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Stolas is a bad kisser.
Which. Okay. No shit. He knows how little experience Stolas has. So when he asks for a kiss, Blitzø doesn’t expect much. He knows what kind of porn Stolas watches or more accurately what the fuck was in those desperate housewife erotic novels, so of course, it gives Stolas an exaggerated idea of what making out is like. If he’s sloppy or has no technique, then no shocker there. He doesn’t fault him for it, or make fun of him.
But Satan damn.
“Ow.”
Stolas lets out another string of apologies when he accidentally pinches Blitzø’s tongue for the third time that evening. Leaning his head back and holding his hands out in plea and surrender. Apologies turn into incoherent ramblings turn into stuttering turn into—
Blitzø pinches the bridge of his nose and places a hand on Stolas’s shoulder.
“Okay. Okay. Okay . It’s fine. I promise. You don’t need to feel bad or do all that. We’re cool.”
Stolas’s shoulders slump and his body slowly hunches in on itself.
“I just wanted it to be perfect.”
“Well, it’s normal for first kisses to suck.”
Annnnd—back to being a taut bowstring, fuck.
Stolas’s pupils flash briefly, face red not in that pretty way from before but in that kill me now way.
“‘Suck’.” He quotes.
Blitzø waves his hand in between them, trying to be casual.
“Yeah, you were thinking about it too hard, and my tongue was in danger so neither of us could enjoy it.”
Stolas visibly deflates. No other way to describe it, he deflates.
“Oh.”
Blitzø is starting to feel desperate.
“Yeah and with you having a beak and me having a nor—uh, mouth, it’ll be hard anyway, so don’t worr—”
Stolas’s eyes dim, his head tilts down, and his fingers mindlessly play with the blanket. His talons catch on the fabric several times, making him wince.
Fuck, he’s making it worse.
Blitø sucks in a tense breath before gently placing his hands on Stolas’s shoulders. Rubbing them before sliding them up his neck and cupping his face.
“Look, Stols.”
Red eyes greet yellow.
“No one knows what the fuck they’re doing right off the bat. It’s not like in the movies or songs where it’s all rainbows and fireworks or shit. Usually, it’s awkward at first. Can’t tell you how many times I felt like someone was gonna break my nose or take a tooth with them. Don’t sweat it, we’ll do better next time.”
His eyes widened. “Next time?”
Shit.
And if Blitzø’s head isn’t already on the chopping block...
“Yeah. Next time.”
Satan have fucking mercy.
Stolas smiles, pretty and whole. Relief washes through him. Stolas’s hand touches Blitzø’s, still cupping his face. He leans into the touch, and he fights the instinct to swipe his thumb across his cheek. Can’t get too— too carried away.
“Then…if there is a next time. How about we don’t count this one?”
Blitzø blinks.
“…Huh?”
Stolas slowly smiles. Then suddenly springs out of his touch, energized. Slam a fist onto the palm of his other hand, looking determined.
“Yes…Yes! That one doesn’t count! Therefore we did not have a ‘ sucky’ first kiss. The next one will be absolutely breathtaking!”
Blitzø opens his mouth to tell him how that’s not how that works, but his breath leaves him at the plea in Stolas’s face.
This shit is important to him for some reason.
He sighs.
“Sure. Our next first kiss will be the real deal.”
Stolas claps his hands together in delight.
Their next first kiss is somehow worse.
Stolas comes bursting through his office as a surprise—yelling ‘surprise’ and everything. He can’t get a word in as his face is suddenly full of feathers. He is lifted off the ground, and he wraps his arms around Stolas to hold on. Good thing too as they spin around a few times. On the last spin, Stolas leans down and presses his mouth against his.
It would have been romantic if he cared for that shit…Also if their teeth hadn’t knocked together, hard.
“Fucking son of a whore!’
Stolas in response lets out a series of hoots as he fans his beak. “Ow, ow ow!”
“Stolas, what the actual fuck!” He leans back on the desk for support, pressing a hand firmly against his mouth. Occasionally running his tongue along his teeth and gums to soothe.
