanted to be crazy hot.”

Stolas stared blankly at him for, like, ten whole seconds.

“Stols?” he asked, starting to worry Stolas was having some kind of owl seizure.

“Yes!” Stolas blurted, coming back to life. “I mean, no! No, I don’t choose how it looks. It’s, um, ingrained somehow. I could, theoretically, change it a bit by giving you the appearance of a demonic hybrid, but I wouldn’t be able to pick and choose those features, either.”

“Eh, alright.” He could live with it.

“Um, shall I, then?”

Blitzø opened his arms wide, inviting Stolas to go ahead.

He felt the magic all over his body, and it was a weird fucking sensation. Didn’t really feel good or bad, just weird. He saw some flashes of light emitting from his body, and then suddenly he was a lot shorter, and just… different?

He held his hands up in front of him, turning them over and back. They were bright red, mottled with white along the familiar pattern of his scars. Each of his fingers ended in a wickedly sharp claw. He pushed up the sleeves of his coat and had a look at his arms. His wrists were oddly thick, flaring straight out into the width of his clawed hands. His skin was, well, not really scaly, but vaguely lizard-like. Not exceptionally rough or smooth, but somehow tougher than his human skin, and his scars weren’t as textured as they normally were–just a radically different color than the rest of him. His tongue felt really weird in his mouth, and he stuck it out, crossing his eyes to look down past his lack of a nose and seeing it waving around, long and flat and forked.

He looked way, way up at Stolas and said, “Holy shit.”

Stolas was looking at him in unabashed delight. His little white pupils were back, and Blitzø would’ve sworn they were almost heart-shaped. “Blitzy!” he squealed. “You are so! cute!”

“I- I- I, uh–” he stuttered. “Well you’re so tall!” he shouted like it was a comeback.

Stolas did his little hooting giggle. “You are actually quite tall, for an imp!” he said

“Oh shit, I am? That’s fuckin’ sick. Never been tall before!” He was 5’7” back in his human form, which was perfectly respectable, but not exactly tall. He looked down at his imp body. He seemed to be wearing more or less the same clothes, the biggest change being the addition of some goofy big red buttons, and when he felt for it, his mom’s pendant was still fastened around his neck with a choker, so that was nice. He held out his legs one at a time, trying to get a better look at them, and noticed a long, thin, red tail waving around at his feet. He turned to get a better look at it and ended up spinning a couple times like a particularly stupid dog, literally chasing his own tail. “Fuck!” he shouted.

Stolas was hooting with outright laughter now.

“Oh, think this is funny huh?” he demanded, finally grabbing hold of the end of his tail and getting a good look at it. There was a spade-shaped fleshy bit on the end. He rubbed it between his fingers to see what it felt like and immediately shivered and let go. Okay, apparently that was sensitive! Good to know!

Wait, shit, hang on a second. Was that thing his dick? He shoved a hand down the front of his pants and was relieved to find things more-or-less the same as what he was used to down there.

“B-Blitzø!” Stolas stammered out.

Blitzø looked up in surprise and yanked his hand back out of his underwear. Stolas’s whole face mask was red. Blitzø wasn’t sure what imps looked like when they blushed, but whatever it was, he was for sure looking like it.

“Sorry!” He shouted, “Sorry! Just, uh- Just seein’ what I’m working with here! Forgot I was– Forgot you were– Sorry!” Blitzø snapped his face shut.

Stolas stared at him, wide-eyed, silent. Then, after a moment, he said, hesitantly, “...And? What are you working with?”

Blitzø blinked a couple of times, then sputtered out a laugh. “Hah! Well, I’d need a second to tell for sure, but I think it might be even bigger.” He raised an eyebrow, smirking, and felt his lizardy tongue poke out a little bit on instinct. “Proportionally speaking, anyway.”

Stolas looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or pass out. “Oh,” he said faintly. “Well, I have heard rumors about…certain correlative relationships with horn size, so…”

“Oh shit, my horns!” He’d forgotten all about the fucking horns! He reached up to feel around for them and ran into two large, curving pillars anchored to the top-slash-back of his head. “I gotta see these motherfuckers!” he crowed, and made a mad dash for the motel’s bathroom.

In the partially-cracked mirror he saw them: two long, sharply curved black and white striped horns, thick at the base on his head and tapering to fine points at the ends, which reached nearly back around to his shoulders if he tilted his head back just a little.

They. Were. Majestic.

Then he took in the rest of his face.

“What the fuck happened to my hair?” he shouted.

Stolas had followed behind him and stood just outside the bathroom door, watching Blitzø look himself over in the mirror from as many angles as he could possibly see himself. “Many imps are hairless,” Stolas said, “It’s perfectly normal.”

“Your butler-guy had hair! And why the fuck is my head so long?” he demanded, looking at his incredibly long fucking head with its dumb little spikes sticking out the top. What was his brain shaped like in there?!

“Imps are quite varied, physically,” Stolas said, “I think it’s very charming!”

“I thought you said I was cute!”

“You are!” Stolas sounded offended.

Still looking in the mirror, Blitzø opened his mouth as wide as it would go, which was, apparently, way wider than he could open it as a human. A top and bottom row of yellowish, sharply pointed teeth glinted in the harsh bathroom lighting, and his long, snakelike tongue lolled out, right between two of his bottom teeth. He sucked it back in and snapped his mouth shut, then squinted and opened his eyes wide, then blinked one, then the other. He still had his cult-marker tattoos over both eyes and in the middle of his forehead, and now he had no fucking hair to cover the latter with, and it was just all out there. He had no obvious nose or ears, though he could still smell stale cigarette smoke and obviously he could still hear, so he had to have both somewhere. Half his face was bright red, and the other, scarred half was bright white. He looked like a freaky fucking harlequin clown doll from Hell.

His eyes were actually kinda cool, though. A golden yellow all over with red irises and black pupils. They were large and almond shaped, and went very round when he opened them wide. He made puppy-dog eyes at the mirror for the fun of it.

Stolas squealed a little, bringing his tightly clenched fists up to his mouth. “You cannot tell me that’s not adorable, Blitzø,” he said.

Blitzø turned the puppy dog eyes directly on Stolas. Show him adorable.

“Stop it, Blitzy! I can’t!” Stolas wailed, and picked Blitzø right up off the floor as if he were a child, hugging him tightly to his feathered chest.

“Hey! Fuckin’! Put me down, Stolas, what the fuck!” he shouted, flailing around in Stolas’s grip.

“No!” Stolas cooed, “You’re far too cute to put down!” He swayed Blitzø back and forth, laughing and hooting and cooing as he carried him back out of the bathroom and into the room again. Blitzø found himself making a hissing noise like an angry cat.

“Fuck you!” he screeched. He was gonna have to break out the claws in a second here.

Stolas carried on laughing delightedly.

Someone in the room next to them pounded so hard on the wall, it shook bits of plaster loose from the ceiling above them. “Shut the fuck up!” their motel neighbor roared, voice shot through with threatening demonic power.

Stolas and Blitzø both froze in place, staring at one another, blinking and waiting for any more outbursts.

After a few moments of silence, Blitzø relaxed, grinned at Stolas, and said, “Eh, you could take ‘em.”

Stolas laughed softly and lowered Blitzø gently back down to the floor. “Yes, probably,” he said. “But let’s not have it come to that, shall we?”

Blitzø dusted himself off, then hopped up to stand on the table with a featherlight agility that surprised himself. “It’s fuckin’ weird being like, half your height,” he commented.

Stolas sat down on one of the mismatched chairs and crossed his legs primly, then leaned one elbow on the table and propped his chin in his hand. “Is this better?” he asked, looking amused. He was now the one looking up at Blitzø, through his long-ass bird lashes.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Blitzø said, grinning, his hands on his hips. But he sat down on the tabletop anyway, so they were more or less eye-to-eye.

“Interesting that you still have your boots,” Stolas commented. “I’ve never really thought much about how the spell determines your clothing. But imps have hooves, and, like me, many prefer to wear no shoes at all.” Blitzø glanced down at Stolas’s giant bird foot–the one he could see from here. Stolas was idly moving his foot, causing his long leg to bob slowly, crossed casually over the other. Stolas’s bare taloned toes were gently curled. It hadn't really occurred to Blitzø that Stolas didn’t wear shoes, but there it was.

“Huh, yeah, let’s see what I’ve got going on here,” Blitzø said, and yanked off one of his boots. Instead of toes, he had a delicate little black hoof, and there was sort of a… spikey bit coming off his heel. He pulled off the other boot and stood back up, posing on his bare hooves, one arm raised, diva-like. “Hah! Look! I’ve got these li’l natural high heels, Stols! I’m fucking fabulous!”

“Oo-hoo, how delightful!” Stolas hooted, giving Blitzø’s performance a series of tiny, fast claps.

Blitzø flopped back down on the tabletop and started pulling his boots back on. “This is pretty fun, Stols,” he said. “Thanks for letting me check out my impsona.”

Stolas frowned. “Your…impsona?”

“Yeah, it’s like– y’know, like– uhh, y’know what? Nevermind.” Because this was absolutely the first ‘sona of any kind Blitzø had ever had. He didn’t even know what they were! No one could prove any differently. Least of all Stolas.

“Hm,” Stolas said, looking at Blitzø suspiciously.

“Hey, could you turn me into a pony with your magic?” Blitzø asked for no related reason.

“A pony?”

“No, nevermind. Forget I asked.” He laughed nervously. “Anyway, when’s that guy gonna get here, huh?”

“Oh, we have some time, yet,” Stolas said, waving a hand dismissively. “And if you don't mind a change of subject–”

“I sure don't!”

“–there's something I should've asked you about at lunch the other day, but I'm ashamed to admit it slipped my mind entirely.”

Blitzø’s grin dropped and he eyed Stolas a little warily. There were certain things people tended to ask him about, and he wasn't a real big fucking fan of any of them. “Go for it,” he said. “Can't say I'll answer, but ask away.”

Stolas chuckled. “Of course you needn't indulge my curiosity if you wouldn't like to. I was just wondering, well, if you want to– that is, if you're comfortable with it, would you mind telling me more about… your daughter? All I know about her is that she's a college student and that she holds at least a passing interest in Hell’s communications technology.”

Blitzø’s mood brightened up immediately. “Aw, Loona? Fuck yeah, I could talk about my Loonie all day!” He kicked out a freshly re-booted foot and leaned back on the opposite hand, getting himself comfortable on the tabletop and leaving one hand free to talk with. “Well first of all, she's like 4 inches taller than me already, so she’d laugh her ass off to see me like this. And then she wears these fuckin’ 3 inch platform boots everywhere, so she's gotta be almost as tall as your human form at least half the fuckin’ time. I'm so proud of her. Oh yeah, and she's…”

Stolas listened attentively, a small smile on his face, while Blitzø rambled about anything and everything Loona-related that came to mind. Stolas asked questions about her college coursework, her hobbies, her fashion sense. Apparently she reminded him a bit of his own daughter, and Blitzø had to admit, Loona would probably find that “weird taxidermy” stuff really cool. And Blitzø kinda wanted to see it himself, to be honest. Weird taxidermy in Hell had to be pretty fucking weird.

They whiled away the time, and Blitzø was enjoying himself so much that he was outright startled–and disappointed–to hear a knocking on the door to their motel room. He glanced at his watch, surprised to find the time was just slightly before their meeting was scheduled to start. Damn. It’d been a while since he'd gotten caught up in a conversation like that.

Stolas seemed startled at the interruption as well, but he stood and went to the door, opening it without even glancing through the peephole. He exchanged a few words with whoever was at the door, then ushered him inside.

It was Blitzø's first time seeing a sinner demon, and he tried not to gawp. He looked like a person, sort of, but with an assortment of…fox-like features. Honestly, it wasn't too far off from a fox version of what Loonie’s Halloween costume had been–ears, a tail, claws–except that it was all actually attached to the guy. Alive (so to speak) and twitching, swishing. He was wearing an expensive-looking but ragged and torn suit, and his hands and feet poking out of their respective cuffs were more like large, long-clawed paws than anything human. And yeah, nobody in Hell wore any fucking shoes, apparently. Despite the fact that Blitzø could literally see broken glass shards in the corner of this room that no one on the motel staff had bothered to clean up. He didn't even wanna think about what the sidewalks had to look like.

Felix was tall, though it was kinda hard to judge how tall in Blitzø's current form. Not nearly as tall as Stolas, but probably real fucking tall for a human. Blitzø tried to just look like he saw dead fox demon dudes every day, but it didn't matter much anyway, since the guy was eyeing Stolas warily. “I wasn't exactly expecting a Goetia at a place like this,” he commented, polite but definitely concerned. “Or at a meeting like this. Especially since I was contacted by what sounded like an imp.” He barely glanced at Blitzø. “Was that you?”

“No,” Blitzø said flatly.

“Ah, that would've been my aide,” Stolas put in. “He arranged this meeting at my request.” He was moving the table away from the wall with Blitzø still sitting on top of it, then he took two of the mismatched chairs and put them on one side, and placed another singular chair on the other side. It was almost like watching someone arrange doll furniture, for all the effort he seemed to need to put in.

Blitzø hopped down on one of the chairs and sat. His eyes barely came up to the tabletop. Fucking embarrassing.

Stolas looked at him thoughtfully and pulled a couple of thick books out of a small portal. Of course he just had books on hand through a small portal. Of course he fucking did. He gestured for Blitzø to stand, and he placed them on the chair after Blitzø obligingly moved out of the way. Blitzø sat back down on top of the stack and found himself a little more at table height. Shit, it must suck to be an imp all the time.

Stolas sat next to him, and the sinner, one Felix Dentada, sat across from them.

“So what exactly is this about?” Felix asked.

Blitzø and Stolas both started to answer him at the same time, then both cut themselves off and looked at each other. Stolas waved a hand past Blitzø and towards the client in a go ahead gesture, but Blitzø shook his head and mirrored Stolas’s gesture. This was his meeting, and now that Blitzø thought about it, he had no idea how to talk to a dead guy, anyway.

Stolas nodded and they both looked back towards the sinner, who was staring with extremely visible confusion.

“Our associate in the Living World has been in contact with your living wife, Virginia,” Stolas said. Felix raised his eyebrows in shock. “She would like to know the location of her…cats.”

The sinner absolutely melted. “My Ginny! Oh, my poor, sweet, Ginny. She must be so lonely without me, and without her babies, too! Oh what a terrible time for my accident to have happened!”

Blitzø’s own eyebrows raised.

Stolas was frowning. “Didn’t she, er–”

Blitzø elbowed him. “Yeah, uh, how’d you die, anyway?”

“Well, I had just finished dropping off those very same cats with a boarder I hired–You see, I’d just recently gifted my Ginny her beloved Himalayans, but it turned out I was allergic! Well, I was going to see my allergist for a treatment that would allow me to be around the cats with no discomfort going forward, but he told me it would take a week to take effect and that I should temporarily board my dear Ginny’s babies until that time. So, I was driving along, and the last thing I remember, I was just ahead of an underpass. Then I remember the sound of my windshield shattering, and an unbelievable pain in my right eye!”

Felix pointed to said eye, and now that Blitzø was looking, he saw that, where Felix’s left eye was wide and dark brown–somewhere between a human’s and a fox’s eye–his right eye was a bit lighter and distinctly more reddish in color. And instead of a pupil, there was a bold, black X-shape across the iris.

Felix continued, “I suspect somebody accidentally dropped something from the overpass, and it hit my car, passed through my windshield, and killed me on the spot!”

Yeah, Blitzø thought. Somebody like a sniper dropped something like a bullet out of a gun and it fell right in your eye. Whoopsie.

“And I never got to surprise my Ginny with the news of my allergy treatments or let her know where her babies are! She must be so distressed.”

“Yeah, she’s a wreck,” Blitzø said. “Where are the cats?”

“Oh, let me see if I can recall. Yes, I think I remember the name and address. Do you have a–”

Stolas slid over a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen, both shoddily printed with the name of the motel. Blitzø squinted at the garish green logo. The Mazbin? Must be a family name.

Felix tried several times to get the dried out pen working, before Stolas reached into another small portal and pulled out an elegant fountain pen and a small pot of shimmering, dark blue ink. “Very nice,” the sinner commented, dipping the pen with practiced ease. He wrote a name and address in an elegant script and slid the pad of paper back to Stolas.

Stolas hesitated before picking it up. “And you don’t want anything in return for this information?” he clarified.

“No, no,” Felix said. “I’ll be happy just knowing my Ginny has her babies back.”

“Aw,” Blitzø commented offhand to Stolas, “Mills will be disappointed she doesn’t get to kill anyone!”

Felix cocked his head. “Was that an option?”

Blitzø and Stolas looked at one another.

“No,” they both said together.

Felix shrugged amiably.

“Y’know,” Blitzø said, “You actually seem like a fairly decent guy. How come you're, y’know. Down here?” Stolas elbowed him. “Ow.”

Felix gave an embarrassed, aw ya caught me grin. “Ah, well, that'd be the teeth thing, I bet.”

“The… teeth thing?” Blitzø asked, and Stolas elbowed him harder. “Ow.”

He chuckled jovially. “Well, I'll spare you the gory details, but when I was alive, I sometimes used to do this thing where I'd remove people's teeth, and then I’d replace them with more tee–”

“Okay that's enough!” Blitzø said, scrambling up over the table and reaching out with one weird red and white hand to clap it over Felix's mouth. It was half to stop him from talking, and half to cover the disturbing smile that was getting steadily wider and more densely packed with more and more sharp, vulpine teeth with every word.

“That was sparing us the gory details?!” Stolas cried incredulously.

Felix pulled Blitzø's hand down off his face, annoyed. “What's the problem? Aren't you two demons, too? The hypocrites down here, I swear…” At least his face was back to what passed for normal here.

“Well, Mr. Dentada,” Stolas said, clearly eager to hurry things along. “Thank you very much for the information. We’ll make sure this gets to your Virginia. I’m sure she’ll be very pleased, indeed.”

“Oh, I hope so. I’m just counting down the days until she joins me here, you know? At least, I'm hoping she ends up here with me!”

Stolas made a weird bird noise and Blitzø glanced over at him. His face was doing a weird bird thing, too, his weird bird mouth opening and closing multiple times.

But he said nothing, and Felix continued, “I just don’t know what I’ll do if she goes to Heaven.”

Blitzø snorted. “Don’t think that’s anything you gotta worry about, buddy.”

—

They both heaved sighs of relief when Stolas ushered Felix out and he was firmly on the other side of the door. Stolas turned back to Blitzø with a smile. “Quite well done for our first job, wouldn’t you say!” he said.

Blitzø hopped up on the table again, grabbing the notepad featuring the location of two fancy cats. He took a quick snap with his phone, then gave the paper a little smooch. “You’re gonna make Daddy so much fucking money!” He said to it, lovingly.

Stolas grimaced and stuck his tongue out a little in disgust.

“What?” Blitzø demanded with a laugh, cuddling the pad of paper close to his chest. “Daddies not your thing? So sorry, princess.”

Stolas coughed. “It's, uh, it's not that. Just, if I were you, I’d avoid putting my lips on anything else in this room,” he advised.

Blitzø couldn’t resist. He leered up at Stolas with a wide grin and waggled his eyebrows up and down a few times. “Sure about that, pretty bird?” he asked.

Blitzø could see a slight pretty blush rise on his pretty feathered cheeks, but Stolas just said flatly, “Hellmonella is really no joke, Blitzø.”

Blitzø looked down at the paper he’d kissed in a new light. “...Ew.”

“Yes. Ew.”

“Anyway!” Blitzø said, pocketing the paper, “That was surprisingly easy. Got a little freaky there for a second, but overall not too bad, Stols!”

“Ah, right,” Stolas said. “Um, for future reference, may I suggest you never ask a sinner why they're here. They either get quite weepy and insist they have no idea, or they do… well, that.”

“Aww, that's gonna be me one day,” Blitzø said with goofy sentimentality. “Telling some poor bastard every last detail of all my best hits.”

“Hmm. Let us hope it's some time yet before that day. But when you put it like that, it does sound rather fun from the other side of it, doesn't it?” Stolas mused. “Now then, allow me to put you back the way I found you.”

Stolas waved a hand, and all at once Blitzø was back to his usual self. He was still standing on the table, and he felt a little clunky hopping down after a few hours of having been so light and agile. Clunky wasn't a feeling he was used to, and he didn’t think he liked it. He was gonna have to up his yoga routine.

He felt the familiar faint sensation of his hair against his forehead, and reached up to pat around the top of his head. Nice to have it back, but damn if he wouldn't miss the horns.

—

He could've just given Sweet Ginny the name and address Felix had given them and been on his merry way, but never let it be said Blitzø wasn't willing to go the extra mile for a client.

The boarder didn't want to give up the fucking cats, which at least explained why she hadn't gone looking for their owner when he’d never shown up again, but really, the less said about her, the better. Suffice it to say, only about half the scratch and bite marks Blitzø had sustained by the time he hand-delivered the sharp little bastards to their rightful owner were actually cat-induced.

Virginia fell upon them in her massive marble foyer with tears of joy and babbles of baby talk, and Blitzø pursed his lips in sour resentment that they didn't immediately try to claw her fucking face off, too.

“You didn't tell us your late husband was a fuckin’, I dunno, tooth freak,” he bitched, for lack of anything more legit to complain about.

She paused in her cat-doting and looked at him. “Oh, wow,” she said. “You actually talked to him, didn't you?”

Blitzø said nothing. Better to keep a little mystique.

She eventually turned back to her cats, huffing a little in disbelief. “Well…” she said, “I did say he was definitely in Hell, didn't I?”

Blitzø raised his eyebrows. “Uh...So you knew about that, but it was the cat thing that got you to put a hit out on the guy?”

She scoffed, giving one of the fluffy assholes a little scritch under the chin. “Well! It was a little of both, really.”

—

“Sir, with all due respect, that’s the stupidest story I’ve ever heard.”

“Aww, is someone feeling a widdle weft out? You got us the job, buddy, remember? You’re still a part of the team, even if you never develop any actual skills!”

They were sitting in M&M’s kitchen again, a gorgeous leather suitcase chock-full of large-denomination bundles of cash on the table between the three of them. Even Moxxie’s whining couldn’t bring Blitzø down right now. They’d just made a crazy amount of money for doing basically nothing except a couple of hours of talking to two idiots who couldn’t talk to each other anymore, and telling them both what they wanted to hear.

Moxxie sighed deeply.

“You know they’re not all gonna be this easy, right B?” Millie asked.

“Don’t worry, Mills, we’ll find a job where you get to slaughter someone or other soon enough. And this client said she’d give us some referrals on some regular ol’ assassin jobs, too, so we’re about to be rolling in a fuckton of sweet, sweet blood money!”

“And you’re sure it ain’t too dangerous, boss? Meetin’ with demons, I mean?”

Blitzø shrugged. “I got Stolas there with me. He coulda ground that chump we met with into dust without even touching him, and everyone in the room knew it. None of ‘em are gonna make any trouble, trust me.”

“And how are things going with his royal demonic highness?” Moxxie asked archly. “You haven’t scared him off yet after one job?”

“Um, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, no,” Blitzø said. “We’ve got our little play date scheduled for next Friday, and I intend to show him such a great fucking time, he’ll never want to get rid of me. I mean us. I mean this business.”

He saw M&M exchange a quick, amused glance, and fuck them both.

“Whatever, it’s not like what I do matters anyway,” he pointed out. “As long as he doesn’t get bored with helping us, he’ll keep on doing it. We just gotta keep finding clients, and maybe a few with some more interesting stories than ‘I’m stupid and I lost my stupid cats’, hm, Moxxie? You think you could find that for us?”

Moxxie rolled his eyes. “Sir, I have a feeling it does matter what you do. He’s clearly only doing this because he likes you. And if you fuck that up, how long do you think he’ll stick around? This business model depends entirely on you staying in his good graces.”

Blitzø frowned. “No– what– I mean, yeah, we’re friends, I guess, sort of? But if he just wanted to hang out with me, he wouldn’t have to do all this. I’m telling you, he’s just bored as shit and this is entertainment for him. We just gotta make sure it doesn’t get stale, y’know?” Because at least that way, there was still a chance of keeping this going even after Stolas got bored with Blitzø himself. Or when Blitzø did something to piss him off bad enough, whichever came first. They wouldn’t always have to both go to each other’s meetings, once they got a better feel for what the other needed to know, and Stolas could always interface with Moxxie if he didn’t want to see Blitzø’s fucked-up face anymore.

And sure, if Blitzø could keep him entertained for now, that’d be great for several reasons, but it wasn’t why Stolas was doing this.

Moxxie was tearing at his hair, but Millie was looking at Blitzø, way too fucking gently. “Don’t listen to Moxxie, hun,” she said to him, and Moxxie made a deeply offended noise. “I mean, do listen to Moxxie, ‘cause he’s right. But you’re not gonna fuck it up, okay? He clearly likes you a lot! He’ll stick around.”

Blitzø squinted at her to cover up the soupy, syrupy way her words made him feel inside. “I don’t need him to stick around for me, Mills. I need him to stick around for money, okay?” Friendship with Stolas was a nice bonus, but it wasn’t the point, and Blitzø definitely didn’t need it. And he sure as shit didn’t need anything more from Stolas, even if Stolas was willing to give it, which he wasn’t. And yeah, he was insanely hot, but Blitzø could be friends with tons of hotties without fucking them–present company included! And anything past that was so beyond idiotic that Blitzø refused to even think about it. Which is why he hadn’t! Ever!

Millie put her hands up. “Alright. I won’t push it.”

“Good, ‘cause there’s nothing to push!”

Moxxie rolled his eyes and Millie patted Blitzø’s hand, and he wished for a second he was back as an imp so he could hiss at them and scuttle off into a dark corner with his tail curled all the way around himself.

Instead, he just forked over M&M’s share and got the fuck out.

Chapter Text

Blitzø kicked his feet up on the couch and checked his messages for the millionth time in the last few days. Moxxie had been able to update their ad with a single glowing testimonial, which was great. But so far? No more bites.

They had done a hit job for one of Virginia’s friends... Sawndra, or something... at least. The hit wasn’t on Sawndy’s husband, surprisingly, but her affair partner’s ex-husband who was blackmailing them over said affair. Blitzø had offered half-off on Swandra's husband (both the price and the body, if she wanted!), to get him out of the way, too, but it turned out he already knew about the whole situation and was fine with it. Maybe it was less of an affair and more of a lavender marriage thing? Blitzø didn’t quite get the details there. Either way, Swandora said none of the three of them really wanted it aired out in public. But Blitzø honestly thought she seemed more offended by the blackmail attempt than anything else.

Anyway, they killed the blackmailer and got paid, so, job well done, go team. But still, no bites on the good stuff.

Blitzø put his phone down on his chest and stared up at the ceiling. For some reason (he absolutely knew the reason), he felt like he had a lot of pent up energy today. He was jittery. He needed something to think about, something to plan, something to–

His phone buzzed and he nearly knocked it on the floor in his rush to pick it up and see if it was Moxxie letting him know they had a job.

And it must've been fucking opposite day, because it was Stolas, and when else would he have actually fucking rathered it was Moxxie?

Stols: What kind of snacks would you like this evening? I've had my chefs prepare a wide variety of nibbles for us, but I am embarrassed to admit it has only just now occurred to me to directly ask what you would enjoy.

Blitzø sighed. Shit. He'd really wanted to have another client lined up by the time their scheduled hangout came around. This whole thing was riding on keeping Stolas interested… In their jobs, anyway. Plus, not that this was the point, but Blitzø had nothing else to fucking talk about. They'd already talked about the assassin biz, M&M, Loona… Well, he could definitely talk about Loonie more, but Stolas would probably get sick of that pretty quick. And what else was there? A bunch of shit he didn't wanna talk about, that's what else there was. He couldn't fucking believe he'd used up all his safe topics on their unofficial hangouts. Maybe he'd just let Stols talk the whole time. But he was kinda doubtful Stolas would have much to talk about either, at least that Blitzø could really understand, or that Stolas didn't have some other 8 foot tall gorgeous bird demon friend to talk it over with already… But Blitzø could pretend to be interested! Probably.

No, fuck, he was absolute dogshit and pretending to be interested in shit he couldn't understand.

Damn, it'd be a metric fuckton lot easier if this was just a hookup, instead. He could do hookups. God, he'd show Stolas the time of his fucking life, and have fun doing it. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd expect to see down there when–er, if, theoretically, he got into Stolas's pants, but if there was anything Blitzø was not, it was picky about the kind of genitals he put his mouth on. Tentacles? Sign him the fuck up. Teeth? Tricky but doable for sure. Some kinda bird dick? Fuck yeah. Wait, what did bird dicks look like anyway?

He moved to Google “owl dicks” and RIP his search history, but then he realized he'd been staring blankly into space thinking way too fucking hard about whatever Stolas was packing, while leaving Stolas himself on read.

Whoops.

Blitzø: nethngs ok

Blitzø: sum stuff witout rats maybe

Stols: Are you sure? It's no trouble if you have any specific requests! Perhaps I can list the menu thus far and you can point out any gaps you feel are lacking in my preparations? In regards to their ingredients, I can assure you no members of the order Rodentia will be gracing our table this evening!

Stols: Correction, my chef has prepared a small amount of vole jerky at my previous request. I will point it out to you and you may try it if you like, or I can separate it from the other selections if you'd rather not. I don't want you to be uncomfortable with anything. I could also provide a list of ingredients that have gone into each snack, if you like.

Blitzø snorted. Maybe Stolas could just talk about the snacks the whole time. Blitzø could listen to that without wanting to off himself, probably.

Blitzø: nah birdy im gud

Blitzø: ill try ur vole

“And your hole!” Blitzø crowed to himself and cackled like a dumbass.

“What the fuck, Blitzø?” Loona shouted from her room.

Blitzø jumped. Shit, she was so quiet sometimes; he'd forgotten she was home. “Nothing, sweetie! Nevermind!”

Blitzø: how bowt drnks?

Blitzø: byob?

Stols: Of course! I have an array of wines and liquors available for us to choose from, as well as mixers for cocktails. Oh! Would it be fun to have our own bartender for the evening? My chefs usually go home for the evening before our scheduled hangout time, but I can ask if one of them would be available to stay for a few hours extra!

Stols: Paid, of course.

Stolas: And I suppose it would be best if you also assumed your imp disguise for the evening if we do that. Perhaps it was not such a good idea after all. Unless you are more comfortable maintaining that form while you're here, anyway? It is up to you!

Stols: Also, may I ask, what do you mean by “byob”? I'm afraid I can't quite parse the question.

Blitzø: nah no baetendr ill mix u sum drnks if u wantem

Stols: How fun! I'm looking forward to it! Perhaps you could show me how, and we'll make each other drinks!

Blitzø: byob birng ur own beer

Blitzø: askn shud i brng sum?

Stols: Oh, I see! No need, unless you have a particular fondness for something I would have trouble sourcing in Hell. It's not impossible, of course, if you let me know what you would like specifically. But if you'd, say, rather surprise me, I am entirely open to new experiences this evening!

Blitzø snorted. Come on.

Blitzø: k

Stols: Speaking of, however–I don't typically keep beer in the house. I'm much more partial to wine or a fruity cocktail or two. Would you prefer beer? I can have an array of popular Hell brands picked up! Is there a particular sort you like? Dark? Hoppy? What else? I'm afraid I don't know much about beer.

Blitzø: shur beers gud ne kind

Stols: Then I shall provide plenty of options for you to choose from.

Blitzø: thx

Stols: You are very welcome, of course! Unless you have any additional requests (in which case, please feel free to express them!), I suppose I will leave you to the rest of your day, and I will see you this evening. Know that I am looking forward to it most ardently!

Blitzø sighed and did a quick google. “Ardently”? Why not just say “enthusiastically”, bird brain? Yeah, Blitzø wouldn't be able to spell it, himself, but at least he knew what it meant.

Blitzø: me 2

—

With little else to do, Blitzø spent the rest of the day watching random episodes of MLP:FiM for the millionth time each.

And, could he just say? Fuck Spike. Nobody wanted to watch a cartoon about a stupid, shitty little lizard, okay? He was here for the ponies.

—

Later, Blitzø strolled extremely casually down to his van, not feeling at all self conscious about the fact that he'd been so wracked with indecision about what kind of Earth beer Stolas might like that he hadn't gone and picked up anything at all. Whatever. Stolas said he didn't even like beer.

Blitzø: k m n teh van

Blitzø: portl me bby

The same, small portal Blitzø was starting to get used to opened in front of him and he ducked through.

He stepped out into a room that, while it had to be somewhere in Stolas’s palace, Blitzø couldn’t remember having seen before. But it’d also been a couple of decades, so it’s possible it’d just changed a lot. And, shit, the owner of this place was a magic bird demon who’d inherited it from another magic bird demon, so for all Blitzø knew, the whole layout changed every other Thursday or some shit. The point was, he didn’t recognize the room, with its massive purple couch thing against one wall and equally massive TV hung in a fancy golden frame on the opposite wall.

Probably for the best. If he’d had a chance back then to watch TV, they wouldn’t have done a single other thing the entire time he’d stayed with Stolas. But his behavior was definitely different now, and better, and he hadn’t just spent the day watching cartoons.

“Welcome, Blitzy!” Stolas gushed while Blitzø took in the room. The big bird himself was wearing a weird combination of fancy black slacks and a white cotton tee-shirt with a weird little… apple skull guy thingy? printed on the front, on top of which he’d layered a fancy little bright red capelet. The dark red underside swirled with some sort of magical starry-sky effect.

“Hey Stols. Cool cape,” Blitzø tossed out.

Stolas laughed, embarrassed. “Oh, this old thing? Well thank you, it’s part of a series I had commissioned last year. And I so rarely get the chance to wear any of them, but I do adore them, and I thought well, why not!” He smoothed his hands down awkwardly over the front of his tee-shirt. “I do hope I haven’t ‘dressed down’ too far for the occasion. I wanted to create a casual vibe, but perhaps–”

Blitzø’s lips twitched into a bit of a grin. “Nah, I like it. Very casual. The cape really makes it, though.”

“You’re looking quite nice this evening, yourself, Blitzø,” Stolas said, clearly ready to move on from the discussion of his own outfit.

Blitzø looked down at himself like he couldn’t remember taking the 40 minutes just before this to pick out an outfit.

And ending up with more or less what he usually wore.

“Huh, sure. Thanks,” he said.

They looked at each other, awkward as fuck about it, and Blitzø tried desperately to come up with something to say that wasn’t ‘Yeah my outfit’s boring, and yours is weird, but I’ve got such a huge fucking crush on you, you could be wearing a potato sack and it’d be working for me right now.’ And then he had to try to drag his brain past the realization that, oh, shit, he had a huge fucking crush on Stolas.

“Should we have a drink?” Stolas offered, way, way too brightly.

“Fuck yeah,” Blitzø said.

Stolas stepped past Blitzø, gesturing for him to turn and look, and Blitzø saw on the other side of the room, behind where the portal had opened, were multiple tables full of snacks and drinks.

“Wow,” Blitzø said, following him over. “Were you planning to have, like, ten more people over?”

Stolas looked distressed at that thought. “Oh, ah, no! Just you! Did you want– I can–”

“Relax, birdie, it was just a joke,” Blitzø said.

Mostly a joke, anyway. It was a lot of fucking food and drinks.

“Oh, I see!” Stolas chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I wanted to make sure we had options!”

Like Stolas’s outfit, the snacks were a weird mix of fancy and casual. There was an open carboard box of something labeled ‘Hex Mix’ right next to a plate of painstakingly-assembled fresh fruit tarts, next to some little meat and cheese rolls, next to a massive bowl of plain potato chips, next to a bowl of what looked like dried-out microwaved popcorn, next to what looked like fresh-popped popcorn glistening with an array of drizzled-on sauces and glittering with artfully-sprinkled toppings. And that was just what he saw at first glance.

“Yeah, we… definitely do,” Blitzø said.

Stolas pointed to a bowl near the back with some small, tender-looking pieces of dried meat. “For your awareness, the vole jerky. Please do not feel obligated to try it.”

Blitzø reached over several other bowls and plates and little individualized serving cups to snag a few pieces of the vole jerky out of the indicated bowl. He popped them all in his mouth in one go and chewed for a moment, evaluating. “Not bad,” he said, truthfully.

Stolas beamed. “How about that drink?” he offered, gesturing to the next table over.

There, the selection was still wide, but as far as Blitzø could recognize, which admittedly wasn't a lot, it all seemed to be top shelf stuff. He picked up a classy, bee-themed bottle, more or less at random. “Is this, like, mead or something?” he asked.

“No,” Stolas said, “though there is a bottle of mead, just there with the wines, if it’s something you enjoy. But that, my dear, is Beezlejuice. It’s quite potent, favored and distributed by the Queen of Gluttony herself, Beezlebub. It’s very popular, though I’m not especially partial to it, myself. Would you like to try a glass?”

“Yeah, why not? Hit me,” Blitzø said, handing Stolas the bottle.

Stolas gleefully took two delicate crystal tumblers from a small pyramid stacked at the end of the table. “Ice?” he asked, picking up a pair of tiny tongs from a small metal canister and clicking them twice.

“Nah,” Blitzø said, not having any idea if he liked his fuckin’ Beezlejuice on the rocks or what.

“Very well.” Stolas poured a generous amount of the honey-yellow liquid into the tumbler and handed it over to Blitzø. He then closed the bottle and put it back with the others before waving an evaluating hand over the rest and landing on a squat, bright green bottle. He uncorked it and poured some of its contents, also bright green, into his own tumbler, and apparently he wasn’t a big ice guy, either. He picked up his glass and turned toward Blitzø, while the bottle, surrounded in a faint purple magical glow, flew into the air behind him and re-corked itself before settling back in its original spot. “To a successful first job completed!” He announced, holding his drink out for a toast.

Blitzø grinned and clinked his own glass against Stolas’s. “To Hanging Out,” he said.

Stolas hooted a small laugh, and they both tipped back a generous gulp.

Blitzø looked down at the rest of his drink, pleasantly surprised. Damn, he could drink a lot of this. It’d be a real bad idea, but…Well, would it really be that bad of an idea?

He tossed the rest back and grinned at Stolas, feeling the warmth in his chest already. “Damn, birdie, that shit’s good. Hit me again,” he said, thunking his glass back down onto the table-slash-makeshift-bar.

Stolas tittered and tossed back the rest of his own glass, then set it delicately down next to Blitzø’s. He waved Blitzø over to the huge purple couch while he repeated the pouring process. “I’ll be right over with the drinks and, say, the popcorn?” he suggested.

“Make it the fancy popcorn, pretty bird,” Blitzø said, grinning and eyeing the rest of the snacks. He grabbed the platter of those little cheesy meat roll guys too and happily trotted off to the couch. He thought about asking for some hot sauce, but Stolas would probably call one of his little butler imps and have them go buy like 17 different varieties, and Blitzø was not that desperate for his favorite snack combo.

He hopped up on the purple monstrosity and got comfortable against one of the arms, sticking his tray of fancy finger food down on the cushion next to him. He happily picked up one of the little rolls and tossed the whole thing in his mouth. Chomping down on it, he was surprised at the burst of heat on his tongue, along with the sharp cheese and the mild cured meat. He picked up another one, curious, and squished it little until a small amount of filling squeezed out onto an outstretched finger on his opposite hand. It wasn’t exactly hot sauce, but not far off; some kind of bright red, spicy concoction.

Stolas came over at that moment, with both drinks in his hands, and the bowl of fancy popcorn bobbing gently along behind him in another cloud of magic. “Oh, how do you like them?” Stolas asked, holding out Blitzø’s drink and indicating the snack roll in Blitzø’s hands. “I’m so pleased you picked those out in particular!”

Blitzø hurriedly licked the spicy gunk off his finger and took his glass. “They’re fuckin’ awesome,” he said, popping the squashed remains of the roll in his mouth, too. Stolas beamed at him, swaying playfully side-to-side in delight. “Are these, like, something your chef makes for you a lot?” Blitzø asked, swallowing it down.

“No, I–” Stolas looked at him, head cocked a little quizzically. “I can’t taste the spiciness of the filling, myself. I just thought, well–” He stammered a bit, then smiled again. “I’m very pleased that you like them.”

Eh, well, given the amount of hot sauce he'd drenched his food with at the diner a week or two ago, he guessed it wasn't exactly a stretch for Stolas to figure out he liked spicy shit. He (or his chef, maybe) had gotten it pretty much spot-on, too, with the cheese and everything. Blitzø showed his appreciation for them by popping another two in his mouth at once. “Didja wanna watch a movie or something?” He asked around a mouthful of snack roll.

Stolas sat with his own drink at the opposite end of the sofa and the bowl of popcorn settled itself between them, on the other side of Blitzø’s platter. “Yes, I thought we might!” Stolas said, picking up a remote control from his arm of the couch and showing it off like it was a fabulous gameshow prize. Then he glanced at a clock on the wall. “We have time for a shorter one, if that sounds like fun to you!”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Blitzø said, but he grimaced a little. “Yknow, don’t… Don’t fuckin’ worry about the time, Stols. I’m not turning into a fuckin’ pumpkin three hours in or anything. We can watch, I dunno, fuckin’ Titanic, if you want.”

“Titanic?” Stolas gasped in delight. “I haven’t watched Titanic in ages!”

“I– Fuck– not literally,” Blitzø said, not in the mood to end up as a sniffling, snotty mess on Stolas’s couch tonight.

Stolas seemed to school his expression. “No, no, of course not.” He took a gulp of his drink, which reminded Blitzø to take one too, so he did. Stolas cleared his throat. “Some sort of… Action movie, then?” he suggested.

Blitzø liked action movies fine enough. “Uh, sure, if you want, ” he said, because suggesting they watch Spirit seemed something more like third date territory. Er. Third hangout.

“Oh, I have just the thing,” Stolas said, pulling up a ‘Voxflix’ app on his TV and scrolling through the options. Wow, there was a lot of porn on Hell-Netflix! Blitzø watched it all scroll by in fascination.

Anyway, Stolas was rambling on about the movie he was looking for. “I can’t quite recall what it was called, but I know it has, oh, what’s his name in it… An imp, very handsome, hmm…” His eyes darted to Blitzø, then back awkwardly back at the TV. “I mean, uh, so Octavia says,” he said with a forced laugh. Then he grimaced hard. “I mean, not Octavia, no. Just no. Um, a friend of mine said so.”

Blitzø took a sip of his drink to stop himself from laughing. He tried to keep a straight face and a casual tone as he asked, “Oh really? What’s your friend’s name?”

“Vass– er– Van..drealphus?” Stolas gulped his own drink and magicked the bottle of bright green liquor over. He went to pour another glass but then seemed to think better of it and took a swig straight from the bottle, still clicking his way through Voxflix’s catalogue. “Oh, here it is!” He shouted, then, under his breath he mumbled, “thank Lucifer.”

Blitzø was laughing outright now. “Well you should invite ol’ Vandelpus to our next hangout, he sounds like a real cool guy,” he said, not willing to let this one go.

“He’s not,” Stolas said drily, clicking through to his movie of choice and starting it up. The opening credits started up on screen.

Blitzø snorted. “Y’know, it’s okay if you’ve got a thing for imps,” he teased. “I know you thought my impsona was a li’l cutie pie.” He waggled his eyebrows, then downed the rest of his own drink. “Hey, float that beetlejuice over here, will ya?”

Stolas rolled his eyes (probably. It was still kinda hard to tell) but magicked the bottle over into Blitzø’s hand. “Betelguese is a star in the constellation Orion. You’re looking for Beezlejuice.”

“Fuck yeah I am,” Blitzø said, slopping some into his cup and putting the bottle on the ground in front of him. He wasn’t quite at drinking straight out of the bottle levels yet, even if Stolas had jumped straight for that option. A glass of wine or a cocktail or two Blitzø’s ass. Stols clearly knew how to party.

“In any case, I do not have a thing for imps! I don’t have a thing for any–” Stolas took another gulp from his bottle, cutting himself off. “Well, I don’t have a thing for imps. Not in particular, anyway. And that wasn’t even the thing I was trying to– I mean–”

Blitzø cackled. “The thing you were trying to cover up?” he asked. He put his platter of tasty cheese rolls down on the floor next to the Beezlejuice and reached over for some popcorn.

“Oh, shut up,” Stolas said, though there was very little heat behind it.

Blitzø laughed some more, settling back into the couch, starting to feel really warm and comfortable. “Mind if I take off my boots?” he asked.

Stolas gestured with his bottle to his own, perpetually bare feet, one eyebrow raised sassily.

“Yeah, alright,” Blitzø mock-grumbled, kicking his boots off and propping his feet up on the couch. “I dunno what the fuckin’ protocol is when you walk straight from your van into someone’s fuckin’ TV room, okay?”

“To be honest, I can’t say it ever came up in my own etiquette classes,” Stolas said. “But do feel free to be shod or unshod in my home as you like, dear. Now hush, the movie is starting.” And he focused his attention on the screen.

Blitzø, for his part, sipped his drink and spent most of the first 20 or so minutes of the movie contemplating how, if he were a little bit taller, or the couch were a little bit shorter, he could slip his little socked toes right in the space under that bird thigh over there. He wouldn’t be able to feel the feathers, but he’d bet it’d be real warm under there anyway. He noticed after a while that he’d had a goofy smile plastered on his face for who knew how long now–and that smile was some variation of a pretty familiar one that meant he was truly on his way to drunk-town. He should probably slow it down.

He had just finished his drink, though, and it was nice to have something to sip on, so he leaned down for the bottle and poured himself another glass. Maybe he should just eat more? It’s not like he’d had dinner. He stretched over and grabbed the popcorn bowl, but struggled a little bit pulling it back towards himself, his coordination a little on the drunkie side already.

“What are you doing over there?” Stolas asked, peering at Blitzø. He didn’t look quite as tipsy as Blitzø felt, despite having matched or maybe exceeded Blitzø’s pace. “Have you been paying attention? Do you need me to rewind?”

“I’ve been paying attention!” he objected, though what he’d been paying attention to definitely hadn’t been the movie. He glanced up at the screen. There was a muscular imp on screen, with a thick mane of flowing, white hair between his tall, gently curving horns. His face was white-scarred across one cheek with what looked like jagged claw marks, and Blitzø wondered if they were real or just applied makeup. He was disassembling a gun in a really unnecessarily sexy way, the muscles of his back flexing and highlighted by the tight white tanktop he wore. “Hey, is that that super handsome imp guy you like?” Blitzø asked, pointing at the screen.

Stolas put his face in his hands and sighed. “No. Well. That is the male lead, yes.”

“Pshh,” Blitzø said. “He’s not that hot.”

Though, actually, he kinda was that hot.

Stolas sighed again and took a long draw from the acid green bottle he was still holding in his pretty talons.

“Whatcha got in there, anyway?” Blitzø asked, taking a sip of his own drink. Hm, it was pretty low already. Wasn’t he going to slow down or something?

“Oh, this?” Stolas held up the bottle. “Absinthe. Would you like some? ”

Blitzø coughed on his Beezlejuice. “Seriously? Absinthe?”

Stolas blinked at the bottle, then back at Blitzø. “Yes?”

“Damn, pretty bird, you are not a cheap date.”

Stolas’s feathers fluffed up and his face went red. “What– I– What? What does that even mean?” he sputtered.

Blitzø laughed loud, the force of his drunken guffaw curling him up off the couch arm. “Sorry,” he gasped, flopping back down, “I keep forgetting you grew up locked in a tower in another dimension and shit. It just means you can really hold your liquor! Like, say I took you out to dinner,” he grinned flirtatiously. “And I’m paying for all your drinks. You’re either ending the night stone cold sober, or I’m paying a fuckin’ arm and a leg to get you even a little bit tipsy.”

Stolas looked like he didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. He definitely still looked flustered. “I see,” he said.

“Oh, and paying an arm and a leg means–”

“I know what paying an arm and a leg means!” Stolas cut in, bitchily, and hot damn but Blitzø really fucking liked him, holy shit.

He laughed again, leaning in. “We’re in Hell, pretty bird! Thought maybe you’d take it literally!”

Stolas shot him a sour, sideways glance. “I think I’ve learned by now not to take anything you say literally,” he said, a hint of venom in his voice.

Blitzø frowned and reared back, suddenly off-kilter. “Huh? The fuck does that mean?” he asked.

Stolas blinked a few times, seeming just as surprised as Blitzø at what he'd said–or at least how he’d said it. He brought a hand to his mouth, then laid it on his chest. “I’m sorry, Blitzø,” he said with sincerity, “that was uncalled for.”

Blitzø shrugged, still off-balance, but finding it a little hard to stay on the pissed off side of it, with that immediate apology and all. He settled back against his arm of the couch, eyeing Stolas a little warily. “Dunno, can't really say if it was called for or not. Just don't know what you meant by it.”

He watched Stolas turn his attention back to the movie for a bit, gazing thoughtfully at the screen. Blitzø glanced over– the hot imp dude was flirting with some equally hot demon chick who didn't look like an imp, but Blitzø wasn't sure exactly what she was.

“Nothing I have any right or reason to say,” Stolas said eventually. Blitzø must've looked as confused as he felt, because Stolas continued on, “That is to say, I've been sorting myself out a bit lately. It's an uncomfortable process sometimes, and I fear I've just taken some of it out on you without intending to.”

Well fuck, he'd drink to that. Blitzø held his cup in the air in a mock toast. “Hey birdie, you're looking at a master in taking my shit out on other people and feeling even shittier about it later.” He finished off the last gulp or two of his Beezlejuice. “So I won't hold it against you.”

“Much appreciated,” Stolas said with a soft, embarrassed smile, and he took a long sip from his fucking bottle of absinthe. Huh. Ridiculous bird.

Blitzø gave up trying to watch the movie–not that he'd tried very hard to begin with–and just watched Stolas. He was... ridiculous, yeah, but also just… real fucking pretty. Real fucking pretty bird right there. Way too pretty to stay mad at. Shit, honestly? Blitzø was crazy lucky just to be here with him, and even if it made him the biggest fucking simp on Earth or in Hell, he found himself thinking that he didn't even care that he didn't get to fuck that pretty bird.

Well– like– he cared. Like, he definitely wanted to fuck Stolas. Real bad. So fucking bad he felt kind of crazy over it, actually.

But he also didn't care. ‘Cause Stolas might not actually want anything Blitzø could give him, but he'd decided that Blitzø himself was good enough to count for some kind of repayment on the favors he was doing for the business. And fuck, if Blitzø had ever had any self-respect, it'd clearly gone belly up and died a long time ago, but being good enough for Stolas made him so goddamn happy it was seriously kind of pathetic.

Which was why he'd been trying really, really hard not to think about it.

But here he was, like, 80% of the way to seriously fucking trashed, ‘cause what did they even put in this Beezlejuice shit? And he was right where he wanted to be, and it was hard not to be over the fucking moon about it.

And even though Stols was eventually gonna realize Blitzø was, very simply, not actually good enough, Blitzø was happy enough until then that he wouldn't change a fucking thing. He'd wave at that dumb, cute little bird kid in his father’s summoning circle a thousand times, given the chance.

