Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Vassago watched the shimmering surface of the water, seeing specks of life below even as the cresting waves rolled through the dark lavender ocean. He knew that somewhere far beneath the surface, a red rock floor bed lay at the bottom covered in an untold amount of Hell’s greatest treasures. Though the fineries had been lost to time itself would make any demon richer than Lucifer, he hoped to never see them, because he knew if he did he would never see home again.

Envy’s ocean was no safe place for even a Goetia during high tide, and the bowed ship rocked as the waves crested around them.

“Vassago!”

The prince turned his head from the , his best friend and their amusingly short boyfriend across the bow of the ship; the imp perched on the owl’s shoulder like a parrot from tales of old.

“Sí, mis hermanos, ¿qué tal?”

“Can’t you fuckin’ speak in a language we can all understand when I’m around? Christ on a stick, I need to carry around a fucking dictionary just to ask a basic question.”

“Blitz, that’s quite uncouth, if you spoke another language natively you would find it hard to resist the lull of such beautiful sounds.” Stolas’ eyes were pressed into thin triangles, his smile spreading from one moonlit cheek to the other.

The two of them were inseparable. A beautiful patchwork quilt of grey feathers interlaced with white and ruddy skin; they gravitated around one another like the sun and moon, night and day, water and fire. Every time he saw them, all he could feel was, well, Envy; at how the universe had fated them to find one another despite Hell’s insistence otherwise.

The prince across the deck seemed to notice the forlorn look in his eyes, because his face softened as he tittered a chirp in response.

“The voyage won’t be too long, just a few more days before we make it to Styx’s Landing and we can–”

Before the owl could finish his response, a blow to their side of the ship made a sickly crunch in the wood that cut off his words and their attention for conversation. All three of them turned wide-eyed in disbelief, seeing a monster that had only been rumored to infest these waters.

Leviathan herself.

It was poor luck; and even two goetian princes with powerful cosmic magic could die in these conditions. A somber roll of thunder met its partner with a lightning crack that split the sky behind the kraken-esque creature, a storm picking up on the near horizon completing the grim picture of what fate held in store for them.

“Vassago, you need to portal away NOW! Before she can reach you!”

He should have listened to Stolas, but the macaw was awestruck; watching as plum tentacles with moonlit white suckers lifted above their heads, slow but monstrous in size as they came down with a force so heavy it split the ship in half. More chips and chunks of wood flew above him in the air and it was all he could manage to conjure a star, blocking out the first three or four that shattered in the slimy grip of the roaring monster. The longer he rolled about the quickly disappearing surface, the fiercer Leviathan’s rage grew until she finally lifted him in her spider-like grasp and slammed him against the wooden floorboards, rendering him undone and lost to the world of demons.

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Darkness was everywhere when he opened his eyes. The void surrounded him; tinted in shades of deep maroon and rich purples, the swirling scenery nearly cosmic-like as the twinkling stars of eyes blinked in and out of existence. It was all at once strangely serene, and also a chaotic unraveling of his world. It was like being back in an egg surrounded by the gelatinous nourishment that sustained a chick. Or what he assumed that experience could be like, if he remembered it.

Yet something was off in the pseudo-egg. An awful feeling was penetrating his chest, a deep pressure. There was a sensation folding into him, like a slamming, or a pounding, or–or drowning.

He was drowning.

The prince tried not to panic despite his inability to move himself; but the lack of oxygen was not doing him any favors as he twisted and turned in water so thick he might as well be trying to swim through a mudslide. Vassago was convinced that this would be the end, a great demon prince lost for all time to the murky depths. Even if he was found, no one in the legions or Goetia could drag him up out of this deep pit.

The despair grabbed hold of him, like a pair of leather cuffs snapping around his wrists from which there was no escape. Until… until it happened. Until a lovely voice, pitched and echoing in the great ocean depths, sounded out.

The prince blinked. He must have been fading from existence, his mind creating arbitrary phantoms, because surely those were not bright aqua eyes glowing in the depths. It wasn’t possible that a creature could move so elegantly through this viscous liquid, this pressurized chamber of water and bubbles and water organisms.

Vassago turned his head, or tried to, looking for those blinking dots. They were still there, which meant that was not an apparition or trick of the fathoms that was growing larger as it approached. The prince could scarcely move, let alone dodge or try to defend.

The glowing eyes suddenly stopped several feet away, the rest of the person’s outline shaded in darkness where he couldn’t see more than a fluttering of some kind from below. Fluttering was an odd way for legs to move, but his brain was oxygen deprived and it was so very dark down here.