“I’m sorry! I thought I could be spontaneous!” But the way Stolas suddenly holds onto his beak makes his voice sound funny.
“Sure is spontaneous to break all my teeth.”
“Sorry.” It sounds so sad. And trumpet-y. A sad trumpet.
He snorts. Stolas pouts further making his voice sound even stupider.
“I thought it’d be romantic.”
He would have said something about his idea of romance or even their romance in general, but a hiccup of laughter bubbles from his throat, cutting himself off.
“It’s not funny!”
More hiccups.
“Stop! This is serious!”
“You seriously sound like a broken horn!”
Finally, He laughs hard. Long and loud.
Stolas huffs at him and turns his face away to rub at his beak some more. Blitzø’s laughs eventually die and rolls his eyes at the dramatics. He leans away from the desk, curling a finger at Stolas in a beckoning motion. “Just come here.”
Stolas makes a show of dragging his feet on the carpet pulling another smile from him. That bitchy, pouty look is kinda cute on him…
When he finally is close enough, he motions his finger to bend down. Stolas does so slowly before Blitzø snatches his collar and brings him close. So close that their faces are inches from each other and their breaths mix in anticipation. He peers into Stolas’s eyes as he finally bridges that gap.
It’s chaste, a prolonged peck at most before they split, but by the look on Stolas’s face, he knows he has him spinning. A smugness enveloped him as he let go, Stolas still leaned forward not returning to his proper height.
Blitzø winks and pats his cheek to which Stolas finally sputters. Correcting himself and his hat that had been skewed. He coughs into his fist, “Neither of those counts.”
Blitzø shrugged, still smiling, “Whatever.”
He leaves with a flushed face, and finally, a returning smile.
Their third first kiss is better.
They’re on the couch in Blitzø’s apartment. Stolas texted him with a vomit full of words which he was able to make out that he was free, lonely, alone, by himself, unoccupied, and again available.
Cum ober is his only reply. Simple.
When Stolas arrives, he bows his head low at the door to ‘honor the host’ which gets an eye roll before he takes them to the couch for a movie. Chill, relaxed, and easy, but as Stolas sits he is anything but. Rigid, sitting upright, hands in his lap gripping his pants tightly.
“You good?”
“Yes, of course!” Said rather fast and very on edge.
Blitzø frowns, “If you say so.”
A very long, very awkward silence. Before Stolas unprompted continues—
“I’m just surprised you invited me here, I’ve never been to your apartment. It’s…cozy?”
Blitzø winces.
“If you want to go to your place just fucking say—”
Stolas panics and shakes his head swinging his hands in the disagreeing motion so hard it makes a ‘ swoosh’ sound.
“No, no, I’m surprised! And well…I am honored.”
Blitzø scratches the back of his neck at the earnest look on his face.
“Oh uh, it’s nothing really. Loona’s out and I thought…I guess I was kinda too tired to climb your balcony...”
Oh, the desire to slam his head into the table.
“…Sorry.”
Stolas smiles. “Again, I’m honored.”
“Right.”
Blitzø moves to pop in a tape of a classic animated movie. He offers snacks to which Stolas readily declines. He shrugs as he gets up to grab a big spoon and a rather large serving of yogurt (they ran out of ice cream), before plopping back down on the couch. They sit in weird ass silence as the movie drags on. He notices Stolas bouncing his leg but doesn’t say anything. Slowly the bouncing becomes more insistent. It isn’t until Stolas’s leg bumps into the table that he asks.
“You good?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Another bite of yogurt is swallowed. Another silence between them. When he sneaks a full glance at Stolas he’s in the same position, rigid as a pole. Blitzø’s about to leave him be, not really good at the whole in-between shit—in between anything from strangers to sex that is. But he catches the pictures on the wall behind Stolas—the ones he luckily has made no mention of.
Maybe he needs to try a little harder than that.
“Uh.” Amazing, way to go Blitzø.
Stolas turns to him, full attention. Eager.
He feels warmth creep up on him, so he makes sure to stare back into the shitty TV.