Then, as though he'd heard Blitzø thinking about it, Stolas asked, “How much do you remember? About the week you spent here when we were children?” He said it quietly, and Blitzø had to strain to hear him over the movie, which was blaring gunfire and incoherent shouting at the moment.

Blitzø scrambled up off his side of the couch and leaned over Stolas to grab the remote. He mashed the volume down button until he could hear himself think, then leaned over Stolas again to place the thing back down on the arm where it'd been. When he looked back towards Stolas, he seemed to be blushing heavily under his feathers. Blitzø wasn't sure if that was the alcohol or the climbing all over him.

“Stols, I can barely remember my own name at this point.” He leaned down off the couch and grabbed the Beezlejuice bottle, then sat back next to Stolas and took a gulp. Felt like he was at that “straight from the bottle” point, now. “But, yeah, I mean, shit. I remember it. Why d’you ask?”

“I don't know.” Stolas looked away and downed the last of his own bottle. He waved a hand and a tall, slim bottle of something bright blue floated over. He grabbed it out of the air and uncorked it, then took a drink and grimaced. What the hell was in there? Stolas’d barely batted an eye downing a full bottle of absinthe in an hour. Blitzø decided he didn't even want to know. Stolas smiled gently and glanced over at him. “You told me, you know, that you enjoy the pairing of cheese with spice.”

Blitzø raised his eyebrows. “Oh. I did?” Shit, he didn't even realize the cheese and hot sauce thing went back so far. He thought he'd invented it in his 20s. But he had used to slather hot sauce all over those shitty fish sandwiches, and– “Oh shit, the fire fish!” He blurted out, suddenly remembering.

Stolas smiled. “Fire koi,” he said. “Yes.”

“Shit, you remember that, of all fuckin' things?”

Stolas laughed, but it was a little melancholy. “Well, while I'm sure I don't truly remember every second of our time together with perfect clarity, it certainly feels as though I can recall each moment.” He flushed a deeper red and glanced away. “I've thought of you often over the years, Blitzø.”

Blitzø's chest felt tight. He really didn't want to cry on Stolas's couch. That was the whole point of skipping Titanic, for fuck’s sake. “Me too, I guess,” he heard himself mumble. Even though Stolas had to know that. He'd seen how Blitzø still kept his letter with him.

“Th-then, do you remember,” Stolas swallowed. “A conversation we had one night about my future wife? My, well, she is currently my wife, but at the time…”

“Yeah, I remember that fucking fucked up scenario you laid out for me. Got some questions about how that all went down if you're in the mood to talk about it,” Blitzø said, and then immediately regretted it when Stolas turned away.

“I'm not,” he said.

“Right. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “What did you wanna say, then?”

“Well, you… you asked me a question. I didn't know how to answer it at the time…it hadn't ever occurred to me until then… But, well, for quite a while now, I've come to understand why it so confused me… and–”

A lightbulb went off in Blitzø's head, and he couldn't keep his fucking mouth from running like a fucking idiot. “Fuck, Stols, is this about you being gay? Are you seriously trying to come out to me right now?”

Stolas blinked at him, jaw dropped. “How did you know?” He squawked, then he flushed bright red and then took several more gulps of his drink.

“Woah, slow down there buddy,” he said, pulling at Stolas's arm until he lowered the bottle. “How did I know? I mean, I didn't exactly realize it was a fucking secret!”

“I have a wife and child, Blitzø!”

“Yeah, that you were fucking forced to marry and create, respectively!”

“But that's– I mean– I never said! I didn't even know until…”

Blitzø couldn't help it. It really wasn't funny, but he found himself laughing hysterically. “Stolas, fuck! Why d’you think I even asked? And of course I remember that fucking conversation–you think I was just gonna fucking forget the first time I met another queer kid?” 'Course, both Barbie and Fizz had also turned out to be queer, so he'd actually been fucking surrounded from the start. But 11 year old Blitzø hadn't known that. 11 year old Blitzø had only hardly known he was queer.

Stolas gasped dramatically and Blitzø wondered again how the fuck this bird had thought he was in the closet. “Another queer kid? You mean– You–”

Blitzø felt like he was taking crazy pills. “Stolas. I'm like the fucking poster boy for pansexuality. How did you not–”

Stolas threw himself, sobbing, into Blitzø's arms. “Oh, Blitzy! You have no idea how I've longed for someone who understands!”

Blitzø's booze-addled mind registered soft feathers and a floral scent and skinny but strong arms and warm wet breath on his ear, and a switch fucking flipped. He dragged in a shuddering breath and tugged Stolas in closer, digging his fingers deep into a slim feathered shoulder and up the back of his silly shirt to mash into more of the silky soft feathers he found there, suddenly desperate to feel that soft, skinny body against his own– to try to get his mouth on Stolas anywhere he could reach– to rile him up and see this owl fucking squirm on his fingers, his tongue, his cock. Whatever he could get on him or against him or in him.

But– No– Because Stolas was wailing into his shoulder, “You have no idea how much it means to me! That the person I can talk to–the person who understands what I've been through– how I feel is– It's you, Blitzy! My first ever friend!”

Blitzø froze, and the room spun around him.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. That's not what this was. That's not what Stolas needed from him, or wanted from him. He needed a fucking friend–he’d practically said so, so many times and Blitzø hadn't been fucking listening–and here Blitzø was, trying to get into his sexy little fancy fucking tailored pants! Blitzø told his drunken, horny, dipshit brain to shut the fuck up and go back to its corner. He closed his eyes and got a fucking grip.

Then, when he thought he could handle himself, he took another , shower deep breath and hugged Stolas even tighter to him. Cupped the back of his feathery head in one hand, and just let the bird sob into his neck. “There there, pretty bird,” he said soothingly, petting the soft feathers under his fingers. “I gotcha.”

He held on while Stolas continued to sob, but after a little while, Blitzø realized absently that he was actually getting super fucking uncomfortable, physically, crunched up like this around Stolas, hugging him with every drunken muscle in his body. So he moved them to sit back at his end of the couch, dragging his quietly wailing birdie along with him. Stolas came along pliantly, seemingly unwilling to let go of his grip around Blitzø's shoulders or remove his face from Blitzø's neck, and they ended up stretched out along the couch together, Stolas sprawled limply over Blitzø's chest. The long-ass owl took up the full length of the massive couch, where Blitzø, reclined as he was, didn't even reach the halfway point.

Stolas gave a pathetic little sniffle and Blitzø rubbed gently up and down his back, resisting the still-present, fuckboy-ass temptation to drift lower and lower. “You always such a weepy drunk, birdie?” Blitzø asked, gently.

Stolas laughed wetly into Blitzø's shoulder. “Not always, no.” He sighed. “Honestly, I'm more often just a numb sort of drunk.”

“Pfft,” Blitzø laughed softly. “We gotta get you fun-drunk sometime. One’a these hangouts, we'll get you in your human disguise and go to a club or something.”

“A– a gay club?” Stolas asked, quietly and a little hopefully.

Blitzø shivered a little at the feeling of soft feathers against his neck and warm breath on his skin. He tamped that reaction down and smiled. “Sure Stols, if you want.” Oh, but, shit. He hadn't considered: “You're gonna get a lot of attention at a gay club, though. You ready for that?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Stolas said doubtfully. “My human form is so twiggy. Well, both my forms are, but it'll be my human form at the club.” He pulled from Blitzø's grasp slightly to hold up one arm in example of his "twiggy"ness, though he didn't move his face from where it was still planted in the crook of Blitzø's neck. “I don't think anyone will be terribly interested,” he said right into that crook, and he let his arm flop back down.

“I don't even have the fucking words for how wrong you are, pretty bird,” Blitzø said, shivering again. Well, it was a good thing he had a lot of fucking practice running off creeps for his much hotter friends. It'd practically been a full time job keeping them off Fizz whenever they'd gone out with those shitty fake IDs. Back before, well… He sighed. This night had him thinking a lot about his life before, apparently.

“You'll dance with me if no one else will, won't you?”

“I'm telling you, that's not gonna be a problem for you. But yeah, sure, I can be your backup plan.”

“Oh Blitzø, I'm so glad you summoned me,” Stolas cried, hugging Blitzø so tight it made him wince. “How is it possible, even after all these years, you're still the best friend I could ever possibly ask for?”

A stab of guilt went through Blitzø at that. Sure, yeah, he was a great fucking friend. Just your weird fucking transactional friend slash business partner slash guy who really can't stop wanting to get his dick wet with you. Mm-hm.

“I guess… I'm just that fuckin’ fantastic,” he said instead.

“You are,” Stolas said firmly, and he finally climbed off Blitzø and retreated back to his own side of the couch. Sad as it was, Blitzø let him go. He'd probably be able to think a little clearer without 8 feet of gorgeous demon sprawled all over him, anyway.

Then he got a look at Stolas's face and a little giggle slipped out of him without asking permission.

“What?” Stolas asked.

“Your eyeliner, uh, ran a little, birdie,” Blitzø said, trying to keep from laughing even more. It was an understatement–Stolas looked like a sad raccoon.

“Oh!” Stolas swiped frantically at his eyes, trying to smooth away the smears. After a few seconds of effort, he still looked a bit like a raccoon, but less like a sad one. More like a slightly more deliberate one.

“Eh, the smokey eye really works for you,” Blitzø commented. “Don't rub your feathers off.”

Stolas blushed, but he quit fussing with his eyes.

They were both silent for a moment, pretending to watch the movie, which was quietly carrying on with a surprisingly graphic sex scene between the hot imp and the hot whatever-she-was. Blitzø glanced slyly over at Stolas, who was getting redder and redder.

“So you thought I was straight?” He asked, unable to wipe the stupid smirk off his face.

“Well I– I don't know! Maybe I suspected not, but– it's just–” Stolas covered his blushing face with both hands and sunk deeply into the couch. “Most people are, aren't they?”

“Are they?” Blitzø asked, very amused. He stretched out a leg and bumped his foot into Stolas’s thigh. “I've known like, one straight person my entire life.”

Stolas shot him a look. “That can't possibly be accurate.”

Blitzø snickered. “Seriously, birdie! One! And she married a bi dude.”

Stolas continued to look skeptical and waved a hand. The popcorn bowl, which had fallen on the floor at some point in their dramatics, floated up to the couch, and he began to munch on what hadn't slipped out of the bowl onto the floor. “And anyway!” he said after a moment of pointedly sassy beak-crunching, “You told me about your ex-girlfriend at lunch last week! I recall hearing nothing about any ex-boyfriends!”

Blitzø snorted, and his mouth rambled way ahead of his brain. “Stols, you really have no excuse here. Practically the first thing I did after I summoned you on Halloween was suggest we fuck.”

Stolas choked on his popcorn. His feathers fluffed up all over and his face went bright red. “I– I, well– I may not be the best at– at picking up nuance, Blitzø, but I do know a joke when I hear one!”

Yeah, but did he, though?

Well, okay, it hadn't not been a joke. At first. But it'd become not a joke real quick when he'd thought Stolas was interested.

“Your ridiculous suggestion hardly could've given me any definitive indication of your actual sexuality. Not when you were proposing something so patently absurd in the first place!”

Blitzø blinked. Oh shit, damn, that kinda stung.

“I mean, you're a human!” Stolas was continuing on, obliviously twisting the knife. “And me, well, I'm a demon. You can't really think– Well, it's frankly insane you stick around long enough to be such a wonderful friend to me, instead of running screaming, like you probably should.”

Blitzø was too fucking drunk for this. Like, alright, fine, whatever. If Stolas was convinced Blitzø's whole dumb thing at the summoning circle had been a ridiculous, unbelievable joke, that was probably less awkward for everyone. Fucking, kinda painful. But less awkward. But, what the actual fuck was the rest of that bullshit he was spewing? Blitzø should be running screaming? No fucking way. “Okay, yeah, you got me! It was a joke, ha ha, I'm hilarious. Definitely, uh, don't want to fuck you.”

Stolas flinched back a little. Shit–maybe that was a little too blunt. He'd overcompensated, had to bring it back.

“BUT,” Blitzø shouted. Yeah, way too fucking drunk to thread this needle with any grace. “But! I mean, you're… I dunno, you're talking like you're fucking… terrifying, or repulsive or something. And…you're not. You’re really not, okay? I fuckin' call you pretty bird like every three sentences like a fuckin’...” Like a massive fucking simp. “Ugh, I dunno. Anyway, that shit’s not a joke, so…”

Stolas peered at him, brow furrowed. “I- It's not?”

“Ugh!” Blitzø ran a hand down his face. “No. I mean, like you said, I'm a human and you're a demon. It's crazy! Fuckin' ridiculous! And we're friends, so, I'm not trying to make it fucking weird, but goddamn if you're not the prettiest fucking demon I've ever fucking seen in my miserable goddamn life.” Oh shit, oh shit, he definitely just made it fucking weird. “I mean. You were a cute fucking kid, Stols–I know I told you that. And you're a cute fucking adult, too. Don't know what else to tell you.”

Stolas gave him a wobbly smile. “Oh. Well, you're very kind, Blitzø,” he said, looking like he was maybe going to start crying again.

Blitzø groaned. “I'm not fucking kind, bitch! I'm just fucking queer as shit and it's fucking embarrassing for both of us that you didn't realize that!”

Stolas hooted a little laugh into his hand and sniffled. “You're right, I suppose. I must apologize for not acknowledging your queerness earlier.”

“Damn straight!” Blitzø said, and Stolas laughed a little louder at that, and Blitzø tried not to melt.

Stolas slowly started munching on his popcorn again and Blitzø rescued his spicy cheese rolls from the floor and started devouring them at a rate he thought he should probably be embarrassed over until they were gone. Eventually Stolas seemed to get distracted by the movie again, and Blitzø glanced at it to see the hot imp jumping out of bed with a gun to mow down some bad guys who were for some reason bursting into the room where he'd just been lovingly dicking down the hot lady demon.

“So that's your type, huh?” Blitzø asked, cheekily.

Stolas glanced over at him, trying and failing to look unamused. “He has a certain appeal,” was all he would say on the topic.

Dammit. Stupid handsome action star imp guy.

Chapter Text

Blitzø ended up staying at Stolas's place way longer than the three hours mandated by their arrangement. In fact, he ended up passing the fuck out on Stolas's couch.

Or at least, he’d thought he’d passed out on the couch. Really all he had were vague impressions of more of that Beezlejuice, until he'd decided it was a good idea to try to entertain Stolas with the fact that he could still walk on his hands even at the ripe old age of 36, except he'd gotten tangled in his shirt somehow and ended up falling on his ass, and Stolas had laughed so hard he'd cried from all four pretty red eyes… And somehow they'd ended up running in the halls of the palace at some point, which they'd done before, a long time ago, but it’d been hard to get his brain to latch on to any kind of specific memory, so he'd eventually stopped trying. And… they'd gone outside, right? On a balcony, with a wide view of the lights of the city that surrounded the palace grounds, and the air had been warm but the breeze was cool, and he remembered Stolas pointing at the sky, telling him about the stars in Hell, which were different from the stars upstairs, and he remembered thinking it might be nice to just lean over a little, just slightly, and put his face against the feathered shoulder next to him, but he couldn't remember if he'd actually done it or not. And that was the last thing he remembered, except being so warm and comfortable and being half-carried, half-allowed to walk, to some kind of soft surface which he'd assumed was the couch.

And he went right on assuming that until the moment he woke up in Stolas's bed. Half on top of Stolas himself.

Honestly? Nice way to wake up. 10/10 would repeat any time Stolas let him.

He could do without the bitch of a hangover, though.

He groaned, burying his face into a chest full of fluffy feathers and clinging to Stolas's shoulders like he was drowning and Stolas was a particularly soft, yet bony, life raft. And suck it, last-night-Blitzø, ‘cause he might or might not have gotten a feathery shoulder to nuzzle, but this-morning-Blitzø got a whole fucking chest floof. And somehow, despite not having woken up cuddling Stolas in almost 25 years, it didn’t feel weird or awkward to be doing it again now. All he felt was that same sense of overwhelming home-ness he’d felt on Halloween when he’d hugged Stolas again for the first time.

Christ, Stolas probably had no idea how fucking hard Blitzø had imprinted on him. And with any luck, he never would.

Stolas yawned and shifted, starting to wake up underneath Blitzø. Blitzø pulled his face out of the soft fluffy feathers just a tiny bit–just far enough to see Stolas’s eyes slowly blink open and his sleepy look of confusion morph into a wide, adorable smile. And Blitzø was bowled over by a wave of affection and not a little bit of horniness, ‘cause fuck Stols was so gorgeous and unfairly sweet, all fucking happy to see Blitzø and shit. And, damn, things hadn’t been awkward before, but they were about to get awkward real quick, ‘cause Blitzø was half a second away from leaning in and kissing that cute little beaked mouth, and maybe only another half second away from rolling his hips over just the tiniest smidge to bring him into full contact with the outside of Stolas’s feathery thigh.

But his phone buzzed, somewhere off the side of the bed, jolting him into awareness, and he was spared the embarrassment of trying to explain why attaching himself to Stolas at the face and hips had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

He practically threw himself out of Stolas’s grasp and rolled sideways off the bed to land in a crouch on the floor, and he quickly found his jeans (which apparently he’d taken off sometime last night, along with his jacket, leaving him in just his little black briefs and a maroon tee-shirt, for fuck’s sake) and dug through the pocket to pull out his phone. He held it up in the air, triumphant though slightly nauseated from the sudden movements, and turned back to Stolas, who was now sitting up in his bed. He was blinking his huge, round red eyes at Blitzø in surprise. And Blitzø realized he may have gone a little over the top in leaning in to the distraction.

“I take it you’ve been expecting a text, then?” Stolas asked, slowly relaxing back and looking amused.

He really hadn’t been.

“Yep!” he said, anyway.

He tried to open the text and put his pants on at the same time, which didn’t really work great, but he eventually managed both, then sat back down on the bed with Stolas.

The text was from Moxxie, and it was actually good news, for once. They’d gotten another bite on their ad. “Lookie here, Stols, we got ourselves another client!” Blitzø said, waving the phone excitedly in the bird's pretty face. “Oh, let’s see if they wanna meet up with us today. We could grab breakfast topside, if you wanna!” He started texting out a reply.

“Oh,” Stolas said, awkwardly.

Blitzø looked up from his text.

Stolas continued, “Actually, I can’t. At least, not today. You can meet with the client yourself if you like. No need to wait on my account.”

“Hey, that’s no problem, birdie!” Blitzø said, feeling inexplicably like he was getting ghosted after a hookup. Was– was this what all his hookups felt like when he was trying to leave in the morning and planning on ghosting them? There was no fucking way. Nobody gave this much of a shit about Blitzø not being down for spending the day together. “I can be patient! We’ll do another day! I mean, it was real helpful having you there last time, y'know. How about you text me your schedule for the next couple days? I’ll set something up.”

“Alright. That sounds wonderful, thank you, Blitzø.” Stolas smiled warmly. “I will let you know.”

Blitzø bit his lip and averted his eyes, looking around the room instead, taking in the differences as he could remember them. Weird, somehow, that he remembered spending a lot of time doodling horses on that patch of floor over there. The rug was different, though. He realized he was jiggling a leg kinda frantically and made himself stop. He glanced back over at Stolas, who was just watching him curiously. “Hey, sorry I passed out on your couch,” he said. “Or, uh, actually your bed, I guess?”

“Oh, it’s certainly no trouble, Blitzy dear. You’re welcome in my bed whenever you like.” Stolas said, apparently innocently. “Or my couch, I suppose, but the bed is more comfortable to sleep on, I can tell you from experience.”

“Hah! Don’t tell me that,” he said, relaxing a little and stretching his back out. It felt the best it’d ever felt since probably his 20s, even if his head was throbbing. “I’ll be here every night with my jammy-jams on.”

“Feel free,” Stolas said.

Blitzø blinked, then laughed. Stolas had a real deadpan sense of humor sometimes. It caught him off guard once in a while. “Funny,” he said.

Stolas laughed too, then. It was a short, nervous laugh, and Blitzø wondered why. Maybe Stols wasn’t used to people laughing at his jokes, either. Though that'd be dumb ‘cause the pretty bird was fuckin’ hilarious. Even when he wasn't trying to be!

“Anyway, it sounds like you’re busy today, so I’ll get out of your feathers. You mind making me a portal?”

“Oh, um, would you like to stay here for breakfast? I have time for that much, at least,” Stolas offered, polite motherfucker that he was.

Blitzø thought longingly about the best pancakes he’d ever eaten. Yeah, they’d been purple, but the memory of them had gotten him through a lot of hungry mornings. Or maybe made those hungry mornings harder? Fifty-fifty, maybe. “Nah,” he said, internally mourning the pancakes. “I should probably get home and make Loonie something. She was probably out all last night and just as hungover as me.”

Stolas waved a hand, and Blitzø’s hangover was gone in an instant.

“What the fuck?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Stolas’s eyebrows raised. “Sorry, should I have asked? I assumed you’d want it gone. They’re terribly unpleasant, in my experience.”

Blitzø shook his head vigorously–not in answer, just to test it out–and the world didn’t spin and he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up. “Shit, that’s a real fuckin handy spell. Can you bottle it and let me bring it back for Loona?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Stolas said, smiling.

“She’s gonna be so jealous,” Blitzø grinned. “Guess her only option is breakfast.”

“Suppose I'll allow you to get to it, then,” Stolas said, and waved a portal open in front of Blitzø. The interior of his van was on the other side.

He grabbed his jacket off the floor and went to step through. “Catch ya later.”

“Thank you Blitzø. By the way…” Stolas looked nervous again. “ I did very much enjoy this hangout. I know it’s an obligation for you, but I appreciate it nonetheless. I was able to… share parts of myself I’ve never expressed before, and you… You listened. It meant– it- it means a great deal to me.”

Blitzø bit his lip. “Yeah, I… No problem, Stols.” It wasn’t much, but he didn’t know what else to say. That it wasn’t really an obligation at all? That he’d take any part of Stolas he wanted to give? That he wanted to stay even longer and just listen to whatever Stolas had to say, all day?

Stolas didn't need that kind of clinginess from him, especially as he was trying to get Blitzø to leave. It didn't matter if those were things Blitzø wanted or not. Admitting them would be a mistake. And, he wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed like maybe suggesting that the whole hangout thing wasn't just a favor for a favor could leave his whole fucking family's souls in danger.

They stared at each other for a long moment, Stolas smiling at him, sweetly and almost sadly. "I'll text you," Blitzø said, then he stepped through the portal and it closed behind him.

—

What followed were a few of the most lucrative months of Blitzø’s life thus far.

Virginia and her friend had been talking them up, apparently, from the Hell angle and the killing angle, respectively. And the job they’d gotten the morning after that first hangout really seemed to’ve opened the floodgates. Only a few months into this whole thing, and they’d set up and completed a good number of jobs now. They were even starting to get into some kind of a rhythm with them. They currently had a few more clients in various stages (with down payments and everything) plus a bunch of inquiries to sort through, and more coming in every couple of days. He was starting to consider paying Loona for a couple of hours a week to go through all the emails and set up meetings for them. As long as it didn’t interfere with her school work or her social life, anyway.

Most of the jobs were way more in line with what he’d expected when he’d first come up with the idea. Less “finding misplaced pets”, and more “offing assholes as payment for the information that would get them paid in turn”. That seemed to suit M&M just fine, and Blitzø wasn’t complaining either. Stolas was even coming up to M&M’s basement once in a while to set up portals directly to their target’s general vicinity, which really saved on the fucking travel costs they’d always had to deal with before when their hits weren't local.

Millie had taken to the portals immediately, squealing in excitement and dashing right through, giggling like the maniac she absolutely was. Moxxie on the other hand, had been predictably nervous about them at first, but he'd gotten over it pretty quick after Blitzø gently ushered him through the first one and he didn't immediately die. (He kept saying Blitzø had actually shoved him through, but Moxxie was a known whiny bitch). And despite the cringe-worthy levels of hostility Moxxie had thrown at Stolas at their first meeting, now that they'd met a few times, the two of them were actually getting along kind of annoyingly well. There was way too much blathering about Phantom of the Opera these days. But Blitzø was dealing.

Stolas also came with Blitzø to most of the initial client meetings, portaling them both there if necessary. He seemed to be having fun developing his questionnaire further with each discussion, which Blitzø definitely should not have found as cute as he did. Blitzø, for his part, liked hearing what information Stolas thought would help him to find sinners the fastest. He was getting a lot of insight into Hell, and he felt like he might eventually be able to run most of the meetings by himself.

Except, he kind of just also liked having Stolas there with him. Specifically, he liked that the clients had a strong tendency to assume he and Stolas were a couple. Like it was believable that he could bag a hottie like Stolas-in-his-human-form. Laughable. Also a little depressing, because he couldn’t, actually, bag that hottie. But it was ego boosting that they thought so!

Blitzø was also going down to Hell a lot, going with Stolas to meet with their sinner contacts once he'd found them. Sinner demons were a real crazy bunch. Blitzø wasn't sure if they were crazy because they were in Hell, or if they were in Hell because they were fucking crazy. Maybe it was sort of a column A, column B situation. And they looked all kinds of fucked up, too! Lots seemed to be animal-like in some way. Some were just weird colors but mostly human-like. But there was a crazy variety of other shit too. One was a fucking standing fan that had to hop around like the fucking lamp from the Brave Little Fucking Toaster.

Blitzø really, really hoped he got a better deal than that when he bit it.

And Mr. Standing Fan had been fucking bloodthirsty to a degree that would've made Millie look downright squeamish by comparison. He'd really struggled to whittle his dream hit list down to a single victim. The verbal process of it was gonna haunt Blitzø's nightmares, and he killed people for a living!

And speaking of which, it was honestly a little uncomfortable discussing the details of his super casual murdering business in front of Stolas, who still seemed to find his disregard for his fellow humans’ lives a little, well, not upsetting, but maybe mystifying. Blitzø had spent some time thinking about asking Stolas to get him one of those crystal thingies so he didn't have to drag Stolas along whenever he came and went from their semi-permanently-booked motel room in Hell. But he also kinda needed Stolas to impify him each time, so he eventually decided the idea was a non-starter.

Funny enough, with Blitzø as an imp and Stolas as his pretty bird-self, no one in Hell seemed to make the same assumptions about their relationship as their counterparts in the living world did. In fact, they usually assumed Blitzø was Stolas’s assistant, or servant or whatever. Until Blitzø started asking the really relevant questions, anyway, which was when they usually realized they were actually there to talk to him.

It pissed him off.

But Blitzø wasn’t going to be able to stop going to those meetings any time soon. Stolas clearly didn’t have the first idea what to ask about for them to locate their targets in the living world. And he couldn’t exactly tell Stolas to beat it after portaling Blitzø there and turning him into an imp, just because some fuckwads in the afterlife didn’t think Stolas was his boyfriend.

But imp-him was extremely fuckable, and could absolutely be banging a prince on the regular. Fuck them for thinking he couldn’t.

Well… yeah, sure, he wasn’t doing that. But that wasn’t the point. The point was, he wanted to!

No, wait. That was just sad, actually.

But it was fun hanging out with Stolas in his big birdie form, anyway, and Stolas didn’t seem to be getting sick of him or the business stuff just yet (though Blitzø was still giving him time…), so why mess with what was working just because everyone in Hell was a huge racist? Speciesist? Demon variety-ist? They were all prejudiced against imps! So fuck Hell. ‘Cause everyone else seemed to pick up on their fun, flirty, will-they-won’t-they vibe when they were both humans, dammit.

—

Loona, for one, had definitely seemed to pick up on it, when she’d come home early one Friday and found him and Stols basically cuddling on Blitzø's couch.

They'd stuck with the palace 'til now as the designated location for their movie nights (and, amazingly, Blitzø had managed to actually go home instead of crashing at Stolas’s place, every time since the first, but he'd also been real careful not to get quite as fucked up as he had that first time), but Stolas had asked to come topside instead for their latest one. He’d pretty pointedly avoided giving a reason why, but Blitzø had no real reason or desire to object.

Loona was going to be out, as she was most Friday nights, and, while Blitzø couldn't exactly treat Stolas to a million and one professionally prepared snack foods, or an endless top-shelf-only liquor cabinet, he did have enough disposable income at the moment to shell out for some semi-decent booze and enough snacks to keep them from going hungry. His TV was a lot smaller than Stolas's, but he'd decided they'd manage somehow. And he was actually, a tiny bit, looking forward to hosting for once.

Stolas showed up in his human form. He seemed to be wary of ever stepping foot in the living world with his feathers on, but Blitzø figured he'd probably be more comfortable on the smaller couch that way, anyway. Blitzø had already had a couple of beers to settle his nerves, and he had been planning on going light for the rest of the night, but Stolas seemed to dig the black label Jack, and the booze seemed to hit him a little harder than usual in his human form, and Blitzø wouldn't be a good host if he let his friend get shitfaced all alone, would he?

So he'd started to pick the pace back up while they, as usual by now, mostly ignored whatever fucking movie they'd put on and talked about nothing and anything. And it was pretty chilly in the apartment, and he really only had the one blanket, so they had to share, obviously. And Stolas turned out to be a blanket hog, so Blitzø had had to get closer and closer just to maintain his half. And Blitzø was just starting to think maybe some of the Terrible Ideas he had on constant loop in his head whenever Stolas was around were maybe actually Really Good Ideas instead. 'Cause his arm had found its way around Stolas's slim shoulders, and Stolas's long legs were thrown casually over his, and Blitzø was having some real trouble getting past the fact that the prettiest man in the world kept giggling and hiding his face in Blitzø's shoulder every time he said something that could remotely be considered funny. And Blitzø was just trying to decide if he thought Stolas would forgive him if he kissed him and things didn't work out the way he was desperately hoping for, or if he was too much of a pussy to even try–

And then Loona came home. Early.

It didn’t help that he hadn't introduced the two of them yet. But she knew by then that Stolas had a human form (because Blitzø couldn't shut the fuck up about him), and she'd known he and Blitzø were planning to hang out that night (because Blitzø couldn't shut the fuck up about it), so she knew exactly who she was dealing with. Blitzø had just neglected to mention that the hangout would be happening in their apartment this month. (Because in the process of never shutting the fuck up, Blitzø also never seemed to say anything useful).

She made a ruckus coming in the door and startled them both, and they jumped apart to opposite sides of the couch. Blitzø had just started to welcome her home and was about to ask if everything was okay, when he noticed her eyes were wide and she was shaking. And she freaked. Way worse than Blitzø would've actually expected even if he had fucking thought about the possibility of her coming home early. Which he hadn't.

She shouted something about bringing a fucking demon into their home and locked herself in her room, and Blitzø had spent way too long at her door trying to coax her back out, making a lot of unnecessary excuses for something as platonic as sitting kinda close together on the couch, forgetting that that wasn't even what she was upset about.

He eventually gave up, after at least managing to get it out of her that nothing bad had happened to make her come home, the party had just been lame. And he wobbled back to the couch. Stolas was still sitting there, awkwardly tucked up in his stupid-cute human form.

“I… ummm… I should gooo,” he said blearily, once Blitzø joined him, safely at the opposite side of the couch.

Blitzø waved him off. “Aww, don’t worry about it, pretty birdie, we can still finish the movie.”

Stolas’s eyes dragged from Blitzø's over to Loona’s closed door. “I– but– this is her space,” he said quietly. He flailed up to kneel on the couch, grabbing at Blitzø's arm and peering right at him with all the drama a distressed drunken bird prince was capable of. Which was a lot. “She should be comfortable in her own home, Blitzy.”

Blitzø winced at that, because Stolas was kinda right. Even though he hadn’t expected her home until much later, and even though he wouldn't have expected that intense reaction… Now that she was here, and upset, she deserved to be able to use the shared spaces without worrying about her dad having demons over for drunk movie nights.

But he also kinda had a deal to fulfill here. “Okay. Well. Has it been three hours?” Blitzø asked flatly, anxious about his split responsibilities and apparently choosing to mask that with indifference.

Stolas’s eyes flashed with hot anger, so quick Blitzø thought he might have imagined it, and he pulled away back to his own side of the couch like he'd been burned. But he only sounded neutral when he said “How about we just say that it has. We usually go long, anyhow.” He sat up straight, very regally if slightly unsteadily. “Consider this month’s hangout debt repaid in full!”

Blitzø gave him a distracted half-smile, mostly looking away. “R-right. Okay. We’ll, uh, finish the movie next time, kay?”

Stolas nodded and opened a portal to his palace right there in front of the couch. “I’m looking forward to it,” he declared dramatically, and then launched himself up off the couch and through, landing surprisingly gracefully on his feet and closing the portal behind him without another word. And then Blitzø was left alone, blinking dazedly at the TV, which was still quietly playing their movie. And then he remembered that this was their second movie of the night, and they hadn't even realized the first one had finished for who the fuck knew how long before putting the second one on. Of course it'd been more than three hours. It'd been like five or six. He'd asked that dumb-ass question for absolutely nothing.

He sighed and turned the TV off, then wrapped the blanket they’d been sharing around his shoulders and wobbled back over to Loona’s door. “He left,” he said with a gentle tap of his knuckles. Not asking for entry, just letting her know he was there.

She was silent so long, he thought she was probably listening to music or had dozed off. But eventually she called through the door, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“S’all good, Loonie. We, uhh, we were about done anyway.”

There was another long pause, then, “Didn’t look like it, but okay.” Another, shorter pause. “I'm putting on my headphones, now.”

Blitzø snorted a laugh and returned to the couch to curl up on the side Stolas had been sitting on. It wasn’t even warm anymore. Shit, he was pathetic.

He was still a little past tipsy and feeling dumb and reckless, so he pulled out his phone and texted Stolas.

Blitzø: ddd i pis uoffg?

He blinked blearily at the screen. That might’ve been more typos than usual. He tried to type “Did I piss you off?” again, with even worse results, but apparently Stolas knew what he meant to say, because his reply came almost immediately.

Stols: No

Stols: Or rather, yes, but it was entirely unfair of me, and you must not hold yourself responsible for my reaction.

Blitzø: y?

Stols: Because you did nothing wrong and my feelings on the matter are unreasonable.

Blitzø sighed and tried to type out a clarification.

Stols: Or were you asking why I was ‘pissed off’ as you put it?

Shit, Stolas was the best.

Blitzø: ys tht

Blitzø: :)

Those three little fucking dots came back and left again a few times, and Blitzø wondered if he could take his little happy face back. He was in the process of carefully typing out an angry face, figuring that would cancel the happy face out and leave them neutral, when Stolas replied.

Stols: When you asked about the time, it was a reminder that these evenings we spend together are merely a form of repayment for my assistance. However, this is a burden that I myself have imposed upon you, and it is unfair of me to resent it. So if you’d like, we can consider the entire debt repaid in full, and end the obligatory “hangouts” immediately.

Then Blitzø did the unthinkable. He pressed the “call” button.

Stolas picked up on the first ring. “Blitzø?” He asked.

“No,” Blitzø said.

“No?” Stolas repeated.

“We're not ending shit, okay? What the fuck?”

Stolas sighed and clicked his beak. He must've been back to pretty bird status. Well. Actual bird status. He was always a pretty bird, even as a human. “I'm not saying I want to stop helping with your business,” Stolas said. “I've been enjoying myself and would like to continue for the foreseeable future. I simply–”

“We're not ending the hangouts, either,” Blitzø stated.

“Blitzø, I–”

“Am I, like, not hanging out with you good enough?” He asked, a little more aggressively than he’d meant to. Just– he wasn't sure he could actually do any fucking better, and that had him– it had him fucking… Feeling some kind of way. Fuck.

Stolas sighed even more heavily. “That’s not it, and you know it.”

“Do I?” Blitzø asked. Cause he was pretty sure he didn’t know shit about shit. He nearly asked again if Stolas wouldn’t rather Blitzø just fuck him once a month instead of this “hanging out” stuff. It’d be easier. He was good at it! Better at it than trying to be a good fucking “friend”, anyway. But the idea was more like wishful thinking–not what Stolas wanted at all–and he knew he'd just come off desperate. “What is it, then? Cause I can't see why else you'd fucking ‘resent’ the hangouts you fucking asked for!”

“Blitzø! I don't resent the hangouts themselves! I--" Stolas groaned in frustration. "I just fucking want you to want to spend time with me!” he snapped.

Well… that threw Blitzø for a loop. “Oh,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Stolas said, voice coming quietly out of the phone. “I know I– I have no right to ask–”

Blitzø growled, suddenly frustrated beyond all sense. “How fucking obvious do I have to be, Stols?”

Stolas stopped short. “I– what?”

Ugh. He briefly entertained the notion that Stolas was secretly way more sadistic than he let on. That this was all just the longest fucking con to torture some dumbass mortal in the history of Hell.

It was surprisingly way easier to believe that than Stolas just… enjoying his company. If that’s what he was even trying to say. And apparently not understanding what a massive fucking simp Blitzø was for him.

“God, you’re so fucking annoying,” he said for some dickish fucking reason. “Fine. I can’t think of a better way to put it right now, so here: I fucking want to spend time with you. Happy?”

Stolas was quiet for a moment. “W- why are you saying this?” He asked, sounding almost hurt.

“Because I want to spend time with you, for fuck’s sake! Why are you making me say this?”

“I’m not!”

“You are! ‘Cause you don’t seem to get how much I fucking–” Fuck! “Listen– we’re– we're friends. If you want to be. I’m your fucking friend, birdbrain. I don’t give a shit about the deal or whatever, I just– ugh. I just want to fucking see you.” God he was so lame. He was gonna fucking throw up, and he wasn’t even nearly drunk enough for that. “The hangouts are whatever! They're just a way to get around the whole soul ownership thing ‘cause you don’t actually want anything from me, right?”

“Well…” Stolas hesitated. “I suppose, maybe.”

“Alright, so, that sounds like a ‘no’. What are they to you?”

“An excuse to spend time with you, Blitzø!” Stolas said, like that should be obvious. “You summon me out of nowhere after 25 years and throw this convoluted plan at me with barely so much as a ‘hello!’ And I– I missed you so terribly, Blitzy! But you weren't asking to be my friend! How else was I supposed to say that I wanted you to be a part of my life again?”

Blitzø rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Fuck it. Hang on,” he said.

“What?! Blitzø!” He heard Stolas squawk as he set his phone down. He found a paper and pen and wrote a quick note for Loona.

He stuck it to the fridge and picked up the phone again. “Can you make another portal to my living room?” he asked.

Stolas said nothing, but a portal opened in front of the couch.

Blitzø stepped through into Stolas's bedroom, with his phone still at his ear.

Stolas was sitting up in his bed, phone at his own feathered ear, “wearing” that same little red robe he’d texted Blitzø a selfie in a few months ago, and looking a lot less drunk than when Blitzø had last seen him, ten minutes ago. Neat trick.

“Hey,” Blitzø said.

“Hello,” Stolas said, and Blitzø heard it twice.

Blitzø hung up and stuck his phone back in his pocket. Stolas lowered his own phone to the bedspread, looking on warily. Blitzø trudged over and got into bed next to Stolas. He laid back against the headboard, then grabbed Stolas’s bare, feathered shoulders and pulled him down to lie on Blitzø’s chest. Stolas went willingly, even though he still seemed confused.

Blitzø hugged him close and buried his nose in the long, soft, sweet-smelling feathers on the top of Stolas’s head. “You coulda just fucking asked me, dumbass,” he said.

Stolas burst into sobs, and clung to him tightly.

—

Blitzø fully expected Stolas to fall asleep on top of him, and had entirely resigned himself to staying over again. As though that was a chore.

Instead, when Stolas had cried himself out enough that he was only sniffling, he drew back from Blitzø and sat himself up against the headboard as well. He wiped fussily at his eyes with the tips of his fingers, sighing thickly and smoothing down his facial feathers. Then, he opened a very small portal just in front of him and pulled out a silver tray, set out with a teapot and teacup and a bunch of other little pots and carafes and spoons and things Blitzø didn’t have specific names for. Stolas put the tray down on a small side table next to the bed, then reached through the portal again, a little higher, and came back with another, matching teacup.

Blitzø watched silently as Stolas opened one of the little porcelain pots and spooned a few scoops of a dry, leafy sort of mixture into the teapot. After that, he moved to a little carafe and held a hand over it for a moment, surrounding the entire thing with the faint glow of his magic, and then poured its now-steaming contents–looked like just water, but what did Blitzø know?–in over the leaves. He then surrounded the teapot itself with his magic for a few very brief seconds, then picked it up and delicately poured two cups of tea.

His hands were shaking, but he didn’t spill a drop or miss a beat in what looked like a very practiced rhythm.

“Milk, sugar?” He asked, taking the top off of a small pot of sugarcubes and gently gripping the tiny tongs inside. He looked at Blitzø expectantly.

“Oh, uh,” Blitzø didn’t know who the fuck else he’d thought the second cup had been for, but he sure as hell hadn’t realized until this moment that it was for him. “Both?” He wasn’t a big tea drinker, but he liked his coffee to taste like iced candy, so both seemed like a safe enough bet.

Stolas nodded and used the little tongs to drop a single sugar cube into each teacup. Then in just one of the two cups, he poured a bit of milk from an even tinier carafe than he’d poured the water from. He handed the cup with milk to Blitzø, who took it bumblingly with his rough, tipsy fingers. Stolas then picked up the other cup in his own careful grasp, his elegant talons clinking gently against the fine china, and took a short sip.

Blitzø took a sip of his tea as well. It was fine. Decent. Sorta just… watery, compared to his usual coffee.

“It’s not quite as good, brewed quickly with magic this way,” Stolas said, pretending his voice wasn’t still a little uneven from the tears. “I can’t for the life of me determine what the difference ought to be, but there it is.”

“Stols…” Blitzø started. He put his teacup down on the small table next to “his” side of the bed, which matched perfectly with the one on Stolas’s side, of course.

“It’s fine,” Stolas said. “I feel very foolish.”

“Don't end the hangouts, okay? I wanna keep doing them,” Blitzø said, maybe not quite as gently as he should have. Almost daring Stolas to say otherwise.

“Alright,” Stolas said, quickly.

Oh. For some reason he’d been expecting to have to justify it. He didn’t have a justification ready or anything, but he’d been willing to spew whatever half-truth came to mind. He wasn't even sure what the full truth was. He just didn't want to stop the hangouts. But apparently Stolas didn't actually want that, either.

“Well. Good,” he declared. “‘Cause I’m taking you out to the fucking club next month, like we talked about.”

A wide, wobbly, close-beaked smile spread over Stolas’s face and his eyes filled with tears again, but he only sniffed and said, “Alright. Thank you, Blitzy.”

Well, that was settled then, he guessed. Blitzø’s head was still fuzzy, but his dumb-as-shit heart was doing backflips in his chest like Stolas had professed his undying love for him, instead of just saying he’d missed Blitzø and actually sort of wanted him around.

(Well, Stolas would realize his mistake eventually.)

But Stolas was smiling at him, and Blitzø was smiling stupidly back, and they were in Stolas’s big, comfy bed, and Blitzø was not so drunk as to be passing out this time, but still not really sober enough to be making good decisions. Stolas was still holding tight to his teacup with one hand, but the other was on the bed between them, and it looked really lovely and lonely like that. So what else was Blitzø supposed to do, but put one of his own hands over those lovely, lonely talons? And then Stolas’s smile dropped and his little white pupils appeared. His feathers ruffled up and a blush dusted his cheeks, and Blitzø found himself leaning in, and Stolas wasn’t moving away from him, in fact–

But then Stolas jerked away and his head spun a full 180 degrees and Blitzø was suddenly leaning into a face full of mussed head feathers instead of towards a cute little beak. Blitzø reared back himself and started to babble an apology when he heard a clattering racket and the faint sound of shouting somewhere in the palace, outside the room. What the–

“--at the FUCK, STOLAS?” A grating, feminine shriek came barreling into hearing range from down the hallway, through the slightly-ajar door, getting closer by the second. “Why the FUCK is there a sinner at our FUCKING DOOR in the middle of the FUCKING NIGHT?!”

Chapter Text

“Why the FUCK is there a sinner at our FUCKING DOOR in the middle of the FUCKING NIGHT?!”

Stolas jerked away from Blitzø in horror, spilling his tea and scrambling out of bed. “Nonononono–” he chanted, running for the door, leaving his empty teacup discarded on the dampened bedspread.

Blitzø managed to throw himself out of Stolas’s bed in an attempt to hide, just catching a glimpse of the door beginning to swing open. But right before his feet could hit the ground, he found them very suddenly much higher up in the air again. Because his legs were very suddenly a good foot or so shorter. Because he was now, to his great surprise, an imp.

It was like missing a step on a staircase, except weirder and worse, and he lost his balance completely on the awkward landing and rolled straight out into the middle of the room. He only just barely managed to duck into it and recover, and he landed on his feet in a slightly wobbly stance, just in time for a tall, white feathered bird woman to come screeching into Stolas’s room, knocking Stolas himself out of the way as she practically kicked in the door. She wore a massive, pink, poofy dress like a demented Disney princess, and she looked like she was ready to murder someone. Probably Stolas.

“STOLAS, did you fucking HEAR ME?” she shouted obnoxiously, wheeling around to jab a sharp taloned finger in his face.

Blitzø thought probably everyone in a ten mile radius had heard her.

“Stella!” Stolas shouted back, not nearly as obnoxiously, “Do you mind? I am busy!”

“Ugh! With what?” She demanded. Stolas opened his mouth to say who the fuck knew what, but she cut him off. “No, wait, I actually don’t want to know! There is a SINNER at our door, demanding to talk to your PATHETIC ARSE, and I want to know WHY!”

Holy shit, was this queef girl? Queef…woman? Queef swan? Either way, Jesus Christ, she fucking sucked even worse than Blitzø had expected.

“How am I supposed to know what they want, Stella? I haven’t spoken with them!” Stolas informed her, fucking reasonably.

She ignored Stolas’s objections and half glanced at Blitzø, sneering. “And what the fuck are YOU doing, standing around? Get out of here and bring that mess with you.” She waved vaguely in the direction of Stolas’s tea tray and the spilled cup on the bedspread.

Blitzø realized with a jolt–she thought he was one of their employees. And he was not quite sobered up enough to think about it before shouting, “Fuck you, lady! I’m not one of your fucking butlers!”

She graced him with a full glance, looking at him like he was something she’d found stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “Who the fuck are you then?” she demanded. She looked from him to Stolas, who was still wearing nothing but that little red robe, to the bed with the blankets mussed and two teacups, one spilled and the other set down on the opposite side. Her eyes widened in incandescent rage. “Are you– Are you FUCKING an IMP? What the FUCK, STOLAS?” she screeched.

“We weren’t fucking!” Blitzø shouted. Shit, if he was gonna get Stolas in trouble with his wife for fucking him, he wanted to’ve actually fucking done it.

“So what if I AM?” Stolas demanded at the same time.

Blitzø’s jaw dropped and he stared, blinking. Stolas was looking at Stella with a fierce defiance, drawn up to his full height, and despite being barely clothed, it was the most royal Blitzø thought he’d ever seen him look. Then his eyes flicked to Blitzø’s and he seemed to startle. He shrank inward just a bit, taking a step back.

“I’m not,” he said, self-consciously, more to Blitzø than to Stella. He turned back to face her fully and drew up tall again. “But it wouldn’t be any of your concern if I were!”

And if she’d looked at Blitzø like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe, she looked at Stolas like he was something stuck to the bottom of that. Like he was something that had crawled into her mouth and died there. Like something that made her beyond sick to even contemplate existing. “You are unbelievably repulsive,” she said lowly. And wowww. Was it possible for Blitzø to kill this bitch? Like, right now? Right now right now?

“Ma’am, ma’am!” A small, angry, but polite voice came from down the hallway, along with the fast tapping of what sounded like little hooved feet. “I’m going to have to call security if you won’t–” There was a whump and a thump against the wall outside the room, causing Stolas to flinch back with his whole body. The tapping outside stopped, followed by a short silence, a low groan from the small voice, and then even faster tapping.

Then a sticky-looking purplish brown sinner woman oozed up to the doorway, followed by a very small imp guy with tall, straight horns, dashing in behind her. He was holding onto one shoulder and had a purple-brown stripe of goop across one side of his face that matched the sinner exactly.

“I’m so sorry, your highness, my lady, I’ll call security right away!” the little imp guy said through a grimace of pain.

Stella barged forward at the little imp with rage in her eyes, but Stolas caught her by the arm and said, “That’s alright, Pringles. Thank you, you may go. No need to call security. And, please, take the rest of the evening off. Come see me in the morning and we’ll discuss compensation for this incident.”

The little imp dude–Pringles?–looked warily at the sinner, then back at Stolas, clearly asking if he was sure without questioning him directly. Stolas waved him off brusquely. “Very well, your highness,” fucking Pringles said, and backed out of the room with a bow.

“You’re too fucking soft on them,” Stella sneered.

“Again, it is no longer any of your concern,” Stolas replied evenly.

Blitzø wondered what the fuck that meant.

“Um, excuse me?” the sticky sinner demon said. Her voice was thick and gravelly like no living person’s, but despite that, Blitzø somehow suddenly recognized her.

“Oh shit, I killed you last week!” he blurted. What was her name, something with two ‘M’s… Like M&M but one person… And worse in every way. They'd laughed about it. But whatever her name was, he'd definitely killed her.

And, look, he hadn’t meant for her to fall in that bog. But he had kinda wondered if it’d been the blood loss or the sludge in her lungs that had gotten her first.

He thought he probably had his answer, now.

She looked at him, fully pissed off. “The fuck are you talking about, imp?” she demanded with a splatter of mud from her dripping mouth. “Some fucking scarfaced human freak killed me.”

Fuck! “Oh, yep! My mistake!” he said cheerily, sweating.

“What the FUCK are you doing in my HOUSE?” Stella fucking screamed at the sinner. Christ on a stick, did she have a mute button somewhere?

"Your house, hmm?” Stolas asked, quietly bitchy, and Stella’s eye twitched.

The sinner ignored them. "You were fucking taking too long.” she pointed at Stella. “And I needed to talk to him.” She pointed at Stolas. “So I let myself in.”

“You common little WRETCH! You think you can just–”

“Stella!” Stolas shouted, clearly losing patience.

“Fucking WHAT?” She shouted back.

“Let her talk and we will get this over with shall we?” Stolas suggested. Stella rolled her eyes in disgust but fucking finally shut her whore beak with a click. Stolas turned to the sinner. “What is so important you thought you had to come to my home in the middle of the night and force your way in–assaulting a valued member of my staff, don’t think I’ve forgotten–just so you could speak with me?”

“What’s so important,” she gurgled out, “is that my piece of shit sister-in-law finally broke down and admitted she was the one who had me fucking killed! So of course I wanted to know who the fuck in Hell can get someone up there–” she pointed at the ceiling “--killed from down here. And she said she talked to a fucking Goetia and his pet imp, and that they were the ones who agreed to do it. So I asked around and came here to have a little fucking talk with that Goetia.”

Stella squawked out a “WHAT!” but Blitzø didn’t have any time at all for her shit right now.

Before he'd even thought about it, he was standing in front of Stolas, one arm pushing the goddamned giant-ass bird behind him and the other raised to point threateningly at the sinner. “Oh, so you thought you’d show up for a little payback?” he demanded.