Suddenly, the stranger burst into a flash of movement so quick he almost missed it as an unexpected force slammed into his chest, dragging him somewhere. Left, right, up, or down, he couldn’t say, but he knew he was moving. And that was good, wasn’t it?

The pressure on his brain was slowly easing, the vice grip that squeezed the grey matter slowly loosening. When he was finally able to move his head again, he looked up to see the violet sky of Envy peaking through the surface of clear water, and radiant cyan eyes staring back at him.

It caught his breath, what little he had left, when Vassago first caught light of the man in the pale violet moonlight. Glowing eyes were barely the beginning of the radiating beauty; he had a narrow, sharp face with hair that swayed with the motion of the water, a beautiful tapestry of violet and sapphire.

His torso was unclothed, as pure white as freshly fallen snow that ended in pale blue tips at his finger and his slight protrusion of a beak that was barely noticeable. There wasn’t just the beautiful lines, the arc of his chest into the dip of his narrow waist; there was also the look of defiance on his face; a haughty knowingness of his own worth that sang volumes without ever uttering a single breath or word.

Collab with Tiny for Monsterfuckers weeks!

Then, the odd pair broke the tension of the surface water, the beautiful man pushing him up and they both gasped for air. Vassago stared at the sky above with hunger, a meal he was more starved for than any he could remember. Air worked through his beak, his throat, his lungs until finally water ejected and he could feel breath and life in his being again.

When he came to, really able to see and understand again, he realized the stranger had brought him near to a rocky outcropping ringing an island.

Vassago was practically crawling as he swam towards the rock, paddling until his talons smacked into hard stone; claws grasping and pulling him up despite his exhausted being. When he finally turned, he noticed that the bird who had saved him was sitting on the edge of the rock, legs still dipped in the water with a beautiful turquoise skirt falling from his hips down to his knees. No other clothes adorned his body, but the demon looked beautiful that way with the scant fabric.

“Hello, prince.” The bird hummed softly.

“Why did you save me?”

“Well, you were doing such a splendid job yourself. I just thought to myself, perhaps I could do a little better. And here we are.”

“Wait – how did you know I’m a prince?” The macaw stared down at his clothes, soaked and shredded from the attack by Leviathan, and then glanced back. He couldn’t see any tells, how had they known?

“We’ve met before. But I don’t suppose you would remember.”

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The answer flooded the prince’s mind with more questions, overwhelming his cerebral cortex and making his head pound. They had met before? When? Vassago didn’t even recognize this stranger, he just saw an otherworldly beauty that had him craving to stay, to talk, to understand him.

“Who–what are you?”

“What I am is none of your concern. Who I am, I’m slightly more amenable to sharing. For a price.”

Vassago tipped his head, his waterlogged mind still uncertain if this beautiful demon in front of him could even be trusted. He had fallen into the depths of Envy’s ocean, a place where no demon ever returned from. Why would he be spared such a fate?

“You’re overthinking this, prince. Ask me to name my price. I’m sure it won’t be too steep for someone as handsome as yourself.”

The macaw couldn’t help the instinctual flush of heat, the way the feathers on his cheeks burned from the compliment bestowed on him by the beauty sitting before him. Perhaps, if it wasn’t too much, it would be worth it to know his name, so he could remember the next time they met. If they met again.

“W–what’s your price? For your name?”

“I’d like to sing you a song, if you’ll allow me to.” A twinkle danced behind those turquoise eyes, and he could see a row of razor-sharp teeth lining his mandible and maxilla, showing only as the bird flashed him a wide grin.

“A song?”

“Yes, you’re a bird, are you not? A parrot, I believe?”

“Sí.”

Close enough.

“Let me sing you a song, little bird. Won’t you allow a stranger who saved your life that kindness?”

Vassago pondered a bit, weighing why this elusive person would be so interested in entertaining him after saving his life, and that was somehow his payment for giving the prince the stranger’s name? The macaw considered what he knew of ocean folklore; tales of mermaids and krakens and monsters of many kinds. If you include human histories, the cryptids became innumerable. Not that human monsters fancied the waters of Envy, but perhaps they came from somewhere.

“I’m waiting, dear. I’m not patient, I’ll need you to make a choice or I’ll be off.” The pale creature started to slide back into the water, his legs glowing with a beautiful neon luminescence as they dipped below the surface.

“Please!” He cried, snatching his wrist. “Don’t go! You… you’re breathtaking.”

“Charming. But I have business to attend to. Unless you want me to sing you that song?” The sharp blue eyes paused on him, locking with his own, a playful mischief tugging at the demon’s beak.

Vassago hesitated for a moment, and then nodded, his heart beating faster as he scooted towards the edge of the rock he had been foisted upon by his charismatic rescuer.

“I need that in words, little bird.”