“I stole this tape on my first trip to the human world.”
“…Oh?”
That tone suggests that wasn’t what he expected Blitzø to say. Or perhaps wanted him to say. But, again, he’s never good at these types of things.
“Yeah, stole it from an old video store I accidentally landed in. Gave the pimply-faced cashier quite a scare.”
A disapproving tsk is the response.
“Were you wearing a human disguise?”
“Nope.”
“No one said anything???” Blitzø laughs at the incredulousness in his voice.
“Was just the cashier, no one would believe him.”
“Cameras??”
“Shitty quality.”
Stolas hums, most likely thinking hard on whether or not that is sufficient enough to not be concerned.
“It was a long time ago. If I fucked up, I would have known by now.”
Stolas’s hums turn into hoots, and he refrains from saying anything. Eyes burn into the side of his head, but all he does is continue to eat his yogurt—fully facing the TV. Not even glancing at him. Finally, Stolas sighs in defeat.
Blitzø-1
Stolas-Nothing.
“Why steal it?”
“I forgot to bring money.”
“Forgot to?”
“Okay, you got me. I didn’t have any money.”
Stolas cocks his head, “So you held him at gunpoint?”
“Didn’t have to, scared the fuck out of him.”
“So you just popped in in your demon form..?”
“…Grabbed a tape and walked out, yeah.”
Snorting beside him has him turning to face Stolas again. Meeting the image of him hiding a smile behind his hand. The snorting then turns into full laughs, and it catches him off guard just as it does every time. Still something he needs to get used to—or perhaps it’s something he needs to not think about too hard. Least it rings in his head far after Stolas leaves.
At least, he’s finally relaxed. And with that, everything is a little easier.
They talk about the movie, laugh at the jokes made, and make their own jokes in response. Trail off to talk about their daughters. About their day, he grins as he pulls up pictures from the job they finished that day. The sight of humans doing stupid stuff like crashing their cars, or waiting in line, or getting sunburnt.
“Oh yes, their sensitive skin!”
“Yeah, I asked what the fuck sunscreen was and not what I expected.”
His phone has many pictures of various road signs that tickled him good. Imagine needing that much direction and safety. Pfft .
They don’t notice the movie coming to a close until the music suddenly blares indicating the typical dance scene. Blitzø bets that he can do the choreography perfectly—Stolas tells him that there doesn’t seem to be any routine to speak of.
“I’ll make you eat those words.”
But his stomach rumbles from all the yogurt, so Stolas is spared embarrassment for now.
The screen eventually turns black, leaving them in dim lighting from the lamp. It casts a warm hue to the rest of the room. The small couch seems even smaller—he can suddenly feel the heat coming off from Stolas, and he knows that Stolas must feel the same.
The change brings out a certain tension .
Stolas slowly inches closer but doesn’t say anything. Inching even closer…But leaves a small enough space.
How polite.
Blitzø bridges the gap himself and throws an arm behind him, resting it on the top of the couch. Stolas’s thigh touches his own.
“Want something?” He teases.
When he turns his head to assess Stolas’s reaction, he is met with a very red face.
“Yes.” A whisper.
“Wanna share it with me, pretty bird?” He speaks in that deep tone he knows Stolas likes.
“I thought maybe…”
“Mhm.” His hand goes for Stolas’s shirt…
“I thought maybe we would kiss tonight.”
…Oh…Oh?
Huh?
“Y-Yeah?” He genuinely questions, dropping his hand.
“I think about it all the time, really.”
That’s…not what he expected, and it does something stupid to his chest. But he keeps it down because he isn’t young and foolish anymore.
He glances again at the pictures on the wall.
“Sure you do.”
Stolas hums in agreement, maybe not quite catching his tone.
“So…can we?”
Blitzø sighs.
“Yeah.”
He slowly starts to lean in…
…Until Blitzø softly claps Stolas’s face with his hands. Stopping him in place and puffing his cheeks.
Stolas squawks.
“Yeah, no. This time I’m leading, and you listen to what I say so we don’t fuck this up.”