Fuck he wished he had his gun. Or that he was, y’know, like 5 feet taller right now.

The sinner laughed mockingly–a wet, hacking sound. “Oh!” She said, "You’re the pet imp, aren’t you!”

He flat out growled at her. “Just fucking try to pet me, bitch.”

She rolled her goopy eyes and they made a stomach-churning gritty noise against their sockets. “Relax, you rabid guard dog, I’m not here for revenge,” she said, seemingly unfazed by her absolute horrorshow of a body. “I’m here to fucking hire you!”

—

Madison Mudhorn had been the sinner's name, (and Blitzø had known it was something with a double M!), but since her death she’d just been going by Muddy. Which, yeah, alright, Blitzø probably would've just leaned into it too, in her disgusting shoes.

She wanted to hash out whatever mortal-realm hit job she was asking for right then and there, but Stolas refused to entertain the idea. After an argument long enough to leave Blitzø queasy from watching and listening to her talk, they finally got her to leave by taking down her information and having Stolas “give his word” that they would contact her within the next week and they'd at least hear her out. Apparently his word meant something, or at least the sinner seemed to think it did, and she fucked the fuck off, satisfied, leaving a trail of purpleish-brown sludge behind her.

Once she was out of sight, Stolas waved a hand and the sludge disappeared, but Stella still screeched something about having the “servants” deep clean anywhere the “vile” sinner demon had touched.

Stella also screeched about having the “rotten little imp”–Blitzø, of course–removed from the premises by force if he did not leave at once. So Stolas ushered him to the front door under Stella’s sneering gaze. Blitzø had assumed Stolas would just de-impify him and open a portal back up to Blitzø's living room as soon as they were outside, but Stella was still watching them through the door as they stepped out onto the front steps. Stolas took his hand and gave it a businesslike shake, murmuring instructions for Blitzø to go around the side of the palace and find his balcony, then wait for him below, hidden in the bushes. “I’ll make a portal for you to come back up to my room,” he said. “I’d like to talk to you for a bit before you go.”

Blitzø nodded firmly as though finishing the end of a very business-type interaction, and set off in the direction of nowhere in particular. He heard Stella shouting as soon as Stolas opened the door to go back inside, though he couldn’t make out what she’d said. Stolas’s much more dignified shouting in response came through the crack in the door and then muffled out as it closed. Blitzø gave it another second, then glanced back and saw the retreating backs of his “hosts” moving deeper into the palace, out of sight. He immediately switched to stealth mode and snuck back around, following Stolas’s quickly-relayed instructions to avoid security stations and potential patrols.

He found the balcony easily enough. It was huge, and more or less where he expected it to be, based on the route they’d taken from Stolas’s room to the front of the palace.

(Moxxie’s boring research and Blitzø’s much more interesting “research” both always seemed to be going on about something called “non-Euclidean geometry.” And Blitzø had never been super sure he knew what that was exactly, but it definitely looked like the palace wasn’t it.)

Stolas had said he’d portal Blitzø back up, but the way up to the balcony looked climbable as shit, even if he wasn’t currently three-quarters of his usual mass and blessed with grabby lil’ claws. And he wasn’t even really feeling the alcohol from earlier anymore, so it had to be a good idea!

He scaled that shit no problem. And then found that Stolas left his balcony doors unlocked, apparently. ‘Cause who the fuck needed locks in Hell, where there were crazy bog bitches hanging around at all hours with a bone to pick with Blitzø’s fucking bird, huh?

Blitzø’s friend, that was. The bird wasn’t his bird.

Certainly not in some kind of weird, possessive, “he should leave his massive bitch of a wife and be mine instead” sort of way.

And definitely not in like, a “was he ever really hers anyway, if their marriage was arranged and they obviously hate each other?” kind of way.

Well, maybe in a “I bet she’s never held him gently while he sobs into her shoulder” way.

But that was it.

Anyway, speaking of that cunt-o-tron-5000, he could hear them arguing through the walls, now that he was inside again. He couldn’t make out what Stolas was saying at all, but he caught snatches of that snatch’s screaming. Something about sinners in her house, something something imp-dick, something, pathetic excuse for a something.

Eventually he heard Stolas’s voice getting closer and Stella’s getting farther away, and finally he could make out “--before you wake up Octavia!” And then Stolas threw open the door to his room, stepped in, and slammed it closed again. He fell against it and sighed deeply, eyes closed in what looked like despair.

There was no way anyone in the palace had slept through all of that shit. Unless they were deaf. Which Stolas hadn’t mentioned of his daughter, so Blitzø was guessing that didn’t apply. “Yeah, I’d put money on her already bein’ awake,” Blitzø said.

Stolas gave a startled hoot and all his feathers ruffled up. “Blitzø!” He said, “How did you get back in here?”

“We’re gonna have a talk about your security,” Blitzø said, smirking even though it really wasn’t funny. “But before that, we’re gonna have a talk about what the fuck just happened.”

Stolas sighed again, and locked the door he was slumped against, which at least helped with security against threats from inside the palace. So… good start, considering what they were dealing with. “Oh, do we have to?” he asked, sounding exhausted. He moved inside the room to sit, drooping slightly like a partially-wilted flower, at the edge of his bed.

Blitzø wanted to say yes, but damn if he wasn’t a sucker for a sad, pretty face. “No, guess not,” he said, sighing. “‘Cept for a couple of things. Is it gonna be a problem that your wife knows we’ve been offing people in the living world?”

“No,” Stolas said, pulling himself back upright. “I convinced her that this was all to do with my summoning on Halloween. Which is completely legal, and the sort of thing expected of a demon of my rank. And which she already knew about and approved of, for whatever that’s worth.” He hummed. “Granted, she was surprised I have followers in the human world, but then again, so was I.” He smiled tiredly at Blitzø, and Blitzø found himself smiling back like a fucking doofus, because Stolas was just too sweet not to smile back at. “Oh, um, not that you are my follower, exactly,” he added, chuckling awkwardly.

Blitzø shrugged. “I got what you meant.” He appreciated the distinction, though. He still wasn't a fucking cultist. “But how would that work, if it was from Halloween? With that other sinner talking to you and me just, like, a coupla weeks ago? And how does your ‘pet imp’ fit into that?”

Stolas looked away and tapped his beak thoughtfully. “Well. The fact that you would ask such questions and she would not, even when she ought, by all rights, to have the greater familiarity with this sort of topic… Well, perhaps it says something about your, ah, relative levels of intellectual curiosity.”

Blitzø laughed, probably too loud. “Stols, did you just call your wife a dumb ho?”

Stolas let out a little “pfft” of laughter in return. “Your words, my dear.”

Blitzø fucking grinned.

“But I do admit it was a rather hastily-put-together excuse. It would be best if we could come up with a way to explain away the sinner’s story. Perhaps she was confused and relayed her sister-in-law’s story incorrectly. Perhaps the sister-in-law was still alive at the time, and was in contact with my, ahem, ‘followers’ on Earth, and our visitor merely misunderstood the mechanism by which I was involved.”

“And the pet imp?” Blitzø asked.

“A coincidence,” Stolas said briskly. “There was no imp. She merely made an assumption based on a poor understanding of my human ‘cult’. Underlings, you know? They're all the same. Or, you know, did she even mention an imp at all before seeing you? I don't recall. You simply happened to be here.”

Blitzø laughed. “Doing what exactly?”

Stolas smiled, a bit deviously. “Well. Stella made certain assumptions, did she not? It would be ill-timed of me to have an affair at the moment, but it really is no business of hers otherwise.”

Well shit. He really couldn’t mean what Blitzø thought he meant. “So you’re saying we let her think I was here to fuck you?” he asked

Stolas flushed. “Ah– well– Yes, I suppose that is what I’m saying. I- I- recognize it may be unlikely, but, well, she seemed to think it was true.”

Blitzø's brain buzzed wildly, latching on to a thousand half-formed questions. “Unlikely?” he ended up asking. “Why?”

“Ah, well, I'm honestly surprised she believes I managed to- to find anyone willing to sleep with me! Much less someone so…well. I'm sure you're aware!” He laughed nervously.

“Uhh…” Blitzø said, showing off that “intellectual curiosity” Stolas seemed to believe was hidden away somewhere in Blitzø's brain.

“Anyway! It doesn't really matter what part she thinks you played in any of this, as long as she doesn't find out you're a living human, or that I've been facilitating the transfer of unauthorized information to the mortal realm! Sending my ‘followers’ out to kill a laundry list of their fellow humans is perfectly acceptable.” He thought for a moment. “Well, it could seem odd that I'm not claiming the victims’ souls when they arrive. But perhaps we'll say I've been collecting favors of some sort from the sinners making the requests. Hmm, that could work. I’ll need to think about what it is that they supposedly owe me, though…”

“Hang on,” Blitzø said, caught up on something Stolas had dropped in real casually there. “Transfer of unauthorized information to the–what? You never mentioned anything like that before. Information like what?”

Stolas raised his eyebrows. “Like any of the questions we've been asking our sinner contacts and relaying to our living clients. ‘Where are the papers stashed?’ ‘Who is my biological father?’ ‘Where are the cats?’ That sort of thing.”

“Seriously?” Blitzø asked. “All the killing, just ‘cause, is fine, but finding out where the cats are stashed could get you in trouble?”

“Well. The way we're going about the rest of it is rather illegal, too–it's meant to happen only through summonings on Halloween and at my demand in exchange for demonic power to facilitate your work in service of Hell, and so on. That part’s just a little easier to pass off as something run-of-the-mill. But otherwise, yes, you have it correct,” Stolas said brightly. “The knowledge of mortals is meant to die with them when they pass. Ahh, something about not giving living humans too much insight into the afterlife? After all, you're much more likely to fail a test when you don't know the rules!”

“Alriiight... But how does finding out where her psycho cats are help get sweet Ginny-baby into Heaven?

“Oh, I'm sure it doesn't. But it's sort of a blanket rule. Very few exceptions.”

“Huh.” Well. You learn something new every day.

Or in Blitzø's case, you learn something you've been doing for a while now is super-illegal in Hell… occasionally.

“And…you're okay with all that?” Blitzø asked, suddenly a little concerned. “I didn't really realize I was asking you to do a bunch of illegal shit. I mean, I figured you probably wouldn't want your wife to know, but if you could get in real trouble for all this…”

Stolas smiled sweetly down at him, and Blitzø’s concern abruptly took a bit of a backseat to a warm little happy glow rising in his chest. Then he had the sudden realization his little imp tail was fucking wagging excitedly back and forth behind him. Shit, did it do that every time Stolas so much as looked his way? That was fucking embarrassing.

“Don't worry about me, Blitzø. I'll take precautions in the future to ensure no more wayward sinners show up at my door. Otherwise, I'm quite left to my own devices most of the time–no one is checking in on my activities. And no one important would take the ramblings of your average sinner terribly seriously. Even, or perhaps especially, if they were claiming to have had meetings with a Goetia. I'm not concerned.”

“Alright. Well. Lemme know or whatever. We can figure something out.” Blitzø said, a little distracted. His dumb fucking tail was still wagging, but he couldn't really stop it, and it felt like physically grabbing it was going to draw even more attention.

“Of course. Thank you Blitzø. Anyhow, speaking of our- your!- your business, I very much doubt our rather, ehm… drippy…friend will have much to offer in the living world in return for her request, but I did promise to get in contact with her, so we ought to hear her out.”

“I'm game. If she does happen to have some info for us that died with her and can make us some money, that's cool. Clients direct from Hell might make things easier. And less illegal too, I guess. If there's no forbidden knowledge being passed around.”

Blitzø had tried to imitate his accent there, and Stolas hoot-giggled at Blitzø's crude attempt. “Well, the knowledge would still be going to you, my dear. But please do not concern yourself over that. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I agreed to help.”

Blitzø's tail was going fucking crazy. He had to do something about that. “Hey, you think you could put me back in my regular body?” He asked, changing the subject abruptly.

“Oh!” Stolas seemed startled to realize Blitzø was still an imp.

Blitzø…wasn't sure how to feel about that. Bad? Good? He settled on neutral, for his own sanity.

“Of course, dear!” He waved a hand and Blitzø found himself a fair bit taller and with the heaviness he'd come to expect with reverting to human form, but more importantly without that damn tail with a mind of its own. “I apologize for applying your imp disguise without asking, by the way.” Stolas said. “Only, there wasn't much time, and, well…”

“No big,” Blitzø said honestly. “You got my full permission to imp me the fuck up in an emergency. And holy shit, pretty sure your bitch of a wife counts as like, ten emergencies at once.”

Stolas closed all four of his eyes and breathed very deeply. “Perhaps so,” he said.

Blitzø cringed. “Ah, yeah, you didn't wanna talk about it. Sorry.”

“It's alright, Blitzø.” Stolas said, and seemed to mean it, though he didn't seem interested in continuing the conversation. “Have we discussed all that we need to this evening? I find myself quite exhausted.”

“Think so, birdie,” Blitzø said. “You got my number if you think of anything else.”

Stolas lay down in his bed and drew the bedspread up over himself. “I would… invite you to stay, Blitzø,” he said quietly, like he was admitting a secret. “But, well, she's gone through plenty of locked doors before. It's not a risk you should take.”

Shit.

Blitzø came over to sit next to him on the bed. Not getting in, just sitting on the edge. He ran a hand over the feathers on the top of Stolas's head and down his cheek. Stolas closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “That's fine, pretty bird,” Blitzø said, just as quietly.

Stolas opened his eyes and looked up at Blitzø so sweetly.

Blitzø leaned in and pressed a kiss to one feathered cheek. Stolas hooted softly and laid a hand over Blitzø's, where it still lay against the outer edge of his heart-shaped faceplate. “I'm very glad you're back in my life, Blitzø,” he said, gazing up at him. “It means so very much to me.”

Blitzø's heart flipped over. “Yeah, me too, birdie.” He said. He couldn't stay, though, so he drew back and stood with a sigh. “Throw me up a portal, would ya?” He asked. And Stolas waved a hand and a portal appeared, with Blitzø's living room on the other side.

Something occurred to Blitzø as he went to step through, and he decided to ask now, before he lost his nerve. “Hey, uh, since we're real friends and all now,” he said, laughing awkwardly. “How ‘bout we hit up that club next weekend? No reason we gotta wait a whole month, huh?”

Stolas smiled at him, looking sleepy but very genuinely happy, and said, “I would love that, Blitzy.”

Blitzø backed up through the portal, grinning, and tossed Stolas double finger guns and a wink. “It's a date!” He said, and he thought he saw Stolas's eyes go wide just as the portal closed in front of him.

He stood in his empty living room, finger-gunning and winking at nothing and no one, and realized what he'd said.

Wellll, fuck.

Chapter Text

Blitzø made Loona pancakes in the morning, because pancakes were basically just his love language at this point. He knew they would never come out as good as his memory of the purple ones he'd had in Hell as a kid, but he kept on making them, and Loonie had never complained.

Maybe that was only because she'd never had the purple ones, but still.

She wandered out of her room, enticed by the smell, probably, looking less hungover than he'd seen her on a Saturday morning in a while.

“Mornin’, sweetie,” Blitzø greeted, flipping a pancake over on the pan.

She was quiet for a moment, before responding, “Morning.” She sat at the table and started drizzling syrup over the pancakes he'd already set out for her.

“More on the way if you're still hungry after those!”

“Yeah, think I'll be okay,” she said mildly.

Fair. He had given her a stack of, like, six. And Blitzø didn't fuck around with that silver dollar shit. These were full-size-ass pancakes they were talking about. But there'd been a time just after she came to live with him when it seemed like he couldn't crank them out fast enough to keep up with her appetite for them, and he always wanted to be sure she had enough.

“Did you want blueberries?” He asked, focusing back in on his pan. “The ones in the fridge were moldy but I can make a quick grocery run for the last batch, here.”

She groaned heavily.

He looked over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “So’s that a ‘no’ on blueberries, or…?”

“Sorry I fucking flipped out and ruined your date, okay?” She half-yelled, like he'd tortured the information out of her. “You didn't have to kick him out, and you don't have to be so nice about it now!”

Blitzø turned the gas off and turned around to face her. “Hey, Loonie, it's alright,” he said. “I didn't kick him out. He chose to leave so you’d be more comfortable. And it wasn't a date. We were just hanging out.”

“Okay well whatever you wanna call it, you were looking pretty fucking cozy on the couch.” She frowned and scrunched up her brow. “And it was actually almost cute, for a second… coming home and seeing you all fuckin'... happy with someone.”

Blitzø thought he might melt. His Loonie was so sweet, even if she was seriously overestimating the situation.

“Fucking gross and weird, too. But almost cute.”

Ah, there she was. God, he loved her.

“But, I dunno, I kicked over that fucking shitty horse umbrella stand you don't even keep any fucking umbrellas in, and– you both turned around, and–” she huffed.

Blitzø cocked his head. “Yeah?”

“I dunno. His eyes were weird! They fucking lit up red, or flashed like a cat's, maybe? I dunno. I just. I dunno. Russ let me hit his vape at the party, and honestly I was still kinda baked? So maybe I just fucking imagined it. But I still knew he was, like, an actual fucking demon, so, it really fucking freaked me out for a little while. And, like, I guess I overreacted and I'm sorry. I know he's your friend or whatever.”

Blitzø loaded a couple of pancakes on a second plate thoughtfully while she spoke, and came to join her at the table. He smiled his softest smile at her. “Loonie-Toonie, sweetie, I just want you to know this: in literally any other situation, I'd be laughing my ass off about you coming home high as a kite and locking yourself in your room ‘cause you thought my date was a demon with glowing red eyes.”

She snort-laughed and rolled her eyes. “So you admit it was a date.”

“No. That's a different situation. In this situation, my platonic friend actually is a demon. And he does have glowing red eyes. I mean. I've never actually seen ‘em glow while he's all…” he waved his fork around with a bite of pancake on it. “Humany. But I wouldn't even be a little bit surprised if they did that sometimes. So. You probably didn't hallucinate that, y’know?”

She looked at him, unimpressed. “I said maybe I imagined it, Blitzø. Weed doesn't make you hallucinate, you cringe-ass nerd.”

“Hey, maybe weed doesn't make you hallucinate,” he argued.

She squinted at him. “What?”

“Anyway, I'm not mad at you or anything. I mean, I should've told you he was coming here. And, I dunno. Yeah. He's a demon. He is literally a demon. He's… I mean, he's good...” He huffed a little laugh. “Better than me, anyway. But he's still a demon. And if you don't want him here, ‘cause of that, or any fuckin’ reason, I won't bring him around again, okay? No questions.”

Loona sighed. “It's not– you really don't have to keep him away from me or anything. You can bring him here. Like, yeah, maybe tell me if you're gonna have somebody over, but… it's fine.”

“You sure, Loonie?”

“Yeah. I mean. Clearly he hasn't fucking killed you or stolen your soul or whatever yet. I can probably trust him to exist here without, like, I dunno, randomly tearing some doordash driver's throat out with his teeth or something.”

Blitzø laughed around a mouthful of pancake. “Ha! I'd fucking pay to see him do that!”

“Ugh.” She groaned. “It's you I shouldn't let stay in this apartment, actually.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” He beamed at her. “But if you want me to keep paying the rent, that couch still has my ass and my name on it.”

“Fuck, Blitzø, did you even tell him that couch is your nasty-ass sheetless bed before you made him sit on it?” She asked. Loona herself only rarely deigned to sit on it. She'd sit on the floor or the beanbag, but the couch was really only for talking to Blitzø about serious stuff, or the occasional afternoon nap if she couldn't be bothered to get up and go to her own room.

Blitzø avoided her eyes.

“Haha, gross! Whatever, though. He'd probably be into it if you’d told him.”

“He would not!” Blitzø objected. “He clearly has way better taste.”

“Really? Not so sure about that.” She smirked. “He send you any selfies lately?”

“No.”

“Uh-huh, that was clearly a yes.”

It was a yes. “Wellll, if you really don't mind, I am planning to take him out to a club next week, and I thought he could come here first so we can, y’know, pregame a little.”

“Oh my god you're totally dating a demon.”

“Loonie! I'm not!”

“Okay, well, yeah, it's fine. Just don't bring him back here after. Get a motel room or something. Or at least pay to have the couch deep cleaned after.” She paused. “Which you should probably do anyway.”

“I'm not gonna do anything with him that requires a couch or a motel room, okay Loonie? But for the record, if I was gonna fuck him, he deserves way better than either of those options.”

“Ugh, gross, Blitzø!”

“Yepperooni!” He shoved a whole pancake in his mouth, chewing happily with his mouth wide open.

Loona tried to look mad about it but she eventually let the cackles take over. Score one for Dad. He always got ‘er with the chewing.

—

So, yeah, Blitzø was gross and he knew it. And not just because of the chewing. ‘Cause of fucking course he'd thought about giving it to Stolas exactly the way that pretty bird deserved. He’d thought about it a lot. And the end of his conversation with Loona floated through his head the whole rest of the week. Because, well, he had some good money coming in right now. He could totally shell out for a motel or a couch deep clean…

But it didn't matter, because this actually wasn't, like, a scheme to get into Stolas's pants or anything. Like, for anyone else it totally might have been, but for Stolas it was more of a… “Sorry you’re married to the biggest cunt in Hell (and ain’t that a statement!), but let’s go have some fucking fun anyway!” sort of thing.

So, with that in mind, he only dressed a little slutty when Friday night rolled around.

He pulled on a loose fishnet top over a sleeveless, high-collared crop top, tight black jeans, a studded leather belt, and his spiked fingerless gloves. And it could’ve been way worse. So… so there, Loona! He went a little heavy with the eyeliner, and might’ve given himself a little wing on each lid. But that was only because he always wore eyeliner, and it’d just be stupid not to change it up for the club.

He tucked his mom’s pendant away in the box under the loose floorboard (which had definitely been loose when he moved in–not pried up with a crowbar), where he hid all of his good shit. He never took the pendant when he went out, not since almost losing it once in his mid-twenties. He replaced it with a basic black choker with a round, white pendant, just so he didn’t spend the whole night freaking out, feeling like there was something important missing. Which was another lesson he’d learned after leaving it at home the first time.

Loona had already headed out for the night, so he texted Stolas to come over any time, and a portal appeared almost immediately in his living room. He finished stomping the loose floorboard back into place and turned to greet his friend. “Hiya, Stols,” he tossed out.

Stolas was, of course, in his human form, and wearing…well, exactly what he always wore as a human. He stepped out into Blitzø’s apartment and stopped dead. The portal disappeared behind him.

Blitzø was too busy smirking at Stolas’s lack of anything resembling club attire to notice at first, but as the seconds went by without Stolas returning the greeting, it became increasingly clear Stolas had stalled out completely. He was looking Blitzø up and down, his eyes wide and his pale human cheeks flushed bright red. Blitzø’s grin widened. For someone who’d claimed a demon and a human sleeping together was “ridiculous,” Stolas sure as fuck looked like he wanted to eat Blitzø alive right now. He wondered if maybe there was something about Stolas being in his human form that made other humans seem more appealing to him.

(For Blitzø’s part, he hadn’t noticed any difference in his attraction between being a human and an imp, but maybe that was just because he was turned up to 11 on Stolas to begin with.)

He spread his arms wide and turned a little, back and forth, showing off for Stolas. “See something you like, birdie?” he asked.

“Ah!” Stolas yelped, snapping out of his trance. “Oh, ah, I’m sorry Blitzø, I’ve just…I’ve never seen you wear something like this before. It’s, um…”

Blitzø bit his lower lip and leered at Stolas. “Mm-hm, I’m sexy as fuck. What else is new?”

Stolas made an adorable little whining sound as he exhaled.

“You, however…” Blitzø said, then quickly reconsidered. “Well, no. I can’t say you’re not sexy in that little prince getup. But you sure as fuck ain’t dressed for the club. At least, not the kind we’re going to.” There was definitely some kind of club out there that would collectively piss themselves if Stolas walked in exactly as he was dressed right now. But it wasn’t this one. “Can you change your clothes with magic, birdie, or do we need to try to find something of mine that’ll fit ya?”

“Ah, oh- Um, I think I can- Let me see,” Stolas said, still looking a little like he was dying.

Blitzø laughed. “You want some water, there, pretty bird?”

Stolas nodded enthusiastically, and Blitzø grabbed him a cup from the kitchen and filled it with tap water.

“Sorry it’s not filtered, or like, infused with cucumber or some shit,” Blitzø said, handing it over.

Stolas shook his head and gulped the water down quickly. Fuck, Blitzø was really enjoying this.

“Thank you,” he said when he was done. “I, yes. I think I can change my clothes with magic. I’ll try.” he handed the cup back to Blitzø, who brought it back to the kitchen for a refill.

There was a glittering sort of flash of light behind him, and when the cup was full he turned back around. And he found that Stolas had, in fact, changed into some club-appropriate clothes.

He cackled out a laugh so loud and long that his annoying upstairs neighbor stomped pissily a couple times. “Well, fuck me, Stols, I gotta say, you wore it better!”

Stolas was wearing Blitzø’s exact outfit, down to the little skull applique on the crop top. He looked down at himself and then back up at Blitzø in mortification. “I’m so sorry, Blitzø! I just–I intended on something like your outfit, not an exact copy!”

“No worries birdie,” he said, still laughing. Stolas really did wear it better. Blitzø took a drink of the water he’d poured for Stolas. A lot better, actually. “You want me to change?” he offered.

“No!” Stolas said, seeming horrified by the idea. "Absolutely not! Give me a moment. I’ll…try to envision something a bit more specific.”

Stolas’s body was briefly enveloped in that glittering light, and when it faded, his outfit had changed. He wore crisp lavender jeans in the same cut as Blitzø’s, the high-necked crop top was replaced with a shimmering blue tank top, and he’d made the fishnet shirt into sort of a tight, long-sleeved lavender mesh shrug. The gloves and choker were gone and replaced by silver bangles and a silver chain with a star-shaped pendant hanging from it. He’d added matching dangling star earrings as well.

“Oh, very nice!” Blitzø said, genuinely impressed. He looked at the outfit appraisingly. “Can you make this cropped?” he asked, reaching out and brushing a couple of fingertips against the shimmery tank top, just over one of Stolas’s slim hips.

Stolas shivered prettily, then blinked. “You think? Um, it’s just, compared to yours, I don’t know that my abdomen is much to look at. I thought a longer shirt might be more flattering.”

“Bitch, I was just looking at it,” Blitzø said with a snort. “And do whatever makes you comfortable, but I’m telling you now it’d really make my night if I could keep looking at it.”

Light enveloped the bottom four inches or so of Stolas’s shirt, and suddenly it was a cropped tank. Then Stolas let out a little “Oh! How about…” and a tiny blue jewel appeared in his belly button.

Blitzø groaned, and it probably came out a little too porny for their very platonic friendship, but come on. “You’re fucking killing me, Stols,” he said.

Stolas smiled and flushed, looking way too fucking pleased. Well. Blitzø was glad he was fucking enjoying himself.

—

They each did a couple of shots of Blitzø’s leftover Jack, and they were ready to go.

It was actually fucking cold outside, and Blitzø wasn’t 22 anymore and willing to freeze his tits off to try to look good, so he shrugged on his leather jacket before they left. And instead of telling Stolas to just magic up one for himself out of thin air, he gave in to his weird, horny impulses and shoved his big puffy black bomber jacket into Stolas’s hands. “You’re gonna have to make your own shoes, though,” he said, trying to sound gruff as he laced up his own big black boots.

Stolas cooed happily and put the jacket on. He only zipped it halfway up, and it hung enticingly off his shoulders in a way that had Blitzø feeling half-feral. And then Stolas magicked himself up some ridiculously tall white boots. Leather, zip-up along the insides of his calves, with a slightly pointed toe and a short, slim heel. And he was much shorter than he ever was in his demon form, but, fuck, he still felt a million miles tall.

Dear god, if they lived in a world where Blitzø was allowed to get his hands on this fucking bird, they’d never make it out of the apartment, would they? He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket to keep them to his own fucking self, and was relieved to encounter a half-full pack of cigs and a lighter.

Blitzø led them out into the hall and down to the elevator. “Must be weird to leave through the door, huh?” he asked.

Stolas was glancing around the okay-ish decor of the apartment building’s hallway. “I suppose I did think of your apartment as something of an isolated bubble in reality,” he admitted.

Blitzø pressed the button to call the elevator. “That’s kinda… nice actually.” he said.

The elevator door opened. Stolas looked at him thoughtfully. “I suppose it could be. But I’m pleased to see more of the surrounding context, as well.”

“Hm,” Blitzø said as they entered the elevator and he pressed the button for the lobby. Neither his apartment nor the “surrounding context” were anything special. Bordering on shitty, really. “Take a good look, I guess,” he said, and shrugged.

Stolas smiled at him as the elevator doors shut. “I believe I shall,” he said. And it was always a little cold in the hallways and the elevator this time of year, but Blitzø felt warm.

—

It wasn’t too long a walk from Blitzø’s apartment to the club he’d decided on. It was really more of a bar with a dance floor than an actual club, but he didn’t want to overwhelm the birdie on his first night out. And anyway it was cozy, and Blitzø was pretty familiar with the place. The walk was chilly, but the smoke he lit up and the shots they’d already done both made it go by quick, and it was fun to see Stolas peering curiously at the shops and people and plants and other things along the way. He had lots of questions, and Blitzø wondered how much of it was Earth-specific, and how much of it was just Stolas not getting out much in general.

It made him sad to think of Stolas, shut away in his palace, being screamed at every hour of the day by that absolute fucking harpy, and he was all the more determined to make this night a fuckin’ blast for the bird.

Blitzø told him stupid stories while they waited in line, shivering, to get in, and Stolas laughed at all his dumb jokes, and Blitzø tried really, really hard not to feel some kind of stupid fucking way about it. He could already see a couple of guys in line around them eyeing Stolas up like the wholly-unaware-of-how-hot-he-was piece of ass he absolutely was, and Blitzø tried to contain both of the psychotic fucking wolves frothing at the mouth inside him–one snarling at everyone else to back the fuck off, and the other running in circles, shouting yeah bitches, he’s with me! Because neither of those wolves had any fucking right to exist in the first place. Stolas was gonna call the shots tonight, and if it turned out he actually wanted to be mobbed by a bunch of sweaty, horny randos? Blitzø was gonna get out his fucking pompoms and cheer him on from the sidelines like a good fucking friend.

Blitzø didn’t know the bouncer at the door, but he hadn’t been by in a while so it wasn’t that surprising. He took one look at Stolas and waved them both in. “Weird fuckin’ makeup, dude,” he commented at Blitzø as they passed.

Blitzø grinned with all of his sharpened teeth. “Thanks! It’s my face,” he said, and flicked the guy off as they passed by into the club. The entryway was warm and dark compared to the streetlight-lit sidewalk, and the muffled EDM they’d been able to hear from outside was suddenly much louder and clearer.

“I can turn him to stone, if you want,” Stolas said in a low, icy tone Blitzø hadn’t heard from him before. He looked over in surprise. Stolas’s eyes were, quite literally, glowing with rage, red and dangerous in the dim light.

Yeah. Loona hadn’t hallucinated shit.

“Woah, woah, buddy!” Blitzø said, patting his shoulder awkwardly. “No, uh, no need for that. He was a dick, but it’s fine.” He laughed, to show how fine he was. “I can always hunt down his address and shoot him later if I feel like it. Besides, he was kinda right, right? I mean, my face is pretty weird.”

Stolas sucked in a short breath, clearly still angry, but the glow in his eyes faded. “Your face is not weird, Blitzø,” he said, staring Blitzø down. “It is beautiful.”

Blitzø’s thought process screeched to a halt and he jerked back in surprise. The fuck? He frowned at Stolas, trying to figure him out. What the fuck was his angle here? “Damn, Stols,” he managed to choke out in a half-laugh. “That’s way more fucked up than what that bouncer said.”

A group of guys roughly pushed between them and past them, into the club, clearly annoyed with the two dipshits standing around right in the entryway. Blitzø grabbed Stolas’s wrist a bit roughly and followed them in as soon as they passed.

“Blitzø! Oh, wait a moment!” he protested as Blitzø dragged him along.

“C’mon, birdie. We’re blocking the entrance,” he shouted back, over the increasingly loud music as they entered the club proper. “Fucking forget about it, let’s get some drinks.”

“Blitzø!” Stolas shouted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“I said forget about it!” he barked over his shoulder. Too fucking loud. Too aggressive.

Stolas snapped his mouth shut, and Blitzø dragged him to a semi-open spot at the bar. He maneuvered Stolas around ahead and pushed him, a little too roughly, against the wooden bar in the single open spot he could see, between two random braindead fuckfaces, and he immediately felt really fucking guilty about it.

“Blitzø!” Stolas complained, as he was jammed stomach-first into the polished wood surface. Someone bumped into Blitzø from behind and his chest smashed into Stolas’s back, squishing him further into the bar. And, fuck, why was he was being such a fucking asshole, pushing Stolas around like this?

“Fuck, sorry, Stols, are you okay?” he said, getting closer to Stolas’s ear so he didn’t have to shout quite so loud. A full-body shiver wracked abruptly over Stolas and, shit, was he panicking now? Maybe Blitzø needed to make a little more space. He stuck an arm past Stolas to brace himself on the bar to act as a shield against the crowd while still staying close to Stolas’s ear. “Hey, you’re okay,” he said, “I’ve got you, birdie.”

“Ahh,” Stolas said, shakily, and Blitzø could barely hear him. “Uh huh?” He sounded almost woozy.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asked, suddenly really concerned. Shit, shit, he hadn’t meant to–

“Yes, yes, I’m okay.” Stolas said, a little louder, his shoulders heaving in front of Blitzø as he took a couple of gulping breaths. “Sorry, sorry,” he said.

“Fuck, you don’t need to be sorry for freaking out, Stols.”

Stolas laughed a little giddily and Blitzø wondered if he really was as okay as he said.

“Hey, you wanna find somewhere quiet? Or should we stay and get some drinks?” Blitzø asked over the music. He was all about giving Stolas options tonight. At least as long as he didn’t seem to be even more overwhelmed by having them.

“Drinks!” Stolas said, still laughing breathlessly. “Definitely drinks!”

Blitzø laughed, too, though he still felt a little uncertain. But Stolas was calling the shots, and he seemed to not be panicking anymore, at least. “Alright then, pretty bird,” he near-shouted into Stolas’s ear. “Y’know, bartenders usually ignore me until I open my loud fucking mouth, but I bet you’ll get some attention right away.” Stolas was standing stiffly, straight up and down, and despite what Blitzø’d just said, he wasn’t gonna catch their eye quite as quick like that. “Give ‘em something pretty to look at,” Blitzø said, and pushed gently on Stolas’s upper back until he got the hint and leaned his tall, gorgeous self over the bar a bit, bending at the waist and whoa boy, this evening was gonna be a real test of Blitzø’s willpower.

That tall, twinky blond bartender that Blitzø always thought looked weirdly familiar sauntered over in like half a second.

“Told you,” Blitzø muttered in Stolas's ear.

The twinky blond winked at Stolas and said, “Hey gorgeous. What can I getcha?” Then, weirdly, he looked over at Blitzø, then back at Stolas, then back at Blitzø, and then back at Stolas, his grin widening steadily. He shot Stolas a quick questioning look and tilted his head towards Blitzø, and Blitzø had no idea what kind of fucking twink ESP these two were sharing right now, ‘cause Stolas didn’t say shit, and Blitzø couldn't see his face to read his expression, but the bartender started laughing hysterically.

Blitzø didn’t think he liked twink ESP.

Twinky Blond Bartender looked towards Blitzø. “Let’s give him a second,” he said, grinning and nodding at Stolas, who was for some reason pretty much splayed fully across the bar at this point. Blitzø suddenly realized his hand was still pressed steadily between Stolas’s shoulderblades. He yanked it back towards himself and shoved it in his pocket. Stolas stayed right where Blitzø had put him and Blitzø tried not to stare. TBB snapped in front of Blitzø’s face to get his attention. “What’re you two havin’, handsome?” he asked.

“Uh.” Blitzø said, not expecting this. “Well whiskey.” Stolas had liked the Jack fine, but Blitzø wasn’t shelling out for decent liquor at a bar.

TBB looked at him, unimpressed, and grabbed a medium-upper shelf bottle. Blitzø started to yell, but the guy held up a hand as he pulled out two glasses and clinked in a couple of ice cubes in each. “I’ll charge you for the well,” he said. “Just this once. Order some fucking mixed drinks for your boy here next time, or I’m kicking you out, and he can find someone else to take home.”

Stolas pushed himself up from the bar so fast the back of his fluffy head nearly bashed Blitzø in the face, and he must’ve done more of that fucking twink ESP, cause TBB started cracking up again.

“Here ya go,” TBB said, sliding the two whiskeys across the bar. He took the credit card Blitzø handed over, not even bothering to ask if Blitzø wanted to open a tab. Obviously he was gonna open a fucking tab.

“Good luck, sweetie,” TBB said, directly to Stolas, and he sauntered off to the next thirsty fucker with their hand out.

—

“What the fuck was that about?” Blitzø asked, carrying their drinks while they made their way over to an empty standing table he’d spotted way off in the corner. He had to lean in to shout the question.

Stolas put both hands to his cheeks. “Oh, it wasn’t anything, really,” he said, shouting back barely loud enough to be heard. “I think the bartender merely found my inexperience with this sort of establishment amusing.”

Blitzø grimaced and leaned in again. “I swear this place wasn’t as chock-fulla dickheads last time I was here.” They reached the table and he set a glass down on either side, and swung around to the far side so he could face the room.

“Oh, dear, no. I do believe he sympathized with me!” Stolas assured him, still shouting over the now thumping bass. “Hold on a moment,” he said. A very faint glow lit up his throat and his ears for a moment. “There we are,” he said, and Blitzø jumped nearly out of his skin and turned his head side to side, because Stolas sounded like he was speaking at normal volume, but from directly next to Blitzø’s ear.

“Shit!” he yelped.

Stolas winced and said, “Sorry, is this too confusing? I should have warned you, only I do dislike shouting for long periods. But if you don’t like the sensation, I’ll turn it off.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blitzø shouted.

Stolas winced again. “I’ve also enchanted my own ears to be able to hear you more clearly, so please feel free to speak at a normal volume,” he said, smiling.

“Oh,” Blitzø said, normally. “You can hear me okay?” He could barely hear himself.

Stolas nodded. “Oh yes, that’s much better. I admit I’ve also lowered the volume of the music a bit for my own ears. I have to say, it’s much less overwhelming this way. Would you like me to do the same for you?”

“Uh, sure, why not? Can you turn it back up if we go to dance?” he asked.

Stolas beamed at an impressive wattage. “Yes, of course!” And Blitzø’s senses were starting to get the message that even though Stolas sounded like he was right next to him, there actually was no one physically there. Thank fuck, ‘cause that would've gotten old quick.

Stolas wiggled a hand discreetly on the table and the music turned down a lot. It was weird. Like Blitzø was suddenly underwater. And the vibe of seeing a bunch of sweaty, barely-dressed 20 to 30 somethings on the dance floor bumping and grinding to extremely quiet music was just… Not it. “Yeah, I’m not really used to things being this quiet here,” he said. “Can you turn it, like, three quarters of the way back up?”

Stolas looked confused, like he couldn’t imagine why someone would want their surroundings to be loud, but he did as Blitzø requested.

The music turned back up most of the way and Blitzø grinned. “That’s perfect, birdie.” He raised his glass to Stolas. “Hey, we haven’t been here ten minutes and you’re already the best fuckin’ club buddy I ever had,” he said, and downed a gulp of his drink. He didn’t usually take it on the rocks, but he wasn’t gonna complain about good booze at shit-booze prices.

“I’ll bet you say that to all the avian demons in human disguise.” Stolas giggled and took a sip of his own drink. Blitzø shivered a little to hear the musical little laugh right in his ear, though he was very relieved to find that the spell apparently didn’t extend to sipping-mouth noises.

“Only the pretty ones,” Blitzø said, grinning.

—

Blitzø got them mixed drinks, for the next round. Twinky Blond Bartender seemed way too fuckin’ happy Blitzø had followed his “advice.”

“You threatened to kick me out if I didn’t!” Blitzø objected, but TBB just laughed.

Blitzø also found out TBB’s real name was Anthony, “But you could call me Angel, handsome, if you weren’t already here with somebody else,” he told him in a pouty little voice.

Blitzø grinned and cocked a cheesy eyebrow. “Oh, babydoll, and I’d let you know what you could call me if I wasn’t here with somebody else. But I think you already know.”

Angel cackled outrageously and pushed Blitzø in the shoulder from the other side of the bar.

While Angel finished up their drinks, Blitzø looked over his shoulder at Stolas, back at their table. He was staring, entranced, at the dance floor, his eyes wide and a cute little blush on his cheeks. “It’s not like that, though. I'm not really here with him,” Blitzø said, turning back to the bar.

Angel suddenly looked unimpressed with him again. That annoyed Blitzø.

“Hey, don’t, fuckin’-- Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to ditch him for a hookup! I’m just…Y’know, if he wants to ditch me for a hookup, I’m not gonna tell him not to, y’know? I’ll fuckin’ give him the condom from my wallet and tell him to call me if he needs a ride.”

Angel looked even less impressed, and slid their drinks across the bar.

“What?!” Blitzø demanded.

“You think you're bein’ sweet, baby. But, c’mon… You’re really gonna disappoint a man as pretty as that?” Angel asked, gesturing across the room. “Honestly, this is just sad for everyone involved.” He raised his eyebrows at Blitzø significantly, then turned and left him where he stood.

Blitzø frowned. “The fuck does that even mean?” He shouted after him. He was literally just saying he’d do just about anything for Stolas not to be disappointed tonight!

“At least ask him to dance with you, ya fuckin’ idiot,” Angel called back over his shoulder.

Blitzø grabbed their drinks from the bar and made his way back to the table. “Askim da dancewifoo,” he mimicked under his breath. He sipped from one of the glasses and frowned at it. “Make us some stronger fuckin' drinks next time and I might!” he shouted back at the bar, even though Angel definitely couldn't hear him.

—

Another round or two later, Blitzø went back to the bar for another and got the other bartender this time. A shorter, surly guy who barely acknowledged his order, but started to make it anyway.

Stolas’s voice came from just behind him. “Oh, Blitzy!”

Blitzø grinned and turned around, thinking Stolas must have snuck up on him. But no. Stolas was still at their table, waving at him with a wide, silly smile.

“Shit! Stolas? You can hear me from here?” He racked his increasingly inebriated brain for what the fuck he’d said to Angel last time. Or the time before. How fucking incriminating had he been? Stolas hadn’t said anything, though, so maybe he–

“Not unless you mean for me to, silly!” Stolas would look to anyone else like he was flirting with a fucking ghost, and Blitzø couldn’t help but laugh a little. “It’s about intent! Anyway, see if they have some absinthe, would you, Blitzy?”

Oh goddammit.

He turned back to the surly bartender, who was just finishing up his drinks. “You…” He sighed heavily. “You got any absinthe back there?”

The surly one frowned at him. “Uh, yeah. We actually do. But nobody fucking asks for it. What are you, a 19 year old with his first fake ID?”

“Save the witty commentary and just pour me a fucking shot.”

Surly rolled his eyes and went to the far end of the bar to pick a particular green bottle off the shelf. He brought it back and made a show of pretending to dust it off, before opening it with a sarcastic flourish and pouring a bright green shot.

“Do they have it, Blitzy?” Came Stolas’s giggling voice in his ear.

He turned away from the bar to glance back at Stolas and pretended to hold a hand to an earbud. “Yeah, buddy. They got it. I’m not getting you the whole fucking bottle, though.”

Blitzø turned back around to grab the drinks, smile tugging at his lips, ignoring the disappointed bird noises in his ear.

“Things we do for love, hm?” Surly asked flatly.

Blitzø dropped his smile. “Tab’s under Buckzo,” he tossed out.

Surly laughed. “Shit, you really are a 19 year old with a fake ID, aren’t you?”

“Fuck all the way off!” Blitzø shouted, and ran away, struggling to balance his 3 drinks.

This fucking place. He was never coming back here.

—

This was his favorite place of all time. They were coming back here every fucking weekend from now on.

“Blitzy!” Stolas cried, giggling and trying to sound upset. “Give it back!” He was reaching wildly across the table like he couldn’t just walk the two feet around to the other side and easily pluck his phone right out of Blitzø’s fingers. Blitzø wasn’t about to tell him that, though. He was enjoying the novelty of being the one to play keep away, leaning back with Stolas’s phone in one hand and batting Stolas’s flailing arms away with the other. He was trying to bring up Stolas’s contacts on Stolas’s Voxel 13 smartphone, and was having a lot of fucking trouble with the touch controls.

“How the fuck does this– there we go…” He finally got Stolas’s contacts up and saw that there were like… Six. Six-ish names. Yeowch. Maybe this was, like, his very exclusive work phone or something? Yeah, Blitzø was gonna go with that and definitely not comment on it! He didn’t exactly have to scroll far to find his own name, since it was second, just under “Asmodeus, King of Lust” (as though there were other Asmodeii to differentiate from), and his contact name was listed as just “Blitzy ♥️”.

Blitzø put the phone down on the table between them, sliding it back to Stolas in defeat.

Stolas looked at him questioningly, still smiling but no longer laughing.

“I was gonna change my contact name to something dumb, Stols,” Blitzø explained. “But I fucking can’t. It’s already too fucking cute. Stop being so fucking cute!” he wailed in mock-despair.

Stolas started giggling again, gazing at Blitzø, chin propped lazily up in one hand, elbow on the table. His cheeks and ears were bright red, and the lights glinted off his dangly star earrings whenever he moved, and Blitzø was gonna just fucking die.

“I'm serious, Stols! I’m fucking begging you here, cut it the fuck out!”

Then Stolas was saying something, but Blitzø caught approaching movement out of the corner of his eye. Some threateningly hot cockbag with a shirt emblazoned with the letters “BTB”--whatever the fuck that meant–had his eye on the fucking prize and was moving in for the kill.

“Hey Stols, why don’t we–” Blitzø started. And then fucking BTB stuck his fucking shoulder in, leaning heavily on the table between them.

“Hi,” he said. To Stolas, specifically. He tucked a lock of his extremely well-cared-for platinum blonde hair back behind one ear.

“Oh, hello?” Stolas said at normal volume, and Blitzø could barely hear him because he wasn’t fucking talking to Blitzø anymore.

“Speak up, birdie,” he muttered.

“Oh, right,” Stolas said to Blitzø, then he shouted, very slowly, at BTB, “Can I help you?”

Blitzø turned away, wheezing a laugh into his own shoulder.

BTB laughed too, unfortunately, instead of being scared off from this fucking goober like he fucking should be. “Yeah,” he said, and leaned into Stolas’s space to speak loudly. “You can dance with me.”

Stolas blinked several times in surprise, and maybe in discomfort, since BTB’s voice was probably really fucking loud with the music turned so far down for him. “You want to dance… with me?” He shouted back, still slowly, but sounding a little bit less insane. Just surprised.

Blitzø could hardly see BTB’s face, since he was pretty obviously trying to block Blitzø the fuck out at his own fucking table, but there was an amused grin in his voice when he leaned towards Stolas again and said “Yeah. Love your outfit. You’ve got great style.”

“Oh my!” Stolas said, letting out a pleased little giggle. “Thank you!”

“How about it?” BTB asked, holding out a hand.

Stolas looked, wide eyed, between BTB’s extended hand and around his very muscular shoulder to Blitzø’s face.

Blitzø tried to get his eyes into it when he smiled and waved Stolas towards the dance floor. He’d still be here when they were done. Or, like he’d said to Angel, he’d slip Stolas a condom and tell him to be safe and go home and wait up all night for Stolas to text him if he needed a ride, and wonder just who the fuck Blitzø thought he was anyway and–

“No, thank you!” Stolas said cheerfully, and only slightly drunkenly. “I very much appreciate the offer. You’re very handsome, and I’m quite flattered! But I’m enjoying speaking with my friend here, and I don’t wish to interrupt our evening together. Perhaps another time.”

BTB laughed gently while Blitzø’s world turned sideways on its axis for about the fiftieth time since he’d summoned this ridiculous fucking owl to Earth in M&M’s basement back in October.

“Wow,” BTB said, “that’s definitely the nicest way I’ve ever been let down.” He pushed off from their table and restored Blitzø’s view. “I’ll be around if you change your mind, but you two have a good night.” He tossed out a friendly wave, and then he was off to handsomely butt in on someone else’s friend-date, probably.

“You as well!” Stolas shouted happily after him, waving goodbye with his whole arm.

Blitzø felt a little awestruck, looking at Stolas across the table.

“What?” Stolas asked as he turned back to Blitzø, smiling but self conscious. “Was I rude? Should I have accepted?”

Blitzø snorted. “Nah. It’s totally up to you. Didn’t you wanna dance, though? You didn’t have to say no just cuzza me.”

Stolas looked to the dance floor, a little longingly. Then he turned back to Blitzø. “Well, no…” he said. “I didn’t especially want to dance with him.”

“Then, yeah, birdie. Tell ‘em to fuck off,” Blitzø said, and finished off his latest drink.

Stolas frowned and sipped his own drink, and Blitzø wondered what he’d said wrong. “Ahem,” Stolas said–like, he actually the word ahem, he didn’t just clear his throat. “If you’ll excuse me repeating myself, I would just like to reiterate that I didn’t especially want to dance with him.” He looked Blitzø in the eye, then glanced away.

Blitzø frowned. “But… you do want to dance?”

“Yes.” Stolas said, looking at him, then away again. “I would like to dance.”

Angel’s voice floated obnoxiously through his mind. At least ask him to dance, ya fuckin’ idiot.

Goddamnit.

“Then, uh. Would you, uh…” He started.

“Yes?” Stolas asked, quickly meeting his gaze.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked in a rush, and forget 19 with his first fake ID, he was fucking 13 at his first fucking sock hop or whatever the fuck kids who weren’t cult-homeschooled went to.

“I’d love to, Blitzy!” Stolas squealed gleefully. He clambered around the table to hug Blitzø’s arm and began dragging him bodily over to the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor.

“Oh thank fucking christ,” he muttered to himself, and hoped Stolas didn’t hear.

—

Blitzø had detoured them to the bar for another shot each before heading back to the dance floor, and he was starting to really fucking feel it now. Which was great fucking timing, honestly.

“Turn the music back up, birdie,” he encouraged Stolas, taking his hand and dragging him into the throng of horny, sweaty dudes, bumping to the beat. He felt a little magic tingle at his ears and the music’s volume returned full force and now he was really starting to fucking feel it. “Yeah, there you go!” he laughed, and he thought Stolas had probably turned his own volume back up, at least little, because he was suddenly bopping his head around with the rhythm, in a cute, owlish kind of way, and Blitzø really felt like he was feeling Stolas feel it now, too.

“That’s it, birdie,” Blitzø shouted, knowing he didn’t need to shout to be heard, but just for the fuckin’ fun of it.