“Por favor. P–please, sing me a song? And tell me your name?”

The stranger smiled pleasantly at that, pausing his descent into shallow tides and stirring up a low warbling hum in his throat. The melody was soft and peaceful as it began, like a mother sweeping their child’s crest feathers back to gaze into their face with the purest adoration. As the song evolved, it bloomed from a brush on a cheek to a cold glass of water on a summer’s day; the tone clear but with enough substance to quench the deepest of thirsts.

Slowly, he felt his eyelids grow heavy. Much too heavy, if he were going to stay awake long enough to finish the song and hear his savior’s name.

“Your…name…” The request caught in his throat, a whisper as his head laid of its own volition against the sun baked rock upon which he sat.

“Andrealphus.”

The name was a crescendo, the resolution to the mystery he didn’t know he needed to solve and the answer to every question he didn’t yet know how to ask.

Then, the beautiful figure slipped out of his vision. Consumed by either the darkness of his fatigue or the ocean swallowing him whole, Vassago couldn’t tell as he fell unconscious.

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Vassago fell into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of silky feathers glancing his cheek, hard keratin brushing against his own and a hand running along the quills of his sternum. The sensorial experience was a delight to his mind, a heady rush of pleasure winding through his brain and making its way down to his core.

If he hadn’t just been rescued from the depths of the ocean, the prince would have thought his body wet from carnal desires instead of the fingerprints of the fathoms that pressed upon him. A whispering voice cooed into his ear, brushing hot air against his cheek and pressing something roughly against him.

This was a dream, surely, because nothing this beautifully sinful had ever befallen on him before, and he didn’t know what he could have done to deserve the euphoria as that same heady breath travelled down the length of his body from the dip of his shoulder down the exposed section of sternum, until finally the warmth paused over – over his hole.

Vassago was asleep, and therefore shouldn’t feel compelled to stop the lustful thoughts. After all, he had touched himself many times in the past, with many fantasies supplied by a steady dose of voyeurism that twined well with the exhibitionist tendencies of his best mates.

Yet… yet something felt different this time. A silken rod was glancing around his swollen need, and he could feel the pulsing so life-like as when he touched himself, when he dreamed of beautiful men he would sweep off their feet and bring them back to his home like in the greatest love stories.

All he could feel in this dream was the quick pace set by a hand thrusting digits in and out, his body instinctually moving to follow the pace set by the figment of his mind touching him. Then, a new sensation, a kind of wet rubber and something rough akin to fish scales was pressed against him, and the same voice that had sang before was moaning a new song, an even more precious and daring harmony with the crashing ocean waves, one that crested and peaked even as droplets of salt water air hit his tongue as he panted.

His imagined lover seemed satisfied, content to press against him now and try to whip the macaw into a frenzy as the hand became more aggressive in its strokes. Scales scratched against his feathers through thick cotton trousers, and he found himself pushed over the cliff, groaning his own cries of euphoria as the lovely man of his dreams kept at his weeping entrance.

Vassago couldn't be sure when, but he felt his heart slow, and suddenly his mind was less drowsy, his body waking to the freezing cold waters around him and the whipping air that chilled him to the bone. Blinking back to life, all he heard was a whisper of a goodbye, and then he looked about to find himself alone.

“Goodbye, Prince Vassago.”

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Chapter Text

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“I’m telling you, he went back in the water!”

“What demon would willingly go back into that water?” Stolas sighed, pushing a pint of beer across the wooden table to him. “Let alone a–what did you say he was? A shape-shifting bird of some kind?”

“I don’t know what kind, but I’m telling you the moment his legs hit the way they glowed!” Vassago pushed both of his knuckled fists into the table that lay between the three amigos, his rage a barely simmering pot of stew even as more and more ingredients were added to it.

He had woken up alone upon the shore, finally possessing the wherewithal to teleport back to their meeting location should their plans go awry.

The bar they sat in was an odd one, tipping over right into the ocean in such a way that if you weren’t smart, or too drunk, you could walk right off the edge of the outdoor seating area and never be seen again. What it lacked in safeguards it more than earned back in its charm; the drinks were always cold, the glasses filled to the very top without ever having too much head, and the food was cheap and plentiful.

“Also, why the fuck did he save you at all? Seems kinda… I’unno, weird?” Blitz bit at his bottom lip, and Vassago could see that pensive look the assassin got when suspicion and doubt crowded out his optimistic nature. Even the treasure hunting imp with his flintlock and maps and chartered boats to islands far away had his limits for fairy tales. Apparently mysterious, beautiful creatures that rescued demons and set them free danced at the edge of that perimeter.