Stolas’s eyes and eyebrows droop in unhappiness, cheeks still puffy creating a comical sight.
“Don’t pout. I should have just done this at the start.”
And he really should have. He’s used to teaching Stolas how to actually perform the things he wanted in the bedroom. This shouldn’t have been any different, and he really doesn’t want to lose his tongue or a tooth—thank you very much.
So Blitzø leans in, and he feels Stolas suck in a tight breath.
“Breathe.”
On command, Stolas lets it out.
“Good.”
Stolas whines. He ignores what twitches in his pants because this isn’t about him right now.
He presses their foreheads together.
“I’m gonna kiss you now.” He warns.
“Okay.” Stolas is already fucking breathless, Satan’s fucking titties.
“Don’t move until you get the jist. Just try to follow what I’m doing. Then move with me.”
“Like our first time?” His face turns red.
“No birdbrain, that’s what we’re trying to avoid—oh you mean sex—yeah like our first time.”
Stolas smiles, “Okay.”
He eases the grip on Stolas’s face to a gentle caress. He leans impossibly closer until their breaths intertwine. His eyes stare into Stolas’s own, and from being this close he can faintly make out the white pupils staring back at him. Flicking from his face to his mouth.
But he has to ask.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
Without any more hesitation, he presses their lips together.
It’s slow at first. Of course. Only a press of lips… Before Blitzø moves his lips around the tip of Stolas’s beak. And of course, their differences in anatomy make themselves known, but it’s fine.
Stolas is impossibly still. Reminding him of when he first sat on the couch. He hopes he takes his advice eventually, so he isn’t kissing a statue. At least he knows to be patient.
One of his hands slides to the back of Stolas’s head threading into his feathers and pushing him slightly in more. Kissing him a little deeper. Still impossibly slow.
Just before Blitzø is about to lean back to ask if this is still okay, Stolas moves.
He presses back, tilting his head and slotting himself better. Moving with him at the same pace.
Blitzø takes one of Stolas’s hands and presses it to his chest. Breathing deeply in hopes of reminding him to breathe. However, Stolas' other hand takes his and brings it over his own heart, allowing Blitzø to feel the thumping underneath.
Blitzø bites Stolas’s lower mouth at that.
Stolas groans and starts to move faster, eager. Always so eager. Sloppy and without technique. But it’s better this time. The enthusiasm fills in some of the gaps.
Blitzø breaks them apart for a moment, “With me.” He reminds him.
Stolas nods and he presses them back together. They’re finally on a similar page, so it goes more smoothly than it has before. They break, then they join—again, and again, and again. Until their mouths part, and they’re tasting. Stolas tastes like mint and mouthwash, obviously preparing for this.
Fuck, he almost wishes he didn’t eat that tub of yogurt. Whatever, he hopes Stolas likes the taste of artificial peaches.
When they break apart for the last time, they’re left gasping. The kiss ending a little heated. All is quiet save for the breaths until…
Stolas shouts in triumph.
“That was so much better!”
Blitzø swipes a thumb over his lips.
“Yeah, it was.” He agrees.
Stolas claps his hands together.
“Oh, how exciting! I should have known all we needed was a good practice round!”
Blitzø rubs at the back of his neck, “Yeah well, at least we’ve had a decent one now.”
Stolas waves his finger at him.
“Absolutely not! That was practice, you talked through the entire thing. Hardly a real kiss.”
He gives him an exasperated look which is ignored.
“Besides, we can do better than decent.” He scoffs at the word. As if it offended him.
“We could try again for real right now?” He suggests.
“Oh no, no, no. Not right after practice! It’s like redoing a high-five. These kinds of things cannot have repeats!”
“We’ve had three first kisses.”
“Shut it.”
“Shut it for me.” Blitzø pitches his voice lower in a tease because Stolas walked into that one.
“I suppose I walked into that one.”
Blitzø—2
Stolas—zip.
The rest of the night is much more comfortable.
Their fourth first kiss still has him aching.
Although ‘kiss’— singular— is wholly inaccurate.