Stolas laughed giddily and held onto Blitzø’s hand as they moved farther into the crowd, getting pushed this way and that in time with the music, and Blitzø found his shoulders moving and his hips swaying, and he pushed and pulled against Stolas where they were connected at their hands until Stolas started to move his own, tall, gorgeous body along with him to the beat. He started small and careful, stiff and slightly jerky, and it was too fucking cute, but Blitzø wanted to see him have fun. So he tugged harder on Stolas’s hand until Stolas had no choice but to move his feet, and Blitzø pulled him in and placed his free hand on Stolas’s pretty, bared midriff, grasping firm but not too tight at the space just above his hip.

“This okay?” he asked, quickly.

“Yes,” Stolas replied, sounding out of breath already.

“Good.” Blitzø grinned and began encouraging Stolas to move his hips along with Blitzø’s own, in wider, wilder sweeps and dips and rolls. And Stolas was so, so good for him, taking Blitzø’s direction beautifully and soon enough they were moving in almost perfect sync–with each other and with the music. And there wasn’t a lot of room between the rest of the grinding, moving bodies around them, but Blitzø let go of Stolas’s hip then and swung him out in a small, playful sweep, and Stolas laughed delightedly and came easily back into Blitzø’s arms. And Blitzø felt on top of the fucking world.

Blitzø got both of his hands on Stolas’s hips, then, and was fucking overjoyed when Stolas hesitantly threw both of his own arms in the air and began waving them back and forth, and he had the absolute fucking pleasure of watching his movements slowly morph from awkward and adorable to confident and free as Stolas learned what felt good, and what felt right with the beat of the music thumping around them. And all the while he let Blitzø guide his hips, moving them both together. Not quite touching, but tethered and matching each other’s energy beat for beat.

They danced together for a while to the same low, thumping, steady beat. Then the music changed and slowed and strained, and Blitzø, recognizing the building anticipation, slowed them down too, swaying their hips together once, twice… three times…

And the beat dropped all at once, and Blitzø and Stolas and everyone around them on the dance floor fell into it, all moving together to keep up with the new, racing rhythm. And Stolas was letting out these delighted little gasping giggles and Blitzø was laughing along with him, and Stolas was the most gorgeous thing Blitzø had ever seen in his entire goddamn life, like, so fucking beautiful, and it was fucking amazing, being here with him. Whether he was a human or a demon, two eyes or four, bare skin or soft feathers, Stolas was fucking incredible and he took Blitzø’s fucking breath away.

—

They danced like that for a while, wild and giddy and just fucking having fun together, until Stolas very clearly needed a break. Blitzø had to practically drag him off the floor, but once they broke free, he clung happily to Blitzø’s side as they made their way back to the bar. And Stolas cheerily ordered them some kind of tall, fruity shot, and Blitzø laughed until his sides hurt when they both agreed that that was a pretty good descriptor for Stolas, too. So Blitzø demanded something short and bitter next, but Stolas shouted over him that something “strong and complex” would be “far more appropriate.”

For the brief moments Blitzø could manage to tear his eyes away from his pretty bird, he vaguely registered Angel behind the bar, looking like he didn’t know whether to laugh at them or maybe just shoot himself.

Later, they ended up with something red and spicy, and as he was knocking it back, Blitzø couldn’t remember if this was supposed to represent himself or if they’d already done that one, or if they’d just forgotten about it entirely. He couldn’t seem to quite put together the question coherently enough for Stolas to be able to answer it for him, but Stolas had decided to monopolize Angel for the moment, anyway, and was talking the bartender’s ear off about his “best friend.” Who was apparently the coolest fucking guy in the whole fucking world, to hear Stolas tell it. Which got Blitzø all pissy and demanding to know who this fucking clown was, and why hadn’t Blitzø met him if he was so fucking great? But honestly he was having the time of his fucking life just watching Stolas having a good time.

But there was just one tiny, little, eensy-weensy problem, and it was this: now that he'd gotten Stols all loosened up and out of the corner (hell, out of the closet, apparently), it seemed like now was the time. Now was the time that every jackhole in this fucking bar had collectively decided to try to get their horny, grubby mitts on Blitzø's fucking pretty bird. And for all his big talk earlier about letting Stolas get fucking gangbanged on the dance floor if that what made his gay little heart happy and his feathery little dick hard–oh, shit, did he have a feathery little dick? That'd be so fucking hot. Fuck. Anyway, despite all Blitzø's big talk earlier, the more drinks he got in him, the less that was seeming like an acceptable fucking proposition.

‘Cause Stolas didn't have to go home with him. He didn't! He didn't. But, every time some fucking reject from the shallow end of the gene pool swaggered up like they had a shot with the hottest (cutest, prettiest, nicest, funniest) piece of ass in the room, Blitzø fucking saw red. And the worst part, the worst fucking part was that every fucking time, Stolas would do this little flattered, blushing “Who me? Why, I'm just a gorgeous magic owl man from another world with legs for days and the softest, fluffiest hair you've ever seen! Surely you've made a mistake in finding me attractive!” routine. Except it wasn't a routine because he was just that fucking cute. And he would hoot and titter like the ridiculous, gay-ass bird he was, and turn down any offers of drinks or dancing, but not actually tell anyone to go the fuck away.

And Blitzø was drunk so he couldn't fucking control what his face was doing, and he couldn't help watching each of these interactions go down, either. But he took some sadistic satisfaction in the fact that every time one of those motherfuckers caught a glimpse of him behind Stolas's shoulder, they'd suddenly remember somewhere else they had to be and they’d scamper away with their tail between their legs. And Stolas would turn back to Blitzø, pleased as punch with the attention and not the slightest bit disappointed that this latest guy had also abruptly decided to make excuses and fuck off.

Except for one fucking guy, who, well, Blitzø couldn't quite remember what exactly he'd said, but it'd been too fucking far and he hadn't been scared off by Blitzø's very scary fucking face, and suddenly Blitzø was right in between him and Stolas, threatening to shoot the guy's dick off if he ever so much as looked at his friend again, and the guy figured out what the fuck was good for him and finally fucked off, while Stolas warbled happily and clung to Blitzø's arm like he'd just been defended from a fire-breathing dragon instead of some asswipe in an Ed Hardy T-shirt.

And that was about the time Angel cut them both off.

Blitzø bitched about being sick of running all these fucking guys off and Stolas had said, “Ohhh my darling Blitzy, I do agree, but how can I possibly show all these fuckhead randos that I'm taken?” Or something like that, and Blitzø might have been a fucking idiot, like, 90% of the time, but even he could take what he sincerely hoped was maybe supposed to be a hint. So he yanked Stolas up against his side and slung an arm ‘round his pretty waist, and, just to really sell it, jammed a hand into Stolas's back pocket before he could convince himself that that'd be going too far

Stolas immediately plastered himself to Blitzø's side, letting out more of those happy-bird warbles.

Blitzø looked away and asked, “This okay, birdie?” and tried to give him a reassuring squeeze with his arm, but the wires got crossed and he just full-on groped a handful of Stolas's ass like a fucking perv.

Stolas hooted and jolted, but if anything he squashed himself harder into Blitzø's side and then Blitzø felt long fingers sliding around and down his own waist, and then a quick squeeze of his own asscheek before the hand pulled away and settled on his middle back. “Quite alright,” Stolas said, sounding shy despite having just groped Blitzø back on fucking purpose.

Blitzø grinned like fucking crazy and it might've actually escaped him in a little giggle. “C’mon birdie,” he said, guiding Stolas away from the bar with his arm still firmly around his waist and his hand still, miraculously, planted on his cute little ass. “Let's go get some more shots.”

“But… aren't we cut off?”

—

Art by @QwlCage

—

They relocated a little ways down and managed to trick Surly into getting them one more round before Angel could tip him off to their wily ways. But Angel got real fucking pissed then, and said he’d have them removed for fucking real and ban them for life if they ever tried that shit again. But Surly didn’t look mad at them. Just disappointed. And that hurt Blitzø the worst, you know?

So after that, they went back to the dance floor to forget about the pain and sadness of their favorite bartenders cutting them off, or whatever.

Then things got pretty hazy for a little while.

Oh, and extremely fucking horny, too, apparently. Because he found himself on the dance floor not too much later, fully grinding his pelvis into Stolas’s ass, dick harder than diamonds despite all the booze, with no idea when it’d started or who’d initiated. He had a sneaky fucking suspicion it’d been himself, but Stolas didn’t seem to be objecting, and was actually fucking grinding back into him. His back was pressed to Blitzø’s chest and his head thrown back on Blitzø’s shoulder, writhing against him to the beat. And Blitzø’s hands were splayed wide on Stolas’s slutty little hips, guiding and encouraging them back even harder, and Stolas’s hands were gripped onto his, pressed tight and not letting Blitzø let him go.

Stolas was panting in his ear, or maybe it was just the magic making him think that, and all at once Blitzø remembered that Stolas was fucking magical. Literally fucking magical and so fucking beautiful in either form that Blitzø could just die, and he might’ve just come in his fucking pants right then and there if not for, again, all the booze. So instead he spun Stolas around and shoved a thigh right between Stolas’s, pulling him in to ride him like a sexy little cowboy. And Stolas immediately ground down, molding himself against Blitzø’s front, and let out the prettiest little moan right into him, that he felt hot against his neck and heard loud in his ears. And Stolas had said the spell was about intent, which meant Stolas had wanted him to hear that moan. So he whispered “You’re so fucking hot, Stols. Fuck, how are you so fucking gorgeous?” low and with intent, so Stolas would fucking hear it.

Stolas shuddered in his arms and moved somehow even closer, and suddenly they were making out, and Blitzø didn’t think he’d initiated this one, but that was even better, honestly. It was drunk-sloppy and the kind of desperate that only came with months of wanting so badly to fuck one single person and finally, fucking finally, getting your mouth on theirs. Stolas tasted like something tall and fruity, and a little bit like anise, and Blitzø wondered if and/or when he’d managed to wheedle another shot of absinthe out of one of those killjoys behind the bar. Stolas had one hand kneading at Blitzø’s bicep and the other placed groundingly on the unscarred side of Blitzø’s jaw, pulling him gently into where their mouths worked together. And Blitzø’s hands were gripped tight at their new favorite spot in the whole world–Stolas's waist, just above his hips. Blitzø's hands moved against bare skin and his pinky fingers traced down just under the tight waistband of Stolas's magical fucking lavender jeans, and he was guiding Stolas's hips to roll rhythmically up against his own leg, slotted firmly between Stolas's own pretty, skinny thighs–different from those surprisingly plump bird thighs Blitzø was so fucking obsessed with, but no less perfect.

And turns out Stolas had a dick, too, at least in his human form, ‘cause Blitzø could feel it, hard and heavy where Stolas was grinding down on him, and he was making desperate little whining noises right into Blitzø’s mouth with each roll of their hips together.

Blitzø broke the kiss to pant into Stolas’s mouth, “You make such pretty noises, pretty bird.”

Stolas mashed his face into Blitzø’s neck and gasped, rolling his hips extra deep against Blitzø’s own.

Blitzø moved his hands from Stolas’s hips to his cute little human ass and urged him on. “You gonna keep making all those noises for me, birdie?” he asked, feeling fucking powerful. “Gonna be good for me? Sing pretty for me while I fuck you so hard you cry, hm?”

Stolas let out a shuddering little whimper against his neck and pressed against him so hard and out of sync with the music, and Blitzø thought for a moment he’d just talked his birdie right into an orgasm there on the dance floor, and this was the hottest fucking thing that’d ever happened to him. Except Stolas was still hard against him. But that in itself was still so fucking hot, Blitzø didn’t even give a shit that he’d been wrong.

Then Stolas pulled back and looked him in the eye for a moment, then looked away and said, “Blitzø. She– She’s not there, tonight–at the palace. Nor is Via. We’d be alone.”

Blitzø let out a shaky breath and reached up to Stolas’s jaw to turn his face back to Blitzø’s. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yes,” Stolas said, eyes wide but voice certain.

—

They slipped, breathless and giggling, into one of the single-occupancy bathrooms that people definitely fucked in, like, all the time, and Stolas opened a portal straight to his bedroom.

“Oh, shit, wait, my fuckin’ jackets,” Blitzø said, turning around to open the door.

“Blitzø!” Stolas squawked, grabbing him before he could go and give anyone on the other side of the door a big old eyeful of demonic magic in action.

“Fuck, sorry!” He said. “Close it real quick!” He flailed an arm at the portal like he could swat it away himself. He wasn’t leaving two of his favorite fucking jackets here, even if he probably could go back for them in the morning.

Stolas giggled drunkenly. “Wait, watch this!” he said, and created a second, teeny-tiny portal, just large enough to stick a hand through. He reached through and grasped something, and tugged through one bundle of black fabric, then another. He waved the mini portal closed and said, “Ta daa!” then held up Blitzø’s leather jacket and his puffy bomber jacket.

Blitzø cackled, because Stolas had just opened and closed a fucking magic portal in the middle of a crowded club on a Friday night, but he’d done it under the table where their jackets had been hanging off the built-in little hooks, so probably no one had seen it. And if they had, they were probably too drunk to trust their eyes. “You’re the fuckin’ coolest, Stols,” he said.

And Blitzø was the one about to go home with this amazing fucking guy, who was smiling, wide and goofily, back at him. So he felt pretty justified in his own cocky fucking grin as he pushed Stolas by his sexy little hips through the regular-sized portal to his bedroom. It snapped closed behind them. Stolas dropped the jackets on the floor and Blitzø couldn’t have given a fuck. ‘Cause the rest of his clothes were about to be on the floor in just a second, too, if he had anything to fucking say about it.

Blitzø kept grinning and pushing Stolas back by the hips until they hit the bed, and he pushed Stolas down on top of it, standing over him for fucking once. “Goddamn, you’re so pretty,” he said, because it was fucking true. Stolas’s tall, skinny human form was splayed out across the bed, still in his gorgeous little club outfit, his arms tossed carelessly above his head, stretching out his “not much to look at” abdomen prettily. His chest was heaving, his face was flushed down to his neck. He was still giggling, absently–his eyes on Blitzø and nowhere else. “Pretty, pretty bird,” Blitzø repeated.

Stolas seemed to have no words right now, but he raised his arms up towards Blitzø beseechingly, and Blitzø had never been so happy to fulfill a request. He leaned down over Stolas, propping himself on one knee on the edge of the bed and one hand up by Stolas’s shoulder, and used his free hand to cup around the back of Stolas’s neck, running a thumb along his defined, delicate jawline. He leaned in slowly, enjoying Stolas’s wide eyes on him and the feel of his hot, panting breath on his cheek.

He brought their mouths together slow, open and hungry, and Stolas groaned so needily Blitzø would’ve laughed if it hadn’t been so fucking hot. Stolas wound his arms around Blitzø’s shoulders and tugged at him desperately, trying to bring him in closer. Blitzø obliged, but only just, and brought his hips in towards Stolas’s, meaning to tease, but the feel of their hard cocks brushing together through their jeans caught his blood on fucking fire. He growled into Stolas’s mouth and ground down, pushing Stolas’s hips into the mattress with his own and reveling in the sensation as Stolas rolled his pelvis and hooked one of those long, lovely legs of his around Blitzø’s waist to pull him in even harder.

Blitzø bit Stolas’s lower lip, trying to be gentle, knowing his teeth were sharp, and got a hand on Stolas’s shoulder to push him down and hold him still. Stolas apparently liked something he was doing, because he broke their kiss to throw his head back and gasp out “Ah, Blitzø! Oh my, oh yes!”

Blitzø couldn’t help huffing out a short laugh, but he quickly found a much better use for his mouth, sucking a line of kisses down Stolas’s long, pale neck and biting a bruise into the spot where that pretty neck met pretty shoulder. And Stolas, seeming to have found his voice, babbled out a stream of nearly incoherent praise for his efforts.

Well, it was fucking nice to be appreciated.

He lost himself for a little while then, rolling his hips into Stolas’s and gnawing on him like a feral dog who’d found a fancy chew toy, and Stolas didn’t seem to mind in the slightest as he gasped and moaned and cried for more. So Blitzø was surprisingly off-guard when Stolas suddenly decided to roll them over on the bed, and he let it happen without resistance. And Stolas didn’t even have him rolled all the way over before he was dragging Blitzø up by his shoulders, and then somehow he was sitting up at the edge of the bed. And Stolas was sliding down off of it, onto his knees.

At first, Blitzø thought Stolas had just drunkenly fallen down in the process of whatever maneuver he was trying here, so he laughed and tried to tug him back up. But he stopped laughing real quick when he felt hands at his belt, and he suddenly realized Stolas had other ideas, and that he was on the floor on purpose.

Blitzø’s head nearly exploded–he couldn’t figure out how the fuck this was actually happening. But his legs spread wider without his permission to give Stolas better access, anyway. “Shit birdie, you sure?” He asked.

Stolas paused to look up at him, wide-eyed, baffled and almost offended. “Yes! Very!” he asserted, and then he scrambled back for Blitzø’s belt like Blitzø was gonna fuckin’ change his mind if Stolas took too long.

Blitzø giggled a little manically. “Alright, alright.” He reached in to help with his belt and mostly just got in Stolas’s way, but they managed to get it undone, along with his flies, and Stolas reached up and yanked at the waistband of his jeans until Blitzø lifted his hips a bit and together they got the top of his jeans and his briefs partway down his thighs.

He groaned as his cock bobbed free, and the relief was insane after how long he’d been hard as fuck in his tight-ass jeans. And Stolas literally gasped, and Blitzø would’ve laughed again if Stolas hadn’t just immediately dived right in and got both of his soft hands and his warm, wet mouth on it all at once.

“F-fuck–” he bit out, trying not to just come immediately on Stolas’s pretty fucking face.

Stolas was all over him like he was dying of thirst in the desert and Blitzø’s dick was somehow a fucking oasis. He’d grabbed the base with one hand and Blitzø’s balls with the other and was running his soft, open mouth up and down the shaft, with wide licks on the upstroke and bizarre nibbling motions on the downstroke, and Blitzø was gonna have a fucking heart attack. Then Stolas took the head of Blitzø’s cock in his mouth and sucked, hard.

“Holy shit, Stols,” he gasped out.

Stolas pulled his mouth off and looked up at Blitzø questioningly, with his mouth still wide fucking open and his tongue fucking stuck slightly out. Holy fuck.

“Nonono, don’t stop!” Blitzø cried.

Stolas smiled delightedly and went straight back to it, taking the head slightly deeper this time.

And up until this point, Blitzø had been too stunned by whatever weird sexy fucking bird blowjob he was being given here to have moved his hands from where they were clenched beside him in the sheets. But now he was seeing the top of Stolas’s head moving enthusiastically in his lap, and it was fucking impossible not to put his hands in that fluffy silver hair. So he did. And it was so pretty and soft in his fingers. And then Stolas did some kind of flicking thing with his tongue at the head and Blitzø’s hands clenched accidently in that soft pretty hair, and Stolas moaned, so fucking gorgeous, around his cock and suddenly Blitzø was right there.

“Sh-Shit, Stols, I’m gonna–”

He pulled on Stolas’s hair to get him to move, but Stolas just moaned again and pulled harder against Blitzø's hands to take him a little bit deeper, his own hands only moving faster on the parts of Blitzø he couldn’t fit in his mouth.

And who was Blitzø to deny a prince something he clearly wanted so fucking badly?

He came, hard, in Stolas’s mouth, his hands clenched in that gorgeous silky hair, his abs contracting and his body curling up over Stolas’s head where it was still planted firmly in Blitzø’s lap. He struggled not to buck up or shove down, but god it felt so fucking good, it was hard not to do both, just a little bit.

Stolas took it like a fucking champ, too. He wasn’t swallowing it all down, and Blitzø could tell he was gonna have a huge fucking mess on his jeans, but he didn’t gag or choke or pull away, either, he just knelt there and took what Blitzø fucking gave him, stroking him through it like he was asking for more.

“Fu-hu-huck,” Blitzø breathed out eventually, finally pushing Stolas off when his softening dick got too sensitive.

Stolas looked up at him, wiping his chin, his eyeliner running a bit. “Was that alright?” he asked, coughing just a little.

Blitzø grabbed Stolas’s face in one hand, then leaned down and kissed him sloppily, tasting his own cum on Stolas’s lips and in his mouth, lapping it up lazily. Stolas moaned into him greedily, until Blitzø pulled back and looked at him, his chin still in Blitzø’s hand. “Yeah, birdie,” he said, still breathing heavily. “It was fucking alright. Get up here and I’ll return the favor.” He grinned fiercely, though it turned amused as he watched Stolas stand and practically throw himself onto the bed. “On your back, pretty bird,” he directed. “Jeans off.”

Stolas arranged himself while Blitzø stood, wobbly from the drinks and the fantastic fucking orgasm, and tucked himself away and pulled his briefs back up. Jesus, he hadn’t even gotten his boots off. He knelt down to untie them and kicked them off, then shucked his jeans for good measure. Better freedom of movement.

He turned around and nearly fucking fainted. He hadn’t heard Stolas removing his clothes, and he’d figured he was gonna have to take one for the team and have some fun yanking them off Stolas himself. But what he’d forgotten was that Stolas’s clothes didn’t actually exist--or at least, only existed by some fucking bird magic. And he’d apparently taken his own jeans and those tall white boots off with bird magic, too, leaving himself in just the crop top and fishnet sleeves, and a pair of tiny purple panties that were doing very, very little to hold back his gorgeous, straining cock.

His arms were placed demurely over his chest. The little blue jewel in his belly button winked in the low lamplight.

Blitzø’s own dick made a truly heroic effort to push past the limits of its refractory period.

“Is this, um, where you wanted me?” Stolas asked, suddenly real fucking shy for a guy who’d just gone full cockslut on Blitzø not ten minutes ago.

Blitzø jumped up on the bed and knocked Stolas’s legs apart so he could kneel in between them. He grabbed one of those long, sexy, skinny legs and pushed it up, delighting when it went all the way up against Stolas’s slim torso with zero resistance. He leaned in over that leg and said in a low voice, “This is exactly where I want you, birdie.”

Stolas whimpered. Blitzø leaned in farther and kissed him again.

Traces of Blitzø’s own cum notwithstanding, Stolas tasted so good.

He pulled back, letting up on Stolas’s leg, and tapped the pretty purple panties over one of Stolas’s pretty pale hipbones. “Cute, pretty bird,” he commented. “Can you make ‘em go away?”

The blush covering Stolas’s face extended down to his chest, but the panties went away in a quick flash of light. His cock, flushed an even deeper pink shade than the one on his cheeks, bobbed alluringly as it was abruptly set free. It was somewhat long and appealingly slender and it fit him perfectly, jutting proudly out of a charming little thatch of silver hair. It was also 100% human. And Blitzø’d given a lot (a lot) of thought to what Stolas might look like down here with his feathers on, but it didn’t seem like the time to interrupt the flow just to sate his curiosity.

Besides. He really wasn’t complaining.

There was so much he wanted to do to Stolas with him at his mercy like this, but Stolas had been so very nice to Blitzø and had gotten him off so good, and he’d been waiting so patiently for his own turn. So Blitzø leaned down, still holding the one leg up with a hand on the back of the thigh, and only gave him a single little teasing lick to his inner thigh before swallowing him nearly all the way down in one go.

“Fuck!” Stolas straight-up shouted, and Blitzø smiled around his pretty pink cock. Good thing Stolas’s wife and daughter were out, or– Nah, he wasn’t gonna think about that.

He closed his lips around the shaft and pushed deeper. It’d been a while since he’d done this, but there’d been a time when he was real good at it, and he was feeling pretty fucking motivated to show off. He threw the leg he’d been holding over his shoulder and brought his other hand up to stroke at the base of Stolas’s cock. It wasn’t a huge stretch for his jaw, but it was long enough to the point where he wasn’t sure if he could get the whole thing tonight. He bobbed up and sucked the head for a moment before sliding back down to try again.

Stolas was babbling away above him. “Yes, oh fuck, oh Blitzø! Oh yes!” And all that sorta stuff was absolutely pouring from his mouth, and he’d have sounded like a revved up porn star, except Blitzø had very little doubt it was all genuine. And he was starting to feel real fuckin’ proud, making his birdie feel so good. The stream of consciousness was so unrelenting, in fact, that it took him a second to realize Stolas was asking him for something. “Blitzø, Bltzy, ah, your– Your, um– Would you– ah, oh–Could you..?”

He popped off and gave him a little parting lick. “What’s that, pretty bird? Whatcha need?” he asked.

“Ah!” Stolas panted, and looked away, still so fucking shy. It was cute as shit. “Perhaps– Would you be willing to, uhm, put those lovely, thick fingers of yours to a slightly different use?”

“Ohh!” Blitzø said, fucking giddy. “Yeah? You want me to finger you, huh? Fuck yeah I’ll fucking finger you, birdie. You got some lube stashed around here somewhere?”

Stolas had clapped both hands over his face in embarrassment, but he picked one up to wave it. A drawer in his bedside table opened, and a half-used tube of some blue and purple Hell-brand of lube came whizzing over and smacked Blitzø in the arm before bouncing off and landing on the bed.

Blitzø snorted and picked it up, and squirted some out onto his fingers. “Oh damn, this is nice,” he said, surprised. It was very slick, but seemed to stay exactly where he put it without running everywhere. It had a really nice scent, that Blitzø couldn’t quite place. He wanted to say… horny?

Stolas was laughing into his hands, sounding a little loopy. “Asmodeus’s people produce… very fine products,” he said. Well, that made sense.

“Ready, Stols?” he asked, and watched Stolas’s dick twitch. He laid a soothing hand on it, like it was an agitated animal, and almost laughed at himself.

Stolas groaned. “Yes, yes, please. I want– I want to feel your–”

“Alright, birdie,” he said. “You don’t gotta beg.” He smirked, though Stolas was still covering his eyes. “Not tonight, anyway.” This time he felt Stolas’s cock jump. His grin widened and he reached down with his lubed up fingertips to press lightly at Stolas’s entrance.

“Ah!” Stolas gasped, and Blitzø backed off a bit. “No, no, it’s fine,” Stolas said quickly, finally taking his hands away from his eyes so Blitzø could see him again. “It’s very good. I’ve just never… In this body…”

Blitzø huffed a laugh, stifling his curiosity again. “Then you’re in for a treat, pretty bird.” At least, Blitzø really hoped he was. He’d do his damndest to make it good, but maybe Stolas had like five dicks and three prostates as a bird, he didn’t know.

Shit, he really wanted to know. He was basically guaranteed to be into it.

He moved back in to gently circle Stolas’s hole again, this time putting a bit of pressure on it with one fingertip. Stolas immediately bore down, trying to get him inside. Blitzø leaned in and got his mouth back on the tip of Stolas’s dick, then smoothly pushed a single finger inside him, and he was hot and tight and gorgeous and Blitzø’s cock made another aborted attempt to rejoin the party, ‘cause, fuck, he really wanted to get it in there.

“Ah, yes! Blitzø!” Stolas cried, so Blitzø gently moved his finger out and then fucked it back into him.

Stolas writhed gorgeously, and Blitzø was still drunk as a fucking skunk but he had a moment of clarity that this view was, no lie, the loveliest thing he’d ever laid eyes upon and he was one lucky motherfucker to be here seeing it right now. He grinned sappily around the head of Stolas’s pretty cock and started moving a little faster, just a little rougher inside him.

“A- another, Blitzy, please” Stolas gasped out, and Blitzø had already said he didn’t have to beg, but he sure as shit wasn’t gonna tell him to cut it out, either. He obliged and worked another finger in next to the first one, not even having to re-lube, ‘cause apparently the embodiment of lust knew how to make this shit so it never dried out. Stolas groaned and ground down on his fingers like a good little slut, and, fuck, Blitzø was gonna be jerking it to this memory for the rest of his fucking life. And beyond, probably.

With two fingers inside Stolas now, Blitzø could reach a little farther, and he crooked them up, looking for the spot he knew was around there somewhere… Then Blitzø found it and pressed against it and Stolas cried out, loud as fuck. He jerked in a full-body spasm and spilled a little pre right into Blitzø’s mouth. Blitzø lapped up the salty liquid eagerly, but then he gave a little bye-bye smooch to the tip and pulled away so he could get a better angle with his fingers to hit that spot again. He replaced his mouth with his other hand and stroked gently while he pressed into Stolas’s prostate again.

Stolas wailed and writhed, and then he was moving his hips, trying to get Blitzø to go faster, so Blitzø picked up the pace and started finger fucking him in earnest, getting deep and aiming right for Stolas’s prostate on each thrust. And then Stolas was panting and squirming and bouncing down on his fingers as Blitzø fucked them up into him over and over. And somehow Blitzø found the coordination to keep doing that and start jerking Stolas off with the other hand, wet enough with spit and sweat, and Stolas’s panting breaths turned into little wailing cries with each thrust, and after that it wasn’t long before he was arching up off the bed and coming a truly impressive amount all over Blitzø’s hand and his own stomach and up onto that pretty little blue, shimmery cropped tank. His insides clenched and relaxed rhythmically around Blitzø’s fingers, and Blitzø’s cock apparently still hadn’t gotten the message that he’d come way too hard and had way too many drinks in him to get hard again tonight, because by fucking god, it tried, one last time.

Blitzø kept stroking him through it and crooking his fingers at just the right angle until it seemed like Stolas was starting to come down, and he slowed his pace to match, guiding him through. “Fucking gorgeous,” Blitzø said, and gave one last thrust of his fingers right over Stolas's prostate. He shuddered heavily and a last, weak little spurt of cum splattered out onto his lovely stomach.

Blitzø gently removed his fingers from Stolas’s hole and wiped his hand sloppily on the sheets. Then he sat back on his heels to admire his work.

Stolas looked fucked-out as fuck and contented as a cat in a sunbeam. He raised his arms over his head and stretched enticingly, his chest heaving. Blitzø watched his stomach flex, and he could barely see that cute little jewel Stolas had added in his belly button, buried in all the mess. He reached out with the hand he hadn’t just had knuckle-deep inside Stolas and wiped some of Stolas's cum up with his fingers, then leaned in and held them, dripping, just over his pretty, panting mouth. Stolas gazed heavily up at him and very deliberately opened wide, pressing his tongue down, wide and flat.

Blitzø smirked. “Fuuck, good boy,” he praised, and pressed his messy fingers down on that oh-so-inviting tongue. Stolas immediately closed his lips around them and sucked them clean, his tongue wrapping around and between the digits, and Blitzø couldn't help biting his lower lip in satisfaction as he watched.

When his fingers had been cleaned thoroughly enough for his liking, he sat back up on his knees and eyed the remaining mess. “Want me to feed you the rest?” He asked, only half-joking.

Stolas licked his lips and seemed to take a moment to bring Blitzø into focus in front of him. “Tempting,” he said. But he waved a hand and, disappointingly, the puddle of cum on his stomach disappeared without a trace.

Blitzø laughed in surprise, then raised an eyebrow and gestured expectantly at the now-dried, flaking residue low on his own abs, left over from earlier.

Stolas pouted, damn cutely too, but obliged. Then he raised his arms in invitation and Blitzø flopped forward to fall directly on top of him.

“Oof,” Stolas complained, but he let his arms fall contentedly down around Blitzø’s shoulders.

Now that he was lying down, incredibly, cuddled up with a near-naked Stolas, it all caught up with him at once–all the drinks he’d had, his earlier brain-melting orgasm, the arm workout he’d just put in getting his birdie off. He was gonna doze off any second. But shit, how was Stolas this fucking incredible? He had to find out before he passed the fuck out. “Y’sure y’ain’t fucked, like, thirty human dudes in that human body a’yours?” He asked, pretty much nonsensically, into Stolas’s shoulder. And was that what he'd meant to ask?

Stolas’s arms tightened around him. “Hmmwha?” he asked fuzzily, then he continued with less fuzz and more worry, “Thirty? No, Blitzø, I– You’re the only– Did I seem... unenthusiastic?”

“Hah!” Blitzø barked out a laugh. “No, Stols. Y’seemed plenty enthusiastic t’me. I’m sayin’ I had a gooood fuckin’ time.” He giggled a little into Stolas’s shoulder. “Just impressed s’all.”

“Oh!” Stolas said, relaxing again. He yawned. And Blitzø was almost out when he said, sounding more than half-asleep himself, “Well, you know… I read.”

Chapter Text

Blitzø woke up in the early hours of the morning, nauseated, with a pounding headache, lying butt-ass naked on a stupidly soft bed of fluffy, snoring feathers. He shook the fluffy feathers by the shoulder until they said “Uh?”

“Hangover,” he whined.

The headache and nausea receded and relief flooded through him.

“Yer th’ fuckin’ best, Stols,” he said, and snuggled back down into the warm pile of feathers. He thought vaguely and dreamily about tryna get a little 4AM-freaky with those feathers, but they were already snoring again.

Eh, he'd try his luck in the morning.

—

When he woke up again, it was to a gentle clattering noise and the aroma of breakfast, and he found Stolas already up and back in his human form. He was wearing that red robe he always wore as a bird, but, well, actually wearing it now, rather than letting it fall all casually and sexily off his body wherever it liked. Blitzø blinked groggily, sitting up in bed, still too half-asleep to try to puzzle out what the changes in form and robe meant. Stolas was heading towards the bed with a large carafe of something that might’ve been coffee in one hand and balancing a dish covered with a large, silver dome on the other. That seemed to be the source of both the noise and the scent, and Blitzø was immediately awake and salivating, remembering the best fucking pancakes of his life from 20-some years ago.

“Oh, fuck yeah, birdie,” he said, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand.

“Good morning, Blitzy,” Stolas said flirtatiously, putting the dish down on the bed next to Blitzø.

“Well good morning to you, too,” he said with a grin, and moved over so Stolas could join him with the dish between them. Oh thank fucking Christ, Stolas wasn’t gonna be all awkward and shit. “Breakfast for one?” he asked, amused.

“I thought we could share,” Stolas said pleasantly, pouring coffee from the carafe into a cup he'd pulled from fuck knows where. Then his smile turned a little devious. “Or if you’d like to have this, I’m sure I could find something else to have for breakfast.” He handed Blitzø the steaming coffee and Blitzø tried not to spill it around his stupid grin as he took a sip.

Was he still fucking dreaming, or what?

“Hmm, how ‘bout we share,” he suggested, and pulled the dome off the top of the dish. Purple pancakes. Fuck. Yeah. He glanced back up at Stolas with a smirk and pitched his voice low when he said, “Then maybe we can both have dessert.”

Stolas flushed and giggled. “Well, they’re pancakes, darling, they’re functionally dessert already.”

—

Somehow, Blitzø ended up with maple syrup on his dick. He had no idea how it’d happened, but apparently that's what he got for trying to eat pancakes naked. Fortunately, Stolas seemed happy enough to clean it up for him. Extremely thoroughly. With his mouth.

It was slow and lazy, with Blitzø lying propped against the headboard, legs propped up and spread wide, with Stolas's pretty head bobbing between them, all leisurely, like he was in no hurry to get Blitzø off this morning. Like he just wanted to take his time developing a personal fucking relationship with Blitzø's dick, and Blitzø himself was fuckin’ incidental to the process.

But Blitzø was pleased to’ve made the introduction and he enjoyed the fuck out of watching them get to know each other. So, it wasn't all bad.

(It was pretty fucking fantastic, actually.)

Stolas didn't try to swallow this time, which was, y’know, fair. Instead, when Blitzø started to warn him he was close, he pulled off and finished Blitzø off with a hand, staring unnervingly directly at his face while Blitzø came kind of ridiculously hard for a slow morning bj-slash-handy combo given to him by a guy clearly unpracticed at either one.

Blitzø did also get to watch Stolas lick the cum off his abs while reaching under his own robe and jerking himself off about it, though. So that was, like… nice, too.

(Brain-meltingly hot.)

(Whatever.)

When his stomach was possibly cleaner than it had ever been, he finally gave up and pushed Stolas off of him and down on the bed. And he barely got that sexy little robe out of the way, and gave about two licks to the head of his dick, and was just considering adding Stolas's cute little ass to his breakfast menu, when Stolas cried out and came messily over his stomach and up all over the lapels of his robe.

Blitzø sat back and smirked lazily down at Stolas. Damn he looked pretty when he came. Blitzø couldn't fucking wait to make him come on his cock. And, holy fuck, he might actually get to do that.

“Sorry,” Stolas said, staring up at him with wide, blissed-out eyes.

“For the mess?” Blitzø asked, amused. “Should make you eat this one, too.” He lightly swatted the inside of one of Stolas's thighs and Stolas yelped and moaned and his soft, spent little cock twitched. Fucking hot as fuck, Jesus.

“For finishing so quickly,” he clarified, panting slightly.

Blitzø snorted a laugh. “Oh, shut up,” he said. Stolas was new to this, of course he was gonna be shooting off at the slightest touch. “Can't exactly fault you for getting all hornt up over a taste of this.” He waggled his eyebrows and gestured broadly at himself.

“Hmm, yes, you do have a point. You are quite affecting,” Stolas said, distracted, with full sincerity. He was dipping his fingers in the mess on his own stomach, and he licked it off.

“Uhh…” Blitzø said, speechless for multiple reasons.

“Yes, I thought so,” Stolas said regretfully, wiping his damp fingers off on his robe. He looked Blitzø in the eye, a genuinely disappointed expression haunting his face. “Yours just tastes so much better.”

—

Blitzø eventually dug the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and he shared with Stolas while they sat in bed, naked, messes magicked away, and chatted about nothing in particular. It was… real nice. Like, ‘he could get used to it real quick’ nice.

There was a lull in the conversation. Blitzø sighed contentedly and grinned at Stolas, who grinned back, goofily wide, with closed lips, eyes shining.

“This is good,” Blitzø said.

“I think so, too,” Stolas said, still smiling a thousand-watt smile.

Blitzø took a draw on the cig, and said, holding onto the draw, “It can get weird sometimes–y’know, uh, sleeping with friends?” He averted his eyes and exhaled the lungful of smoke. He flicked his eyes back to Stolas and smiled again. “Cool that it’s not weird right now.”

“Mm-hm!” Stolas agreed, in a weird, squeaky bird voice, smiling brightly back at him with his eyes shut tight. “Not at all ‘weird’, I agree entirely! Absolutely cool as can be, in fact!” He yanked the cigarette back from Blitzø and theatrically took what Blitzø assumed was supposed to be a “cool” puff, one hand holding the filter to his lips between fingertip and thumb, and the other arm thrown back over his head in some kind of model-esque pose.

Blitzø just laughed. Stolas was extremely cute, so he could get away with a lot, but what a fucking dork.

—

Blitzø went back to the club for his credit card that evening, as soon as they opened.

Just his fucking luck, Angel, Anthony, whoever the fuck, was there again, behind the bar. He wasn’t exactly busy–there were only one or two sad sacks there to drink already–so of course he saw Blitzø coming a mile away and had his tab printed out for him before he even got up to the bar.

Blitzø plucked it out of his smug, twinky hand, and full-body winced at the numbers on it.

“Sooo,” Angel said, handing him a pen and grinning way too fucking wide. “When’s the wedding? Am I invited? Do I get a plus one?”

“Ugh,” he said, trying to do math in his fucking head. “It’s not– We didn’t…” he wrote down a number and hoped he hadn’t tipped this little daddyfucker too much.

“Oh don’t even try to tell me you two didn’t go home together and get nasty. Maybe I didn’t see you leave, but I sure as fuck saw something happening out there on the dance floor.” He smirked, leaning on the bar, chin in his hands. “I was thinkin’ maybe I was gonna have to go grab the mop from the back.”

Blitzø rolled his eyes and wrote down what he was reasonable certain was the right total, and, fuck, he was never going out to drink again. Even with the jobs coming in, he had a daughter to put through school. “Yeah, yeah, I mean, we fucked, alright? You nosey bitch. But there’s no fucking wedding. It’s cool. We're cool. He said it's cool. He doesn’t see me like that.”

Angel snatched the receipt away from Blitzø, leaving a jagged pen line trailing down from the half-filled signature line. He flung Blitzø’s card at him and it smacked him in the chest (“Hey!”) before falling on the floor. “Doesn’t see you like that?” Angel demanded. “Pretty boy was here all night, and he didn’t see a single damn thing but you the entire time, dipshit,” he huffed.

“Alright, asshole,” Blitzø said, and picked his card up off the sticky floor. And now he was pissed the fuck off. “It’s so nice for you that you get to hang out behind this bar all night and make up little love stories about every jizzstained freak who walks through that door with a hot piece of ass on his arm, but that doesn’t mean you actually know what’s going on with any of them, okay? But if you really wanna know my fucking business so bad, fine. Here it is: he’s told me to my face that him and me being together would be– he said it would be fucking ridiculous, okay? His fucking words. He’s not interested. It’s not gonna happen. Leave me the fuck alone.” Oh shit, oh shit. His voice had cracked on that last sentence, and that was so, so not necessary because it would be so incredibly stupid to even want anything like Angel was implying, and so he had not ever even thought about it. And he couldn’t fucking want anything he hadn’t even fucking thought about.

“Oh.” Ugh. Angel looked fucking sad now, even though there was nothing to be fucking sad about. “Hey, I… I’m sorry. How ‘bout–”

“Just fuck off,” Blitzø said, and he turned around and left.

—

Look.

Blitzø wasn’t proud of himself or anything, but he found himself texting Stolas a little less often over the next week.

But it wasn’t, like, because they’d fucked.

Well, okay, it was because they’d fucked.

But it wasn’t the way his usual post-hookup text threads typically petered out– when he didn't just block and delete– with vague discussions of going out again sometime or getting coffee that no one actually meant or was the least bit fucking interested in.

And it sure as shit wasn’t because he’d had a fucking brain transplant with a complete moron and gotten fucking bored with Stolas after they’d fucked.

In fact it was kind of the opposite.

And anyway, it’s not like he was ghosting the guy! He still texted Stolas, like, way more than anyone else in his phone. Except maybe Looney, but most of their texts were about comings and goings and meals and Blitzø offering to pick her up something from wherever he was at all times, and her mostly ignoring those offers.

It was just that Blitzø had lost all sight of what was a reasonable amount to text your demon friend who you’d hooked up with once (well twice if you counted the next morning) and who you thought about pretty much every second of every day and wanted to talk to literally all the time and couldn’t wait for an excuse to get into bed again. So he… erred on the side of caution. He didn’t text first… unless he had to. He waited at least ten minutes after Stolas’s opening texts to text back, unless it was really important or really funny. And he tried to keep their conversations short after they’d gotten going. Though he mostly just fucking failed at that one.

But it wasn't helping that Stolas was now flirting with him over their texts fucking relentlessly! If you could call what he was doing “flirting,” anyway, instead of, like, “seeing how hard he could make Blitzø cringe while simultaneously seeing how hard he could make Blitzø's dick.” Or something like that.

For instance, in the midst of discussing one of their sinner contacts:

Stols: You know, I was previously unaware of how pleasurable orgasm could be for a human body! I confess I’d once wondered what exactly was so tempting for some of your lot about the sin of Lust. But my dear Blitzy, after having had your thick, clever fingers so very deep inside me, wringing the climax from my body while I cried out with ecstasy… I truly feel I now understand that sort of downfall on a much more personal level.

Or, discussing scheduling with the sinner who’d shown up at Stolas’s palace:

Stols: I have our meeting with Muddy booked for 4pm on Friday at the usual motel room. Assuming you’d like to attend, I’ll portal you there beforehand at your convenience.
Stols: I will have the palace to myself for the rest of that evening, if you’d like to come over afterward. I’d very much like to have your cock in my mouth again, if you’re at all interested. Of course there’s no obligation, but I must confess I'm eager to perfect my technique! Perhaps I can attempt to swallow you somewhat deeper than I managed the first time, if I can sufficiently overcome the gag reflex of my human form.
Stols: Oh, and additionally, I’ve been rather regretting that I was unable to swallow all of your cum after bringing you to orgasm that first night, as I’ve read that it may feel quite pleasurable, and I admit that I find the prospect greatly appealing, myself.

Or, out of fucking nowhere:

Stols: Would you be interested in following through on your offer to fuck me, at some point in the near future? Presuming, by that, you meant putting your rather impressive cock inside of me directly, though I accept that by many definitions you have, in fact, fucked me already, during our initial encounter. But I do hope you see what I mean, and that you are still interested.
Stols: I understand the suggestion may have been made in the heat of the moment, and naturally I will not hold you to it, if you’re not excited by the thought. But I myself have been anticipating such an activity with quite some enthusiasm, and it occurred to me that I ought to let you know where I stand on the issue, so to speak.
Stols: And of course I’d be happy to reciprocate if that is something you might enjoy!

Blitzø had read that one in the van with M&M on the way to a hit. He’d nearly veered off the road staring at his phone, and Moxxie had shouted at him for like 40 minutes about texting and driving while Blitzø pretended to not have a fucking insane boner that even Moxxie’s worst bitching apparently couldn’t make shrivel up and die.

And shit, when had Blitzø even offered to fuck Stolas? He would–he definitely would, but he didn’t remember saying it in so many words. Probably he’d been running his fucking mouth while drunk off his ass, but… that didn’t really narrow it down. He just hoped to fucking god it was at least sometime after Stolas had shown some indication he’d be into it.

(And the fact that he was into it blew Blitzø’s fucking mind)

When they’d gotten where they were going, Blitzø made M&M go ahead without him to set up, and, biting his lip with what was probably a dumb-ass fucking grin on his face, he texted back:

Blitzø: fuck yah ill put my imprssiv fukin cock in u brdie
Blitzø: hapy 2
Blitzø: jus say whn

Stols: I’m quite glad to hear it! I would say immediately, but regrettably I’m currently otherwise engaged. Perhaps we should allow it to come about organically? Now that I know you’re “on board” with the concept, anyhow.

Blitzø: vry on bord

Stols: What do you think of my second suggestion? It’s not something I’m exceedingly confident about offering, but I’m not opposed to the idea in any way! I imagine if you guide me through it, I could provide an adequate, if not, perhaps, exceptional experience. It is entirely up to you.

Blitzø: big maby

So in summary, Blitzø had gotten laid, but he was still jerking it, like, two, three times a day.

It was kind of a lot, even for him.

—

Stolas opened a portal for Blitzø directly out of his living room. Shit, he shoulda hosted months ago–this was way easier than crawling around in his van.

He took a deep, steadying breath and stepped through into “their” room at the Mazbin, and caught sight of that tall, gorgeous drink of feathered water, already sitting on the far side of the table they used for their meetings with sinners.

“Hiya Stols!” He greeted. And it had only been a couple of weeks, but, “Feels like forever since I saw you all birdied-up.” And the last time he had, he'd spent most of it distracted with all the screeching from a certain puffed-up bitch in a puffed-up bitch frock.

Stolas smiled, warm but slightly distant. “Good afternoon, Blitzø. How have you been these past few days?”

Blitzø faltered a little. Not exactly the reception he’d been expecting from Mr. Can’t Wait to Get Your Cock in Me, Not Picky About Which Hole, but, sure, Blitzø could carry this little convo if he had to. He sat in the chair across from Stolas–the one usually reserved for their esteemed clients–and kicked his boots up on the table. “Oh, y’know,” he said, stretching his arms up behind his head. “Had a good weekend. Went to the bar, went home with a guy. Tall, human, fluffy gray hair, red eyes. Real cute. You know him?”

That earned him a bit of a smile. “I might,” Stolas said, coyly.

“Oh yeah?” That’s right, bitch. Can’t resist all this. “He’s been texting me all week, too. Really rilling me up.”

“Is that so?” Stolas asked mildly, leaning over the table and propping his pretty bird chin in one long-taloned hand. A flush had sprung up on his cheeks.

“Mm-hmm. Think I might see him again tonight, actually. After this meeting, if he’s looking to come out and play.” He put a teasing little lilt on the end of his sentence and waggled an eyebrow.

Stolas hooted a cute little laugh. “Well, I imagine if he’s been texting you all week, as you say, he is likely to be interested in such a proposition.”

Blitzø shot him a wink. “Glad you think so, birdie.” He put his boots back on the floor and leaned in over the table, eyeing Stolas up and down and pretending to just now notice how fuckin' hot he looked in that little red romper. “Y’know, feathers, I could prob’ly be convinced to throw you a bone sometime, if you're lookin’. You just lemme know–”

Stolas drew back, his smile dropping. “Blitzø, entertaining as this discussion is, our meeting time is fast approaching. We should get you ready.”

Blitzø sat up, too, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, go ahead.”

Blitzø felt the tingle of magic surrounding him, and in less than a second, he was an imp. He flexed his wide, red and white clawed hands in front of him. They were getting to be more familiar now, but it was still always strange for the first minute or so, going either way.

He clambered up over the table and onto the chair next to Stolas's, already piled up with a stack of thick books for him to sit on.

“Ready,” he said, and stuck his lizardy tongue out the side of his mouth.

“G- great!” Stolas said, and averted his eyes.

Blitzø frowned. They still had as much time as they had before, but he wasn't about to take them back down the flirting road. Stolas had confirmed he'd be interested in spending some time together after the meeting. That was cool. More than cool, in fact. But he also didn't seem interested in discussing it further. Blitzø could respect that, even if he didn't really get why.

“My apologies, Blitzø.” Stolas said softly after a moment. “I just, well… In this form, I… I understand that… Ugh” He sighed. “I just mean to say that you– You don’t need to…” he trailed off.

Blitzø waited.

There was a knock at the door.

“Shit,” Stolas said under his breath, standing. “Do you understand what I mean?” He asked out loud, his eyes pleading with Blitzø to get it. Whatever it was. And he went to open the door for Muddy.

But Blitzø didn’t fucking get it.

Except that, yeah, he actually kinda did. It was something he’d suspected already: Stolas was interested, but not while he was in his bird form. He was fine with talking about hooking up as a human, but as soon as Blitzø expressed interest in him in his actual body, he’d shut it all down.

Blitzø mused as Stolas came back with their drippy sinner friend in tow. Was Stolas ace in his bird form? Well, probably not–he’d seemed attracted to that imp guy in that movie they watched. Sex repulsed? Eh, possibly, but it seemed a lot more likely he just wasn’t into humans unless he was in a human body himself. Yeah. Alright. That was alright. Blitzø would deal. He was lucky Stolas seemed into him in any context. He could live without finding it what Stolas was hiding under those slutty little red shiorts. Under his pretty tail feathers. Between those long, sexy thighs.

All fucking agitated now, he tapped his claws and swished his tail. And he got an idea.

Well. Maybe it was possible. Maybe. He’d bring it up after the meeting. Just once. And if Stolas wasn’t interested, then he wasn’t interested, and Blitzø would fucking drop it.

—

Muddy had fucking nothing for them.

“You never, like, hid any nice jewelry away when you were alive and forgot to tell anyone?” Blitzø asked, scraping the bottom of the barrel.

“I didn’t fucking wear jewelry.”

“Alright, I don’t know! How about a fuckin’ family heirloom or something, then?”

“No. Can’t I just pay you? Or can’t you just take his shitty soul as payment or something? Fuck, I’d be willing to give you my own soul if you can make this happen.”

“Told you. We’re not interested in souls. And does this guy look like he needs your money?” Blitzø asked, gesturing at the very fancy demon next to him and his fancy lil’ getup.

“No, but you do.”

Blitzø snarled.