The prince sighed, loosening his hands and the tension he had built in them. “You’re right. You’re both right. I’ve just never heard – I’ve listened to so much music in my life, symphonies and orchestras; acoustic songs on guitar, brass bands. Nothing has ever sounded so magical to my ears, like Lilith herself.”

Both imp and owl recoiled at the words, as if he had slapped them both across the face.

“Lilith herself?” Stolas questioned, an eyebrow raised in concern. “Vassago, do you hear yourself? That’s simply not possible, no creature has ever possessed a voice like the queen.”

“I’m telling you both, he did.”

And that was the end of their conversation, for without proof, he would never convince his friends.

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Despite their better judgement, Stolas and Blitz relented to going out again. This time, under oath he would portal away if he saw any “magnificent oceanic creatures hell bent on destroying them”, per Stolas’ instruction. That had them back in a slightly less magnificent boat, this one purchased off a fishing company and more intended for light trips than great voyages or naval command.

Still, it had a bow and they weren’t traversing as far, and it was sufficient enough to wind around the coast looking for the little island he had been abandoned on by the beautiful ‘Andrealphus’.

“Think he’s going mental?”

“Blitz!” The owl standing next to the assassin tutted.

Blitz was sitting on the edge of the ship, the wood below him barely six inches wide, and kicking his legs off the side even while his tail stayed wrapped around a nearby post to keep him from accidentally careening off the edge. Stolas was standing next to him, the silver tufts with a prominent streak bouncing and kissing the top of his faceplate as their ship sailed through the waters.

“I’m just saying, what if he accidentally portaled himself, and imagined the whole thing?”

“Darling, he can hear you, shut up.”

“Maybe I want him to–OW!”

Vassago had to stifle a giggle as he heard imp whimper in pain, either from a pinch or a tug he wasn’t sure because it had occurred out of his line of sight, somewhere in the space where their bodies were pressed tightly together.

“Keep it up, and I’ll have to punish you.”

“Keep it up and I’ll let you.”

The prince shifted uncomfortably at the words, because for all his composure and regal upbringing, he found this strange stir in his stomach when the idea of them touching came up. It was something he had long resigned himself to as a fluke of his personality, the one who watched romance from afar rather than indulging in the finer beauties himself.

Turning away from the couple, he stared out into the amethyst ocean, sighing once more. Perhaps he could change his luck for good this time, though from his research thus far, ‘Andrealphus’ was an unknown demon. An enigma amongst all he queried, a mysterious remote island dweller, perhaps.

Maybe the lonely creature wouldn’t mind sharing though, especially if he willingly offered to pay him with his waiting ears.

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By the time they had made it to the coast, it was late and the sky was colored a lovely shade of plum. They anchored the ship and decided to rest for the night on the small underdeck of the boat, the couple taking one side and Vassago taking the other separated by a curtain in the middle.

The prince was just dozing off when muffled moans hit his ear, and he blinked his eyes back open. He knew he should tell them to stop, or turn around, or cover his ears. What he definitely should not do more than anything else, was to turn and peek through the curtain, watching the odd couple intertwine their bodies in an amusing game that involved them trying to position one severely tall body in an angle that allowed the imp’s shorter one to reach all of the desired areas of interest.

Not that he had seen them do this strange tango before. Because that would have been very rude and uncivilized of him.

Vassago slowed his breath, mimicking his own sleep patterns as he rolled to the side, facing the curtain that swayed in the wind from the only window to the underdeck cabin. It was barely a peephole, but it was enough that the yellowing, torn fabric danced and he could see Stolas’ head moving aggressively against a red cheek, with the only eyes visible being his upper ones.

He could see scarcely little of the more scandalous details of their coupling, only hands hurriedly pressing, one holding the inky-dipped beak shut to keep him as silent as possible while the imp’s other hand moved about behind where the curtain blocked their bodies.

Stolas was on bottom, fairly standard, while Blitz was having a hell of a time on the small mattress keeping his knees pressed tight to his lover’s thighs. The sparse drops of moonlight pouring through only illuminated one delicate spot between the lovers, right beneath their chins where scarlet and silver dipped and retreated rhythmically.

It took Vassago precious few minutes to realize his own body was responding to the hushed sounds, the sensual movements that were indelicately forward even while they were obscured in their obscenity. It seemed not to matter at all to his own cloaca, which weeped and whined along with the cutoff moans of the bird across from him.

Then, he saw it – the lash of a tail, the sound of a little smack on a thick pad of muscle that he couldn’t see, and Stolas yelped and pushed the imp down his front by accident, making him disappear from the macaw’s view.