“Ah-alright!” Stolas said, nervously, to the both of them. He turned to Muddy. “The fact of the matter is, we have an arrangement with a human contact to carry out assassinations on Earth. And they require human-world payment. If you have nothing to offer us in that regard, then I’m afraid we must decline your…patronage.” He said the last word with a slight edge of disdain.

Holy shit, Blitzø fucking loved him.

Aaas a friend!

“Okay, then what the fuck do you two even get out of it? And what the fuck’s even the point of a living hitman going to us sinners for business?”

“I’ll remind you, you came to us, not the other way around. And the details of our deal with our living world business partners are none of your concern.”

“This is fucking bullshit! My sister in law gets me fucking killed from Hell, and you don’t even have the decency to kill my shitty brother in return?”

"She was able to pay with useful information. You, on the other hand, seem to have nothing worth our time.”

“Fuck you guys! Thanks for fucking nothing!” Muddy shouted. She slammed her hands on the table, splattering the two of them and the rest of the room with drops of purple-brown mud, then stomped sludgily to the door.

Blitzø tried to leap from his book pile to see if he couldn’t kill this bitch a second time, but Stolas held him back with a hand on his shoulder. Blitzø could’ve shaken it off–Stolas wasn’t really physically restraining him or anything–but he looked up and saw the pretty bird just shaking his head.

“It’s not worth it,” he said softly. “You won’t be able to do any real damage. And although she's not terribly powerful, she would actually be able to hurt you if she got a lucky hit in.”

Blitzø sat back with a huff. Pissed off as he was, he didn’t doubt Stolas’s knowledge of the power imbalances in Hell.

Muddy trudged out the door and tried to slam it behind her. Instead, she tugged on it in increasing frustration while it creaked closed stupidly slowly, caught up on the piled up gunk all over the floor. She eventually swore and gave up, and they could hear her shouting and bitching at nothing into the distance as she left.

Blitzø snorted. “Okay, that last part was entertaining, at least.”

Stolas hooted a little laugh and waved a hand. The door swung gently closed as all of the mud, including what was on them and splattered around the room, disappeared.

“Where does stuff go when you do that?” Blitzø asked. Assuming it went anywhere and didn't just wink out of existence.

Stolas frowned. “I– I don’t actually know.” He seemed to concentrate. “I think… The sun?”

Blitzø’s eyebrows raised. “The human sun?”

Stolas shrugged.

“Huh.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Ugh, what the fuck does she still want?” Blitzø bitched. “Hang on, I’ll scream at her till she goes away.” He slithered out of his chair and across the room to wrench open the door. “We fucking told you–”

On the other side, where he expected a muddy bitch… There was a much taller, much more feathery bitch.

“Wha– What the fuck are you doing here?!” Blitzø demanded. Behind him, he heard Stolas shout and the sound of his chair clattering to the floor.

Stella only smiled cruelly down at him and stepped out of the way. Another tall, feathery bitch, this one an icy blue, brushed past her and grabbed Blitzø by the throat before he could react. He heard Stolas shout again and he choked, his airway cutting off abruptly. The blue bird’s hand was strong but Blitzø managed to crane his neck down and sink a deep bite right into his skinny wrist, and he simultaneously raked his claws down over the asshole’s arm from as far up as he could reach, desperately gouging into the flesh with all his strength. Ice-cold black blood sprayed from the bite in all directions and spilled out in thick rivulets under Blitzø's claws.

“Ow, fuck! You little shit!” the blue bird cried, and dropped Blitzø, yanking his arm back to clutch it protectively to his chest.

Blitzø hit the ground hard on his little red ass, hissed, and scrambled back away from the door. Stolas met him halfway, having already started scrambling over from the table, and Blitzø stopped just short of him–once again frustrated by how little of the tall bird he could actually get in front of–whirling around to snarl and bare his teeth at the two birds sneering back at them from the doorway. He wiped freezing black blood out of his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, and spat even more out of his mouth onto the floor.

“Stella! Andrealphus!” Stolas shouted. “What the fuck?!”

“You should get a muzzle for that one,” Andy-puss said with disgust, cradling his bloodied arm pitifully. Though if he was anything at all like Stolas, Blitzø would bet he’d fucking healed already.

Stolas made an angry, choked sound behind him, and Blitzø snapped his jaws at the tall blue fuckstain, still tasting his blood. He was welcome to fucking try to get a muzzle on him.

“We heard everything, my dear brother-in-law,” Handle-pus went on to say in a very fucking annoying pompous-shitbag voice. "Don’t try to deny it!”

Stella said nothing, only smiled smugly.

A shock of fear went through Blitzø. The fuck had they heard? He’d come down here as a fucking human. Had they seen? What had he and Stolas said? Fucking shit!

Stolas spoke levelly. “And what exactly is it you believe you have heard, Andrealphus?”

Andre–whatever-the-fuck smiled with a smugness that matched Stella’s, and Blitzø had guessed the two were siblings based on the ‘brother-in-law’ comment, but this seemed like a fucking confirmation. “You have been working with human assassins in an unauthorized, ongoing demonic pact, to take hits out on targets in the living world at the request of sinners, in exchange for some sort of information. And, I assume, you’re using your portal spell to communicate with these, eugh, living humans you're working with?”

Okay, okay. Well, shit, yeah, that was pretty much exactly what they were doing. But he didn’t seem to know Blitzø was human, at least. Probably. He would’ve mentioned it, right? Blitzø glanced back at Stolas, who was staring murderously at his wife and brother-in-law. His edges flickered black and red, and that was the first time Blitzø had seen that happen since they were kids. He wanted to stop and stare, but he couldn’t let himself take his eyes off the two fuckers in front of him for long. He dragged his gaze back to the two of them, despising them even more for making him miss a chance to see Stolas being all fuckin’ badass and shit.

“And?” Stolas asked, sounding dangerous.

Blitzø suppressed a little shiver.

“And, what? I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific!” Andre goaded.

“What do you want?” Stolas asked. “Leverage? I have already been more than generous, Stella, considering what you’ve put me through all these–”

"No, you complete fucking idiot!” Stella shouted, and he saw Andre wince–but whether it was from the close-range explosion that was Stella’s voice in his ear, or the outright rejection of Stolas's offer of “leverage”, Blitzø couldn’t say. She screeched on, “Who the fuck needs your pathetic leverage when you have so much more to offer us?

"We want fucking in!”

Chapter Text

“You want… in?” Stolas sounded disbelieving and slightly condescending, that beautiful bitch.

Stella scoffed disdainfully. “Well it sounds like you’re not taking their souls, you PATHETIC excuse for a man,” she blared out of her annoying fucking beak.

“Stella, please try to have the slightest sense of discretion,” the blue bird whose name Blitzø couldn't fucking pronounce–fuck it, he was just gonna call him Andre–muttered through a gritted beak. Andre ushered her bodily through the door and closed it behind them.

Blitzø pressed back tighter against Stolas, trying to will himself bigger and trying to look as intimidating as possible.

“What my extremely beautiful and intelligent sister is trying to say…” Andre began. And Blitzø couldn’t help breaking his intimidating facade briefly to look probably as grossed-out as he felt. “...is that we feel you may be overlooking a certain potential in these transactions. You just had a sinner, right here in front of you, offering you not only a claim on the victim’s soul, but her own soul in payment, as well! And you allowed her to simply walk away, even though it sounds as though you have the means to fulfill her request.”

“I am entirely uninterested in collecting human souls,” Stolas said levelly.

Andre gave a sputtering laugh. “Un– Uninterested? Dearest brother-in-law, do you know what you can do with even a single human soul?”

“Yes,” Stolas said. Blitzø glanced back at him. He was unwavering. It was hot as fuck.

“Then you should know what kind of value you’re simply leaving on the table!”

“The fuck does it matter to you, bitch?” Blitzø snarled. Andre looked down at him in surprised disgust.

“Blitzø, please,” Stolas said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. Andre’s face twisted into something even more disgusted, and one of Stella’s eyes twitched violently. “But, yes, in fact, what does it matter to you?” Stolas asked Andre. “Bitch.”

Blitzø tried to snort-laugh and still look like he’d rip a motherfucker’s throat out at the same time.

Andre rolled his eyes dramatically. “Ugh. Is this what slumming it with an imp has done to you, Stolas? Terribly embarrassing. I wasn’t sure I quite believed it, but…” he looked significantly at Stolas’s hand still on Blitzø’s shoulder.

Blitzø shrugged his hand off. The last thing those two needed was more ammo. “Like I’m pretty fucking sure I told your cunt of a sister, Stolas ain’t been ‘slumming it’ with any imps, ‘sfar as I know.” He’d slummed it with a human. “So shut your fucking beak hole before I shut it up for you!”

Stolas sighed heavily. “I’m assuming you’re asking that we hand over these souls to you then?” he said to Andre.

“Oh, we’re not asking,” Andre replied haughtily. “We’re telling. Unless, well. I’m sure your father would be quite interested to hear about all you’ve been getting up to, recently. And, well, if he has nothing much to say about it, I suspect our lord Satan himself would be a rather rapt audience.”

Stolas stiffened behind Blitzø at the first mention of his father, and further when fucking Satan got thrown into the mix.

“Hm, that’s what I thought,” Andre said mildly.

“Now call that disgusting little sinner back here and tell her to hand over her fucking soul, and the make the fucking job happen!” Stella screeched.

Andre smiled a tight, but triumphant smile.

“Blitzø…” Stolas said, softly, and Blitzø turned halfway to look at him, trying to keep an eye on the two stuffed-up cunts by the door. Stolas was looking at him with some kind of question in his eyes, but Blitzø had no idea what that question might be.

“Whatever you gotta do, birdie,” he murmured, hoping that would cover it.

Stolas gave him a small, sad, grateful smile. “Alright,” he said, to the bitch twins. “We’ll call her. You’ll have your souls.”

“HA!” Stella shouted at Andre. “I fucking TOLD you!”

“Stella…” Andre said, facepalming.

—

Stolas called Muddy and told her they’d do the job, at the cost of her soul and that of the intended victim.

She accepted.

Before Stella and Andre left, Stolas demanded they at least tell him how they knew he’d be here, meeting with the sinner, at this time and place.

Andre merely smiled mysteriously, but facepalmed, hard, again when Stella crowed, “I just asked one of the stupid little imps at the palace for your schedule! I’m still the lady of the house, you know–they handed it right over!” She cackled obnoxiously.

Stolas squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his feathers hard between the lower set. A single word burst explosively from his beak before he cut himself off: “Motherfucking–”

—

Blitzø came along with Stolas when he portaled himself back to the palace. Stolas was carrying the stack of books Blitzø had been sitting on, and he placed them down heavily on a table near his little library.

Blitzø went to Stolas's ensuite bathroom to wash all the fucking bird blood off his face and out of his mouth and out from under his claws. It would probably go away when Stolas got around to changing him back to a human, but he felt fucking gross and he thought he'd just go ahead and give Stolas a minute, anyway.

When he came back out, the bird was just standing there next to the stack of books, head hanging. But god, he was still so fucking gorgeous, even slumped over in… whatever exactly he was feeling right now.

“You, uh, gonna have to fire someone?” Blitzø asked. It was kind of a stupid thing to ask about, but everything else just seemed like a real minefield right now.

Stolas looked up and cocked his head, frowning. “No, I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”

Blitzø shifted on his little imp feet. “I dunno. ‘Cause someone here gave your private info to Stella?”

“Oh,” Stolas laughed bitterly. “No. No, Stella was right. She is the lady of the house. Whoever it was, they were correct to give her my schedule– I– I won’t even try to find out who it was. No, I’m just– I'm so used to her not giving two shits about what I do. It was a…” he sighed. “A very, very stupid oversight.”

“Hey there, c’mon now, Stols,” Blitzø said, injecting a little levity into his voice. “It’s not so bad! I’ll kill the guy, they’ll get the souls, we’ll stay a little more discreet in the future, it's all good.”

Stolas sighed and gave him a half-smile. “And you’re sure you don’t mind doing this one, even though you won’t get paid for it?”

“Yeah? I mean, ‘course I don't mind.” He frowned at Stolas. “Is that why you were checkin’ in with me? Shit, yeah, whatever, Stols. You’ve helped me make so much fucking money these past couple of months, I got no problem with doin’ this one pro bono to get you out of a jam.”

“What! Yes, that’s why I was checking in with you!” Stolas said, looking outraged. “It wasn’t just my decision to make!”

“Ehh, I guess,” Blitzø said, shrugging. “But you’d understand better’n I would if it was something we could refuse or not. Not like I have any idea what happens if they blab.”

“Ugh. Nothing good,” Stolas murmured.

Blitzø winced. “Yeah, look. I– I trust you to handle what you gotta handle on the Hell-side, okay. And that includes whether or not we gotta do some shit to pay off some fuckin’ blackmailers. It’s part of the job. A shitty part, sure, but you gotta trust me, too, y'know? To be able to handle whatever needs to be done on the Earth-side in situations like this. Okay? It’s… it’s our fuckin’ business, Stols. I'm not gonna hang you out to dry. We’re in it together.”

Stolas gave him a look then, so suddenly, unexpectedly sweet and aching, Blitzø felt a shiver of shock mixed with oh-shit-horny go right through him, and he felt his tail spring straight up, rigid, in the air. And then it wasn’t just a shiver, but a full-body magic tingle, and he was suddenly a foot or so taller, sprung-up tail gone altogether, back in his human form. And across from him, Stolas was a couple of feet shorter, in his human form, too. And then Blitzø was catching Stolas around the shoulders because he’d fucking launched himself like a ballistic fucking missile straight into Blitzø’s arms and had mashed his face directly into Blitzø’s face.

“Fuck–” Blitzø choked out, and tried his best to ignore the fact that Stolas had basically just headbutted him in the process of trying to make out with him, so that he could successfully make out with Stolas back. He got their lips lined up and opened his mouth to Stolas's and thrust his tongue straight inside with absolutely zero subtlety, but Stolas’s own tongue was there too, meeting his with just-as-wild enthusiasm. Their mouths moved desperately against each other and Stolas seemed to be trying to climb Blitzø like a fucking tree, despite the good several inches Stolas still had on him. So Blitzø moved his arms from Stolas’s shoulders to his thighs, just below his skinny little ass, and did his best to support him in this attempt. Stolas wrapped his legs around Blitzø’s waist, squeezing their hips together and putting damn near all of his weight on Blitzø’s arms, and Blitzø’s cock had probably just broken some kind of world speed record for going from zero to full fucking mast in no seconds flat.

Blitzø broke off the kiss to see where the fucking bed was so he could move them in that direction, and holy shit, apparently Stolas hadn’t been running his mouth just ‘cause he’d been drunk last time, ‘cause as soon as his mouth was free, he was whispering the fucking filthiest shit in Blitzø’s ear. “I want to suck you off again, Blitzø. I haven’t stopped thinking about it for one moment since last time. I want you to make me choke on it, make me gag while you fuck my mouth. I want you to come down my throat, then pull out and fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow. I want you to–”

Blitzø kissed him again to shut him up as soon he’d figured out the way to the bed, bringing them towards it with the longest, fastest strides he could manage with a very tall, very horny man draped over his torso. “Holy shit, birdie,” He laughed, disbelieving. “You want it that bad, huh?”

“Yes!” Stolas cried, somewhere between a moan and frustrated demand. “I want you quite desperately, Blitzø! Have I not made myself clear?”

Fuck, he never knew he had a kink for “earnest requests to get dicked down by his cock specifically” but fuck if it wasn’t working for him. “Alright, fuck. Fuck yeah, birdie, I'll give you what you need. Just gotta get you to the–fuck!” He’d misjudged the distance to the bed and somehow tripped trying to put Stolas down, and they went sprawling across the mattress together.

Stolas barely seemed to notice the less than graceful landing, and he reached up to pull Blitzø down by his lapels to bring their mouths back together. Blitzø went willingly, happy to move right along. He slid a hand behind Stolas’s head and into his hair and kept kissing him messily while using the other hand to try to figure out how the fuck the whole puffy collar, cute little broach situation worked. And then suddenly he was fiddling with absolutely nothing, because Stolas’s clothes had fucking disappeared entirely. He pulled back in surprise and kneeled up on the bed over Stolas’s suddenly entirely naked body, and holy shit everything about this was just insanely fucking hot.

Stolas for his part looked slightly mortified, and somehow extremely adorable. “Sorry, I– I just thought it would be easier… Than trying to, well…”

Blitzø’s heart did a weird flip-floppy thing, but his dick was way too fucking hard to worry about it right now. “Ohh, pretty bird,” he said, grinning and trailing a hand down Stolas’s chest. He tweaked a nipple and Stolas gasped. “Do you see me complaining? ‘Cause I am not complaining.”

Stolas brought his hands up to flutter self-consciously over his stomach. “Ah, I–”

Blitzø grabbed both anxious wrists and pinned them to the bed on either side of Stolas’s head. Then he picked his own hips up so he could see as much of Stolas’s body as possible–squirming this way and that, naked under him while Blitzø himself was still fully clothed. “Pretty bird,” he repeated. “Pretty man. You’re fucking gorgeous like this.”

Stolas’s bare cock twitched. “Ah, Blitzø please!” he cried.

“Please what?” He teased. “Tell daddy what you need, hm, pretty bird?”

“Ah!” Stolas shuddered. “I want– Can I suck you off, please? I really– I really haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, I–”

“Fuck,” Blitzø cut him off, shivering a little himself. “Fuck yeah you can. Like I’m gonna say no when you ask me so nice.”

“Thank you, daddy.” Stolas smiled up at him, eyes huge.

Blitzø groaned happily. “Stols, I can only get so fucking hard over here.”

He let go of Stolas’s wrists and hopped back off the bed. Trying to keep his eyes on the lovely feast in front of him and take off his boots at the same time while not falling over proved to be a little bit of a challenge, but he was at least gonna get his fucking footwear off this time, fuck.

Stolas waved a hand and Blitzø fully lost his balance, falling face first into the bed between Stolas’s legs, because the shoe under the foot he’d been standing on and the other shoe he’d been fruitlessly tugging on both disappeared at the same time. Along with the rest of his clothes.

He scrambled back to his feet, staring wide-eyed at Stolas.

“Did you just yeet my clothes into the fucking sun?!” He screeched.

“No!” Stolas yelled back, sounding highly offended. “They’re right over there!” He pointed behind Blitzø and he turned to see that, yes, his clothes seemed to be neatly folded on a chair, right over there. His boots were tidily paired together on the floor just underneath. Blitzø watched one of them flop over with a gentle thud.

“Oh.”

“Yes. And if you’re quite done maligning my character, I’d like to suck your cock now.”

Blitzø never jumped into a bed so fast.

“Lie down, please,” Stolas requested, and Blitzø complied, propping his head up on a pillow. Stolas leaned over him, smiling saucily. “Much as I enjoyed being on my knees for you that first time, I found this position a little easier to work with.”

“Ah, fuck Stols,” Blitzø said, taking a steadying breath. “I’m not gonna lie, you did look real fuckin’ pretty on your knees.”

“Hm, lucky for you then,” Stolas said, and waggled his hips to draw attention to the fact that he was, technically, on his knees right now, like he hadn't been the one to bring it up.

Blitzø snorted. “I said what I said, and I stand by iiiit–ahhh fffuck!” While Blitzø was talking, Stolas had leaned farther in, and he gently took the head of Blitzø’s cock in his mouth. Blitzø raised one arm up and tucked it behind his own head–supporting his neck up a bit to give him a better vantage and stretching his torso long for Stolas’s own viewing pleasure (ideally). He rested the other hand in Stolas’s hair, not guiding or pushing, just enjoying the feeling.

Stolas hummed happily and bobbed a little, up and down, warm and wet.

Blitzø had gone pretty fucking easy on him last week, especially in the morning, after their pancakes. And especially considering how bad Blitzø wanted to mess him up a little. But Stolas was new to this, and the last thing Blitzø wanted to do was put him off this particular activity. So he’d let Stolas set the pace, take his time, enjoy himself.

And god, fuck, he seemed to be really enjoying himself. His sheer enthusiasm more than made up for any lack of skill–if there was even any lack there at all. Blitzø didn’t exactly have the easiest dick to suck. Not that he was fucking smug about that or anything.

“‘S real nice, birdie,” he said, rolling his hips gently as Stolas bobbed, taking him a little deeper.

Stolas’s eyes were closed, and he hummed with pleasure at the encouragement. Then, all at once, he swallowed Blitzø down nearly to the root.

“Hol-eeee fuck,” Blitzø shouted, his hips bucking up and one leg kicking out, all without his say-so.

Stolas pulled off and coughed a little, his eyes watering. Then he immediately dove back in, not quite as deep, but definitely deeper than he’d gone at all the week before.

“Shit birdie, have you been fucking practicing?” Blitzø asked, laughing breathlessly.

Stolas looked up, pretty red eyes still teary, his lips still stretched around Blitzø’s cock, and gave him a very clear “who, me?” look. He swallowed, and it wasn’t quite around Blitzø’s cock but he could sure as shit feel the muscles of Stolas’s throat working right up against the tip.

“Fuck fuck fuuuuck, pretty bird!” he rolled his hips again, with a little more thrust behind them.

Stolas moaned and slowly pulled off. “If make you come like this, would you still be able to fuck me afterwards?” he asked, eyeing Blitzø and licking at the head of his cock. And Blitzø had to pull his hand out of Stolas’s hair to squeeze himself at the base so that he could last long enough for that to fucking happen.

“Yeah, think so,” he said. “‘F you’re willing to help me get goin’ again.” He grinned.

“Hmm, however will I manage such a chore?” Stolas mused, hovering over him.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something– ah fuck–” Stolas had swallowed him down deep again, and Blitzø had to shut his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, Stolas’s own eyes were closed in a gorgeous, blissful expression, and one of his hands was working himself between his own legs while he used the other to prop himself up against Blitzø’s hip. Blitzø’s cock twitched in Stolas’s mouth and he felt fuckin’ savage. “You like this that much, pretty bird?” he huffed out. “Just can’t wait, gotta get yourself off while you suck me?”

“Mmhmm,” Stolas moaned around him and his shoulder started moving faster.

“Ah, fuck yeah, just like that. Gonna make me come,” he told him. “Where you want it? In your mouth again?”

“Mmhmm!” Stolas brought his hand back up to work the parts of Blitzø’s cock he couldn’t reach while he sucked harder and bobbed faster.

“‘Sfuckin’ right you do,” he ground out, and felt his balls start to draw up. “Get ready, you little– ah!” Stolas moaned again just right and it was enough to tip him over the edge, and then he was pumping his cum right into Stolas’s pretty mouth while Stolas writhed against him and did his best to suck him dry. “Fuuck, that’s it, birdie. Gulp it all down, thaaat’s it.” And Stolas had either been practicing this part too (and a part of him growled possessively at the idea), or he was feeling really fucking motivated at the moment, because he didn’t spill a fucking drop.

And Blitzø ended up having to bodily shove Stolas off before he’d stop trying to fucking hoover the last few remaining sperm cells straight out of the tip of Blitzø’s dick, but fuck it was hard to complain about the bird just wanting his jizz that fuckin’ bad.

“Holy shit, you’re gettin’ way too fucking good at that already, Stols,” Blitzø panted out.

“I’m a quick study,” Stolas said flirtatiously, crawling up Blitzø’s body to kiss him messily. Blitzø pulled him in enthusiastically.

“Fuck yeah you are,” Blitzø said, once he’d been thoroughly fed the aftertaste of his own cum. “Gimme a sec and I’ll see what I can do about gettin’ you nice and fucked, if you still want that.”

“Mm, yes please, Blitzy,” Stolas said, giggling and rolling the length of his still-hard dick firmly into the sensitive spot at the top of Blitzø's hip.

And yeah, Blitzø's brain had just been sucked out through his dick, but somehow hearing Stolas call him by that ridiculous childhood nickname while using him to rub off on… it was enough to cross his wires and he suddenly felt fucking bashful in a way he hadn't felt in bed since… maybe ever. He actually felt himself blush. Not just get horny-flushed. He was actually blushing like a fucking virgin.

“Fucking hell, Stols,” he groaned out. "Blitzy… you're gonna fucking kill me with that shit.”

Stolas pushed himself up over Blitzø, straddling one of his thighs and idly continuing the rolling of his hips. “But Blitzy,” he said, pouting playfully, “I've just swallowed down a big, hot mouthful of your cum. Surely that sort of thing comes with nickname privileges?”

Fuck, hearing Stolas say shit like that had his dick twitching again already. But Blitzø just snorted, pushing his thigh up to meet Stolas's rutting more firmly. “With how much you enjoyed yourself? Nah, bitch. Pretty sure I did you a favor there.”

Stolas let out a gasping little moan and rocked down against him. “Mm, point conceded, darling. But isn't there anything I can do to, ah, earn it, then, Blitzy?”

He closed his eyes, ignoring the question, trying to find a little distance even as he pulled Stolas so close their hips were about to fucking merge together. Blitzy Blitzy Blitzy. That fucking nickname Stolas had come up with when he was just a fluffy little ball of feathers. And despite having an inarguably (and thankfully) adult Stolas right here with him, he grinned stupidly thinking about him back then. ‘Cause, fuck, he'd been such a cute little thing (still was), and Blitzø hadn't fucking known what to *do* with that (still didn't, really). He'd only known he wanted to be close to Stolas, and he could remember coming up with any excuse to touch him, any stupid game just to be nearer–

Blitzø's eyes popped back open suddenly, then he grinned and flipped them so Stolas was on his back and Blitzø was propped up above him, leering down at him. “Yeah, alright, there actually is something you can do for me!”

Stolas's eyes were wide, all his own teasing energy gone in an instant. “O- oh? What's that?” he asked.

Blitzø's grin widened into a cocky smirk, and he leaned in to whisper in Stolas's ear in a low rumble, “Don't laugh.”

“Don't what–?” Stolas asked, and with that, Blitzø dug his fingertips mercilessly into Stolas's ribs. “Aaahh! What? Blitzø!” Stolas squawked and immediately broke out into peals of gasping laughter as Blitzø cackled and doubled down on the tickling, dancing his fingertips across that bare, pretty, pale torso, up his stomach and down his sides, in search of the spots that would make Stolas squeal the loudest and squirm the nicest. “Don't – Ah!! Noo, Blitzy, don't– Nonononono, eeehee! Don't tickle me!” He cried through tears of laughter. He flailed under Blitzø's relentless attacks, kicking his long, skinny legs wildly and batting pathetically at Blitzø's hands in a way that had him pretty fucking sure stopping was the absolute last thing he actually wanted.

“I said don't laugh!” Blitzø crowed, finding a real good spot just under Stolas's left pec that made a fresh wave of hysterical tears spring up in his pretty eyes before he squeezed them shut and tried to turn his head away to bury his face into the pillow. Stolas's cock was flushed a bright, rosy pink, straining up when he stretched long, and bouncing springily off his stomach when he curled into himself, wriggling this way and that to “escape” the terrible torture Blitzø was cruelly subjecting him to.

And all the while he was letting out the loveliest, most musical, breathless giggles, and Blitzø wanted to fucking eat them. Gobble them right down and make them a part of himself. But in lieu of that impossibility, he decided to just go ahead and find something else to get his mouth on.

Keeping one hand skittering over Stolas's twitching stomach, he grabbed a squirming leg with the other hand and pushed it up by the thigh (giving the underside of the knee a quick tickle while he was at it) until Stolas was bent practically in half (Jesus he was flexible), and Blitzø leaned in over his ass and licked a long wet stripe from tailbone to taint, then sucked one of Stolas’s pretty pale balls into his mouth and gave that a good lick, too.

“Oh my FUCK!” Stolas gasped out, and jerked his hips so hard it broke the suction from Blitzø's mouth and pulled the cute li'l family jewel out with a light pop. He wheezed slightly and whined “Blitzø!” So Blitzø stopped to grin toothily at him.

“Want me to stop?” he asked.

"Fuck no!” Stolas cried, indignant.

“Yeah, didn't think so.” He dove back in face first, licking long laps at the outside of Stolas's hole and mostly giving his skinny ribs a rest from all the tickling.

Stolas gasped and moaned and squirmed under Blitzø's mouth, and Blitzø's dick was already fucking hard again. He mentally told it to wait its turn, because he was working on getting it a very nice, tight little treat if it could just be patient for a minute, and he brought his hands up to spread Stolas wide under his tongue with both his thumbs. “Oh, Blitzy!” Stolas moaned. “Please, please!”

“Pleath wha?” Blitzø asked, without removing his face from between Stolas's legs.

“I don't knooow,” Stolas wailed.

Blitzø pointed his tongue and wriggled it just slightly inside, as far as he could get with Stolas still so fucking tight.

“Ah, that!” Stolas moaned, pushing his hips up to mash them even harder into Blitzø's mouth. “Please do that!”

“I'm already fucking doing it, birdie,” he tried to say, laughing, but it came out so grarbled and muffled Stolas never could've made it out even if he wasn't moaning so loud and so long he probably couldn't hear anything over it. Didn't matter, though, Blitzø just gave him another hard lick and worked on getting his tongue in even deeper. Even this man’s pretty little asshole tasted good. How the fuck?

Well, magic, probably.

Oh, right, magic! Fuck, he wanted to try this out as an imp. He had a long fuckin’ tongue as an imp.

Shit, would Stolas let him do this as an imp?

Whatever, he'd think about it later.

He pulled off to give his jaw a break and started working one of his thumbs inside with the pool of sticky spit he'd left behind. He licked his lips and said, “Get the lube out for me, wouldja, birdie?”

Stolas didn't answer, just waved a hand and the same tube of lube they'd used before came wobbling out of its drawer and floated slowly and carefully towards them. Out of horny curiosity, Blitzø shoved his slick-enough thumb inside Stolas up past the first knuckle all at once. Stolas let out a strangled gasp and the lube tossed itself high in the air and fell back down onto the bed. “Blitzø!” He whined, his face a bright, almost glowing red.

Blitz cackled. “You're so fucking fun to mess with, Stols.”

Stolas threw his hands over his face. “Why are you like this?” He wailed. But his pretty cock was still flushed and bobbing so Blitzø didn't think he was having too bad of a time.

“Childhood trauma, probably,” he said cheerfully. “Buuut y'know, side note, if I ever do something you really don't like, you can always call a yellow or red, I'm not gonna be mad. You know the traffic light system?”

Stolas peered out through his fingers with a surprisingly withering look for someone folded over himself and another man's thumb buried halfway in his asshole. “Blitzø. Do you really think I've ever operated a motor vehicle?”

“Uhhh…”

Stolas broke down and snorted out a hysterical little giggle. “Yes, I understand the system.” He put the haughty look back on. “Now green, green, green as fuck. Fucking fuck me already, Blitzø!”

“Well shit, didn't realize I was keeping you waiting!” Blitzø said with a disbelieving laugh. He grabbed the lube with his free hand, popped the cap off, and squirted a generous amount over the spot where his thumb disappeared into Stolas's pretty hole.

Stolas gasped and whined, “You could have warmed it up a little!”

Blitzø started pushing his thumb in and out, working the lube inside. “You're fine. You want me to mess around with the details or you want me to get my cock inside you?”

Stolas groaned and rocked into his hand to drive his thumb deeper. “Cock, please,” he panted out, and damn that statement had Blitzø back in it.

“Holy shit, Stols,” he said, shuffling closer to rock himself into Stolas's bare ass cheek, giving him a little preview. “Had no fuckin’ idea you were this thirsty for dick, birdie. I’d’ve let you have it a long fuckin' time ago.” He brought his other thumb over to spread him wide and started to work it inside beside the first one.

“Mmm!” Stolas groaned out. “Oh, please, Blitzø! Please, yes, I have wanted you so badly!”

“Fucking Christ, I'm gonna absolutely wreck you. Fuck, I'm gonna give it to you so good,” he panted, leaning his cock heavily into Stolas's thigh and working him open as fast as he reasonably could without hurting him.

“Oh please, Blitzø, yes!” Stolas reached an arm over one of his bent-up legs to grab hold of his own cock, and now that Blitzø finally had a good view of Stolas's hand on himself, he suddenly noticed that he was just… working over it in a really weirdly unpracticed way. And the realization that, whatever Stolas usually had going on, this clearly wasn't what he was used to working with kicked Blitzø low in the stomach and left him gasping for air. And he would have batted that hand away, made him wait for it, but both of Blitzø's hands were currently busy, and also goddamn watching him fumble his way around his own dick was so fucking unexpectedly hot, Blitzø was practically drooling.

He'd gotten both thumbs in now, pushed all the way up to the meat of his palms, and that had to be good, right? “Fuck, fuck, you think you're ready, birdie?”

Stolas's hand clumsily sped up, his eyes shut tight. “So fucking ready, Blitzø,” he said.

“Okay. Okay, lemme grab a rubber.” he gently pulled his digits out of Stolas's pretty hole, and he went to scramble off the bed to go grab his wallet condom, but Stolas grabbed him by the arm, stopping him before he could go far.

“Blitzø. Loathe as I am to remind you… My current body is a magical construct.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself and staring Blitzø down. “We are, in fact, two different species, and, to my knowledge there is not a single condition that either of us could possibly transfer to the other. My last sexual encounter was over seventeen years ago, now, with someone I believe was also a virgin until our few attempts to conceive. But I also have excellent preventative health care that would certainly have identified any conditions in the intervening years. So, unless you are still concerned, for which I would not begrudge you, or you are unwilling to take the near negligible risk of passing something along to me, I would very much like you to fuck me without a condom.”

Blitzø blinked several times, trying to take all that in.

“I will not push. It's your decision.”

“Christ. Fuck. Fuck, birdie.” Not that Stolas hadn't seemed, just, like, fully down to get wrecked already, but the way he was just asking for it. Like he had clocked exactly what Blitzø's horny little pornsick brain would absolutely cream its fucking brain-jeans over, offered it up without Blitzø having to ask, and then acted like it was gonna fuckin' ruin his day if Blitzø refused to rawdog him through his mattress.

It didn't feel off, but it felt… too good to be true, and Blitzø was having trouble wrapping his head around it. And for a second, he had the crazy fucking thought that maybe Stolas was trying to baby trap him.

But, okay, if he was gonna sire the fucking antichrist with a male bird demon, that pretty much seemed like a natural progression of his life choices up till now, so why the fuck not? (Plus, their little antichrist would be cute as fuck.)

And, well, pretty much everything about Stolas was too good to be true, wasn't it?

“Blitzø? It really is your choice– I apologize if I–”

Blitzø shook his head to dislodge the insanity. “No, no, no birdie. You're good, I just thought about sticking it in raw and had to fuckin’ reboot.” He settled back into place above Stolas, grinning like a loon. “I'm down if you're down.”

“I want to feel you, Blitzø,” Stolas said, entirely seriously.

Blitzø let out a long breath and said, “You're gonna fuckin’ feel me alright,” and he reached down between Stolas's legs to slip two fingers back inside him, and Stolas moaned so damn sluttily. “Fuck, birdie, you sound so pretty for me.” he said, pushing his fingers in deep to check that Stolas was still relaxed, and Stolas moaned even louder, high and breathy. “Holy fuck, you like this so fucking much, doncha birdie? You're so fucking into it, Christ. Just wait till I get my cock inside you.”

“I don't want to wait,” he whined out. "Please Blitzø!”

Blitzø grabbed the lube again, flipped it back open, and just poured some directly on his dick, ‘cause if he could tell Stolas to suck it up over cold lube, he could find a way to suck it up himself. He tossed the tube away somewhere and spread the slick over himself, and Stolas was watching him, rapt, so he slowed down a little, to performatively sync up the push and pull of his fingers inside Stolas with the thrusts of his hips into his own hand. And Stolas was fully panting now, eyes fucking glued to Blitzø's cock like he'd never seen anything in the world he wanted more, and that was fucking it.

He quickly wiped his free hand on the sheets and pushed Stolas's long legs open wide, shuffling his own bent knees underneath them until he was kneeling up over Stolas, who was looking so gorgeous splayed out on his bed, and this was a sight Blitzø could really fucking get used to. He slipped the fingers of his other hand out of Stolas and grabbed his own dick to smear the head of it right over his empty little hole.

“Fuck, Blitzy,” Stolas breathed out heavily, and he rocked his hips up to press harder back against him.

Blitzø pushed just a little bit more firmly with his hips, guiding himself into place with his hand. And the excellent lube probably helped, but fuck if sinking in past that initial resistance and then slowly, smoothly inside of his pretty birdie’s tight, pretty hole wasn't, just, fucking life-changingly good.

Stolas, for once in his life, seemed to have nothing to say during the process. He only bit his lower lip and let out a long series of gasping moans that Blitzø might've taken as half-pained if Stolas hadn't also been using his abdominal muscles to continuously roll his hips to try to push Blitzø even deeper, faster.

But Blitzø kept the pace as steady as possible, until he finally bottomed out and had to take a second to just breathe.

Stolas was panting like he'd run a marathon, his cock still jutting up, almost red to match the flush of his cheeks, not having gone soft for an instant, and he was still squirming, looking for leverage against Blitzø's thighs to somehow push his cock even deeper, even though his balls were currently making friends with Stolas's fuckin’ tailbone.

And Blitzø was gonna absolutely fucking lose it if he didn't take some control of the situation right fucking now, so he reached up a hand (trembling more than he'd like), and pushed back a lock of soft, silver hair that'd fallen over Stolas's forehead, and meant to tell him how good he'd been, how well he'd taken Blitzø's cock. Because he had – he'd been so good and taken it so well.

But Stolas just turned his face and nuzzled into Blitzø's hand. He fucking kissed it, then took one of his own hands from where it'd been gripped into his own fluffy hair and grabbed Blitzø's hand and moved it just far enough down to suck the pad of Blitzø's finger between his lips.

So all Blitzø could say was, "Fuck, Stols.”

Stolas bit gently down on the tip of his finger and murmured around it, rolling his hips, “Move, Blitzø. Please move.”

Well alright, then, looked like Blitzø was just gonna fucking lose it, then.

He moved. Slowly at first, in short, gentle pushes and pulls that felt like heaven, and Stolas whined and groaned around the finger still in his mouth, and then pushed it in deeper to suck on it. And that just encouraged Blitzø to pick up the pace a little until he was sliding out in long strokes and pushing back in with a little bit of force behind each thrust, until there was a short slapping sound of the front of his thighs against Stolas's ass each time.

Stolas let off the suction on Blitzø's finger with a gasp and started just panting audibly around it instead, and Blitzø reclaimed the hand so he could push Stolas's thighs back up over his heaving torso again, so that Blitzø could rise up onto his knees and really fucking get into it.

“Oh , yes Blitzy! Fuck me!” Stolas finally seemed to find his voice again “Fuck me hard Blitzy!” he wailed.

So Blitzø fucked him. Hard. He felt completely powerless to do anything but what his pretty birdie asked for, and Stolas felt so fucking good around him, besides. He held tight onto Stolas's legs and fucked into him faster until Stolas was shouting with each thrust, and Blitzø was panting, staring down at the pretty man below him, who was taking his cock so good, had wanted his cock so bad.

“F-fuck, touch yourself, Stols,” he ordered between panting breaths, “Get yourself off on my cock.” He drove in once, extra hard, to make his point clear, and Stolas let out a loud, breathy whine that Blitzø wanted to hear again and again. And it seemed like that was all the answer Blitzø was gonna get, but Stolas had clearly heard him, ‘cause he reached a hand up where his dick was basically pointing back down at his own chest, Blitzø had him folded over so far now, and he grabbed it and started stroking, clumsily and just over the edge of frantic, and Blitzø wanted to absolutely fucking obliterate this man. Fucking ruin him, fuck him so good he'd never be able to think about another man's cock. “That's it, birdie, feels good, yeah?”

Stolas moaned loud enough Blitzø could swear it reverberated across the walls. “Yes Blitzy! It feels good, so good, so fucking good, fuck me harder, deeper, ah! I want to feel you in my fucking throat!”

Blitzø slowed and went deeper, harder.

Stolas jolted as Blitzø pushed in at a certain angle, and his fist flew wildly over his own pretty cock. “Yes, yes, right there, right there!” he babbled, so Blitzø tried his damnedest to hit right there, and Stolas's moans got louder and louder and higher and higher and he tugged at his dick with even less and less grace until he was clamping down, hard around Blitzø and splattering pearly white cum across his pearly white tits. And Blitzø had low-key always thought simultaneous orgasm was a myth made up by horny chicks who wanted him to perform like a trained fucking sex monkey, but. In the face of that visual and the feel of Stolas coming around his raw, sensitive cock, and the knowledge that he'd just fucked his birdie good enough to get him off so fucking hard… Blitzø didn't stand a fucking chance.

He shoved himself in, deep as he could get, hoping Stolas could feel him in his fucking throat, and came so hard he saw stars while Stolas moaned and twitched and squeezed around him.

“Oh Blitzy,” Stolas gasped out with a groan, “I can feel you! Oh, I can feel you pulsing inside me! Oh, so deep inside me, Blitzy, oh yes, oh please, oh–”

Blitzø leaned down to kiss him through the last shocks of both their orgasms, and Stolas reciprocated eagerly despite being bent fully in half, and Blitzø was just gonna have to get used to how flexible Stolas was, he guessed, ‘cause he was gonna make this happen again. And again and again and again.

He kept the kiss up, sloppy and demanding morphing to increasingly lazy, as they both slowly came down, and he stayed buried inside of Stolas, determined to make it last as long as possible, wanting to fucking live there for the rest of his fucking life. And judging by the way Stolas was still grinding himself slowly against Blitzø's hips, it seemed like he'd be just as happy to keep him there.

So Blitzø stayed there, lips and hips locked messily against his birdie, until he finally tried to reposition them just slightly and his mostly-soft-now dick slid out by accident. Stolas made a disappointed noise into Blitzø's mouth, and Blitzø laughed back into Stolas's, but then he felt a trickle of wetness against his thigh where it was pressed up to Stolas's, and the laugh turned into a groan. He reached down to smear his leaking cum all around and right back into Stolas's puffy, well-fucked hole, and Stolas finally broke the kiss to gasp against his cheek and bury his face shyly in Blitzø's neck.

He reluctantly pulled his hand away to finally let Stolas's legs down from their folded up position. And he flopped down directly on top of him with a contented sigh. He was about to roll off, but Stolas’s arms came up and held him there insistently.

“Mm, stay. You’re like a nice, heavy blanket,” Stolas mumbled into his neck.

“Hmm, heavy, huh?” Blitzø asked, blearily amused.

“Mm-hm. You’re very dense. All that lean muscle,” he said, squeezing one of Blitzø’s shoulders. His voice was hoarse and tired and happy and Blitzø'd never felt so fucking smug in his entire life.

“Oh I’m dense, am I?” he teased, reaching up to run a hand through the short, soft hairs on the back of Stolas's head.

Stolas giggled almost drunkenly and snuffled deeper into Blitzø's neck. “Perhaps in more ways than one, I suspect, based on this conversation.”

Blitzø snickered and finally rolled off Stolas, onto his back.

Stolas made a little grumbling noise but let him go, and they lay there next to each other, mutually basking in the afterglow. Blitzø thought about dozing off but he also kind of didn't really want to. He felt good. Calm and sated. Even-keeled. It wasn't a feeling he experienced all that often.

He thought about digging a cigarette out of his jeans, but Stolas had magicked them so far away. Oh, maybe Stolas could–

Stolas suddenly sat straight up in bed next to him and Blitzø glanced over in surprise. Stolas was glaring at him accusingly.

“What?” He asked, wary.

“You!” Stolas accused, “I cannot believe you- you tickled me! During- during sex!”

Blitzø took half a second to absorb that, and then he absolutely howled with laughter.

“It's not funny, Blitzø! What the fuck?!” Stolas cried, fucking outraged.

Blitzø clutched his stomach–fuck, his abs were already so fucking tired–and kicked his legs in giddy hilarity.

“I should kick you out of bed next time!” Stolas declared haughtily. “Don’t you think for a second I won't!”

Blitzø's guffaws morphed into something more resembling gleeful giggles. Stolas wanted there to be a next time! Again! “Shut the fuck up,” he managed to get out around his laughter, affection bleeding mortifyingly thick into his tone, but he just pretended it hadn't and continued, “I saw how hard your dick was the whole time! You fucking loved it, bitch!”

Stolas's face went red and he let out an offended little gasp, then threw himself back down on the bed and rolled away from Blitzø in a huff.

But he didn't try to deny it.

Chapter Text

Blitzø eventually hauled himself out of bed and put his clothes back on, but Stolas just magicked his own back in place and stayed where he was. So, Blitzø rejoined him and they shared a cigarette.

And eventually, Stolas forgave Blitzø for calling him the fuck out on his obvious, mile-wide masochistic streak, and they started chatting. And neither one of them seemed inclined to stop any time soon, mutually yammering on about everything and nothing–the clients they had in the pipeline, their daughters’ academics, Stolas’s latest fuckin' star charts.

Pretty much the only things they didn't talk about were Stolas's wife and brother-in-law and all of their stupid, annoying shit. The mood was too good for that. In fact it was so fucking good and easy and fun in a way that, combined now with some insanely good sex, had Blitzø low-key freaking out in the back of his brain. And Blitzø kept thinking he should probably go home at some point. But then he'd get caught up in making Stolas laugh with some stupid joke and he'd forget he was supposed to be leaving again. And besides,Stolas wasn't kicking him out, and he had nothing to get back to, so he just kind of… stuck around.

Stolas offered him a drink eventually, and Blitzø accepted one of the beers Stolas kept around for him these days, and promised himself he was not getting wasted at Stolas’s place again tonight. Then after a while it started to feel weird to just hang out in Stolas’s room, drinking, and not, like, trying to get into Stolas's pants again. But his dick also wasn’t quite ready for a third go yet, so he suggested they move the party to the TV room, and Stolas pretty much seemed happy to go along with whatever Blitzø wanted.

They walked there, which was weird. He’d joked about Stolas taking the door at Blitzø's place for the first time, but he hadn’t realized how much he thought of the TV room as a completely separate location from Stolas’s bedroom–somewhere that could only be portaled to or from–until he traveled there on foot.

Though to be fair, it was down flight of stairs and around a bend and down a long hallway, so it was kind of a separate place altogether. And it also occurred to him that he must have made the journey from the TV room to Stolas's bedroom on foot, while absolutely trashed, the night of their very first hangout. But his memories of that were hazy at best.

“This is pretty far from your room,” he mentioned when they got there and settled in on the giant purple couch. “You usually chill here yourself, or is this just where you entertain guests?”

“Oh, goodness no, darling. This is not where I would ever entertain visitors!” He hoot-chortled as though Blitzø had said something hilarious.

Blitzø squinted. “Uhh, no? What am I then?”

“Oh!” Stolas thought for a moment. “You’re not a visitor, you’re… my friend!”

Despite that statement making zero fucking sense, and possibly being slightly alarming, or maybe depressing? It still kinda lit a little ember in Blitzø’s heart. He knew it by now, in the part of his brain where things that were true but didn't make sense lived, but, well, Stolas really did think of him as a friend. It was weird. It was nice. He liked it. It confused him.

“But aren't I, like, visiting?” he asked, instead of voicing any of that.

“Well. Hm. Yes, I suppose you are. But it’s different.” He frowned, like he really wasn't sure he could explain how it was different. “In any case, yes! I do spend some of my leisure time here on my own. It’s close to the kitchens. Which is nice both because I can easily get myself some, uhm, healthy, nutritious snacks to munch on–” he chuckled awkwardly and Blitzø got the distinct impression that Stolas’s snacks probably tended towards the opposite of healthy and nutritious, but he let this one slide. “--and because Stella tends to stay farther away from areas where she’s likely to see any servants she hasn’t specifically called for.”

“Big plus.” Blitzø remarked.

“Indeed,” Stolas said mildly. “Speaking of snacks, would you like something from the kitchens? I haven’t had the staff make our usual assortment–though really I should have thought to–but I’m quite sure I have some, ah… well, I’m sure we could find something!”

“Don’t worry about it, birdie. It’s not our monthly hangout sesh. And honestly you don’t need to pull out all the fucking stops like that for me, anyway. Maybe we could order a pizza? Do they deliver to palaces?”

Stolas looked amused. “They do, in fact. What would you like on yours?”

“Pepperoni and jalapeños,” he answered easily.

Stolas smiled warily and asked, “Jalapeños are spicy, are they not?” When Blitzø nodded, he shuddered. “Then I shall have to revert back to my demon form before trying a slice. I'm not eager to repeat the hot sauce incident.”

Blitzø smirked, “Aw, but you look so pretty when you cry.”

Stolas flushed and shoved the TV remote in Blitzø’s hands. “Here, find us something to watch!” he demanded.

Blitzø pulled up Voxflix, grinning to himself, and browsed through for something that looked interesting, while Stolas picked up an old-fashioned telephone headset and, seemingly without dialing a number, ordered two pizzas. He asked for one with pepperoni and jalapeños, and the other with ratteroni, whatever the fuck that was. Blitzø probably didn’t want to know.

“Why haven’t you turned back into your birdie form, anyway, birdie?” Blitzø asked, extremely casually, after Stolas had hung up.

“Oh, I, well. I wasn’t sure if maybe you’d want to, um, well… Again?” Stolas stammered.

Blitzø grinned stupidly at the TV. “We can ‘again’ if you want,” he said, and glanced at Stolas out of the corner of his eye. “But I need like another hour maybe, and you should keep your strength up.” He winked, and Stolas flushed an even deeper red. “It takes energy to keep that form up, right?”

Stolas laughed awkwardly. “Oh, not terribly much. It's fine, I'll stay like this until the pizza arrives.”

Blitzø kept scrolling the Voxflix options, not really absorbing any of them. “Hey, Stols, can I ask you a question?”

“I believe you just did,” Stolas said.

“You know what I mean, ya fuckin’ dick,” Blitzø said without much heat.

Stolas tittered a little, then sighed. “Hm, yes, very well. Go ahead.”

“Well, I mean, I was just thinking…” He took a breath. “Last week, and again just, y’know, like, 30 minutes ago. We had some pretty good fuckin’ sex, right? With, uh… With each other. I mean, at least, I thought it was pretty fuckin’ good. And I feel like you prob’ly woulda told me if you thought it was shit, but…”

Stolas eyed him with wry amusement. “Shall I stroke your ego even further than I have already, then?”

One corner of Blitzø’s mouth pulled up into a half-grin. “Well I wouldn't mind hearin’ about it.”

“Blitzø. You've made me come three times now. Each has been more intense than the last, and each has made me feel the most incredible sensations I have ever felt. You fucked me less than an hour ago and I already cannot wait to feel you inside me again. Swallowing your cum borders on a religious experience for me, and I remind you that I am a demon who lives in Hell, so I would not say that I've had very many of those. So, yes, I am perfectly satisfied with your performance. To put it mildly.”

Blitzø wheezed a little. “G- good to hear, Stols.” He gulped. “Thanks, buddy.”

Stolas flushed and looked away. “You are welcome. Is that what you wanted to ask about?”

“Oh, heh. No, actually.” Fuck he felt like an asshole, but he'd promised himself he'd ask about this. “So, I guess we’ve had some, uhh, pretty great fuckin’ sex, then, while you’re, uh, in your human form. Right? But then, y’know... I just feel like… Ugh, I don't know, the vibe is kinda different between us when you're in your birdie form…” he cringed at himself. “Right?”