Even seeing the mistakes of two lovers made him flush. He couldn’t stop watching as Stolas’ torso suddenly turned vertical, his spine twisted at a strange angle that made his own talons dangle out of sight. The owl took the re-positioning as an opportunity to stuff his own claw down his beak, likely deep into his throat with how little black there was in the small patch of moonlight.

Vassago found great humor in it, since he was pointlessly trying to prevent the noise–that he was still making, quite loudly in his throat–from escaping. It must have achieved some kind of sound barrier, because when Stolas’ entire body started rocking back and forth and his head slammed against the wood wall behind him; the moaning was mild in comparison to other nights he had heard them screaming one another’s names affectionately.

“Shhh!” A low hiss sounded from behind the curtain, and the rocking paused. Four red eyes glared down now, the owl’s head slightly turned and his crooked beak letting out an angry little caw at the loss of pressure, or pleasure, or whatever the fuck Blitz was doing behind the barrier that separated Vassago from seeing the true passion of the two headstrong lovers.

He had to grind his beak to keep from whining as a low clack sounded from talons whacking the wall, and then the imp was growling and snapping in response.

They had gotten to the silent “no you shut up’s” earlier than normal, and it was all he could do to suppress the giggle in his throat. Eventually the flaring tension cooled, and a whispered moan sounded so filthy and guttural the macaw felt it run straight through his being. His hand instinctively reached for his lower half, and he paused it over the dampness, feeling a touch of shame. Then he remembered that they did this to him every fucking time they journeyed together, and the annoyance bloomed into a pettiness he could use to get himself off without guilt.

Vassago snapped his eyes shut, not particularly wanting to picture the owl across from him, but the heady, seductive voice that had sung to him only a week ago. A mesmerizing lullaby he longed to hear again, one that pitched and trailed in his mind, urging on his baser instincts to touch and take; to steal that ecstasy for himself until there was naught left but his own gratified being.

His own claw snapped up to keep his beak snapped tightly shut as he quickly grew warmer, his core slicker, his mind's eye only seeing turquoise eyes and beautiful lavender hair as he stifled his moans into his cotton shirt. Biting down with his crooked maw, he realized he had inflicted a sting upon his own body; metallic liquid slipping into his beak and sliding across his tongue as he imagined that pale demon pressed against him once more.

The thought was too much, it tipped him over, and he found himself turning round and trying to hold in the scream in his throat, the way his body violently crested and he smacked against his own bed, trying to keep from giving himself away.

“Vassago?”

Shit.

“Uh, y-you up, buddy?”

The macaw cursed his tendency to flop around like a fish, and stilled his body even as the aftershocks worked their way through his mind and body.

“Maybe he had a dream?” A whispered voice, soft and melodic, offered up.

“That or he’s a secret pervert.” Blitz giggled back.

Or, apparently, not-so-secret now.

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The next morning they were all in bright spirits when they came up from the lower deck. Apparently their mutual activities had given way to restful sleep, because when Stolas and Blitz ascended from the cabin they both gave him polite, happy nods.

Vassago could only smile politely back, trying not to snicker or make comments on their entanglements the night prior that had led to his own sticky situation. Thankfully, after their little conversation they finished quickly and fell asleep with Blitz curled up on Stolas’ chest, his little heart insignia on his brow bathed in the glow of the moonlight.

It was picturesque, the love he hoped to find himself, if the tides were with him.

Andrealphus, where are you?

He wondered silently, turning back to glance over the island. It was small, and one could see across the entirety of it from the low peak of the rocky terrain at the center. Outcroppings of lavender rocks, like the one he remembered baking in the sun on, flanked the western edge of the island. Caves that stretched outwards into the waters eclipsed the northeastern edge, though they were a trickier mark. They had come around them the day before, and he had a mind to explore them for treasure, since he had felt the pulsing tug of his gift as they passed it.

“Alright, ‘mighty prince Vassago’,” Blitz ribbed him in a mock voice of his own, one large maw poking into his side.

“Yes, ‘Blitz of the Circus Isles’,” The prince teased affectionately back, petting him like the miniature dragon he behaved as; feral and excellent at hoarding horse paraphernalia.

“Cut that shit, where are we going to find your newest boyfriend?”

“He’s not my– nevermind.” Vassago waved his hand, knowing better than to get caught up in a fight with the fiery little hellborn. The imp’s tail was already snapping back and forth, until Stolas came up behind him and squeezed his shoulders. Blitz softened into his touch, tipping his head back so his horns grazed his thighs and his forehead was nearly perpendicular with the owl’s waist.

This was the problem. How was one not supposed to believe in fated romance when these assholes were his best friends? The countless retellings of their story; meeting and falling in love seemed fated for them no matter the world or time or circumstances.

“Blitzy,” Stolas cooed, “Come now, give Vassago a break, dear.”

“Like he tried to break his bed last night?” A shit-eating grin lit up the imp’s face, spreading side to side even as Vassago snapped his head sideways to avoid the embarrassingly pink shade his cheeks must have turned judging by the flushed feeling in them.

“Hah! Knew it. Fuckin’ pervert.”

“Blitz!” Stolas slapped him on the shoulder playfully, and the assassin growled back. “You just admitted to what we were doing last night, you fucking idiot.”

“It’s fine, todo bien,” The prince sighed, rubbing his swollen eyes and turning back to face them. “How could anyone deny the love you two hold for one another? That's all I want.”

Both of his friends seemed to swoon at his statement, their glances exchanged that of lovestruck fools.

“Awww Stols, we gotta help him find his creepy fish boyfriend!”

The owl clicked and shook his head in return before turning back to the macaw. “Alright, Vassago, where shall we search first?”

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They split up upon disembarking the ship, Blitz and Stolas taking the Western edge where the rocks spilled out from the coastline. Vassago agreed to follow the beach along the Eastern edge of the island to where the caves lay, hoping that perhaps the strange demon had taken shelter amongst them or the treasure he sought was accessible.

The prince drifted along the lavender silt, following the shore and taking note of how remote and desolate the land seemed to be. Driftwood, many chunks of it, surrounded the pale purple hues of the land, the ivory and violet limbs making strange structures he had to climb over and around to keep pressing forward.

All manner of little creatures, hell crabs and fairy-like insects were floating around aimlessly in the air and on land. Their paths were free and undefined, the loose nature of their lives ebbing and flowing like the tides as they wandered unhurriedly about the island paradise.

There was a freedom in the wild, though Vassago wondered silently if he could ever allow himself the joy of leaving his palace and the Goetia. His magic, the legions, and all of those he held a deep sense of duty to protect. He couldn’t go off abandoning them just to taste the salt air and feel the rush of uncertainty when it eclipsed him in the moonlight of an abandoned land.

The macaw’s thoughts, wandering aimlessly like all the creatures of the island, were cut short by a whistle and then a low humming. His gaze drifted to an alcove, and it was then the prince realized just where he had arrived.

The colors were brilliant; amethyst, lavender, and violet, every imaginable shade and hue on the spectrum that was ‘purple’ could be seen in the striations of the entryway to the caves on the coastline. It was as if a painter had taken a palate of plain purple, and dipped and swirled it through white and black to make the loveliest crystal imaginable. It didn’t glimmer or shine, but it didn’t need to when the stone itself looked like a mural carved painstakingly into the land one brush stroke at a time.

“And who might we have here; a weary, handsome traveler mayhaps?”

Vassago squawked, recoiling at the sound of pitched and pithy voice from above. His eyes had been on the entrance to the cave, but sitting atop the rock above was… was…

“Andrealphus!”

“Prince Vassago, I see you finally remembered me. Charming.”

Andrealphus was bathing in the sun above the cave, stretched out along the stone with his lower half beyond the macaw’s line of sight. The demon’s head was perched on the edge of the rock, his cheek cupped in one one hand.

“Well, now that you’ve found me, what do you intend to do with me, darling?”

A light slapping noise started up, what Vassago could only presume was the sound of wet clothes smacking against the rock where the bird’s legs lay out of view. It was only then Vassago noticed the sound, covered by the crashing waves that were lapping up against the cave’s entrance, there was a low, warbling emitting from his throat.

“You sure like to sing a lot, eh?”

Pale blue hues narrowed into sharp lines, and a frown overtook the sultry face. “No more than you. I heard the three of you loudly pattering on until late into the night on that raft of tatters you call a ship.”

Vassago tapped his chin, trying to place what he could mean with the scowl and anger about their noisiness, and then it hit him. “Oh, are you jealous, hermoso?” A grin crept along his beak, and he took several certain steps forward.

This Andrealphus liked him. That’s why he kept finding him, showing up and singing his alluring melodies when given the chance.

Perhaps it was an odd start to a great romance, having someone sprout suddenly and vanish just as quickly–several times–but it could quickly be overtaken by a beautiful tale if he worked some magic with his quill pen.

“Perhaps I can spend more time with you then, instead? What you heard was my friends. They are… quite noisy. But very passionate.”

“With you?” The amused creature rolled over, his face now upside down and staring with a devilish grin. “I don’t like sharing my play things, princeling.”

The tone of his words, the humming still undergirding every pause between them, the waves… It was all too much. His mind was slipping off to somewhere strange, somewhere uncharted and beyond his capacities to appreciate. It was the same feeling of drowsiness that had sunk into him once before, when they had slipped away.