“Ah, right, yes. I believe I see what you're getting at,” Stolas said, sounding carefully neutral. He sighed. “You are perhaps alluding to… a certain lack of, well, mutual attraction between us, while I’m a bit more, ah… inescapably demonic in nature?”

And yep, there it was–pretty fucking clear confirmation that when Stolas had his feathers on, he just wasn’t fucking into Blitzø. “Inescapably”… shit, he couldn't change his nature if he tried, and Blitzø wouldn't fucking ask him to. He laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I dunno. I guess that's what I'm getting at. I just didn’t know if it was like, ‘a thing’ to be attracted to someone in one form but not in another. Uh, I mean, like, when you’re in one form, and you look at someone else and–”

“Not to worry, Blitzø. I see exactly what you mean.” Stolas cut him off, looking pained. “And I, well… I don’t see why it wouldn’t be ‘a thing’. It’s…entirely reasonable, is it not? Attraction is a rather specific thing, and my forms are quite different.”

“Oh,” Blitzø said. Well, just because it wasn't something he felt, didn’t mean it wasn’t a normal thing. Maybe imps were just somehow closer to humans than Goetia were, in the way they experienced attraction. “Uh, yeah. I guess. Uh, sorry for makin’ it awkward.”

Stolas smiled stiffly at him. “It's quite alright. It's really much better to have these things out in the open.”

Well, shit, might as well ask the second part of his question, then, too–he'd thought of it back at the motel but the timing hadn't quite seemed right afterwards, with Stolas's tongue jammed down his throat and all. “Uh good, cause I'm about to make it real weird, like, one more time, then I promise I'll shut the fuck up forever.”

Stolas's smile thawed into something a little more amused and affectionate. “I certainly hope not. But please, continue.”

“Well, uh, it's just that you… well, we watched that movie with that imp guy, and you seemed kinda into him, y’know, so, I was just wondering…”

Stolas blinked at him a few times, and flushed. “Well, um, yes. I suppose I can admit that I am rather attracted to that imp actor. But I don’t see what that has to do with… anything.”

Ugh, fuck. He was gonna have to spell it out. “Well, I dunno! I just thought, yeah, maybe we ain’t gonna bang as a human-demon combo.” He extended two fingers downward from each hand and awkwardly bumped his knuckles together like he thought Stolas needed a fucking visual demonstration. “Uh, ‘cause, y’know, like you said–lack of mutual attraction. Which is fine, by the way! But I was thinking y'know… maybe as, like, a demon-demon combo? Could be… I guess…fun?” He cringed as he heard his voice squeak high on the question.

Fucking christ this was the most pathetic he’d ever been, asking someone he’d already fucked like three times if they might, possibly, be interested in fucking him. But, just come on. Stolas was ultra-fuckable as a human, don’t get him wrong–but those fucking bird thighs. Blitzø would, without exaggeration, kill a man to get between those bird thighs for a single instant. His own pride didn’t stand a fucking chance.

“Oh.” Stolas looked away, frowning thoughtfully. Then his eyes snapped back to Blitzø’s, pupils appearing suddenly. “Oh! Blitzø, are you insinuating that perhaps, um, only in your imp form, you'd be interested in…”

Shit, he didn’t have to fuckin’ specify only. Blitzø wasn't gonna keep pushing Stolas on something he'd made pretty clear multiple times he wasn't into.

“Plowing your pretty feathered ass through the mattress? Uh, yeah. Yeah I fucking would be very interested in that.”

Instead, he was just gonna push hard on something he had no idea if Stolas would be into. Which was obviously way less skeezy!

“Oh!” Stolas said, flushing a deep pink. “Well, I…I didn’t really think you'd… But you– Weren't you– Oh, is that what you meant by…? Well, nevermind, I guess it doesn't really matter. But, well, I- I suppose I could be, um, amenable to that. S-since you are offering.”

Blitzø had absolutely been ready to hear a no, and he'd completely lost track of whatever the fuck Stolas was trying to say with his 30 half-finished sentences there, so he almost didn’t quite understand the actual answer at first. But as it slowly sunk in, he felt a wide, stupid grin spread over his face. “Oh shit, really?” he asked. “That's…uh, that is a yes, right?”

Just, no harm in confirming it.

Stolas nodded, quick and jerky. “That is indeed a yes,” he replied. He cleared his throat. “And, um, with that possibility in mind, I would also like to mention that we both do happen to be a bit more… shall we say, durable? In our demonic forms. Um. Myself in particular. That is, if you would like to… do anything with that information.”

Shiiit. Well, he'd known that, in theory. But he actually hadn't thought of it in this context, with how fucking insane he'd been going wondering if any kind of demon sex was a possibility. And now Stolas was choosing to just super casually bring that little tidbit up unprompted, like, what? Kinky demon sex was just on the table here, too? But his surprise quickly faded into some crazy anticipation. He grinned, making it into just a little bit of a threat, and said, “Ohh, bet your ass I would, birdie.”

And even though he was still in his human form, Stolas hooted.

—

Their pizza arrived, dropped off for them on the front steps and retrieved via mini-portal.

Ratteroni turned out to be round, thick-sliced sections of whole rat. There were even little feet sticking off some of them. And, thanks, Blitzø hated it.

The pepperoni on his own pizza seemed normal enough, thank fuck, but the jalapeños were weird. They were red, for one, and much larger around than a normal jalapeno. And after a full-on fuckin’ Laurel and Hardy back-and-forth bullshit bit with Stolas, he eventually determined that the bird had, in fact, ordered “hellapeños” on his pizza.

Fucking fuck, this place loved its puns. Why was Hell so fucking dorky?

Anyway, they were delicious. And very nearly too hot for him, which was a novelty.

Stolas had changed back into his birdie form to “more thoroughly enjoy” his ratteroni pizza, and between the peppers and the view, plus the knowledge that he actually was gonna get into those pretty fuckin’ bird pants sometime, hopefully soon, Blitzø was sweating.

“Are you alright, darling?” Stolas asked, apparently noticing this.

Blitzø's cheeks and ears and the inside of his mouth all burned. “Yeah, m’fine. Just, damn these are spicy.”

“Oh!” Stolas said with an amused little smile. “The hellapeños are a bit much even for your rather formidable taste buds?”

“Laugh it up, birdie. I doubt I'll see you trying ‘em when you can actually taste ‘em.”

“If they're making you react this way, I'm fairly certain they would kill me outright.”

Blitzø snorted.

Stolas tapped his beak thoughtfully. “You know, it occurs to me that I'm not sure how… sensitive imp mouths are. Um. To spice.” Stolas flushed deeply under his feathers. “Perhaps you'd end up, ah, more comfortable! If I…” he wiggled his fingers in Blitzø's direction.

“Oh,” Blitzø said, pulling another slice out of the box, trying to act super casual with his damp forehead and flushed face. “Uh, yeah, go ahead. Let's find out.”

Stolas waved his hand and Blitzø found himself in the weird position of feeling like the slice of pizza in his own hand had suddenly grown a lot larger.

The burn in his mouth eased. Still there, but much more tolerable. “Fuuuck, that's so much fucking better,” he groaned in relief. His felt impish tail wagging happily behind him.

Stolas looked no less flushed than he had before. “Fantastic!” he blurted with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted.

And maybe Blitzø's refractory period had reset or something with the change in form, or maybe he was even hornier as an imp than a human (Christ, that'd be fucking unmanageable), or maybe he was just suddenly really, really aware that he might be about to get his little red hands on that bird dick or what the fuck ever, but suddenly he was all out of fucks to give about the pizza, and found himself with just one very big fuck he wanted to give a certain pretty bird.

They stared at each other for a moment, neither one of them blinking. Stolas's pupils had a appeared again, wider than Blitzø had ever seen them before.

“Bedroom?” Blitzø asked, not even looking as he frisbeed his uneaten pizza slice right back into the box.

Stolas didn't answer or even seem to move, but a portal tore open right next to them. He immediately scrambled through, and Blitzø was hot on his heels.

Stolas spun dramatically around when he reached the bed, and Blitzø literally climbed him–spiraling up his very tall, tall, feathered body to find Stolas's mouth with his own. He threw his weight forward to knock them down onto the bed and Stolas landed happily on his back, while Blitzø hung on with his claws and focused on getting to know his birdie's much beakier mouth.

It was weird, weird all around. Good weird. Fuckin' hot weird. Stolas's beak was digging into the corner of his mouth in a way that maybe should have hurt but just felt like scratching an itch–like fingernails raking down his back–like if it hurt a little bit, that just made it better. And they could both open their mouths so fucking wide like this, and Stolas’s soft lower lip worked desperately against Blitzø’s own–his impish lips thinner and rougher than he was used to. And Blitzø’s teeth were so much fucking sharper than usual, and actually meant to be that way, and Stolas had no teeth at all, which Blitzø had at least expected because he’d spent a lot of fucking time looking at this bird’s mouth but was so fucking fascinating to actually feel. And both their tongues were longer, and thinner, and way more flexible now, and when Blitzø wrapped his tongue around Stolas's, Stolas only moaned into Blitzø's mouth and wrapped his own more firmly into the twist and fuck, Blitzø was gonna have to get that long, freaky tongue around his dick. Maybe even inside him sometime, if Stolas was down.

But he was finally, finally, kissing his perfect, pretty birdie, even if he had to do it as an imp, and he was gonna savor every fucking moment of it. No need to rush. He grabbed the back of Stolas’s head with one hand to guide him just where he wanted him, and his other hand found that floof of feathers Stolas always had poking out the neckline of whatever he was wearing. That floof drove Blitzø fucking nuts and his dick was fucking throbbing in his pants already just for the chance to get at it. He stroked through it quickly, messily, the long shafts of the individual feathers bending but not breaking through his fingers, the softness of the fluffy parts tickling his palm. He grasped thoughtlessly down on a handful and tugged, gently as he could fucking manage, which wasn't all that gentle, but Stolas just moaned sweetly into his mouth. He stroked through again, readjusting his grip, and pulled harder, and Stolas gasped and moaned and breathed out hard into the kiss. His long legs raised up behind Blitzø and tried to go around him, he thought. But he was kind of just, like, straddling Stolas’s stomach, because the height difference made it a little bit harder to do the kind of full-body loom he could manage when he was at least within a fucking foot of Stolas’s insane fucking height, so the pretty bird seemed to be having a little bit of trouble finding a part of Blitzø to rut up on while he got his feathers pulled.

Stolas whined piteously like he couldn’t fucking handle not having something to dry-hump his no-doubt-gorgeous fuckin’ mystery junk against for five fucking seconds, ‘cause he was just that fucking desperate for it. And Blitzø suddenly remembered how fucking eager he was to get his long, freaky tongue onto and/or into whatever Stolas was trying to rub on him right now, and he decided maybe there actually was a little bit of a need to rush. ‘Cause he was about to fucking find out what Stolas had going on under his tail feathers, if he didn't bust a little imp nut in his little imp pants in feral fucking anticipation first. So he unwound his tongue from Stolas's and pawed at his shoulder and said, suavely and intelligently, “Make your clothes go bye bye, birdie?”

That slutty little red romper disappeared in an instant (and probably teleported somewhere that wasn't the sun, but what the hell did Blitzø care?) and Blitzø was suddenly looking down at miles and miles of soft, pretty blue-gray feathers.

And he fucking surprised himself, because no matter how badly he wanted to look down, way down between Stolas's legs (and he knew he would, he would look soon), now that Stolas was actually naked in front of him, in all his demonic, birdish glory, Blitzø just found himself… completely unable to look away from Stolas's pretty, flushed face.

It didn't make any fucking sense–he could see that feathery, heart-shaped, wide-eyed, owl-looking face any time. Whenever they were in Hell together, anyway. And he had fucking bird dick to look at, right now! (Or, probably bird not-dick, whatever) But Stolas was staring up at him so fucking vulnerably, all four of his gorgeous red eyes round and glowing in the dim light of his room, his little beak open and panting and damp from their kiss, and Blitzø wanted to do absolutely unspeakable things to him.

(Like… hold his hand. Tell him it was all going to be okay, even if it wasn't.)

“Yours, too?” Stolas was asking. Blitzø had a bizarre second of thinking Stolas was asking to hold his hand, but– oh, right, Stolas was asking about his clothes. Blitzø shook his head to clear it, then smoothly (he hoped) transitioned to a normal sort of shake in the negative.

“Nah,” he said, trying on a wolfish grin and finding it comfortable enough. “Think I'll keep ‘em on for now, actually.”

“I could simply do it, you know,” Stolas said, pouting. “Level things out a bit.”

Blitzø grinned, more genuinely this time. “Yeah, you could.” He shrugged carelessly. “But I don't think you wanna do that.” He leaned forward and pinned Stolas's wrists to the bed with both hands, and hovered low over Stolas's shocked, blushing face. “I think you wanna be a good boy and do exactly what I tell you to do.”

Stolas nodded so fast and jerkily it was almost funny, but Blitzø was done laughing.. “Mm-hm,” he said.

“Take off my boots, leave the rest.” His boots disappeared from his feet all at once, and he wiggled his hooves in the sheets. He hadn't been barefoot like this since the very first time he'd been impified, and the sensation of hard keratin against the soft bed was strange–the way he could feel it but not really feel it, like a fingernail that just made up the whole lower half of his foot.

“Are you going to step on me?” Stolas was asking him, fucking hopefully.

And, okay, maybe Blitzø wasn't done laughing after all. “Yeah, sure birdie,” he allowed. “Maybe later, if you're good.”

“In that case, I think you'll find I can be very good,” Stolas said in a saucy murmur, wiggling against Blitzø's hold on his wrists as though he couldn't tear free in an instant.

“Well, then I think you'll like your reward,” Blitzø promised. Time to put that to the test though. He let go of Stolas's arms and climbed off him, though he didn't go far. “Roll over now, up on your hands and knees,” he said as he went, and patted a spot on the bed in front of him, where he wanted his pretty birdie.

Stolas scrambled to comply, and Blitzø was soon treated to a view directly out of his number one jerk off fantasy–the one that'd kept him going for fucking months now.

All it was missing was the portal.

Also, he was currently an imp, which didn't usually feature.

But the important thing was that he was currently staring at the plump, feathered, naked backs of two long, delectable-looking bird thighs, spread out slightly wide on the sheets in front of him.

He still hadn't managed to get a good look between them, and right now that area was covered by a long, silky-feathered tail, demurely pinned straight down over the whole business despite how otherwise eager Stolas had seemed to get himself all fuckin' backshots-ready for Blitzø.

And despite this agonizing extension of his anticipation, Blitzø still nearly cried with happiness and relief at the realization that this was the very last moment of his life that he would ever spend ignorant of what was under those pretty tail feathers. He reached out with one reverent hand, to push them aside.

“Oh, um, I should let you know, I– oh!”

Blitzø let out a happy little trembling sigh.

He had no idea what he was looking at.

But without thinking he’d reached right over and spread it just slightly wide between two of his fingertips, staring, rapt, like it was going to reveal the secrets of the fucking universe.

And whatever exactly it was, Blitzø– and he'd never had even the slightest doubt this would be the case– was extremely fucking into it.

It wasn't exactly a pussy, and it wasn't quite an asshole either, but seemed to be somewhere between the two, both in form and location, and goddamn it was the prettiest little hole Blitzø had ever seen. He adjusted himself in his pants and– huh, was something weird going on there, too, but he'd just have to fucking wait to figure that one out, ‘cause who the fuck cared right now? He could not have taken his eyes off this gorgeous fucking birdpuss in front of him if he'd tried.

It was midnight black and ringed with downy white feathers that were absolutely soaked through with something slick. And as Blitzø watched, a thick, pearly, translucent drop of fluid gathered along the rim of Stolas's hole and dripped slowly down towards a small, structured nub, half hidden in more wet-as-fuck feathers, that didn't quite look like a clit, but Blitzø was willing to bet was sensitive like one.

Blitzø found himself sending prayers of gratitude to whatever lobotomized god was responsible for this whole fucked up Heaven/Hell system, which had somehow accidentally led to the existence of the most perfect possible being, with the most perfect pretty pussy (or whatever) in all creation, and had somehow, improbably, set him down, birdpuss out, in front of Blitzø of all people. Waiting for Blitzø to fuck him. With his tongue, his fingers–maybe his cock if he was really lucky. And he was leaning in for a taste, with joyful tears in his eyes and zero blood left in his brain, just as Stolas started saying, “Um, I- I realize it isn’t quite what you’re used tooooOOOAAAaaahh, BLITZY!”

Blitzø pulled back, removing his tongue from where he’d curled it happily around Stolas’s slick clit (or whatever) and licking his lips like a starving man who’d just been interrupted after a single bite of the world's most delicious dessert. “What was that, birdie?” he asked.

Stolas’s slim feathered shoulders were heaving like he’d just sprinted up six flights of stairs, and he let out a long, breathy whine as his head went from thrown all the way back, to flopped-down between his propped-up arms. “It’s nothing, dear,” he said. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”

“You sure?”

“Very.”

“Gimme a color, birdie.”

“Green.”

“And whaddya say if I do something you don’t like?”

Stolas sucked in a breath, then glanced at Blitzø over his shoulder with heavy-lidded eyes and a cheeky smile on his beak, and said, “Thank you, sir.”

Blitzø barked out a laugh and smacked Stolas’s pretty plump bird ass, sharp but not near hard enough to hurt. “Be serious or I’m fucking off to finish my pizza.”

He'd cry about it, but he’d do it.

Ah fuck, that’d been hot, though.

“Yellow or Red, depending on the severity of my objection,” Stolas said quickly, turning back to face his headboard.

Blitzø thought about that for a second, then shrugged. “Yeah, alright.” He smacked Stolas’s ass again, slightly harder. “Now you can thank me.” He rubbed the spot he'd hit, more for his own gratification than to soothe.

Stolas waggled his hips a little and raised his tail higher, sweeping it back and forth between them. “For such a paltry little tap?” he asked. “I hardly think such a showing deserves my gratitude.”

Blitzø took a fortifying breath, still rubbing Stolas's ass and gazing down at his gorgeous pussy. “Yeahhh, I'm gonna be honest with you, Stols, I would absolutely love to take that bait–the brat thing is really working for me–but I'm fuckin’– Look. I'm back here getting a big ol’ eyeful of this whole birdpuss sitch you got going, and, Stols, buddy…” He trailed off, distracted, kneading Stolas's feathery cheeks like he was gonna put 'em in the oven later. Fuck, that cunt was so fucking pretty, all wet and dripping for him, clenching tight around nothing. Fucking delicious, too. The one little taste he'd had hadn't been even close to enough.

He realized Stolas was going a little stiff under his hands, lowering his tail a little– shit– fuck–

“Stolas, ah, fuck. Stolas. Stols. Baby. All I can fuckin’ think about right now is, just, eating you out till you come all over my fucking face, okay? Just, can I do that? Just– just lemme do that once so I can fuckin’ die happy and I promise I'll spank you till my fuckin’ hand falls off, just– fuck.” He fucking had to.

Stolas's tail shot back into the air and his arms seemed to collapse under him, causing him to faceplant into the pile of pillows in front of him. “Yes! Yes, alright,” he said, muffled.

Blitzø felt a manic grin take over his face. “Can I get my tongue in that hole, you think? Or is it not stretchy like that?”

“It stretches!” Stolas gasped, turning his head slightly out from his pillows, and Blitzø hadn’t even touched him again yet but his shoulders were already beginning to heave again. “You can– Please, please, please, you can put anything you want into it, Blitzø. Any part of you. Put–oh, put anything of yours inside me, Blitzy, I–” he cut himself off with a moan and Blitzø saw taloned fingers creeping up between feathered legs to spread that pretty hole wide, one finger in the center, rubbing along the rim and dipping just shallowly inside.

“Jeeesus fucking Christ, Stols, how'd you get to be such a fucking slut? ‘Cause it's crazy fucking hot, like, what the fuck?” He knocked Stolas's desperate little fingers out of the way and spread the soaked, surrounding feathers out and down with both hands. “But just– just shut the fuck up a minute and let me eat your pussy in peace,” he said, and finally dove the fuck in.

His tongue was thinner than he was used to, so the flat licks he'd usually start with were a bit of a challenge, but it was so long that he was pretty much able to go from tail to would-be taint all at once, so he just kind of mashed it all on there in a line and wriggled.

“Oh Blitzø! That's– oh it feels so–” Stolas babbled, seemingly unable to finish a sentence, so Blitzø figured he was probably feeling good. “Your tongue! Your hot breath on my– oh darling, oh please, oh, use your teeth!”

Hah, what a fucking freak. Blitzø was in– he was in– he was in a deeply meaningful fucking friendship with this bird that now included casual sex! Which was not at all relevant to the fact that Blitzø wanted to personally deliver every fucking thing Stolas's freaky little heart desired! Or maybe it was, whatever!

He just needed Stolas to experience the mind blowing kinky sex he deserved, and he needed to be the one to deliver it. That was all.

Blitzø gently scraped his lower set of sharp fangs over Stolas's clit and across his hole, dragging them up behind his wetly exhaling mouth, and his birdie squawked and it leveled out into a long moan when Blitzø sealed his mouth over that birdpuss and sucked.

“Fuck fuck fuck, Blitzø, fuck!” Stolas shouted into his pillow, and Blitzø poked teasingly at his hole with the wiggly little tips of his lizard tongue. “Please, please put your tongue inside me!” Stolas gasped out.

Blitzø had to take a hand off Stolas's pretty feathered ass to give his own dick a squeeze through his pants, and yeah, there were definitely some kinda ridges there that felt real good to press down on, and the thought of getting them inside the tight wet hole under his mouth right now was gonna drive him fucking insane, but the point was Stolas had asked for something and Blitzø was gonna give it to him. ‘Cause he was a fucking giver.

He pressed the tips of his tongue together and prodded inside shallowly, then pulled out and swirled around the rim for a moment before dipping back in a little deeper. Then he repeated that same motion a few times, going deeper on each thrust but staying shallow as he could manage.

“Blitzø!” Stolas nearly sobbed. “Deeper, darling, please.”

Blitzø licked around his rim one last time, then slithered his whole tongue right inside, as far as he could get it, with his jaw practically unhinging to press even closer in, letting his teeth dig in wherever the fuck they happened to be. Stolas gave a strangled gasp and moaned deeply and ground his hips back, hard, into Blitzø's face. And Blitzø was stretching out his tongue even more, pushing through the tight squeeze, smashing his face down, trying to reach even deeper, when he noticed a tender little bump not even halfway up inside. And, finding he apparently had that kind of control over his flexible as fuck little imp tongue, he twisted it right around and pressed down into that spot, sacrificing a little depth but zeroing in and wriggling hard right up against it.

And Stolas shouted, “Oh my FUCK, Blitzy!” and clamped right down around the whole length of Blitzø's tongue, fucking squirting past it and into Blitzø's open mouth and across his fucking face like a goddamn slasher movie, but with fucking bird jizz instead of red-dyed corn syrup. And it kept fucking coming, too–or rather, Stolas kept fucking coming– till it was dripping down Blitzø's chin, and then it finally occurred to him to close his lips over that fluffy, wet cunt, and he kept on laving his tongue over the sensitive spot inside Stolas to draw his orgasm out even longer, so Blitzø could get some of that hot, slick bird jizz right down his fucking throat where it belonged.

Stolas was wailing and spasming and Blitzø was gripping Stolas's hips hard now just to keep him in place, up around his tongue, until he finally stopped gushing and went entirely limp. Blitzø let him lie down fully on his stomach then, carefully extracting his tongue from Stolas's hole as he lowered him down. He licked his lips and in the process realized he could basically lick his entire face clean with the long reach of his tongue, and proceeded to do exactly that while Stolas laid face down and breathed heaving gasps into the pillow.

Blitzø felt tail feathers swishing against his fingers and realized he’d been leaning heavily on Stolas's ass while he'd blissed out on slurping up the salty, slick mess covering his own face. He squeezed that feather-covered cake experimentally and Stolas groaned and rocked his hips, down against the bed and up into Blitzø's hands. “Christ, birdie, I just got you off and you're lookin’ for more already?” he asked, laughing, tingeing it just a little bit mean.

“Mm, yes, Blitzyyy, I just can't help myself,” he moaned pornily, pressing his ass more firmly up into Blitzø's hands and swishing his tail feathers back and forth. “I’m just aching for you, and I simply won't be satisfied until you've fucked me right into this mattress with your big, hard, THROBBING--”

Blitzø, unable to keep listening to this, picked a hand up off Stolas's ass and brought it back down, hard.

“Ohh! Yes, Blitzy!” Stolas wailed. “I've been a bad boy and I need a big, strong imp to punish me!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Blitzø cried, cackling madly and smacking Stolas’s ass again, harder.

Stolas turned his head 180 degrees to smirk up at him from the pillow. “And what are you going to do about it if I don't?”

Blitzø smacked his ass again, even harder, then spread his own legs wide, straddling Stolas's ass and leaning down to rut his still-clothed (and still hard-as-fuck) imp dick right in between those feathery cheeks. Stolas's freaky owl head whipped right back around and he moaned ridiculously loudly into the pillow again. Blitzø leaned forward over his stupidly long back and grabbed the long silky feathers on the back of his head, gently at first, then pulling back with more force as it seemed like he wasn't gonna just rip them straight out, and Stolas moaned happily as he did.

And he still had to move the rutting business a little higher up on Stolas's ass to reach, but between that and the angle Stolas was letting him pull his head back to, he could talk right up against Stolas's ear feathers. “Gonna make you summon whatever slutty little panties you were wearing before back over here,” he promised lowly, “‘cause I bet you fuckin' creamed them the second you got me all red and spikey, knowing I was gonna fuck your tight little birdpuss like this.” He rolled his hips, not quite rubbing his dick at Stolas's hole but close enough to make the point. “And I'm gonna take those soaked little panties and wad ‘em up, and I'm gonna make you open that yappy little beak wide, and I'll shove ‘em in there so you can taste how wet I got you before I even put a single fucking finger on you. And you'll remember how bad you fuckin' want it–” he thrust his hips hard into Stolas's lower back, “and you'll think twice the next time you think about talking back to me, or maybe I'll take this big, throbbing imp dick away and leave you and your holes unfucked.”

Stolas was giggling hysterically, which Blitzø fucking loved as a reaction to that psychotic babble of half-baked dirty talk he'd just spewed, but Stolas was also gasping and shivering and writhing enthusiastically up against Blitzø's dick, which Blitzø fucking loved even more. “Blitzy, no!” he panted out dramatically, “Please, oh please, I'll be good!”

Blitzø dropped his head back down onto the pillow and moved back down to sit on those pretty thighs and smack his ass again. “I dunno how I'm s’posed to believe that when you can't stop fucking laughing, bitch!” He said, absolutely unable to keep himself from laughing either. He spanked him once more for good measure, the hardest yet.

Stolas gave a full-throated groan then, like maybe Blitzø had finally actually started hitting him hard enough. “Oh, Blitzy!” He whined. He peeked back over his shoulder, his face flushed and his feathers all askew and his beak open and panting. “I'm sorry for laughing,” he said, “it's just that there was a slight problem with your little punishment plan, darling.”

Blitzø tried not to fucking blush at being called “darling” while he was trying to fucking dom this giant, feathered brat, and instead smirked and lashed his tail. “Yeah, what's that?” He asked, having a feeling it was gonna be good.

“As thrilled as I would be for you to gag me with my own wet panties, Blitzø, I'm afraid that it would be simply impossible, given that at no point this evening have I been wearing underwear of any kind.”

Blitzø strongly considered fainting dead away. The romper. No underwear. Leaking birdpuss. The client meeting? Sitting on the floor eating pizza? The slightest nudge to either side and Blitzø would've seen–

Stolas moaned happily under him and he realized he was squeezing those feathered ass cheeks like a pair of fucking stress balls that owed him fucking money. He squeezed them even harder until Stolas yelped, and he grinned ferally.

“My clothes,” he growled, “I want ‘em gone.”

Stolas hooted and all of Blitzø's clothes disappeared at once. His dick bounced down away from his stomach, bright red and crazy hard, and he let it skim the fluff of Stolas's ass for a moment before nestling it right in between his cheeks and pushing them together like a feathery hot dog bun around a fat fucking imp sausage.

He thrust into that damp, feathery channel a few times and Stolas groaned and immediately started letting out strangled noises with each thrust. Whatever ridges Blitzø's dick was sporting on the underside kept fucking catching on unknown parts of Stolas's anatomy, and it seemed to be doing something for the both of them.

“Fuck!” He gasped out. “You horny little shit, wearing those tiny little shorts that barely cover your ass, and you tell me you weren't wearing a damn thing underneath them?”

“Blitzø!” Stolas cried, as Blitzø dragged his cock down deeper between his cheeks.

“You– you fucking knew I was gonna be an imp for the client meeting, of course you fucking did. What were you planning if those dumb cunts hadn't shown up, huh? Were you gonna, what, drop something on the floor, bend over in front of me while my face was still at ass-height, gimme a good fucking view of your bare, dripping pussy, you fuckin’ slut?”

“No, no, Blitzø, I didn't–”

“Oh fucking save it, you couldn't fuckin’ wait to impify me and get your slutty birdpuss stuffed with this big red dick, could you? ‘Swhy you were so quick to do it before the meeting, wasn't it? Bet you woulda let me fuck you right in front of the client if I'd been willing to do it with a tail and a couple of horns on my head, huh?” Shit– he really had to pull back on the imp talk– it wasn't Stolas's fault he–

“Yes, oh, Blitzy! Do it– Fuck me with your tail!” Stolas begged.

And, shit, that hadn't been what he'd meant, but fuck yeah, alright. He curled his tail up underneath them both and ineptly flailed the spade of it around for a second over Stolas's cunt, before accidentally ball-tapping himself with the tip. He wheezed and sadly let go of one of Stolas's fluffy cheeks to grab the spade and line it up manually, and from there he was able to push forward with only his tail muscles until it'd lightly breached the slippery entrance into Stolas's hole.

“Mmmm, Blitzy!” Stolas groaned, and Blitzø pushed in a little deeper. “Yes, yes, I wanted you to want me, Blitzy, I wanted you to fuck me!” he babbled, and Blitzø replaced the hand on Stolas's ass so he could keep rutting into that pretty space between his pretty cheeks–a little higher up now, practically into his tail feathers. He pushed harder with his own tail, the sensitive tip worming its way inside, feeling the stretch of Stolas's tight cunt over the spade, deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“Oh, birdie, I fuckin' want you,” he growled back, “want you so fuckin’ bad, bitch, I'm gonna fuck you so fuckin’ hard.”

“I– I would've let you,” Stolas gasped as Blitzø pushed inside deeper, fucked his feathery ass cheeks faster. “In front of the client– If you want– Whatever you want, Blitzø, anywhere, any time, tell me you want me and I'll be–” he squealed as Blitzø thrust hard, widening him further around the spade of his tail. “I'll be on my knees for you, happily, oh, oh!” Blitzø felt the gush of hot liquid over his tail and knew he'd made his birdie come again, and the satisfaction far outweighed the nagging knowledge in the back of his head that what Stolas was saying just wasn't true. The fantasy versus reality of exhibitionism aside, Blitzø knew if he asked Stolas to get on his knees for him while he was a human and Stolas wasn't, Stolas wouldn't be nearly so happy about it as he said. Maybe he'd indulge Blitzø and go human himself, first, and then get on his knees, but Blitzø wasn't going to fucking ask him to do that.

But it was okay, ‘cause instead he could just… ask to be impified! And if Stolas was in the mood to get fucked by an imp, then Blitzø could be the one to fuckin' do it and that was still fucking rad as shit.

He pulled the end of his tail out of Stolas's birdpuss all at once and flicked it once to splatter the ridiculous amount of pearly cum dripping off of it all across Stolas's feathered back, and Stolas moaned about it like a fucking whore instead of bitching Blitzø out for being a weird, horny asshole.

Rad as shit.

“Still want me to fuck you, pretty bird?” Blitzø asked, petting the feathers of Stolas's hips and pulling back off his ass to tease the head of his cock over Stolas's dripping hole.

“Yes, please,” Stolas mumbled politely into his arms, which he'd curled up in front of him on the pillow at some point.

Blitzø chuckled. “You need a second?” he asked.

“No thank you,” Stolas said, still politely, still directly into his arms. But his tail was perking up, and he was waggling his hips ever so slightly, rolling his birdpuss lightly back against Blitzø's dick.

So Blitzø slowly, gently, pushed the head inside. Stolas groaned but didn't otherwise say a thing, and Blitzø had to stop there for a second and breathe, not entirely sure he wasn't gonna shoot off as soon as he pushed the rest of the way in, and not entirely sure he didn't wanna just reach down and jerk himself off just like this, barely dipped inside, just barely deigning to give this bird what he wanted.

“Color?” he asked, because Stolas was being so fucking quiet it was starting to concern him.

“Green,” he answered immediately, sounding strained. “Keep– please keep going.”

“You sure?” Blitzø asked, starting to pull out. “Do you need more stretching? I only used my tail, I don't–”

“No!” Stolas said, pushing himself up on his elbows suddenly and turning to look at Blitzø over his shoulder. “I'm fine, really. I just, ah, went a little, um… floaty! For a moment. You're… quite the experience, Blitzø. I was rather overcome, but–” he pushed his whole body up and backwards and sank himself a little deeper on Blitzø's cock, and he moaned while Blitzø let out a little punched-out grunt of air. “But I would very much like for you to continue,” he nearly whined.

“Yeah,” Blitzø said, and his voice cracked on the word. “Alright. You got it, birdie. Whatever you want.” He pushed in a little farther. “Whatever you fuckin’ want, birdie,” he said, head spinning.

“I want– I want– ah!”

Blitzø still hadn't gotten a good look or really even a good feel in on his own cock, but whatever kind of hard ridges or whatever he had–one of them was bumping up against Stolas's hole now, and before he could hesitate, Stolas had pushed himself back again and popped the ridge fully inside himself, and then he was bumping up against the second one and the first had felt so fucking good going inside, Blitzø couldn't help but push the second one inside after it, and Stolas moaned so high and loud it was nearly a squeal, and shoved himself backwards again, harder this time, to take in the third ridge, and that was apparently the end of them, ‘cause he just fucking slid all the way to the base of Blitzø's cock after that and Blitzø suddenly had bare feathery bird thighs meeting the fronts of his own, and Stolas was up on his hands and knees and pushing up until Blitzø had to get one foot up on the bed to keep enough leverage not to just slip back out, and then–holy shit, Stolas wasn't fucking around this time, he was fuckin’ fucking himself on Blitzø's dick straight outta the gate, and it was all Blitzø could do for a second to keep from just slamming in deep and unloading right then and there, until he could keep it together enough to start meeting Stolas's thrusts.

And Stolas was insanely slick and sloppy from Blitzø's spit and two fucking orgasms and generally just being a horny fucking wet dream of a person, but he was still so fucking tight somehow, and he was fucking himself in short, shallow little thrusts that kept Blitzø in his grip along the full fucking length of his dick but Blitzø still wanted more, so he gripped Stolas's hips to keep him in place and pulled out farther, popping one, two of those ridges out and then pushed himself back in again. Stolas gasped and moaned so prettily that he did it again, pulling all three ridges out this time and shoving them roughly back inside.

“Fuck!” Stolas shouted, and god Blitzø loved how fucking sweary he got when they fucked. He pulled out and gave him another thrust back inside. “Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck me, Blitzø!” he cried.

And Blitzø was already figuring out that there wasn't a single fucking reality where he didn't immediately give in to that kind of demand from Stolas and start absolutely fucking his fucking brains out. So that's what he did. He fucked him with long, hard strokes, slick and ridged and slick again each time he pulled out and pushed back in, and he kept waiting for Stolas to complain, to tell him it was too much, but he just wailed and begged for more, and it felt so fucking good, Blitzø wanted to fucking bite Stolas all over, fucking slap him, choke him, pull his fucking feathers out and tell him how good he was, how special, how much Blitzø fucking loved him and would do fucking anything to– to fucking have him for fucking real--

“Ah, fuck!” Blitzø shouted, and slammed his hips hard into Stolas's ass and he was coming deep inside his gorgeous fucking bird demon, who hadn't fucking come again yet himself, and so Blitzø, still fucking coming, absolutely refusing to let himself go soft, fucked him through it and reached down and mashed his fingers down on either side of his clit and stroked until Stolas came, screaming around his own bit-down-on wrist, clenching and writhing against Blitzø's exhausted, overstimulated cock.

He pulled out, out of sheer desperation, and Stolas whimpered pathetically so he practically fell face first into Stolas's cunt and slipped his tongue deep inside to give him something to squeeze around. And only as he tried and failed, choking, to swallow every gushing drop of that tasty bird cum, mixed now with something strange and sulfuric that had to be the load he'd just fucked into that otherwise-so-tasty bird cunt, did it occur to him he probably could have just used his fingers. But it was fine…

This was where he wanted to die, anyway.

—

Some time later, after they'd laid together in a naked, sweaty, feather-matted, cum-sticky heap for a long fucking time, they mutually managed to piece together a couple of brain cells each. And Blitzø finally got his first actual look at his dick.

Those things he'd been thinking of as ridges? Turned out they were fucking spikes. Like the ones on his head and back. Maybe slightly less sharp, and a little more flexible where they blended into the skin on the underside of his dick. But, like, they were fucking spikes.

“I can't believe I fucked you with a fucking spiked dick,” he said to Stolas, slightly shell shocked, after pointing out his findings.

“You did!” Stolas responded enthusiastically. “And I enjoyed it very much, indeed!” He felt a happy little bird peck-slash-smooch on the top of his little bald imp head while he stared off into space. “Though perhaps next time you could follow through on the stepping-on-me bit? Not that I have any complaints, but I do think I managed to be quite a good boy for you, don't you think, Blitzy? And I would like my reward…” Stolas yammered happily on, nipping oddly here and there at his head and horns. And what in the actual fucking fuck was Blitzø's life?

Well.

Whatever it was, he thought it might be… kind of amazing, actually.

What more could he ask for?

Chapter Text

Blitzø whistled a jaunty little tune to himself as he kicked back on his couch and looked up info on Muddy's brother. Y’know, so that he could murder him and hand his soul over to a pair of psycho bird bitches in Hell.

Jameson Mudhorn was a pastry chef, with the least appealing name ever for that profession. Though his pastries did actually look pretty good, Blitzø had to admit while he scrolled through the guy's Instagram.

The guy was all over social media, posting about the violent and unsolved death of his late wife, Selene Mudhorn, and less-so about the missing person's case still open for his twin sister, Madison Mudhorn.

Looked like they hadn't dredged that swamp, yet.

(Also… twins, huh? He tried real hard not to think of anyone else he knew who, out of everyone in the world, would probably choose her twin brother to bump the fuck off, given the opportunity.)

Anyway, Selene had wanted Muddy dead, claiming Muddy had been the one to murder her, and Blitzø had done that in return for the location of the deed to some house in Malibu that Selene’s cousin Angelica had wanted. (Their original client, but who cared? She'd gotten the house and paid them and fucked off into the Malibu sunset, end of story.)

Muddy had rambled something at them about Jameson framing her for Selene’s murder, but as far as Blitzø could tell, she hadn't even been a suspect in the case. And if Jameson had killed Selene, why the fuck would he have cared if she knew? She was dead.

Eh, what a fucking cluster fuck. Normally he'd be mad about it, but somehow even shitty-dead-people drama wasn't bringing his mood down today. Today, it was hilarious!

“What's got you all upbeat over there?” Loona asked, coming out of her room and beelining it for the fridge. She sounded like she didn't actually really care, but Blitzø knew better. She probably cared a little.

Blitzø was thumbing through photos of last year's Mudhorn family barbeque. Everybody was smiling and hugging, and everybody clearly fucking hated each other.

Hey, maybe he should find the rest of the family and put ‘em all out of their misery! Sure, they'd all end up in Hell together, but that was how the Mudhorn Family Bakery brand cookie crumbled.

“Blitzø?”

“Aw, sorry Loonie! It's nothin’. Just whistlin’ while I work.” He pulled his eyes off his phone and glanced up toward the kitchen. “Want me to make you something, sweetie?”

“I'm just getting a soda, Blitzø.” He heard the telltale pop-hiss of a can opening and the indelicate slurping of a perfect young lady.

He went back to his scrolling.

Loona belched and wandered over to look over his shoulder. “Wow. Looking through other people's happy family photos? This is pretty sad, even for you.”

“It's a mark, Loonie!” He said with mock outrage. “Look, this one was already dead, and she had me kill this one, and now she's asking me to kill him!” He pointed at each of his little cast of soap opera characters in turn.

“Huh. Not so happy after all, I guess.”

Nope, but Blitzø still was! “Nah, these motherfuckers are all miserable pieces of shit who’re already, or are about to be, rotting in Hell!” He sing-songed the last word gleefully.

“Shit dude, are you on something?” Loona asked, sounding mildly annoyed. “Can you share?”

“No, and no! Get your own drugs, like any self-respecting college-goer!”

She snickered, then eyed him. “This isn't like, an episode, is it? You're taking your meds? You told me what to watch out for.”

“C’mon Loonie, yes I'm taking my meds. Haven't had one in forever. Don't joke about that.”

“Not really joking. Would you know if you were having one?”

He considered that. "No. But that's not what this is! Can't your old man just be in a good mood?”

“That's not what this is? Oh, something happened then.” She raised an eyebrow and leaned over the couch to try to get a look at his face. Fuck! Why did he have to have such a brilliant and perceptive daughter? “What, did you actually fuck your bird-furry boyfriend from Hell or something?”

Blitzø shot straight up on the couch, trying to remove himself from her prying stare. “No!” He squeaked, convincing even himself with how extremely convincing that was.

“Blitzø what the fuck!” Loona demanded.

Okay, maybe not so convincing.

“What?!” He heard a defensive edge leaking into his voice.

“What do you mean ‘what’? Um hello, he's a demon?” she shouted. “Fuck, does this count as doing you a favor? Does he own your fucking soul now?”

Ehh, he kinda already did, Blitzø thought, and then promptly made himself forget he'd ever thought something so idiotic. “Okay, rude, Loonie. I mean, if anything he owes me a soul now, cause I did him a fucking favor when I plowed–”

"I don't want to fucking hear about it! Jesus!” She clapped her hands over her ears, or maybe just grabbed at her own hair in frustration. “Fuck! How could you be so stupid, Blitzø?”

“You're asking me that? I don't fucking know! Anyway, I thought you were cool with him!”

“I am!” she shouted, so coolly. “Or maybe I'm not! I dunno! Fuck, is he gonna be my new stepdad? I can't believe my dads are gonna be a fucking idiot and an actual demon, why the fuck did I ever agree to be adopted by you?”

Blitzø ignored that last part, ‘cause honestly he wasn't sure about that himself. But she'd basically just called him her dad again! “First of all, aww, Loonie!”

“Ugh!”

“Second, no! We're still just friends!”

She glared at him.

“Who fuck now!” he added.

"Ugh!!" She slapped her hand over her face, then held it out towards him. “Give me your fucking credit card, Blitzø. I'm gonna go to the mall and try to forget this fucking conversation ever happened.”

“Whatever you need, sweetie,” he said, digging his wallet out of his pocket.

—

Blitzø shot Jameson Mudhorn dead in his bakery kitchen on a Sunday, at ass-o'clock in the morning, before the poor bastard's assistant arrived for the day. He staged it as a smash and grab gone wrong, and left Jameson facedown in a massive metal bowl of white icing, stained pink with blood and flecks of brain.

In keeping with the staging, he pried the register drawer open with a crowbar and took the meager few bills that were in there for the start of the day. Honestly, there was so little he wasn't even gonna feel bad spending the cash. There were cameras but he was wearing a balaclava with a shitton of black face paint to shadow his eyes and hide his scars. He wore a generic black outfit, and disguised his usual sexy swagger with a thumping, goonish amble. No one was fucking identifying him.

He slipped out the back and ran, being sure to be caught by a couple of security cameras on a pre-determined route, then ducked into a back hallway of an abandoned building he knew had a camera next door with a view of the back entrance, but none that could see the front entrance directly, plus no windows to the outside. He texted Stolas for a portal.

Anyone would think he'd gone in here, changed, and continued out the front later. Which is exactly what he might've done if he hadn't had the portal option.

A swirling purple portal appeared in front of him, leading to what looked like another room of the palace Blitzø had never seen before. He stepped through, pulling off his balaclava.

Stolas was sitting behind a large desk, and Blitzø barely had time to recognize the grandeur of the room around him–a massive, ornate library with sweeping staircases around a central display of the living world solar system–before his eyes caught and stayed caught on an… object on Stolas's desk. It didn't look like anything Blitzø had seen before, but he knew without being told that this was a human soul.

“Holy shit, Stolas.” He said.

“Detestable, is it not?” Stolas said, distracted, seemingly unable to tear his own eyes away, though he was eyeing it with a mild sneer.

Blitzø blinked. Was that… how Stolas saw human souls? Detestable? He didn't answer, frowning slightly. That wasn't exactly what he would have expected. But it… Well, did it make sense? Stolas was a demon, and Blitzø didn't exactly tend to forget that fact, but it was possible he tended to forget what exactly it meant to be a demon.

He tore his attention away from the soul for a moment and focused in on Stolas, trying to see him as someone–something else… something that fundamentally existed only to heap suffering on any humans deemed unworthy of paradise, engineered somehow by some unknowable entity weirdly hung up on humans and how they all acted while they were alive. It felt almost impossible to see Stolas like that now, but for a moment he was almost seeing double, in a way he hadn't since around the time he'd first actually spoken to Stolas, over two decades ago.

Stolas the demon, overlaid with Stolas the demon.

Stolas looked up questioningly then–probably because Blitzø hadn't said anything–and, like the beautiful sun coming out from behind an (admittedly no-less-beautiful) cloud, his face broke off from its little sneer, blooming out into an amused and affectionately wide smile. “My, that's quite the fetching look on you, dear,” he said.

Blitzø blinked in shock, his brain seizing up at birdie-Stols flirting with his still very human self. Then he remembered all the eye makeup.

“Hah,” he said, pulling his collar up to wipe at his face. “Thanks.”

And well, maybe it was teasing more than flirtation, but it was certainly affectionate. And maybe as a demon, Stolas just felt a certain instinctive way about human souls… But maybe there could be exceptions, and maybe Blitzø wasn't the only one who’d nearly forgotten how to see double.

“Merely speaking the truth,” Stolas said airily, then he glanced back down at the soul on his desk. “Thank you very much for delivering this wretched thing to me for our unfortunate purposes. I hope it wasn't too much trouble. I'll be glad to be rid of it and we'll consider the whole thing over with soon. Stella will complain, but as far as she's concerned we're giving up the whole endeavor. Oh, but of course I simply mean we'll be more careful in the future, not that…”

Stolas was going on about his plans and Blitzø didn't normally make a habit of tuning him out, but he found his attention grabbed again to the soul on Stolas's desk. It was so strange. Like looking at a person, distilled. Not their body or even their thoughts or their personality, but also somehow all that at once. It was sort of a little ball of soft, gently floating light, but it was also a dense, heavy lump of cruelty and outwardly-reflected inner pain. And Blitzø had never seen one before, but he somehow knew this one was missing something. Something… big… that should've been there, but wasn't.

“But I'd love your input on this as well, Blitzy!” Stolas was smiling expectantly at him. Shit.

“Ah. Yeah. I mean, whatever's gonna keep her out of your business, y’know?”

“Wonderful! In that case, I'll–”

A low groan sounded from somewhere behind Blitzø, and halfway through his startled turn, he found himself in his imp form. Getting surprise-impified was starting to barely faze him. Christ.

Anyway, a… fucking candy-cane version of Muddy lay on the floor of Stolas's beautiful library, dripping swirls of white, red, and pink muck all over the floor.

Well. That had to be Jameson.

“Oh, is that him? How interesting! I do own his soul, per our deal with Muddy, so it seems he came to me directly when he died,” Stolas hummed thoughtfully. “I didn't actually know that would happen. I wonder if my father has sinners popping up around him all the time, or if he has some way of rerouting them. I certainly never saw it happen, but I've never spent a great deal of time with him, either. And why the delay, I wonder? His soul came to me quite some time before you arrived here.”

Blitzø shrugged and watched Jameson slowly try to regain consciousness.

“I suppose I own Muddy's soul now, as well, come to think of it,” Stolas said, and he snapped his fingers.

“--ON’T HAVE MY COFFEE READY IN THE NEXT FIVE FUCKING–” The always-charming Muddy appeared in the middle of the room, shouting at the top of her wet gravel lungs. She whipped her head around, splattering gunk on Stolas's fancy floors, taking in her sudden change of surroundings. “What the FUCK?”

“Hm. I suspect I've just made some poor barista’s day,” Stolas said, amused.

“Oh shit, it's you guys. How the fuck did you get me here?”

“We murdered your brother, so he owns your soul now! Remember?” Blitzø gestured to the groaning pink mass on the ground and then to Stolas.

“Oh shit! Jamie?” She cackled and the sound of it made Blitzø want to throw up. She sludged over to her brother and kicked him in the equally sludgy spot when his ribs would've been. Her foot kind of just… sank into him. He groaned dully in pain.

Blitzø glanced at Stolas, who was looking vaguely ill himself.

“That's for fucking framing me, you asshole!” She pulled her foot out with a sticky squelch then thudded it back in. Purplish brown mixed with pink went flying. “Selene thinks I fucking killed her! I wonder fucking why!”

Jameson vomited more red and white swirled… yeah, probably icing? onto the floor.

“Please desist,” Stolas said, desperately, and Muddy went suddenly, unnaturally, stock-still.

“The fuck?!” She demanded, sounding like even her jaw was probably frozen in place under all the mud.

“Ah, right, yes. You may move, but please do not assault your brother further. I understand he likely deserves it, but you'll have to continue on your own time.”

Muddy jerked out of her stuck pose and backed up, eyeing Stolas warily.

“Alright, then, out with it, please.”

A very similar, but also very different, ball of light/chunk of cruelty came floating out from Muddy's chest to join Jameson's on Stolas's desk.

“Oh shit,” she burbled like a mud bubble bursting. “I don't feel very good…”

Blitzø eyed Muddy’s soul and realized that hers actually had the secret third thing Jameson’s had been missing. It was small, still, though… or, maybe more like thin. Thin threads woven throughout.

The threads were dim, and cut short in many places, and frayed badly in even more, but they were there, and they made Jameson’s soul look all the more barren and fundamentally lacking by comparison.

Love. Connection. Or maybe just the capacity for it. Some ability to give even half a flying fuck what happened to another being existing in this reality with you, other than yourself. It just… it was something humans were meant to have. And Jameson's didn't.

Jameson’s soul was… sad. Pathetic. Detestable, maybe…

While Blitzø was ruminating, Stolas twirled a finger in the air and a little tinkling bell sound emitted. A few moments later, a little butler guy– wasn't his name… Dorito? showed up. “Pringles,” Stolas addressed him, “Would you please tell the Lady Stella I would like to meet with her? Concerning the…” he gestured at the orbs on his desk. “Souls.”

Pringles bowed, eyes wide for what could've been any number of reasons, and left the room.

“Well then, would you like some tea while we wait, Blitzø?” Stolas asked.

“Uh. I'm good.”

Stolas smiled at him, then sighed deeply in Muddy’s direction. “I suppose you'd like some coffee?”

She was sitting on the floor, looking disturbed and distracted, staring at her own soul, separated from her body. “Huh? Oh. Yeah. That might be good.”

Stolas briefly opened a small portal, asked someone, “May I borrow this?”, took out a mug and a carafe, thanked the person on the other side, sloshed some hot, brown liquid into the mug, and placed the carafe back through with another thanks.

“I hope drip is acceptable. No cream or sugar. All out, terribly sorry,” he said, floating the mug over her way. She took it out of the air and took a long sip.

Then he opened another small portal and took out his tea tray, complete with plenty of cream and sugar. Beautiful bitch. He went through the ritual of making his tea, allowing it to steep naturally this time.

Blitzø heard the infernal screeching of the worst harpy in Hell, approaching down the hallway. “--and iF HE GIVES ME ANOTHER FUCKING EXCUSE, I SWEAR I WILL–” The door banged open and Stella stalked in in her Barbie Nightmarehouse gown. (...the doll, that was, not Blitzø's sister.) “STOLAS WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU NEED FROM ME NOW?”

Stolas sighed again. “If you would take two seconds to use your eyes, you would see that I in fact have something for you.” He gestured, again, to the souls.

Stella's face lit up in sadistic glee, and she rushed over to look. “Oh, aren't they simply hideous!” She gushed. “I have to say, Stolas, these are simply the best gifts you've ever given me in all of our miserable years of marriage!”

Stolas’s beak twitched and he made a little chittering noise Blitzø had never heard before. “You know very well that these are not gifts. But they are yours now. Now take them and get out.”

She laughed gratingly. She picked up the souls one at a time and placed them at her chest. They slowly absorbed into her body, morphing and straining away as though they didn't want it to happen.

Once they were both absorbed, Stella smiled triumphantly and turned to the two goopy messes on the floor. “Get up,” she commanded.

Muddy stood immediately, though she didn't look happy about it. Jameson groaned and staggered slowly to his feet. He looked around, blinking. “Who– who… what the fuck are all of you?” He rubbed his eyes and looked at his hands in horror. “What the fuck am I?”

“We're all demons, dipshit. Welcome to hell!” Muddy gravelled.

“Maddy…?”

“It's Muddy, these days, asshole.”

“Oh no no no no no, this can't–”

“Shut it, plebians!” Stella shouted.

The plebians shut it.

“It was funny to listen to you die inside for about five fucking seconds, but now I want to never hear your fucking voices again unless I ask you for something specific that requires an answer!”

They stared silently at her. Blitzø found it pretty difficult to read their melty-faced expressions in general, but he didn't think either one of them was particularly psyched about these developments.

Stella eyed them for a moment, then waved a hand casually their way. A soft, baby-pink glow surrounded the coffee mug in Muddy's hands. It yanked itself out of her grip, flew straight up, and smashed itself into the ceiling, raining down coffee and ceramic shards on the two sinners below.

“Ha HA!” Stella gloated. She turned to Stolas. “I've had to watch you do that kind of shit for eighteen fucking years, lazy-arse! But now I finally see why! It's fucking fun!”

“Stella, I have never done a single thing remotely like that, in all the years we've known one another.”

She rolled her eyes in a full-body movement and flicked a hand dismissively. “Oh, it's the same thing you always do! Pick something up with magic and put it somewhere else!”

Stolas sighed heavily. “Please leave.”

“Fine.” She sniffed pridefully and turned to go, but stopped before leaving the room. “Oh, by the way, Octavia said she… I don't know, needs you for something or other. She asked me to find you.”

“Via?” Stolas asked, surprised. “ What does she need? When did she ask?”

“Oh, about an hour ago? I don't remember. And I don't know what she needed.” Her expression turned disdainful. “I think she said it was something only you could help her with, though.”

“A- an hour? Why didn't you–” He rushed out the door, saying over his shoulder, “Blitzø, stay here please. Stella, take your sinners and leave at once. Octavia, I'm coming, darling!” He shouted the last bit into the hallway and Blitzø smiled fondly after him.

Welp, he guessed it was time to poke around this fancy library and look at all of Stolas's fancy shit! He turned around and ran straight into a stiff, scratchy puffy pink dress. He bounced off and gazed upwards. Stella loomed over him, sneering.

“Give me your phone number, imp.” She commanded.

Well that was unexpected. He laughed, loud and sharp. “Yeah, no thanks. Not especially interested in whatever sandpaper sitch you got goin’ on down there under those skirts.”

Her beak twitched violently in disgust. “Unlike my pathetic fucking husband, I do not fuck imps.”

Blitzø snarled. “Then what the fuck do you want?”

“I want to pay you twice whatever he's paying you to tell me what the fuck he's really up to! This whole sinner thing is extremely fucking suspicious and I want to know A, what he's getting out of it, and B, when the two of you disgusting degenerates are going to be having more humans killed so that I can strongarm that weak-willed idiot into giving their souls to me.”

Oh shit. He stared at her, suppressing his rage at the way she talked about Stolas, and sussing out the seriousness of her proposal. She didn't strike him as particularly fucking subtle.

“Yeah, alright,” he said, carefully. “Hand over your phone.”

“Eugh!” She shuddered. “You're not going to touch my phone! Give me the number and I'll put it in.” She produced a fancy little clutch from somewhere and snapped it open, withdrawing a petal-pink cellphone from the open clamshell.

Blitzø sighed and slowly relayed his number while she struggled to input it around her long fingernails.

She frowned at the number once they'd confirmed it was correct. “Is that some sort of, ugh… imp area code?” She asked, sounding disturbed that something like that might exist.

Hm, if she bothered to, she'd easily be able to confirm that it wasn't. He rolled out whatever bullshit came to his brain to explain it. “It's a living world number, actually. Our human guy got this phone for me in case his shit wouldn't work with Hell’s phones. Turns out they work together fine, though, so whatever. But I like having a unique number. It's kind of a flex.”

She rolled her eyes, but it seemed like she bought it. “Ugh. Is it? Anyway, I take that to mean you're the one in contact with your little living world assassin, then?”

Blitzø shrugged. “I got his number.”

“I see,” she said, with a gleam in her eye he didn't fucking like. “Well, we'll talk. Don't call me, I'll call you.”

“Don't even have your number yet, bitch.”

Stolas appeared at the doorway. “What the hell are you playing at, Stella? I told you to go! And Octavia said she hasn't spoken to you all day!” He looked past her to Blitzø. “Blitzø, are you alright, dear? She didn't threaten you, did she?”

“Nah, we were just talking,” he said casually. “I wanted to know what it feels like to own a soul. Thinking ‘bout getting one of my own.”

Stella scoffed. “As though you could do anything with one, imp.”

Blitzø rolled his eyes. Way to sell it, bitch. Good thing he wasn't actually trying to convince anyone.

“Anyway, I suppose I might've been mistaken about Octavia,” she said breezily. “How silly. Ta-ta,” she sing-songed. “Come along,” she commanded the two mute sinners who'd been watching the whole damn thing. They shambled along after her as she left. Then Blitzø heard from the hallway, “Eugh! Nevermind, you're too slow and far too disgusting. Tell no one of anything you witnessed here today and go away.”

The two sinners simply disappeared from the doorway, and Stella's footsteps echoed away down the hallway.

Blitzø blinked. “Where did they go?” He asked Stolas.

“I'm not sure, but she will be able to summon and dismiss them at will for as long as she is the owner of their souls. She probably just dumped them outside the palace on the street somewhere.”

“Oh, okay. Not the sun, then?”

“Unlikely. I believe she can only move them around within Pride. But speaking of which,” Stolas waved a hand and the fucking stupid amount of mud and icing that'd been splattered around the room promptly disappeared.

“Well… that was a fucking trip,” Blitzø commented.

“I take it you were not truly discussing the finer points of soul ownership?” Stolas asked, turning towards him.

“Oh, yeah, fuck no. She wanted to pay me to get dirt on you and our little sinner-generating business. I gave her my number–want me to feed her a bunch of bullshit?”

“You gave her your number?” Stolas looked alarmed.

“Oh, shit, should I not have? Was it some kinda trick?”

“No, or, well, I don't think so. It's not that, it's just…” Stolas bit his lip and looked away.

“Mm-hm, spit it out, birdie.”

"I text that number!” Stolas said, pouting dramatically. “You're my friend! Why should she get to have you, too?” He glanced back at Blitzø with an embarrassed smile. “It's very silly, I know.”

Blitzø grinned teasingly to try to cover up how giddy that little bit of half-joking possessiveness actually made him feel. “If it makes you feel any better, I can definitely promise not to text her about my day.”

"Or ask about hers?” Stolas added on, smiling.

“Like I could give a shit,” Blitzø assured him.

Stolas tittered.

“Oh, and I already told her not to even think about hitting me up for a trip to pound town.”

“Ugh, Blitzø!”

“There's only one birdpuss this imp is interested in tapping and it sure as shit ain't hers.”

“Well you're giving the one to which I presume you're referring quite the whiplash with your choice of imagery.”

Blitzø grinned and licked his lips. “Oh, I can give it all kinds of lashing if you ask me real nice.”

Stolas eyebrows raised. “Do you know, Blitzø, I believe I left something at the office the other day. Would you like to portal over with me and help me find it?”

What? The office? Oh. …Oh! They hadn't fucked at the motel before. “What about the Hellmonella?”

Stolas cocked his head. “Oh, I didn't tell you? I've been employing my own cleaning service for the room for quite some time now.”

That explained where all the broken glass had gone.

“Well in that case, pretty bird, I think I might just be able to cancel the rest of my plans for the day.”

“Oh, did you have plans already? You needn't–”

Blitzø cut him off right there. “My plans were to go home and pass the fuck out on my couch. Open the damn portal.”

“Oh dear, you have had quite the busy day, Blitzø. Are you sure you're–”

He reached up and grabbed one of Stolas's taloned hands and pulled it down, way down, to his own impified, more than half-hard dick. “Up for it? You tell me, birdie.”

Stolas, stooped down and blushing now, reflexively cupped his hand over the bulge in Blitzø's pants between his legs, and “more than half” pretty rapidly became “fully”.

“A compelling argument,” Stolas said, pulling away and dragging the tips of his taloned fingers along the full length as he did. He opened a portal and they both scurried through.

—

“So tell me more about human souls,” Blitzø asked later, after he'd put his dick in and subsequently came inside two separate pretty bird holes. He'd learned that Stolas didn't have a fucking gag reflex in his feathery form or any more of an aversion to spikes in his throat than he did in his cunt. And Blitzø had also learned that Stolas could hold his breath for a really, really long time before he started to cry.

Turned out learning could be fun! And he was in the mood for more as they lay in bed, naked and fucked out.

He was puffing idly on a cigarette. It was one of Stolas's, so it tasted a little sulfury and had a little bit of a lingering, giddy-making effect. Not quite weed, but very nice. And the sulfur taste wasn't so off putting when he was an imp, which was when he tended to smoke them, anyway. Up until this point, it'd always been at their hangouts, but it turned out Valboros were pretty fucking choice, post-coital.

So anyway, “Tell me more about souls,” he'd asked.

“Well, yours is quite lovely, for one.” Stolas giggled a little dreamily and stole his cig back for an elegant draw.

Blitzø blinked in surprise. “You can see it? I didn't realize that.”

“Oh!” Stolas blushed, maybe realizing the cigarette had gone to his head a little. “No. Not unless we took it out of you. Which you could do willingly, but I wouldn't recommend it, as it would leave you quite vulnerable. Or theoretically I could attempt to take it from you, but the process would be deeply unpleasant for both of us and likely fatal for you. A- and I would never do such a thing, I hope you understand.”

Huh. Okay. “Well, gimme a heads up if you ever get the urge, wouldja?” He grabbed the cig.

Stolas gave him a mild look. “Well. I suppose if I ever lose my mind to the degree where harming my oldest and dearest friend starts to sound like a good idea… I'll be sure to let you know immediately.”

Blitzø coughed a little bit of smoke out of his lungs. “Well…good,” he said, because it was all he could think of to say. He wheezed for a moment, then went on. “But f’real, what do the souls actually do for you? You know, if they were a thing you fucked with, which I know they're not. But if they were.”

“Ah. Well. Every human and many, but not all, Hellborn are created with a certain innate magical power, though the level of power and exactly what any individual can do with that power varies wildly.” He plucked the cigarette from Blitzø's hand and took another dainty puff. “In the case of Goetia such as myself, my deeply regrettable wife, my daughter, et cetera, power is tied heavily to genetics, as well as a less definable aspect of fate. Both of which my kind tends to try to manipulate through selective breeding.” He took another, less elegant drag. “But I digress.”

Blitzø frowned but said nothing. That… put some things into context.

“It's different for other species. For instance, succubi and incubi tend to have a fairly predictable low to medium level of fairly specialized power–and I suspect you may be able to guess what that specialization is, hm? Hellhounds, on the he other hand, have a bit more variation in amount of power and areas of specialization, but generally their power is quite low. With occasional exceptions. And, notably, imps have essentially none at all.”

“Boooo,” Blitzø complained, and stuck out his currently impish tongue.

“Hmm, but darling, you are only playacting as an imp. Or did you forget you have a human soul, yourself?”

Blitzø snorted. “Still doesn't seem fair. But, alright, that's Hellborn. You said humans are born with magic too, so how come I can't throw a coffee cup with my mind?”

Stolas smiled teasingly. “Have you ever tried?”

“Fuck yes I have! My head is a fuckin’ ADHD wasteland. You think I never got bored and tried to move shit with my mind?” Who the fuck did Stolas take him for?

“I suppose it was foolish of me to assume,” he said, mouth quirking up in a half-smile. “Well, part of the reason you've, as yet, been unsuccessful in your attempts is that your mortal body inhibits the expression of that magic.”

“Oh. Uh, okay. Why?”

The damn bird still looked way too amused. “You're asking me, a demon, about the ‘whys’ of mechanisms set forth by Heaven at the start of creation?”

Blitzø shrugged irritably.

“Hm. Well, fair. I suppose you have no way of knowing the scope of my understanding.”

“Bitch, the ‘scope of your understanding’ would probably melt my fucking brain all over these sheets. So no.”

Stolas hooted a sweet laugh and Blitzø immediately caved internally and forgave him. “The fact is, we don't know! Or at least, I do not. But to those who can detect such things, living humans show no outward traces of magical power. Until, I am given to understand, their souls are pulled outside their bodies. Though I've never tested it myself. Your apparentl magic-less-ness is only yet another reason why this simply adorable little imp form is so practical,” he said, fucking pinching Blitzø's cheek.

Blitzø swatted him off and bared his teeth. “You didn't think it was so adorable five minutes ago when it was railing you into the mattress.”

Stolas giggled. “Oohoohoo, but I did! Surely at this point in your life you must be used to being both adorable and" He leaned in close. “Highly sexually desirable.”

Blitzø frowned and pushed him away. “I haven't been getting impified on the regular for that long, birdie.”

Stolas gave him a long look that Blitzø struggled to read. Fondly condescending, maybe? “No, I suppose you haven't.” He sat back up and took another draw on the cigarette. “In any case, it's likely you still won't be able to do much with only your inherent power, even after you go, hm, wherever you go when you eventually die.”

“Hell.”

“So you say,” Stolas allowed. “Well. Perhaps those in Heaven have more access to their power. It's not my area of expertise. But at least in Hell, very few sinners have any abilities to speak of on their own. But Overlords can amass thousands of souls, and become quite powerful indeed.”

“So your dad–Paimon. He's an Overlord?”

“Oh goodness, no. My father is a Goetic King. Overlords are sinners who have traded favors here in Hell for ownership over many, many other sinners' souls. And the process of amassing souls is more or less the same for hellborn, except that demons such as my father tend to collect directly from the living world. The souls of humans killed ‘in the name of’ beings such as myself are essentially earmarked for that being, assuming those humans go to Hell when they die. For example, the humans your own father used to harvest for mine, as I understand. And you, my dear, have technically been killing in the name of, well, me.”

“Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!” Blitzø blurted, like a fucking idiot.

Stolas frowned and blinked several times, taken aback. “No, I– Do you feel as though I've been–”

Blitzø snorted out a laugh and smacked a hand over his dumb face. “No. No, sorry birdie, it's just a song. Rage Against the Machine.”

“Well, I… I don't know what the machine did to earn your ire, but I'm sure it's justified.”

Blitzø giggled madly. There was a lot to unpack there. “Shit, what didn't it do?” Was all he said instead. “But alright. You could've been taking the souls all along but you haven't been. No surprises there. How was Muddy able to bargain Jameson's soul along with her own, then?”

“Oh, well, she wasn't able to, not really. Her own soul was the only bargaining chip she actually had. Except, I suppose, that her request was something of an excuse to have you kill someone in my name, but an excuse is hardly needed.”

“Huh. Okay, so, then, once you own them– you get someone's soul, and it just, what, makes you more powerful?”

“Well, not always–there are many types of contracts. But by default, yes. Typically, the holder of a soul may, erm, encourage or compel actions from the original owner as well.”

“Encourage?”

“Soul contracts are typically long, but technically finite. Say, ten thousand years, or until some amount of power has been expended by way of the soul in question. If not compelled to do a task outright, a contractee may be offered an option to reduce their sentence, as it were. There are a great number of options for contracts. And I admit I passed a rather unfavorable version along to Stella…”

Blitzø snickered. Bitch, bitch, pretty bitch.

“But there's only so lenient you can be to the original owner without simply rendering the contract void. I expect if she and Andrealphus use the souls mainly for mundane tasks, those sinners will be free in a hundred years or so.”

“Shit, that's still a long time.”

“Hmm, yes, it seems so to us now, doesn't it? But in the face of eternity, a fairly light sentence overall. Anyway, I expect whichever one Andrealphus ends up taking will be indebted longer, but the experience will probably be less taxing overall, since my dear brother-in-law has a fair amount of power of his own. But in Stella's case, if she has them do tasks for her quite often, or uses the power they afford her, or,” he sighed, “uses the connection directly to make their lives more miserable for fun… that time could be quite a bit shorter.”

Blitzø grimaced. “That last one's something she can do, huh?”

“I didn't realize it until I was researching soul contracts for this little fiasco I’ve embroiled us in, but yes. I suspect most Overlords or demonic soul holders wouldn't particularly bother, since they have so very many souls–unless, perhaps, they have a favorite target–but typically contract holders can, I suppose, access or manipulate the emotions and sensations of the original owner, for, as far as I can tell, little more than entertainment purposes. It's limited, certainly, but it doesn't sound… pleasant.

“Still, I left this option in for the two contracts, as it allowed me to reduce the overall power expenditure requirements significantly, and, well, it's quite ‘expensive’ to actually use, if you will. I thought, well, she'll likely make whichever one of those unfortunate sinners she takes on quite miserable anyway. At least if she uses the ability directly it will shorten their suffering.”

“Huh.”

“Yes. Well. Perhaps you can see why I was eager not to let her get her talons on your soul. Your Moxxie did us quite the favor pointing out the imbalance in our original attempt at a transaction. Rather embarrassing in retrospect, but in my defense, I'd never made a deal with a human before.”

Blitzø stared at him. “Okay, A. Never, ever tell Moxxie that. He'll never shut the fuck up about it. And, B. I didn't exactly give you much notice. You did fine, birdie. But, C. Our souls woulda gone to fucking Stella?”

Stolas made an awful face. “Well, no. I wouldn't have let that happen–I would've kept them and simply not used them in any way. Your contracts would have been long, but I daresay not unpleasant, and we likely could've found ways to shorten them without undue hardship. But, if your souls had gone to me, and I were to have rejected them, then Stella, as my wife…” his beak twitched irritably. “Would have the next claim on them.”

Blitzø stared into space. “I suddenly feel kinda bad for Muddy and Jameson.”

Stolas fiddled with his talons. “As do I.” He sighed. “But Muddy was willing to make the deal. She gets no say in what I chose to do with her soul once it was in my possession, and I do believe she knew that going in. Jameson is more of a victim, but I did what I could for him.”

“Yeah, and his soul was all kinds of fucked up, anyway.”

“Oh, you could tell?”

“Eh. Didn't really know what it was missing till I saw Muddy's, but it seemed off as soon as I really looked at it, yeah.”

“Yes. Muddy's was not much more appealing to look at, but Jameson's was certainly that of a… Well, I don't know what term applies, exactly. But someone who was not a good person in life, at the least. I don't know if it's inherent or in any way changeable, but he was not good.”

Blitzø wondered how ugly his own soul would look. Stolas had called it “lovely,” but he couldn't actually see it, so he didn't actually know shit, did he? Stolas said Blitzø could take it out right now, if he tried. He thought about it. Literally baring his soul. He couldn't– It made him sick to think of. What would Stolas see? What would Stolas know just by looking at it? How pathetically would it reach out? Begging meekly for Stolas to– Fuck. Fuck that. Absolutely not.

“Are you alright, darling?”

“Yeah,” he said, and stole the cigarette back from Stolas. It burned low, and he took a last couple of puffs on it then put it out in the acid green glass ashtray on the table next to the bed. “Just. I dunno. This is all real fucked up. I thought… Eh. I thought Hell didn't really seem that bad.”

Stolas gathered his small imp body up in his long bird arms and Blitzø just let him–way too in his head to reject the comfort. “I won't let that sort of thing happen to your soul, Blitzø. Sinners sell their souls for all sorts of reasons, but it's always out of some form of desperation. And I will not allow you or your loved ones to be desperate here, if this is where you and they come to spend eternity.”

“Thanks, Stols,” he said, tucking the side of his face into the soft feathers on Stolas's chest. “That's… I appreciate that. ‘Specially for my… Can't imagine my Loonie endin’ up here, but that helps. And if you could help me look out for Mills and Moxx, I dunno. It helps.” He sighed “But I was thinking more about all the bastards I’ve put down here myself.”

“Ah.”

Blitzø turned his face in and laughed into pretty feathers. “I mean, every single one of ‘em is pure scum that leaves Earth a better place when they shuffle the fuck off it. Or I guess if I made a mistake and I they're not that, then I'm doin’ ‘em a fuckin’ favor ‘cause they're going to fuckin’ Heaven. But. The ones I send here… It's not exactly palaces and pool parties for ‘em.” He sighed, not even sure what he was trying to say. “I dunno.”

“Maybe not. But they still have a choice in who they want to be while they're down here. There are plenty of sinners here just living out their afterlives. And you're not the one deciding what happens to them–it sounds as though they'd be here one day, no matter what. Removing their influence from Earth is probably a net benefit in terms of souls going to Heaven.”

“Eh. Maybe. Just… No offense Stols, but do you think you even have that good of an idea what it's really like for sinners down here?”

“Probably not,” Stolas admitted. “When you put it that way.”

“Yeah. It's okay, pretty bird. They're not your problem. My shit's not your problem, either. If I end up having a shitty afterlife down here… it's what I deserve. M&M too, maybe, but I'm still gonna be a selfish dick and ask you to look out for ‘em for me, anyway.”

Stolas was quiet for a while, petting down the long spines that protruded from his back while he was an imp. It felt nice.

“Is it… too much? If I say I want your problems to be my problems?”

Blitzø's throat hurt and he swallowed down the stupid feelings in his chest. Stolas probably didn't mean that much by it. Blitzø would have said more or less the same to M&M (with, y'know, a gun to his head), but it was still… nice to hear. “Nah. It's good. I got your back, too, y'know.” And it was true to the point of stupidity, probably. “Thanks, Stols.”

Stolas hummed. “Well. What are friends for?”

Blitzø huffed a small laugh, and Stolas kept stroking down his back, pushing the spines gently down with each stroke. After a little while, Blitzø felt a sort of pleasant pressure in his chest and, without much thought, let it out the way his body seemed to want to.

And he then was purring like a fucking kitty-cat.

Silly thing for a little lizard guy to do. But Stolas wasn't laughing at him, or even really reacting at all, so he kept it up for a long time.

Chapter Text

Stella called him the next fucking morning.

He was driving the van, giving Loonie a lift to class, on his way to M&M’s place, when his phone rang with its general ringtone. He didn't really look at the number, just saw it wasn't a saved one, and picked up the call, expecting a telemarketer. He tucked it between his cheek and shoulder and answered, “Y’ello!” with fake cheeriness.

“You and my fucking pathetic excuse for a husband have a lot of fucking EXPLAINING TO DO, little imp!” Stella's voice screeched at him out of his phone’s speaker, and he yanked it away from his ear with a grimace of pain.

“Stella!” He said, still pasting on the cheeriness. “I'm gonna have to call you back, m’kay!”

“You will not fucking call me back, imp! We're going to talk right this fuc–”

He hung up on her and tossed his phone on the dash.

Loona was side-eyeing him from the passenger seat. Shit.

His phone rang. He picked it up and put it on silent.

“Who was that?” Loona asked, not bothering to hide her interest.

“Oh that?” Blitzø laughed nervously. “That was just a client.” Technically true. Sort of. Well not really.

“You'd’ve taken a client call.” Loona said, unimpressed.

Damn his predictability. “Well. Not this one. Not right now. She's… a little more difficult than my usual clients, sweetie. You don't need to hear all that.”

“Blitzø. I've heard you get into fucking screaming matches with clients. Like, multiple times.”

“Hey now,” he said with fake sternness, “Someone's gotta break it to those fuckers that their legs are gonna get broke if they try to stiff the guy they paid to kill someone! How do they not fucking get that?”

Loona snickered and Blitzø’s heart warmed. He'd never actually broken anyone's legs. Well. Not on purpose, anyway. But the threat of it seemed to do the trick more often than not.

“Whoever it was, sounds like she really hates her husband.”

Blitzø sneered out the windshield. “Yeah. Fuckin’ bitch.”

“Wow.” Loona said, and Blitzø startled. Whoops. “Seriously, who was that?”

He sighed heavily. He couldn’t lie to his Loonie, but it was okay. He'd just tell the truth, and she'd understand. “She… might be Stolas's wife.”

Loona, apparently, did not understand. “Stolas has a fucking wife?” she shouted.

Blitzø cringed. “Yeah, so what?”

“Aren't you, like, fucking him?”

“Well, yeah! But like, I dunno, you heard her!” He gestured wildly at his phone, “They fucking hate each other! It's not like he's actually cheating on her!”

“He’s fucking married and he's fucking you! What part of that isn't cheating?” She demanded.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, incredulous. “Um, the part where they have no feelings for each other? Why the fuck should she even care?”

“She sounded pretty fucking pissed about it, Dad!” Loona shouted. “Jesus! You are the other fucking woman to a fucking demon!”

“I love that you just called me Dad, but you've got everything else wrong!” He shouted back. “She was mad about some other shit! She doesn't even know we're fucking!”

“Oh! so you just regular-pissed-off the fucking demon whose husband you're fucking!” She grabbed at her own hair and he winced. “Jesus fucking Christ, Blitzø! And if she wouldn't give a shit, why hasn't he just told her you're fucking?”

“She doesn't fucking need to know!” He took a deep breath, trying to stop shouting at his daughter. Fuck. He'd probably just scared her again with all this. “Loonie– it's. It's okay. She's… she's pissed, but more at Stolas than me, okay? And she can't come to Earth. She doesn't even know that I'm–” ah, shit, how could he explain?

“That you're what?”

“Fuck. She doesn’t know I’m a human. She thinks I'm a demon, too. A different kind of demon. She's not gonna be looking for me up here. You're safe, okay?”

Loona frowned at him. “Why the fuck would she think that?”

“Cause that's what we want her to think. Got it?”

“Why does she have your phone number, then? And– she called you ‘imp’ a couple of times. Is that what she thinks you are?”

“Yeah. She thinks I'm a li’l red guy with pointy horns.” She gave him a disbelieving look. “Seriously, Loonie. That’s what she thinks. She thinks I’m just Stolas's little imp lackey, pretty much,” he said, a little bitterly. “And she has my number because she wanted to pay Stolas's little imp lackey to give her dirt on him, but instead I'm gonna feed her a bunch of bullshit.”

"Why?” Loona asked.

“Well I'm not gonna tell her what he's actually up to!”

“No, I mean– Why tell her anything at all? Why not just tell her to fuck off? And why does she think you're an imp? And how did she even get your number? Did Stolas give it to her?”

“Aw, Loonie, no. He didn’t. He wouldn’t.” He tried to mentally rewind to remember her other questions. “And what else? That was a lot of–”

“You know what? Nevermind. I don't have time to get into it all right now.” They were pulling into the parking lot at the community college. “Probably don't even wanna know any more details. Just. Ugh. Be fucking careful, Dad.”

Holy fuck, twice in one conversation. A record. That probably meant he was in trouble with her in a way he'd never been before, but he still couldn't help but be grateful.

“Okay, I'll be careful. I promise. But she's not dangerous, Loonie, you don't have to worry.” He sighed, then pasted on a grin. “She's just a huge cunt.”

Loona sighed, too. “A huge cunt from Hell. Are you really taking this seriously?”

“Hey! Yes! Almost as seriously as you better be taking these classes, little missy!” He said, switching to his cheesy dad voice while they came to a stop in the parking lot at the sidewalk up to her building.

She let out an exasperated, half-hearted laugh and rolled her eyes, then kicked the door open. “Alright, dodge the question, old man,” she said, hopping out of the van. She stood in the door for a moment, fiddling with the strap of her backpack. “I– I wanna hear more about what's going on, though.”

Blitzø raised his eyebrows.

“Not, like, what you're doing with your fucky little demon boyfriend or whatever–”

“Loonie! He's not–”

“I said WHATEVER,” she shouted before he could correct her. “Just. You've been doing all this crazy stuff. And I know you've always done crazy stuff, but… I dunno, I'm getting a little worried. Maybe if you tell me more about it, I won't have to worry so much.”

He gave her a soppy little smile. “Alright, sweetie. If it'll make you feel better, I'll tell you anything you wanna know.”

She grimaced. “Alright. Fine. Good.”

“I love you, Loonie.”

“I'm going to fucking class now!” She slammed the van door shut and ran for her building, hair flying behind her and cool-ass black backpack bouncing on her shoulder.

He sighed and sat back in his seat. Maybe he could do a little take your daughter to work day.

…Take your daughter to Hell day.

She'd see it wasn't so bad.

Except that he'd, like, just had an existential crisis last night about how bad it could be for the people he was sending there. And, well, maybe the sinner demons were kind of terrifying in general if you weren't all fucked up in the head. And there was all the constant screaming and gunshots and cannibalism in the streets, and… Oh, shit.

Hell was pretty bad, actually.

Huh.

See, this definitely said something about his upbringing, right?

Well, no fucking time to contemplate that, ‘cause it was time to take a call from an angry bitch-demon. He pulled up his phone and saw… Forty seven missed calls? It'd been like 10 minutes!

Another call came up while he was considering the logistics of that. He answered it.

“Heyyyy, Stella! How's… things?”

“You have a lot of FUCKING nerve ignoring calls from your betters, IMP!”

He rolled his eyes, immediately annoyed with this conversation, and started maneuvering the van back out onto the street.

“Uh huh. I sure do. Now what is it you called me up to bitch about, tits?”

Stella squawked in outrage. 0/10, nowhere near as cute as Stolas's squawks. “You shall address me as MY LADY as befits my royal fucking station, IMP!”

He snorted. “Not happening. The fuck do you want?”

She gave an outraged huff, but went on anyway, “I want to tell you that YOU and fucking STOLAS gave me and Andrealphus two SHITTY fucking CONTRACTS! That is what I want!”

He squinted in confusion. “Alright, and? I didn't have shit to do with any of that. Bitch about it to Stolas.” And, ugh, that was a dumb thing to say. He didn't want her bothering Stolas with this shit, either.

“Oh, I will,” she ground out. "Believe me. But Andrealphus says there's nothing to be done about the contracts we already have. You'll simply have to do better in the future.”

“Oh, yeah, meant to tell you,” he said, affecting boredom. “Stols is getting outta the assassinating mortals biz. Said he doesn't wanna deal with it anymore, so, rough news for you, huh? But you got the souls you got, so, whatcha gonna do. I'll definitely letcha know if he starts up any other li’l ventures in the future, though.”

“Ugh, shut up, I don't actually care about any of that. No, imp, I'm gifting you the honor of being useful to me directly! You're the one with the contact in the living world, right? You can have whatever hideous, miserable creature you have working for you up there simply kill whoever you like, yes?”

“Uhhh… That's not… exactly how it works,” he said, not liking where this was going.

“Well, whatever! I'm going to give you a name of somebody in the living world, and you're going to have your human assassin kill that person. Just do whatever you need to do to convince them. I'll pay you to do it!”

Blitzø laughed. “And you're getting the soul when they get to Hell?”

“Of course! Andrealphus is having his lawyer draft up a much better contract for us to use going forward. My idiot husband couldn't even do that part right. Fat lot of good all those fucking books have done him.”

Blitzø growled under his breath. Like it wasn't fucking obvious Stolas had given them a shitty contract on purpose. Bitch didn't know the first fucking thing about that pretty bird she'd fucking lucked out into marrying.

(In the sense that she married into royalty. Not, like… that she was lucky to be married to Stolas. Though Stolas was a fucking catch and anyone who he wanted to marry would be fucking lucky, but it's not like Blitzø wanted to– Aw fuck, this was getting stupid. Obviously he’d get fucking Hell-married to that tall drink of bird demon in a fucking heartbeat. What the fuck ever! Anyone would!)

“I thought you just wanted me to feed you info on what Stolas is up to,” he pointed out.

“Oh!” she let out a grating HA! of laughter. “Why would I bother with him anymore? You can help me get what I want without having to deal with Stolas! Which just makes my life that much better!”

“Eugh. Sure, okay. But bitch, the real question you gotta ask yourself is this: Why in the actual fuck would I help you?”

“I already said why, you stupid imp! I. Will. Pay. You!”

“Yeah, I'm not fucking interested. Bye.” He lowered the phone to hang up.

“WAIT,” she demanded, “I have something else! Something I think you'll be very interested in!”

Oh this was gonna be fucking good. What, was she gonna offer him a position on the palace staff or some shit like that?

“Sure. What the hell, I'm bored,” he said into the receiver with a smirk. “Whatcha got for me?”

“A chance to save my idiotic husband's worthless fucking life.”

Blitzø's smirk dropped and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. He gripped his phone so hard he heard the material creak in his hand. “The fuck do you mean by that?” He hissed.

She laughed obnoxiously. “Oh, so that is of interest to you, is it, imp? You were so willing to sell me information on his activities, I figured you were just playing him for the fool he is! But you were so fucking protective over him, weren’t you, that evening when my new pet sinner first showed up at my fucking house, uninvited? Oh, yes, you actually care if he lives or dies! How disgusting!” She cackled loudly, right into his ear.

“Fucking save it and tell me exactly what the fuck you're talking about.” And, fuck, he really should be playing this cooler–claiming Stolas was just a meal ticket, or some kinda mark. She had to be bluffing, right? Stolas couldn't be killed, he was immortal and shit! Blitzø had seen for himself how Stolas couldn't really be hurt. But goddammit, if anyone would know whether some threat to Stolas's life was actually credible, it would be his wife, wouldn't it?

And she was still just screaming with laughter, apparently tickled fucking pink by the idea of someone actually caring about her fucking perfect husband.

And suddenly, all those cheating husbands he'd killed for all those rich bitches over the years flashed through his mind at once. Followed closely by a memory from their very first living-world client meeting, of Stolas saying Stella had thought more than once about having him killed.

Fuck! Forget knowing about a threat! This bitch was the threat. If anyone would fucking know exactly how to have Stolas killed, it'd be his fucking wife. He jerked the steering wheel violently in horror and rage, and a car in the next lane laid on their horn. He cut them off and screeched to a stop on the shoulder, threw the van into park and slammed his free hand violently down on the steering wheel. “Fucking bitch" he shouted over the phone. “I swear to FUCK if you touch one single feather on his fucking head, I will cut your head off with a fucking chainsaw!”

“Oh, so you do understand what's happening here! Well, you’d better make sure it's a blessed chainsaw!” She laughed like she'd made the most hilarious joke.

“I'm gonna make sure it's fucking rusty, you puffed up Disney princess wannabe whore!”

“Oh, calm down, you disgusting little creature. I’m handing you a fucking opportunity, here! Nothing needs to happen to his scrawny arse.”

“SCRAWNY?!” Blitzø screeched before he could stop himself. “His ass is PERFECT!”

“Eugh, stop it. I'm going to be fucking ill."

Fuuuck. Fuck Blitzø in his own scrawny brown ass.

"Anyway," she continued, sounding pleased and grating as ever. “It's only that I heard somebody–” she sang the word coyly, and now Blitzø was gonna be sick – “put a hit out on my useless husband. And I happen to have enough power and influence to call it off–” yeah, by being the one to call it on in the first place– “But I thought, you know, aren’t they just doing me a fucking favor, really?”

Blitzø realized he was growling, and wished he could reach through the phone into her and choke the life out of this bitch himself.

“Hm, but lately I've been thinking he might actually be more useful to me alive. I'm so undecided, but I thought you would want the chance to tip the scales! You just do this one little task for me, and I'll make sure the hit is called off.”

“Why the fuck should I trust you?”

“I'll swear it to you, of course! I'll make it binding–if you have this human killed, I’ll call off the hit on my husband. Now, I know you're extremely stupid, but I’ve made it extremely fucking simple, so say yes already so I can go to my fucking nail appointment!”

A sheet of elegantly curled paper appeared, surrounded in a baby pink glow, right in front of his fucking face. Jesus. Good fucking thing he'd pulled over. Blitzø sighed and snatched it out of the air, prepared to try to read through a bunch of literally-hellish legalese.

In disturbingly-cutesy writing, the letter said. You, whatever your name is, the imp, coordinate and complete the killing of the 1 (one) human I, Lady Stella of the Ars Goetia, tell you to. In return, I will call off the previously-discussed hit on my husband, Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia. No further services shall be required from either party.

The lowercase “i”s were dotted with little hearts.

Blitzø made a face at the paper.

There were two spots for signatures. “Lady Stella”’s line was already signed. The other was labeled “The imp”.

Well, say what you would about Stella (and he had a lot to fucking say), but this was the kind of contract he could actually kinda get behind. Stupid. Shitty. But straightforward.

“Can I get a day to think it over?” He ground out.

“Well, you can. But you know, I really have no way of knowing when the assassin has been scheduled to shoot my useless fucking husband in his useless fucking face with a blessed bullet. It could be this very afternoon, couldn't it!”

“This fucking– How the fuck do you expect me to find and kill a guy– get my guy to find and kill a guy– in less than like four fucking hours?” He demanded.

“Well I’m not saying it is scheduled for this afternoon, only that you should maybe think about getting the fuck on with it!”

“Ugh, fuck you. Fuck you with a blessed fucking cactus right up your gaping, feathered fucking cunt!”

“I’m not hearing a no!” Stella warbled.

“Well I’m not gonna have you call it the fuck off and then turn around and immediately hire another assassin, so put a line about that shit in there, and I’ll kill your shitty fucking human for you– well– have my shitty fucking human kill your shitty fucking human for you. Whatever.”

Stella huffed at him. “Well I wasn’t planning on hiring another one. But if you fucking insist.”

An additional line appeared in the text of the contract: Also, I won’t hire any more assassins to kill Stolas, and you will not let him know about any of this. just before the “No further services…” line.

Blitzø scoffed and dug around on the floor of the van for a pen. It was just one fucking hit. He’d just fucking do it and be done with her shit. He didn’t need to fucking tell Stolas about it anyway. It’s not like he didn’t already know his wife wanted him dead. Blitzø would just tell him they needed to fucking do something about Stella and let him figure out the rest. The details of Blitzø’s involvement would just worry him anyway.

He finally found a pen (with a little horse on the end. He thought he’d lost this one, but he’d appreciate it some other fucking time) and signed his name on the imp line.

The contract disappeared in a puff of pink smoke.

Over the phone, there was an identical puff-ing sound, and Stella said. “Blitz-o? Ugh. You little things always have the stupidest names.”

“The O is silent!” Blitzø shouted.

“I don’t care. Anyway! I don’t know if you noticed my little extra addition, but if you breathe a word of this–if you so much as imply we even had a discussion– to my disgusting, imp-sucking husband, I’ll fucking know, and you will be in breach of contract, and his life will be forfeit,” she declared triumphantly. Then she added on, “And yours would be, too, for breaking the contract, if it had any value to begin with.”

Oh, so she thought she was sneaky. “Yeah, I fucking noticed. He doesn’t fucking need to know I’m doing you any favors, bitch. We’ll keep it between us.” At least, until he could figure out how to tell Stolas in some way that didn’t break the contract.

“Good.”

Another piece of parchment appeared in front of his face, with a copy of their agreement and a name scrawled at the bottom in the same cutesy script.

“Have that one killed,” Stella said, and hung up.

Blitzø peered at the name. It wasn't anybody he knew. Which he probably should have verified before signing the contract, but it's not like Stella knew his human identity. Still. He was too fucking used to hanging out with a demon who meant everything he said in the most straightforward fucking way possible. He needed to be more fucking wary around demons like Stella, even if she was a dumb cunt.

Fuck, it’d been hard to fucking think, though, when she'd said– Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. He slammed the van into gear and screeched back onto the highway, to the rapid blaring of more angry honks. He needed to kill this rando fast, and that meant he had to find him fast. Good thing M&M were already expecting him.

—

“New fucking plan, guys!” Blitzø shouted, kicking M&M’s front door open and stomping inside.

“Sir!” Moxxie cried, appearing from out of their kitchen. “I just cleaned off the last boot print you put on our door!”

“Least I didn't break the lock this time, Moxx!” He said, holding up a particular key on his keyring, which he'd just very thoughtfully used to unlock their front door before kicking it open.

“Where did you get that?” Moxxie asked, baffled.

Blitzø shoved his keys in one of the inner jacket pockets. “Don't worry about it. Where's your better half? I got some hot, steaming info to dump on both your chests.”

Moxxie recoiled and stuck his tongue out in disgust.

“Hiya B! Ready to kill this motherfucker?” Millie chirped brightly, coming down the stairs in her tactical murderin’ clothes (black jeans and a black tank top).

“No!” Blitzø said. “I'm ready to kill a different motherfucker!”

They both looked at him quizzically.

“Right as soon as we find out who the fuck he is! Aaaand where the fuck he is!”

Moxxie sighed heavily and put his face in his hands.

Millie pulled out a knife from who the fuck knows where, and cheerily waved it around in quick little slashes. “Long as I get to stab somebody!”

—

The three of them stood around M&M’s table, frowning down at the sheet of pink parchment laid out on it. It smelled vaguely of sulfur and some kind of sweet perfume.

“What… the fuck, sir?” Moxxie asked.

Blitzø frowned harder. “The fuck does it look like? It's a fucking contract to murder whoever the fuck Sylvester F. Hammondel-Carsin is.”

“Well,” Millie said, “we better make sure we don't get the wrong one.”

Blitzø and Moxxie both looked at her, blankly.

She lowered her eyelids. “It was a joke, boys.” Then she hummed thoughtfully. “Could always be a Junior, though. We've had that problem before–y’all remember Desmond Senior?”

Moxxie shrugged as if to say “she has a point.”

“Hah!” Blitzø barked out. He remembered Desmond Senior alright. “Yeah.”

He quickly went back to frowning, though, as he remembered the gravity of the fucking situation.

“Why would you sign this, sir?” Moxxie asked, getting back to the subject at hand in the most annoying fucking way possible.

“Whaddya mean?” He asked, letting the annoyance come blatantly out in his tone. “It says if I do the thing, she's not gonna do the thing! Ever!”

“Well, yes, it does, sir. But the wording is so… sloppy"

Blitzø stuck his own tongue out in disgust, now. “Don't ever say that word again, Moxx.”

Moxxie glared at him and shrugged irritably, palms up. “It is sloppy, sir! I don't know what she's planning, but I think we can only hope it's nothing, because I have a feeling she’d probably be able to get around just about anything she's promised here on a technicality!”

“What? She's not clever enough for that shit. And besides, doesn't that mean I probably could, too?”

"Maybe, but sir…!”

Millie put a gentle hand on his arm, and he looked at her in surprise. She didn't look annoyed, like Moxxie. She looked… gentle. It was so much fucking worse. “Hon,” she said. “You got a lot more to lose here than she does. Seems to me like not much'd happen to her if she’s planning somethin’ but accidentally breaks the contract tryin’ to get around it. But if you do the same thing instead, then the Prince loses his protection.”

Blitzø felt sick.

“Exactly. Thank you, Millie,” Moxxie said tenderly. He looked back to Blitzø. “I don't think it's as wise for you to try, sir. Even if we were successful and we don't break anything on a technicality, if we try to get out of fulfilling any of it, it might give her the idea to do the same. And again, Prince Stolas could be put back in danger. I think we're better off fulfilling the contract and hoping she’s taking the whole thing at face value, too.”

Another stab of anxiety went through Blitzø. It was… possible he'd fucked up. “Okay. Well. We just gotta tell Stolas about this, right? He'll know to watch his back.”

“Sir, you can't tell him.”

“Yeah, says ya can't right there, B.” Millie helpfully pointed at the extremely fucking obvious.

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, sure, then how about you guys tell him. I'll give him a call right now and I'll fuckin’ wait.”

Moxxie hesitated.

“What?” He groaned. How else had he fucked up?

“It's just… the wording of this… ‘don't let him know.’” Moxxie frowned. “That probably means ‘don't tell him’, but it could also mean something like ‘don't allow him to know.’”

“The fuck is the difference?” He asked, feeling like he'd probably know the answer to that if he was in just a little clearer headspace, and not, well, borderline panicking.

“Well, let’s say you tell us to tell him. In the former case, he would now know about it, but you wouldn't have been the one to tell him, so the contract stands. In the latter case, you asking us to tell him is still allowing him to know about it. Facilitating, even! That would put you in very clear breach of contract.”

Blitzø grabbed Moxxie's fancy little lapels over the table. “Well how the fuck did she mean it, then?!” He demanded, shaking him a little.

“Blitzø!” He cried, slapping Blitzø's grabby hands away. He dusted himself off, going on, “How should I know, sir? You were the one who talked to her. You'd know how she thinks better than I would!”

“I don't know how or if this bitch thinks at all!” Blitzø objected

Millie spoke up. “Does it even matter how she meant it, Moxx? Or is it all in the wordin’ itself?”

“I– I don't know, honey,” Moxxie admitted. “None of my research has ever talked about accidental ambiguous wording. It's always about how to spot intentional trickery. I think for now we have to assume it was on purpose.” He glared at Blitzø, and said, “Which is why people are usually extremely careful about the deals they make with demons, sir!”

“Hey! I got her to put in that shit about not hiring any more assassins, didn't I? Get off my fucking dick, Moxxie! ”

“This ain’t Moxxie’s fault,” Millie told him sharply, finally losing her considerable patience. “And y’know what? He’s right. You were sloppy, signin’ this without even talkin’ to us. Without even thinkin’ it through. You know better than this, Blitzø!”

“Ugh– I– I know. I know!” He scrubbed a hand violently through his hair. “I fucked up! I know! I just– I got– I got fucking scared, okay?”

Millie and Moxxie both looked at him in surprise, the irritation dropping from both their faces in perfect sync.

He made a distressed little whining noise he didn't recognize and found his arms had come up to hug himself nervously around his middle. “She kept– She was fucking laughing about it– I mean, she fucking hates him, guys. I couldn't– what the fuck else was I supposed to do? Seriously? What was I supposed to do? I asked for time and she said no, and I didn't fucking– What was I supposed to do?” Fucking dammit he sounded like a broken fucking record.

“Blitzø…” Moxxie said gently, worriedly. Fuck.

Millie gazed at him just as gently. Just as worriedly. “Oh. Oh Blitzø,” she said, “I'm sorry, hon. I didn't– Look. It'll be okay. You're right. It's just one hit, and then she's contract-bound not to pull this same kinda shit again. You… you did what you could do in the moment, to keep him safe.”

Ugh, ugh, this was fucking intolerable. But he’d get the job done quicker with their help. He had to– He couldn’t blow up on them. He just had to shut his fucking mouth and ride this out–not give them any more fucking ammo.

“And I'm sure we can find some way to let Prince Stolas know he should be careful around his wife, sir.”

Blitzø gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. (Wouldn't be the first time. Fucking shoddy-ass cult dental work he had to deal with on top of every-fucking-thing else). He took a couple of deep breaths, trying not to panic or scream. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I just–” He cut himself off. No more fucking ammo.

He'd just never thought Stolas could actually get hurt.

Stella had said that the chainsaw he'd threatened her with had better be blessed, and that’d jogged loose a long-forgotten memory, that hadn’t really come together until just now. Stolas had said something as a kid–something about the sword he was holding not being blessed, right? Right before he fucking cut himself with it, which Blitzø remembered with perfect clarity, for fuck’s sake. But the cut had healed immediately, and without the kind of deliberate magic Stolas had done to heal Blitzø's cuts and bruises. But why mention blessings at all? Blitzø had shitty, sneaky fucking suspicion that whatever exactly the fuck a blessed sword or blessed fucking chainsaw was, any injuries made to a Goetia with them just wouldn't heal instantly in the same way.

Which meant that Stolas could be hurt. And not just theoretically.

Blitzø was taking a wild-ass guess that blessings were a little fucking hard to come by in Hell, even on deadly weapons, so maybe she was just fucking bluffing, but… Fuck, if she wasn’t… She definitely had the resources to get anything you could fucking get in Hell. Even something really fucking rare. And if that bitch was using Stolas’s own fucking money to buy a special weapon and to hire someone to fucking kill him, Blitzø would– He’d bless his own goddamn hands and tear her limb from fucking limb.

But that was why he’d signed the fucking contract. To stop her. To keep her from doing it again.

So, “Yeah,” he said again, instead of sharing any of that shit. “Let's find this unlucky prick and kill him and send his soul straight to a psycho bitch in Hell. Why the fuck not.”

Chapter Text

They found and murdered Sylvester F. Hammondel-Carsin (neither Junior nor Senior) that same day.

Moxxie was always so efficient with the research. Way less prone to distraction than Blitzø. And Mills offered to cut the guy's head off herself, which Blitzø appreciated. But he went ahead and took the shot. He didn't think it was required by the contract or anything, but it felt wrong to pawn this one off.

Despite his weird, complicated name, Sylvester didn't seem to be particularly rich. They didn't catch a glimpse of any bodies in his freezer, or any indication he was, like, a lawyer that kept pedos out of jail or something, or even so much as evidence of a quirky fucking hobby. He was just a guy. He didn't seem to have any family. He was only sitting vacantly on his couch, watching TV in a just-okay condo in Rancho fucking Cucamonga. Which was somehow both improbably local and also had taken them a million fucking years to get to.

And, sure, Sylvester was probably a piece of shit in one way or another–after all, Stella seemed pretty confident his soul would be available for the taking in Hell once they killed him, but Blitzø saw no real evidence either way.