The demon prince could feel his feet moving. It wasn’t against his wishes, but it wasn’t of his own volition that he rounded the painterly plum stone, climbing up the towering, rocky crest and sitting down next to the demon.

Vassago blinked, and several truths hit him all at once.

The first was that this song was so entrancing to him it was pointless to fight it. He felt himself pulled, a string in his heart being plucked relentlessly that tethered him to this strange person.

The second was that he knew his hands were going to move faster than his heart, and he found himself unbuttoning his brown cotton trousers, letting them fall over his boots as he crawled his way across sharp, stinging rock to the beauty in front of him.

The final truth was that Andrealphus was not any land dwelling demon he had ever seen before. The slapping he had heard was not, in fact, the sound of wet clothes against the rocky cliff, but a tapered iridescent fin that shimmered a color that lay somewhere between the pale of the human sky and ancient blue topaz gems that rested on his desk at home.

The creature resembled the beauty of mermaids he had heard of, but with strange adaptations that seemed neither mermaid nor fish nor bird. His tail where legs would normally be was long and tapered, but extra fins flanked each side; and when the demon attempted to roll over and face him once more, he could see fins undulating beneath his slender arms that had been hidden from sight in his prior exposures.

“W–what are you, Andrealphus?”

“Hmm, what a curious puzzle, isn’t it? Care to guess, parrot? I heard your kind like games. So do my kin.”

The sharp cyan eyes lingered on him, softened slightly but still curved in tight amusement. His beak was split into a devilish smirk, as if he was the answer to some great mystery Vassago had been searching for.

And truthfully, he was.

This creature was stunning beyond his imagination. Never in his life had he seen one so beautiful who roamed the land and sea; infesters glowing with their acid eyes nor Leviathan with her mighty tentacles could compare to the slight build that flared out into wide hips, sultry and inviting to partake in the most sinful of delights.

But of the creatures in the water, he didn’t exactly seem like the mermaids of old.

His songs–his songs were–

His songs!

How could he have been so foolish? This siren was singing to him, he should have known! What a fool thinking he was plotting a course for an enchanting love, when what he had found was a trap.

“You seem to be frightened, prince. Put it all together, did you? I suppose you’re losing your mind a little, thinking ‘what terrible, awful fate will befall me at the hands of’–well, care to say it out loud?”

“A siren.” Vassago murmured, falling to his knees, watching the shining fin with its rubbery thickness covered in scales that glittered in the morning light of Envy. The prince wished he could cry out, or run, or jump off the cliff. But no, this was not just what he had been lured to – it was what he longed for. A disastrous, reckless, absurd romance between two incompatible creatures that would follow one another around for eternity to find love in whatever shape and form they took.

“I thought… I thought sirens seduced sailors, and murdered them. You–you saved me that last time. Why?”

“Oh pish posh,” Andrealphus waved his hand, groaning a long sigh. “All that folktale nonsense of us sirens being murderous, evil creatures is ridiculous. Horny, perhaps. A little mischievous? Definitely. But I like to think of myself as irresistible above all else.”

A break in the glowing blue scales caught his eye, a dark spot that was slit-like–bird like, even–in its shape. Not quite a cloaca, or what other hellborns called a ‘pussy’, but it was a hole.

“Now, dear prince, would you do me the honor of repaying my kindness with some of your own?”

The siren flipped his tail back and forth on the rock, and Vassago couldn’t help but watch as the glittering hole pulsed in front of him with lustful want.

This was… this was definitely not how great romances started, but if they were to end up this way, why not skip a few tedious steps in between?

He reached down to unbutton his pants only to realize – oh yes, he had already disposed of them–and forgotten because he was so entranced with the sinful being laid out before him.

“What–what comes after?” The words spilled out as he crawled forward, his pants caught underneath him even as Andrealphus hummed his song again.

“Don’t worry about that, dear. Just this, just feeling good for now, hmm?”

Vassago nodded numbly, pausing his movements as he bumped against the shimmering pale blue fin, reaching forward and snatching it in one hand.

“Wait, what are you doing? No, no, no, I mean I wanted–”

His actions hardly felt his own anymore, like a puppet being moved about on strings as he yanked the siren back, flipping him onto his stomach.

“Owww! You asshole, those feathers are very delicate, do you have any idea how much time I spend–”

Vassago wasn’t paying mind to the words as they continued to drabble on, pulling the siren higher and higher against him, seeking that glittery entrance that had called to him like a song of the sea, a special place, one where mates were forged and children conceived.