So, it didn't feel great. But under other circumstances, he probably wouldn't have even remembered this hit in a year. Wouldn't have thought anything of it if he hadn't been doing it for what felt like shitty reasons.

But it's not like his reasons were ever not shitty.

Anyway, he reminded himself that he was doing this to protect Stolas the only way he could right now. Not for fucking Stella’s benefit. And shit, he'd kill a thousand unsuspecting chumps in Rancho fucking Cucamonga if it'd keep Stolas safe. He wasn't even gonna pretend like he wouldn't.

So, he shot the guy in his beige, middle class bachelor pad, and it felt like pasting a tiny, dirty bandaid over a gaping, sucking wound. But it was over with.

They drove back to M&M’s in silence. Blitzø had texted Stella to let her know the job was done, but he wondered if she'd actually just known as soon as he'd fulfilled his part of the bargain. That unlucky fucker Sylvester had probably just appeared right in front of her not too long after kicking it, so she had to know by now, right?

He wondered if he'd know when she kept up her end of the bargain and called the hit off. If she kept up her end of the bargain. He thought he would know if Stella broke the deal, but did he actually know that for sure? She'd said she would know if he broke it, but maybe that was just demon magic shit that only applied to her. And even if he did know, when would he know? Whenever she decided not to call off the hit? Or would he not fucking know until the fucking job was done? Fuck, he should've put some kind of deadline on calling it off.

And what was even actually keeping her from breaking the contract? He hadn't demanded any consequences for failing to follow through. Fuck, he'd been so stupid. Just assuming there had to be some kind of built-in consequences for breaking a demonic contract. Not even fucking thinking about it until he'd already done her bidding like a fucking hired goon.

He stopped outside M&M’s house and the two of them hopped out.

Blitzø rolled down his window, and he stared at the steering wheel as he said, “Thanks for coming with me, guys. Sorry there wasn't a lot for you to do.” He sighed, glancing over at them. “I know this wasn't exactly the plan for today.”

“Hey, you know we're always happy to be a couple’a lookouts for you, boss,” Millie said. “We're here for whatever you need, y'understand?”

Blitzø nodded noncommittally and watched as Moxxie communicated something to her in a quick series of micro expressions, and he wanted to fucking shoot himself. Millie nodded, much more firmly than Blitzø had.

Moxx looked back to Blitzø, his eyes wide and worried. “Would you like to stay for dinner, sir? I'm making coq au vin and there should be plenty for three.”

Blitzø only barely registered the way Moxxie had set him up there for multiple jokes about cock for three. His stupid brain wouldn't let him not notice, but for once he wasn't in the fucking mood.

“Not tonight. Thanks Moxx. I gotta–” He looked back at his steering wheel. “I gotta try and see him. Make sure he's alright.”

“Hey, that's okay, B,” Millie said, “Go check up on your bird.”

Moxxie immediately added, “Just please don't say anything to him that could remotely be considered letting him know, sir.”

Blitzø's lip twitched. “You think I don't fucking know that?” He asked, but he couldn't find it in himself to even put that much venom in it.

“Well, I'm sorry, Blitzø, but you need to be careful,” Moxxie said. “We can talk about how we might be able to inform him that something’s happened, but for now it would be better to just avoid it altogether. Prince Stolas's life may depend on it! Yours too, maybe.”

Blitzø sighed heavily. “I actually fucking agree with you, so I'm not going to tell you to shut up. But shut up, Moxxie.”

“I'm actually not kidding, Blitzø,” he said, with that hint of backbone Blitzø loved to see when it wasn't fucking directed at telling him shit he already fucking knew.

“Neither am I! Fuck, fine, yes. I won't say shit about it! Jesus. Are you happy?”

“I'm satisfied.”

“Fucking–” he squeezed his eyes shut. “Look. Can you guys pick Loonie up from her last class today? I gave her a ride this morning. She should be done around–”

“We have her schedule, B.” Millie said gently.

“Fuck. Thanks. Maybe feed her some leftovers if she's hungry. Or take her to a drive-thru if she doesn't feel like trying your cooking, Moxx. I'll pay you guys back.”

“We got this, hon. We'll make sure she's fed.”

“Thanks. And you know,” he said, trying to make the grin on his face look natural, “if you two wanted some cock in a van, all you ever had to do was ask.”

Millie giggled a little, but Moxxie didn't even sputter. Fucking hell.

—

Blitzø: hey stols i need 2 c u

Stolas: Are you in your van or at home? Is everything alright?

Blitzø: van

A few seconds later, a portal ripped open in the air behind him, and Blitzø turned to see Stolas's beautiful worried face peering through at him, with “their” motel room behind him.

He hopped over the back of the front bench seat and ducked through the portal.

“What're you doing hanging out here?” He asked, hesitating in the middle of the room as the portal closed behind him. He could only hope he was coming off relatively normal, even though he felt twitchy and his fingers itched to grab Stolas and feel those soft feathers under his hands. And… maybe to take the pretty bird and carry him away somewhere no one else would ever be able to find him.

“I wasn't,” Stolas said, “I only just came over through a portal myself. I thought we might have more privacy like this.” He flushed lightly. “That is, Stella and Octavia are currently at the palace, and I don't wish for them to overhear anything... Our conversation, I mean– Oh, darling, are you sure you're alright?”

It was a fair question, too, because Blitzø was only just barely following along and Stolas could probably tell from whatever vacant expression was plastered on his face. And just as Stolas was asking, he was suddenly unsteady on his feet, too-- overwhelmed with a strange feeling that had seemed to come over him all at once from outside his body entirely. He stumbled and Stolas was suddenly right there to catch him, and he led Blitzø over to sit on the bed, looming worriedly over him.

Blitzø was feeling a strange, intense sense of rightness, of correctness, and he was confused for a moment, thinking maybe the feeling was somehow coming from Stolas. Or… maybe Blitzø was dissociating in some weird way, and the feeling actually was coming from within him, just from being with Stolas when he had so badly needed to see him.

But neither of those were it. Because it was a sense of rightness tainted by something terrible. Relief like vomiting after drinking too much, but worse. Like vomiting out actual poison, maybe. Something terrible was gone, but the residual had him still feeling sick and knowing that it shouldn't ever have happened in the first place. And that part of this feeling just couldn't have been from or for Stolas, but it was definitely somehow related to Stolas.

And suddenly he realized: Stella had gone through with her end of the deal. It was some kind of demonic magic from the contract, letting him know somehow. She'd called off the fucking hit.

He laughed in disbelief and squeezed his eyes shut in relief and gratitude. Not gratitude towards Stella, that fucking cunt, but toward the universe, or fate, or the ways of demon contracts he didn't fully understand, or maybe just toward her stupid lack of insight into the possible loopholes in her own fucking words.

Because he didn't think she'd have bothered to call it off unless she felt like she had to. And if that was true, then she wouldn't want to break Blitzø's clause in the contract, either, and turn right around and hire another assassin. And that meant Stolas was fucking safe.

Or at least this all meant that if she did decide to go back on her word and hire another assassin, Blitzø would probably know about that, too. And if she broke the contract first, he'd be free of it, right? Free to warn Stolas as soon as it happened.

He flopped backwards onto the bed, the panic and adrenaline that'd been fueling him since Stella's second call this morning abruptly crashing out of him all at once. He laughed again, harder, sharper.

“Blitzø, dear…” Stolas started, and sat down hesitantly next to him.

Blitzø rolled onto his side, towards Stolas, curling into him. He wrapped his arms around his pretty bird's thin waist, unable to stop himself once he'd started, and hugged him so tight he might've snapped in half if he'd been an actual bird instead of a demon with feathers, smashing his stupid face into Stolas's side. “Sorry, Stols. I'm okay. Didn't mean to scare you.”

“It's alright, darling,” he said, twisting slightly to put one long, thin-fingered, taloned hand ever-so-gently in Blitzø's hair. He began to delicately stroke through the strands. “Did the hit not go well?” he asked.

Blitzø's heart thumped against his chest in panic–how did Stolas know about the fucking hit?–before he remembered that he was supposed to’ve done a different hit today. “Ah fuck. Shit. Had to cancel. Can you let, uh, whichever fucking sinner client it was supposed to be for, know it'll be another couple'a days?”

“Of course,” Stolas said. Then he hesitated a moment before going on, “But whyever did you need to cancel, dear? I'm not upset, you understand– but I am concerned for your well-being.”

“Yeah. Uh. Some shit came up.” He swallowed. “I– I can't tell you about it, though.”

“Oh. W-well, you're entitled to your privacy of course,” he said, so awkwardly and so sweetly, and he never stopped stroking through Blitzø's hair.

Blitzø snorted into Stolas's fancy vest, his enemy working alongside Stolas's fancy shirt to keep Blitzø from suffocating himself in soft, pretty hip feathers. “It's not about my privacy. I wanna tell you. I just can't.”

“I see. Would it involve betraying someone else's trust, then, to tell me?”

Blitzø laughed darkly. “Yeah. Uh huh, you could sure call it that.”

“Oh dear. And is everything… okay? I mean, are you in any danger?”

“It's, eh, it's dealt with. And no. I'm not in danger.” Because it wasn't Blitzø in danger at all, and he couldn't fucking stand it. He squeezed Stolas even tighter around his middle. Without even knowing what he was going to say before he said it, he asked,“Y’in the mood for a fuck, pretty bird?”

Stolas let out a tiny squawk and he tensed up under Blitzø's arm and face. His hand went suddenly still in Blitzø's hair. Goddammit.

“‘Sokay if not,” Blitzø said, resisting the urge to babble. To justify the question. To tell him just exactly how badly he needed Stolas close to him right now.

“I– I could be,” Stolas said, thank fuck. “Are you sure that's what you– Are you sure you're alright?”

Blitzø sat up, letting go of Stolas's waist and letting Stolas's hand slip out of his hair. “I'm alright. I'm good,” he said. Because he would be. Because Stolas’s crazy bitch wife had canceled the fucking hit job on Stolas's fucking life. He pulled his face into some semblance of a leer. “But I'd be even better with my head between your thighs, gorgeous.”

Stolas blushed brightly under his feathers. “A-as an imp?” He squeaked out, then he cleared his throat and continued, “O-or would you prefer I make myself, ah, more human in appearance for you?”

Ah fuck, Blitzø'd fucked that up, coming on to birdie-Stols as a human. Of course Stolas was uncomfortable–no wonder he'd been so hesitant to agree–he wasn't fucking into to Blitzø the way they were right now.

But alright, he could still course-correct. Human or demon; pick a lane. And, well, as cute as Stolas's human form was, Blitzø wanted those fucking feathers under his fingers, so that pretty much made the choice for him. “Wellll,” he said teasingly. “I was thinkin’ maybe we bust out the spikes. I know you can't get enough of that imp dick.”

Stolas tittered, blushing. “I suppose you aren't wrong. But I would argue it is simply you I cannot get enough of, darling. I'm perfectly willing to put on my human disguise–my human form, let's say–if that's what you're looking for. It's…it's beginning to feel less like a disguise and more of a…well, simply a different way to be.”

Blitzø blinked uselessly. “That's uh…” He didn't really know what to say to all that. That he was kind of touched, kind of sad? Kind of scared Stolas actually meant that, kind of scared he didn't? Was Stolas even saying anything with any weight or was he just babbling and Blitzø was so emotional right now that he was reading too much into it? His head was in too many places at once to piece together a response that wasn't way too much or maybe not nearly enough. “That's…”

Stolas looked away. “We don't have to discuss any of it right now,” he said softly. Then he looked back to Blitzø, “Without making it any more complicated, which way would you prefer? If… if your offer of sex is still on the table.”

Blitzø huffed out a little laugh, trying hard to dismiss his racing thoughts. “I'm feelin’ lizardy. Just go ahead and impify me, Stols.” He stuck his tongue out, even though it was probably only cute when he did that as an imp.

But that particular problem solved itself pretty much right away, since Stolas seemed to be out of arguments, thankfully. And so suddenly Blitzø was an imp. He flicked his tongue, already lolling out, and caught the heavy scent of Stolas's arousal in the air.

Yeah, imp was the right choice.

“I admit I'm surprised,” Stolas said, catching Blitzø's jaw in one hand and gently turning his face up until their eyes met. “Not that I don't find your impish form quite appealing, but I would've thought that, given no stated preference on my end, you'd rather have stayed as yourself.”

Well. Maybe he would have, just a little, but he didn't exactly hate being an imp, either. He shrugged. “Dunno. Still me. Guess it's just another way to be.”

“Hmm. I see,” Stolas said, and bent down to kiss him.

Blitzø kissed back quickly, eagerly, his imp tail lashing around against the bed covers. Stolas brought his other hand up and cupped both sides of his face, slowing him down, and Blitzø felt horribly, uncomfortably close to cared for.

He surged up out of Stolas's grasp and swung a leg over Stolas's lap to straddle him, kneeling up tall so that they were almost eye-to-eye. He got his own hands on Stolas's soft, feathery cheeks, and pulled him in for a deeper, filthier kiss, wrapping his tongue over Stolas's and practically licking down his throat.

Stolas let him do it, but he didn't gasp in surprise or melt under Blitzø's touch. He just let his hands drop to Blitzø's waist, firm and steady, and kept kissing him, slow and surely, successfully reigning Blitzø in from his attempts to amp up the energy.

Completely defeated, but not exactly mad about it, Blitzø slumped down into Stolas's lap, breaking the kiss all at once, and planted his face straight into Stolas's fluffy chest feathers instead. Stolas once again let him do this, still keeping his hands groundingly on Blitzø's waist. Then, wonderfully, the thicket of pretty, sweet-smelling chest feathers poofed out around his face all at once as Stolas magicked his shirt and vest somewhere else, and all that chest fluff was fully freed from its bind.

Blitzø moaned happily into the softness, finally starting to lose himself in just being with Stolas. “You're so pretty,” he sighed, almost drunkenly. “Love your feathers. I wanna fuck ‘em.”

Stolas let out a surprised little hooting laugh. “You want to… fuck my feathers?”

“Mm-hm,” he said, nuzzling even deeper. “Like a tittyfuck. But with feathers.” And now that he was thinking about that, his dick was starting to wake up and take a little interest in things, too.

“A tittyfuck.” Stolas said, doubtfully.

Blitzø laughed out loud, muffled into the feathers he was still trying to climb into face-first. God, it was so fucking funny when Stolas said shit like that. “A featherfuck.”

“Ah, in that case, be my guest.” Stolas drew Blitzø's face out of his plumage with a hand on his chin. “Stand up, then, darling. Or would you prefer I lay back?”

“No, I like your first idea,” Blitzø said, standing up on the edge of the bed so he was straddling Stolas's sexy thighs, facing his pretty bird. The growing bulge in his pants lined up ridiculously perfectly with that chest fluff he’d had his eye on, and he almost laughed. Their difference in size like this was definitely good for some things.

“May I remove your clothes?” Stolas asked gently. On another day it might've rankled–he might've taken the level calm in Stolas's voice as disinterest. The sweetness in the question as condescension.

But today he just said, “Sure birdie,” and shivered slightly as his clothes and his underwear all disappeared at once. Hell wasn't exactly cold, and the Mazbin sure as shit didn't have A/C, but air whooshed gently in on all sides to fill the void where clothes had existed a moment ago, and it raised rough goosebumps all over his thick impish skin. He swayed forward, slightly off balance with the sudden loss of his shoes, into the warmth of Stolas's thick feathers.

Stolas caught him by the hips and guided him in, and his thighs and pelvis and his half-hard cock all met a layer of downy softness, almost velvety where his thighs met Stolas's stomach, and thick and plush and silky above.

He groaned lightly and rocked gently into the feathers. Each one individually was light and soft and tickly, and all of them together made up a certain fluffy density, and he was sort of, almost, forgetting now why he'd been so stressed, because Stolas was here and with him and letting Blitzø put his whole-ass dick into his pretty fluff of chest feathers. He reached into the thicket and twined a handful of strands over his palm and drew them down over his hardening cock. He stroked over it a couple of times, the mass of soft feathers easing the glide of his hand.

Stolas's chest was moving against him as he breathed, slightly faster and heavier now than when they started, and Blitzø glanced at his pretty owlish face, staring with tiny white pupils in his eyes at Blitzø's hand and his dick both practically disappeared into his chest fluff.

The spikes on the underside of Blitzø's dick, which apparently laid down pretty flat most of the time, started to perk out at the attention. Some of Stolas's feathers caught against them and his chest jerked with a sharply indrawn breath.

Blitzø huffed a laugh. “Y’like those, doncha birdie?” he asked, letting go of his dick to push it deeper into the chest fluff, letting the spikes scratch against Stolas's chest directly.

“Yes,” Stolas said without hesitation. “Uhm. Very much, yes.”

Blitzø grinned and grabbed both sides of Stolas's pretty birdie chest, smooshing the feathers in over his cock from either direction like the tittyfuck he'd originally compared this to. He made a feather-lined tunnel with his hands and Stolas's chest, and he pushed inside. “Betcha want ‘em back inside you,” he huffed out, hoping the answer was yes.

“Constantly,” Stolas said, splaying his hands wide over Blitzø's hips and guiding him to rut more firmly into the feathery tunnel and up against Stolas's slim ribcage.

“Knew it.” Blitzø grinned, trying for cocky, but he was starting to sweat a little, and breathe a little faster, and he could feel his eyebrows coming up and together, so it was possible he'd missed the mark. But whatever. He was getting used to losing to this pretty bird.

Stolas laughed softly. “I don't suppose I've made much of a secret of my interest there. But for now, how about you just enjoy yourself, darling.”

“That's…” he sighed happily and rocked his hips. “That's not gonna be a problem.”

Stolas smiled. “Good. I take it you're finding the featherfuck to be an enjoyable experience, then?”

That was an understatement. “Yeah, ‘f y’d quit yer yappin’,” he said in an amused huff. “C’mere, instead.” He pulled a hot, damp hand away from the tangle of feathers around his dick and touched Stolas's cheek to tilt his head up towards his own. He bent down slightly at the waist and Stolas craned his long as fuck bird neck eagerly up to meet him halfway, and they kissed, immediately twisting their tongues together in a way that was still strange and hot, but that Blitzø was hoping he was on his way to becoming very familiar with.

Stolas took one of his own hands off Blitzø's hips to push his feathers in where Blitzø had let them go. He wrapped his other hand farther around Blitzø's hip to compensate and his long, taloned fingers encountered the base of Blitzø's tail. And the base wasn't quite as directly sensitive as the tip, but he shivered as Stolas's fingers gently slipped over and across it, above and below it right at the root, and he moaned into the increasingly messy kiss.

He realized his tail was whipping back and forth behind him, so he slapped down it over Stolas's forearm like one of those weird metal bracelets, winding it tight a few times up to the end but leaving enough length free at the base to give Stolas some slack and not discourage him in any further exploration. Stolas gasped in a pleased sort of way against Blitzø's mouth

He trailed his fingers up the short free length of Blitzø's tail from the base, and Blitzø grabbed the feathers on the back of Stolas's head and kissed him even more hungrily, groaning into it. He pistoned his hips to pull his cock out of that tunnel of hands and feathers, increasingly messy with his sweat and the precum that was probably fucking dripping from him by now. A couple of damp strands pulled out with it, caught on the wetness and the spikes, and he pushed them back in place with a quick readjustment before sliding gloriously back in.

And then Stolas grasped firmly around Blitzø's tail and yanked.

Blitzø yelped and almost broke the kiss, but Stolas's tongue pulled him right back in, and the cheeky bird stroked gently over his tail in apology.

Blitzø rutted roughly up into Stolas, scratching his (admittedly not that sharp) dick spikes into the skin under his feathers and yanking at the handful of messy fluff he still had in one hand. He might've tugged harder at those head feathers too, if he hadn't wanted to keep kissing Stolas so badly. Stolas just moaned needily in response to those little hints of retaliation, the absolute slut, and crossed his pretty bird thighs under Blitzø's straddling stance.

Blitzø knocked those legs right back apart with one foot and nestled his hoof in there, between the bed and Stolas's hot birdpuss, pressing firmly up into the softness there. Then suddenly he felt the slick slide of bare skin and soaked feathers against his foot as Stolas's trousers relocated themselves, along with any underwear he may or may not have been wearing.

Stolas rocked forward to basically ride Blitzø's damn ankle while Blitzø kept more or less jerking himself off with a fist full of feathers, and they were still making out, and they'd probably been making out way longer than was reasonable even during– he guessed this was sex?-- but he couldn't fucking get enough of his birdie's pretty mouth. It’d driven him insane wanting to kiss it for way too long for him to just get bored with it after a fucking normal amount of time.

He growled and thrust into those chest feathers extra hard and very nearly unbalanced himself. But Stolas's hand–which had, honestly, kinda just been jerking his tail off at this point–quickly relocated to catch him by the ass, pushing him back into place.

He regained his balance, but Stolas's hand didn't move back to his tail. Instead he just started roaming over Blitzø's ass, feeling him up and periodically squeezing his cheeks. And the level of groping there was borderline obsessive in its focus, but it felt so fucking nice he couldn't even bring himself to think about making fun of Stolas for doing it. And after a little while of it, he just found himself hoping Stolas would get brave or bratty enough, or whatever it took, to get one of those talons dipping down in between.

But Stolas just kept squishing and squeezing and feeling him up over the cheeks themselves, staying politely shy of his asshole or his taint or even so much as a poke into the upper boundaries of his little red crack, no matter how much Blitzø pushed back into Stolas's hand or how enticingly he wiggled his hips.

And Blitzø was going out of his damn mind, unable to focus on anything but where those sharp little fingers weren't. So he finally unwound his tongue from Stolas's in a sad but necessary move, and pulled back just enough to breathe out a groan against Stolas's gasping beak. “Goddamn, Stols. Never took you for such a fucking tease,” he said, and his voice came out rough and low.

Stolas whined and ground his pretty birdpuss down on Blitzø's foot. “I– I don't follow, Blitzy. I'm not–” he cut off with a gasping groan as Blitzø picked up his heel and dragged the slicked-up top of his foot firmly back and forth a few times up under Stolas's dripping cunt.

Blitzø tugged on Stolas's arm with his wrapped-over tail far enough until a single talon slipped shallowly between his cheeks, and then he held the arm there, in place, raising a challenging eyebrow at the blushing birdie in front of him.

Stolas hooted and the rest of his talons curled to join the first, skirting up and down along the edge of his crack, making him shiver. “Oh, are you sure?” Stolas asked, “You've never shown much interest in…” he trailed off, but shuffled his fingers inward and pulled to spread Blitzø's cheek just slightly.

Blitzø rolled his eyes and looked away. “Well, consider my interest shown, birdie.”

“My talons are quite sharp,” Stolas murmured.

Fucking Christ. He wasn't gonna beg. “So are my claws, but I'm pretty sure I could cram a couple'a those in your birdpuss right now, no problem, ‘nd you'd thank me for it.”

Stolas frowned. “Well, certainly. But unlike you, I'm nigh indestructible.”

Blitzø's heart pounded. No, you're not, he wanted to say, You can be killed and your fucking wife wanted to try. But he couldn't fucking talk about it right now, so he pushed the thought aside and pulled up a lackluster little grin. “What, you think imps don't fingerbang each other now‘n’then?” He asked, trying not to let his voice waver. “Pretty sure my impish li’l asshole can take a talon or two.”

Stolas hummed, and then finally, finally brushed the pad of one of his fingers over Blitzø's hole, and Blitzø’s cock twitched violently in its feathery home. “I suppose, but you'll… let me know if I'm hurting you, right?”

“Mmmf, mm-hm,” he mumbled, shoving his ass back against that finger in an embarrassingly whorish kinda way, trying to firm up the gentle contact with his rim.

Stolas's fucking pupils appeared, god-fucking-dammit, and he let out a little “Oh!” And he then relocated his other hand from the thicket of feathers on his chest, where he'd been helping out with the featherfuck they were slowly abandoning for other activities, and he grasped Blitzø's hip firmly instead. He pressed the finger of his other hand, the one already on Blitzø's hole, against him just a little bit harder. Knocking at the door but not exactly trying to barge in.

“Fuh-” Blitzø choked off. He bit his lip to keep from making any more fucking noise, and a truly worrying little smile stole over Stolas's face. Blitzø could practically see new neurons activating in his pretty little bird brain. “Shut the fuck up,” he groaned, even though Stolas hadn't said shit.

Stolas’s smile got slightly devilish and he pulled the probing hand away. Blitzø gave him a disgruntled look as he felt that hand reach down between his foot and Stolas’s birdpuss and slide over Stolas's clit a few times. And, like, fine, yeah, it was hot as fuck to feel Stolas touching himself right there on top of Blitzø's little imp hoof, but was Stolas seriously just abandoning Blitzø in his time of incredibly horny need? But then, just as fast as he’d removed it, Stolas’s hand was reaching back up between Blitzø's legs and that finger was back at his hole, now covered with a thick, slick coating of Stolas’s fucking birdpuss juice or– jesus– whatever the fuck.

Blitzø groaned loud and he felt the spikes on his dick perk up even fucking higher as Stolas rubbed a firm little circle around his hole, lubing it up pretty fucking effectively, felt like. “Fuuuck, Stols, what the fuuuck?” he asked, groaning through the question. “You’re such a fucking freak, don’t you fucking stop.”

“Hmm, don’t stop what I’m doing, or don’t stop being a ‘freak’?” Stolas asked mildly, pressing inside just slightly.

“Fucking– either– both? I don’t fucking knooow,” Blitzø said, trying to stay still while Stolas slowly began working a single finger inside him.

His whole body felt pulled out taut, ready to snap, and he bit his lip at the gentle stretch, the feeling of intrusion, weird and almost wrong (you know, like physically, not like morally–though that wouldn't have fuckin’ stopped him either), but like, all the fucking hotter for that, doing something his body wasn't exactly meant to do for the sake of feeling good and getting off. Fuck. He let his head loll backwards under the weight of his horns and just panted into the air.

And it seemed like his impsona did this just as rarely as his human self, or maybe he was basically just a virgin in this body, but it was a tight fucking squeeze. But goddamn it was getting his dick crazy fucking hard, though, so maybe he was just as big of a fucking freak as Stolas was.

He almost laughed. A friend with benefits to match his freak. Living the fucking dream, right here.

Stolas stopped with one finger most of the way inside him. “How are you doing darling? It's not hurting you?”

Stolas sounded way too fucking put together, so Blitzø tried the foot thing again to try to fluster him again, but Stolas just hooted a little and shuffled his hips back carefully so that he wasn't quite riding Blitzø's ankle anymore, and used his torso to push Blitzø's leg back to keep him from following.

“Blitzø,” he said softly and very seriously. “I won't have you hurt by accident. If you want me to do this, I'm going to do it carefully.”

Blitzø let out a long breath between his teeth. “Fuck. Alright.” He rolled his hips, slowly, carefully, feeling the shift of Stolas's slick finger inside him and the damp, messy softness of Stolas's feathers still cupped in his hand, still so silky and indulgent against his cock. “You're not hurting me. I'm real fucking into it, actually. Keep going… please.”

Stolas smiled at him, biting his soft lower lip with his break, and he began gently moving his finger inside Blitzø, just slightly, out and in again. “Thank you, darling. Would you like another, or is this sufficient?”

Blitzø laughed, a little trembly. “‘Sgood for now, birdie. We're not all as talented as your human self at takin’ it up the ass, y’know.”

“Well, I do daresay I'd be up to three fingers by now, in your place,” Stolas said, smirking slightly, encouraging Blitzø by the hip to rock himself in a slow rhythm, backward onto the single finger he was currently taking and then forward again into pretty, messy chest fluff.

Blitzø attempted a snort. “No way, you– you greedy bitch,” he huffed out. “You'd have my whole f-fucking fist up your hole by now.” Fuck, that was a nice visual, too, imagining working his hand inside Stolas up to the damn wrist. He picked up the pace of his rocking a little, and Stolas let him, apparently deciding that moving a little faster wasn't going to fucking skewer Blitzø on his talon. Like he couldn't just do a little healing magic even if that did happen.

“Let's put that on the list of things to try, then, shall we?” Stolas suggested breathlessly, and he finally moved his pretty, leaky cunt back up onto Blitzø's foot where it belonged and ground himself slickly against it.

Blitzø moaned at the combination of sensations and the gorgeous mental picture. “Yeah, fuck, sure. I'll fist you birdie. Anytime.” He gasped as Stolas's finger brushed up against his prostate. And thank fuck imps had those, apparently. “You're –” he groaned. “You're gonna fucking beg me for it, aincha?”

“Yes, if you like.” Stolas said eagerly, breath hitching.

“‘Nother finger, birdie,” he said, kinda hoping Stolas would make him beg for it, too.

Stolas didn't, though. He just began eagerly working a second taloned finger in alongside the first. He stretched too quickly around it and it hurt a little for an instant, and Blitzø winced but tried not to let it show. But Stolas fucking noticed anyway, and backed off, which was sweet and frustrating.

“It's okay, birdie,” he groaned, needing to fucking feel it right now, “It just hurts for a sec, then it feels good. It's not a bad hurt. I've done this before.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Stolas said, petting anxiously at Blitzø’s hip.

Blitzø groaned. “Fuck, fine, go slower if you want, just gimme another finger, birdie, c’mon, or it's gonna hurt me a lot worse when I fucking die ‘cause my fucking dick explodes.”

Stolas huffed, but he tried again, slower this time. And it didn't hurt so much, which Blitzø decided was fine, too, as long as Stolas got it in there eventually, which he finally fucking did. He got both of his long, elegant talons inside Blitzø and curled them right into Blitzø's prostate, and fuck that felt so fucking electrically good, and why didn't Blitzø do this shit more often? He finally let go of his cock and abandoned the sticky, sweaty mess he'd made of Stolas's chest feathers to hold onto the birdie's shoulders for support instead.

Stolas found his prostate again and he jerked his hips and let out a loud whine, and there went his dignity, but if this fucking feeling was the tradeoff, then he wasn't so sad to see it go. Especially since Stolas's pupils appeared again, and were they seriously making little heart shapes? And suddenly Stolas was actually finally fucking sliding his fingers gently in and out of Blitzø's tightly-stretched hole, pressing firmly down as he did in a way that was probably hell on his wrist, but that Blitzø appreciated immensely since it dragged pretty much continuous sensation over his prostate. He leaned over slightly, trembling, to better brace himself on Stolas's shoulders while he fucked himself back on Stolas's fingers. And he found himself unwinding his tail from Stolas's arm, weirdly desperate to raise it straight up into the air while he stuck his ass out, and fuck maybe this would all be embarrassing to remember later but right now it just felt so fucking good.

Bending over had also caused his dick to fully detangle from Stolas’s soft, well-used feathers, and no one exactly had a hand free at the moment, so his cock sorta just bobbed there in the air between them, rock hard and leaking like crazy, but he wasn't so worried about that at the moment.

Until Stolas decided to bend his neck down at a weird fucking angle so that he could take the dripping head delicately into his mouth, and then Blitzø got super fucking worried about it. Except that maybe worried wasn't the right word. Horny. He got super fucking horny about it.

“Ah, Stols, fuck,” he gritted out.

With the beak there, there was no actual suction, at least from this angle, and Blitzø couldn't even move his own hips anymore, he was suddenly so overwhelmed. But the sensations of Stolas's lower lip sliding against the underside of his cockhead, the tentative scratching up along the top, Stolas's long pointy tongue probing at the slit, combined with the two long fingers gliding along faster now, firmer, more confidently inside him–they had him clenching his whole fucking body, suddenly on the edge, letting out little panting cries he barely recognized as his own with each lick to the head and each thrust of Stolas's fingers in his hole.

Stolas's finger slipped sideways in just the right way over Blitzø's prostate, and Blitzø shouted and very, very nearly came, but Stolas just kept fucking going at him from both sides, and Blitzø had to try a couple times before managing to say, “S- Stolas, Stols, St– fucking– fucking hang on a second,” while absolutely betraying that request by starting back up jerking his hips back and forth on those fingers without even fucking meaning to. “Fuuuck,” he moaned.

But Stolas was listening, and withdrew his beak and tongue from Blitzø's cock, which helped a fucking lot, and slowed his fingers down to a gentle slide in and out, now avoiding his prostate entirely.

Blitzø still moaned deliriously at his birdie's idea of “hanging on a second” still including a light fingerbanging, but that was actually good, or he might've been too far back into sanity to ask for what he really fucking wanted right now, which was, “Stols, fuck, I really need you to fuck me right now.”

“A-alright darling, how would you like me to do that?” Stolas asked, looking up at him and clearly projecting confidence for Blitzø's benefit.

“Fuck, sorry, maybe I shoulda picked our human forms for this after all?” Blitzø lowered his head down to Stolas's shoulder and breathed heavily into his neck. He was still getting the gentlest, slowest fingerfuck of his life, and it was really messing with his head. “You got a strap or something?” he asked into Stolas's feathers.

“Ah, I believe I can manifest something, hopefully to your liking, darling. But I meant more along the lines of ‘what position would you enjoy?’”

Blitzø pulled back and blinked at him. “Manifest something?”

“Right. Let me..” Stolas wiggled the fingers of the hand on Blitzø's hip, and Blitzø felt something firm and slightly cool to the touch bump up against the front of his shin. (Blitzø had an instant to wonder if Stolas could have cast his magic using the fingers that were currently inside him and if that would feel like anything more than just wiggling, but he was pretty quickly distracted away from that thought). He looked down between them, and saw Stolas had, well, manifested a small (very small, proportionally) translucent, glittery purple shaft between his legs. It twinkled and glowed faintly in the dim light of the motel room.

Blitzø wiped away a line of drool that had spilled over the corner of his mouth and said, “Oh, uh-huh, yeah. Got it.” As he continued staring, the light and glitter and shining specks that looked like tiny stars slowly swirled up and down the length. “Pretty,” he said , transfixed. Was that too much? “I mean, uh. Pretty.” Shit, he'd said the same thing. Whatever. Fuck his dick was so hard he was gonna explode.

“I'm glad you like it, darling,” Stolas said, sounding annoyingly amused. “Do you think the size is about right?”

Blitzø thought everything about it was absolutely perfect. “Yeah,” he said.

Stolas hummed thoughtfully. “Would you like to lie down, perhaps?” He gently withdrew his fingers from Blitzø's hole and Blitzø felt himself clench down sadly around nothing. He bit back a pathetic mewl.

“Nah.” He swallowed. “I'm just gonna…” He wasn't sure if he decided to sit, then, or if his legs just sort of gave out, but he found himself kneeling in Stolas's lap, straddling one of his pretty thighs, which only looked thicker compared to the skinny thighs of his own smaller imp body. He managed to shuffle himself around until his legs were outside both of Stolas's, until he was essentially sitting in Stolas's lap, feeling tiny and vulnerable in ways he would normally have hated. But right now… He was selfish–Stolas was the one in danger. By all rights Blitzø should be taking care of him. But…he didn't know. And Blitzø just…needed Stolas to be here and solid and real and alive.

He scooted forward until his still-extremely-hard cock knocked into Stolas's pretty purple magic dick, and he wrapped one of his large, red and white hands around them both. The magic dick was a wonderful, strange texture, rigid and smooth, almost like a dildo, and soft in a way that seemed to have less to do with the “material” and more to do with not being entirely solid at the surface.

Stolas's breath caught as Blitzø took them together in his hand, and he leaned back slightly to give Blitzø more room, propping himself up with both hands on the bed behind himself.

“Can you feel this?” Blitzø asked in awe, squeezing them together slightly.

“Not… exactly,” Stolas murmured, staring down at the two of them pressed together. “Not directly, but it is… well it's attached to me at a rather sensitive location, for one. And I can also ‘feel’ my magic, to a certain extent. It's not normally a… sensual thing. But given the context… And- and the visual…”

“Hmm, so it's basically a magic strap-on you can kinda-sorta actually feel?” Blitzø asked, and dipped his hand down briefly to collect some of Stolas's slick directly from his (wow, crazy-drenched) birdpuss. Stolas twitched and let out a long breath, and Blitzø brought his slicked-up hand back up to give them a stroke, together.

“Give me a warning, darling,” Stolas complained softly, without heat. “But, yes, that rather sums it up.”

“Hot,” Blitzø commented, like that wasn't the understatement of the year.

“Well I'm quite pleased you think so, Stolas said.

“Warning,” Blitzø said, grinning, and he dove his hand down to draw up a little bit more of Stolas's fluids, smearing them up over the magic strap, ignoring his own dick this time. Stolas twitched again and let out a groan.

“You know I could just get the personal lubricant from my bedroom,” Stolas said, his breath coming short.

“Fuck no, this is way hotter, you sexy genius,” Blitzø said, grinning. He raised himself up on his knees on either side of Stolas's legs and reached behind his back to line Stolas's sexy little magic dick up with his hole, and he couldn't fucking wait to feel it inside himself. He tried to sink down onto it and hold it at the same time, but he kept losing his grip or it would slip forward into his balls or backward up under his tail. He ended up growling into Stolas's shoulder, frustrated as fuck.

Then he felt Stolas lean back up into him, and those long, elegant arms settled around him. One hand came to rest lightly on his hip and the other reached around and under Blitzø to grasp Blitzø's hand over the magic strap (which Blitzø was just gonna think of as Stolas's cock cause, eh, if he'd called Ver’s strap her cock back in the day, then that worked here, too), trying lightly to pry Blitzø's hand off to replace it with his own, presumably.

“May I help, darling?” Stolas asked, too fucking gently.

Blitzø was about to climb out of his skin, he didn't deserve– he didn't fucking want gentle. But he couldn't– Stolas was too– Stolas was here and someday he could not be here and Blitzø would end up here and he'd just fucking be here without Stolas, for, what? Fucking forever? And what was he supposed to tell himself then? That he was a scared little bitch and screeched at Stolas for daring to be fucking nice to him when they fucked while Blitzø was still lucky enough to have him?

“Alright,” he said, and let go. He pulled his hand out from behind himself and put both his hands on Stolas's shoulders.

Stolas gasped his magic cock with one hand and reached with the other a little farther around Blitzø's hip to feel over his hole, and Blitzø's dick twitched against Stolas's feathery stomach. “Down you go, darling,” he murmured, and encouraged him lower with the hand on his hip.

Blitzø sank down slowly and felt the soft, smooth, magical head of Stolas's cock meet the slight give of his hole. There was resistance–it took him a few seconds to remember how to relax himself and allow the intrusion of something wider than a finger or two–but Stolas held his cock solidly in place while Blitzø pushed down and he felt himself stretch a little wider, give a little more, let the tip in just a tiny bit deeper, and then, pushing, pushing, he finally relaxed enough and hit a tipping point And suddenly the head of Stolas's cock slipped inside him all at once, and he whimpered and groaned because it wasn't overly big, but it still hurt and it still felt fucking amazing.

He held himself there, thighs trembling, for a few moments while he waited for the pain to pass. His claws were digging in to Stolas's shoulders, and Stolas was rubbing Blitzø's hip encouragingly.

“Are you alright?” Stolas asked, sounding concerned and horny at the same time, and Blitzø looked up and laughed without any breath at the expression on his face, like he was actually kind of wrecked but trying to hold it together for Blitzø. And either the laugh or the melting feeling in his chest really helped Blitzø relax somehow, and the pain faded to the background.

He slid down a little farther. He was breathing hard and he was sweaty basically all over, but he grinned at Stolas and said, “Yeah, birdie, I'm alright.”

Stolas just nodded at him, looking overwhelmed, and stroked his hip some more. He brought his other hand up to Blitzø's opposite hip, no longer needing to steady himself under Blitzø, and stroked him there, too.

Blitzø rocked back up a bit and came back down, getting used to the stretch and the feeling of fullness. It was familiar, but between his body being, well, a different way right now, and the fact that he hadn't done this with a partner in years, and fact that Stolas's cock was literally magic and that not-quite-solid soft while also being rigid and smooth and slippery with Stolas's bird-pre or whatever… it was also overwhelming as fuck.

But he'd fucking asked for this, and more than that, he wanted it like fucking crazy.

“Stolas… Stols,” he let out somewhere between a murmur and a whimper, not sure what he was asking for, or if he was just saying it to feel his pretty bird's name in his mouth.

“Blitzy, darling, you're doing so well.”

This time Blitzø definitely whimpered.

“Is that alright to say?” Stolas asked softly, his hands now firmly planted on Blitzø's trembling hips.

Blitzø sank down again deeper this time and they both moaned. He couldn't quite muster up a laugh but it bubbled in his chest anyway. “All the shit I've said to you–all the shit you've said to me,” he huffed out, rocking slightly deeper yet. “And this is where you think I'm gonna draw the line? Say whatever the fuck you wannnnnmmm–” he'd bottomed out at the end of his sentence, or at least sunk down as far as he could like this. He heard Stolas take in a sharp breath as Blitzø's ass met his thighs. Blitzø’s guts weren't exactly getting rearranged even now, but the two of them were pressed tight together now and Stolas's pretty little magic dick was stretching him him just right and bumping right into his prostate and fuck it was actually a lot like the little massager he usually liked anyway. He ground down hard and he was pretty much instantly dripping a steady little stream of precum into Stolas's soft silky belly feathers.

Stolas seemed affected, too, letting out little cries as Blitzø started rocking his hips back and forth and around in little circles in Stolas's lap, and Blitzø felt talons starting to dig in a little bit desperately into his hips, and Stolas rocked along with him, encouraging him to move faster and grind deeper. Blitzø rose up on his knees, just a little, and fucked himself on Stolas's dick just a couple of times and went back to grinding his prostate straight into the tip.

Stolas snuck one of his hands around behind Blitzø and stroked at the base of his tail. “You're– you're incredible, Blitzø,” Stolas said, and Blitzø glanced up to the bird's face, and he was looking down at him, eyes wide, pupils visible, eyebrows drawn up and together, lip pinned down under his break.

Blitzø flushed down to his chest and shoved his face in Stolas's still-messy chest feathers, but he couldn't have stopped grinding his ass down onto Stolas's cock if he'd tried. He tried to speak, instead. “Uhn- what– hah– what the fuck’re you–” he broke off with a long groan as Stolas simultaneously yanked gently on his tail and pushed down on his hip.

“You told me to– to say whatever I like,” Stolas breathed above him.

“Mm-hmm–” Blitzø squeaked regretfully into his faceful of damp, musky feathers.

“And– hahhh, yes, just like that, darling– And– and I mean it.”

“Fuuuck, birdie,” Blitzø panted, still grinding and rolling his hips, still hiding his face in heaving chest feathers.

“I– I don't know what you had to do today, and I– I won't ask. I won't bring it up again. But you–” he broke off to let out a moan as Blitzø decided for no particular reason to lift himself up again and then slam himself back down hard a couple of times. “Hhhaaa, Blitzy, fuck,” he cried. Then he barrelled on anyway, “You– you didn't do it for yourself, and I think it hurt you, and you– you came to me, and I want to take care of you Blitzy, th– thank you for letting me do that, Blitzy, yes, come on, darling, you feel so good, you look so beautiful in my lap, taking your pleasure, darling, are you feeling good as well?”

“F- fuck,” he gritted into Stolas's chest feathers. “Yeah, fuck, feels real good.” He panted, “Y’make me feel so fucking good, birdie.” He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut tight, but a lump rose thick in his throat and the tears forced their way out between his eyelids, so he buried his face deeper and ground his hips down harder, rocking desperately. His dick and his eyes were leaking and he was probably fucking drooling at this point too, “G-gonna–” he managed to whine.

Stolas moved his hand from Blitzø's hip towards his dick but Blitzø shied away, he fucking couldn't–

“Nuh-uh,” he gasped out, and Stolas returned his hand to Blitzø's hip, but he still wanted– “Pull-pull my tail,” he begged his pretty birdie, “h- hard–”

Stolas pulled hard and it was like the weirdest, hottest back crack of his life, and it fucking hurt so fucking good and pulled him back just enough that Stolas's dick came off his prostate, and he had just enough time to miss it before the rebound bounced him back onto Stolas's cock so hard it almost hurt, too, and his own dick spurted and his balls drew up and he ground himself down hard and he was suddenly coming, untouched except for the velvety tummy feathers pressed against his cock head, painting long, pearly stripes up both their torsos as he rocked, again and again, against Stolas's pretty magic cock, milking the orgasm out of himself until he had no more left to fucking give.

“Beautiful,” Stolas said, like he fucking meant it. Blitzø's cock gave a final wrung-out little splatter right onto Stolas's much more beautiful feathers. Because he was so pathetically happy to somehow be appealing to Stolas in this weird little body. Like he could give Stolas something back to make up for himself, even though all he'd done since he'd dragged Stolas up from his pretty palace and back into his life was to bring him annoyances and to put him in danger and to be relentlessly horny in his direction until Stolas had taken pity on him and let Blitzø fuck him in human form.

But shit, if bird-form Stolas liked him as an imp, then Blitzø was fucking happy to be an imp.

He heaved a shuddering breath into Stolas's feathers, trying to pull it together long enough to ask, “Whaddya need, birdie?” It came out thick and trembling, so he cleared his throat and wiped his eyes on already-messy feathers. “Won't be able to fuck you any time soon, prolly, but lemme getcha off, alright?”

Stolas stroked his back and Blitzø resisted the urge to start purring again. They weren't done yet. “Darling, I don't need– That seemed very intense, are you alright?”

Blitzø pulled his face out of Stolas's feathers, wiping at his eyes and grinning weakly up at him. “Fuck yeah it was intense. You just gave me the hardest fuckin’ prostate orgasm of my life with your gorgeous li’l magic dick, birdie.” He picked himself up slowly, off said magic dick, groaning as he did and gasping a little when it slipped out of him fully.

“I– I hardly did anything, dear, I fear I only watched while you did all the work.”

Blitzø huffed a laugh as he climbed off Stolas's lap and pushed the bird gently down onto his back. “Don't you underestimate what those pretty eyes watching me does for me, Stols,” he said, gazing down at the bird with heat in his own eyes. “Did you at least enjoy the show?”

“V- very much, yes,” Stolas said, opening his thighs to give Blitzø a view of his lovely, absolutely fucking drenched birdpuss, clenching and unclenching around nothing, below the spot where the purple, translucent magic cock he still sported stood proudly out of his feathers. There was slick pooled at the base of his tail and his feathers were wet halfway down his thighs.

“Damn, pretty bird. Guess you did. Did you come?” he asked, swiping his fingers through the mess on Stolas's tail.

“I– Very possibly? I was quite focused on- on pleasing you, Blitzø. But I enjoyed myself very much, there's no need to–”

Blitzø leaned down over Stolas's pretty cunt and slipped his little lizard tongue out, close to that dripping hole, and said, “Oh, baby, maybe I don't need to, but I sure as fuck wanna.”

“W-well far be it from me to deny you–” Stolas cut himself off with a loud, throaty moan as Blitzø dove right in with lips and tongue and suction and jaw, and Blitzø got about 5 seconds of his latest favorite activity in before Stolas was gushing bird cum straight into his open mouth and he was drinking it down straight from the tap while Stolas's legs kicked and his back tried to arch right up to the ceiling.

When Stolas finished practically fucking levitating off the bed (DAMN he must have really enjoyed watching Blitzø ride his dick, goddamn), Blitzø pulled off him with a slurp and grinned smugly down at him. His magic dick was still hard, which probably meant about as much as a regular strap still being hard after an orgasm, but Blitzø still asked, “Y’want me to suck that, too?”

Stolas heaved out a breath and waved a hand, dismissing the cock with a pretty little swirl of starry, purple magic. “Yes,” he admitted, “But, another day.”

Blitzø grinned, tongue still out and waving contentedly.

Stolas closed his eyes and waved a hand again, and all three of the messes in his feathers–the one Blitzø had made of his chest feathers, the other one Blitzø had made against his stomach, and the one Stolas'd made of himself between his legs by being the sluttiest, horniest, leakiest, (hottest, sexiest) bird in Hell–disappeared.

Blitzø sighed in disappointment, but was gratified to see a bit more slick leak out of Stolas's cunt and drip down his feathers anyway. Nice.

Then, less nice, a robe appeared over Stolas's shoulders. Not even the ultra-sexy red one, just sort of a normal-sexy purple one.

Blitzø looked up at Stolas questioningly. He'd never seemed shy to be naked in Blitzø's presence after sex before.

“Do you mind if I turn you back into a human?” Stolas asked.

Blitzø frowned. “Uh, no, guess not? Why?”

Then he was human again, clothed in what he'd been wearing when he'd arrived, still kneeling over Stolas on the bed. His face went hot and he scrambled off to sit at the side of the bed. “S- sorry,” he said, even though it'd been Stolas who had decided not to ask him to move before… humanifying him?

“No, no, my fault,” Stolas said, looking away and blushing brightly. He was cute when he was embarrassed, at least. “I'm the one who should apologize.”

“‘Sfine,” Blitzø said with a laugh. “Now why'd you want me back like this?”

Stolas's flush deepened. “Well. Perhaps it's strange, or silly of me, but… I was actually hoping, perhaps… we could, erm, cuddle? Like this?”

“Oh,” Blitzø said, bewildered.

“We don't have to,” Stolas said quickly. “We can just talk, or- or put on a movie or– you can go if you like, though I– I don't actually want you to, but you can. And– and when I say cuddle, I mean, um, platonically. Non-sexually. In fact, well, I know we did just – um, only I'm not expecting you to – like this? I'm only thinking of, um, well, similar to when we were children. Obviously we're not children anymore, but I recall it being quite comforting, and I thought–”

“Okay,” Blitzø said.

“Okay?” Stolas asked.

“Yeah. Okay. I mean. We've… basically cuddled before–y’know, as adults–before we ever even fucked.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, maybe we were a little more drunk or asleep at the time, but, y’know, still. We can cuddle, birdie.”

Stolas smiled a wobbly smile.

Blitzø started tugging off his jacket and sighed. “Hey Stolas, can you, like, take everything off me except, like, my underwear and the tee I got on under this?” He gestured at his shirt. “Sorry, but I was just naked and it's weird to suddenly have all this on again, and–”

“Yes, of course, darling,” Stolas said, and it was done.

Blitzø smiled distantly down at his suddenly near-naked human body. And he was feeling weirdly maudlin for a lucky fuck who'd just gotten his prostate pegged to a pulp till he'd come his fucking brains out, but he was feeling the afterglow in such a weirdly disconnected way, now. He wasn't sweaty, anymore, or sore, or covered in his own or anyone else's fluids, or feeling like he'd just been fucked in any way other than the memory of having just been fucked real good.

He was in his real body, and he was about to snuggle up with Hell's biggest, softest, sweetest demon, but he still felt like something had been taken away from him.

“Are you sure you're alright with the idea?” Stolas asked behind him.

Blitzø spun around with a grin on his face and launched himself into the spot on the bed next to Stolas. “Yeah birdie,” he said. “I'm all good’n ready for cuddles.”

He reached for Stolas as Stolas reached for him. They slotted together perfectly, and then he was warm and soft and comfortable and satisfied, and he could hear Stolas's heart beating in his skinny chest. Blitzø lay his head down on those now-clean, sweet-smelling chest feathers, and he breathed his birdie in. And for a little while, he forgot about everything else.