It was then the prince noted how Andrealphus had quieted, the only sound to greet his ears was the splashes of water cresting against the violet rocks, the lashing flicks of the sea creature’s tail fin. The scarlet bird ran one dark claw across his demonic body, starting from where feathers in his lower back met scales, and sliding them down his backside that was still resting against Vassago’s chest.

Back and side fins undulated, pulsing quicker as he stroked again and again from the narrow waist all the way to the curve of the siren’s bulbous lower half that tapered out. It was so odd, the texture so unlike any avian he had ever seen or felt, and he wondered if this was truly meant to be – would it not be better for him to be with a fellow Goetia? Were they even compatible?

Then, his mind flashed with images of the previous night, the nimble dance between two vastly different species and body types with their gentle compensations and quick witted adjustments. No, this was not too different, too odd, too much of anything. This was Hell, and love came in all manner of strange and surreal forms.

“Are you going to fuck me, or stare at my ass all morning?” The annoyed sneer came from the siren beneath him, one hand holding up his head, the turquoise eyes triangulated into irritation at the slow pace of his affections.

“Can you please hurry it–AH-AH-AH-ahp!”

Vassago kept his hand stroking across the feathers and scales of his backside, even as he hoisted the sea demon further up his shoulder, lining his own weeping cloaca up with the strange slit of the siren.

Andrealphus was a beautiful sight from this angle; flushed cheeks on his pale face, eyes and head rolling back in pleasure while the sea creature fought for friction and his hands crept forward so he could pull forward and then rock back against him.

Vassago was no innocent babe of a demon, but this kind of sensuality was rare and maddening, and he desired to bind the sea being to himself so he could have him kept at his side for eternity to feel this heady rush of pleasure intermixed with the smell of salt and seaweed, a pleasant day on a boat and the petrichor of rain pelting pavement.

“AH–FUCK!”

The prince slowed, worried his inexperience with the fish demon meant he was hurting him. He needed to speak, to communicate, but his words felt trapped in his chest even as his beak slipped open.

“Andy…”

“Please tell me you’re not finished yet, because I’ll be sorely disappointed–”

The haughty siren’s words made a smile tug at his beak, a happy series of chirps and trills spilling from his throat.

“And that means?”

“We haven’t even started yet, baby.”

A fresh wave of confidence crashed over him, and the prince replaced his hand on the curve of his back, hold Andrealphus’s lower half tight to his chest, rubbing their slits together and slipping his other hand between them so he could feel for muscle and places where pressure would produce pleasure.

It took scarce few moments for the siren to begin wailing a new high pitched eerie song of ecstasy, replacing his criticisms from before.

“Canta para mi, Andrealphus.” Vassago whispered into the scales and thick rubbery surface at his beak, rubbing his keratin maw against the delicate fish-like texture.

“Mmm–Vass–AH–I–nah–eggs!”

Vassago blinked, and he could only assume that he wanted eggs? A strange request, since they were different species, but perhaps a cloacal kiss would satisfy the demon.

His rapid jutting movements of his hips slowed, and his hand retreated so he could clutch the slippery backside of the siren with both claws, pressing harder so their centers met over and over, the slick coating them intermixing and eliciting more shrieking moans from both of them.

“I’m–so–close–”

“What are you doing?!”

“Giving–you–eggs.”

“Wait–wait–OH MOTHERFUCKING LEVIATHAN!” The tale that had been hanging loosely over the macaw’s shoulder flapped angrily – or in pleasure? It was hard to tell. But the water-bound demon below him rocked and cried out, screaming loudly enough that he was sure anyone nearby could hear.

What had Andrealphus wanted? Waiting? Waiting for what?

His thoughts were interrupted by his own pleasure peaking into a spark that lit his mind ablaze, and he keened through the intensity of the sensations as he rocked back and forth, chasing the flame like a lightstruck moth.

Slowly, the euphoria faded, and it was just heavy breathing and pants between him and the siren in front of him. Then, tension in the line of the demon’s body caught his eyes, and he saw Andrealphus attempting to crawl to the edge of the rock, back to where he could flip off into the sea waters below.

“Andrealphus,” He murmured, whispering into the scales still trapped between his arms, “Don’t go.”

Another flick of a pale blue iridescent tale, and Andrealphus was disappearing into amethyst waters once more.

“No,” Vassago cried, crawling to the edge of the rock, slamming his hands down. “No, you’re not supposed to leave!”

A loud whistle sounded from nearby, one of Blitz’s, and the heady, lust-addled parts of his brain snapped free. The prince looked around, snatching up his trousers and pulling them back on, quickly buttoning his pants even as he searched the waters for his beloved.

There was nothing out there but dark, terrifying waters that would swallow him whole if he so much as tried to jump into the fathoms below.

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