Their hands are on each other as soon as they enter from the balcony. Stolas lifts him and grabs at his clothes— some tears. He glares at him, and he gets a sweet look back. Fucker is definitely not feeling guilty. Blitzø growls into his neck, pushing Stolas to fall flat when his legs reach the bed. He grabs the middle of his shirt and rips. Revealing pretty feathers bathed in moonlight, and the audible sound of a heart pounding through the chest.
Blitzø pins Stolas’s arms to the bed as he looks up to see a flushed face and a parted beak. Stolas’s pupils make their appearance, and they stare at his mouth.
Fuck.
He doesn’t try to stop.
He leans down and steals Stolas’s breath. Swallows the gasp instantly. It’s a frenzy, it’s sloppy, it’s rough and passionate and graceless.
They moan.
Fuck.
Stolas leans forward and presses back, hot, desperate, eager—still so eager. It’s so much better in every way and so much worse that it ruins him.
Blitzø’s name is whispered, and no, that ruins him.
They part for breath. A few seconds of panting into each other’s mouths before they press back harder. He fucking hopes they’re putting those novels to shame. He hopes that Stolas will only think of this from now on. This is the example and everything else is put to shame.
They’re spinning, they have to be spinning. Spinning and crashing and falling and oh fuck.
They part, longer this time. Longer still until Stolas lets out a whine that has him drowning again. Their tongues intertwine, and he thinks to himself that they should probably get started on the main event. Legs wrap tightly around his waist, effectively pinning him as well. Stolas’s tongue is insistent and just as merciless against him—giving him as hard as he’s receiving.
He finds that he doesn’t want to stop this.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
He leans his head back, desperate for breath. Desperately not wanting to breathe, but needing to.
Blitzø opens his eyes before closing them again. Seeing a flash of the state Stolas is in almost gets to him. Almost makes him want.
Almost makes him say something stupid.
But for now, he waits as he thinks to himself he doesn’t remember the last time he got this carried away.
Stolas breathes loud and deep.
“…Wow.”
Corny, but accurate.
“Now that…was a kiss.”
Even cornier, but again tracks.
Stolas hums. His chest heaving as he catches his breath.
“We...” Blitzø trails off, a little embarrassed of how raw his voice sounds but it can’t be helped now.
“Hmm?”
“We can do better.”
Stolas’s eyes widen before they beam at him.
He pretends to truly contemplate it, hand under the chin and everything.
He wants to kiss that stupid face.
“I suppose…we need to earn our second kiss, don’t we?”
If Blitzø were an honest man, he’d tell him that Stolas more than earned a second kiss. That Blitzø feels ruined in a way that he doesn’t think he can recover from, or forget.
“Damn, right.” He says instead before leaning back in.
Blitzø’s lips tingle until the following day. And his dreams are consumed for the rest of the week.
Their— Oh, who the fuck cares, he lost count. They were sitting on the mother fucking moon!
When Stolas suggests watching a meteor shower, he’s not sure what to think.
“It’ll be fun!”
He tells him he isn’t sure since he’s never seen one. Which Stolas acts as if it’s the end of the fucking world, and he reminds him that that shit is rare, doubly so in hell.
“That’s it then! We have to go see it!”
Blitzø thinks that Stolas is just bringing him topside, but he obviously thinks too small. Because he steps through the portal, and they’re suddenly in the cold embrace of space. Dozens of flaming rocks pass by them lighting up their moon. He turns to look— is that fucking Saturn???”
He assumes he was taken to Earth’s moon. And sure he’s never been to college but that sure as shit not Earth.
“Earth is blind to most wonders,” Stolas explains casually.
“So you took me to Saturn ?”
A tilt of the head.
“No, I took you to one of Saturn’s moons.”
This whore.
“Is this okay?”
“What kind of question is that? This rules!”
Stolas smiles big and joyfully.
They take a seat on the moon as Stolas goes into teacher mode to explain what they’re looking at. How often this occurs, how this moon is the same distance as Earth is to its moon. How amazing it is to see Saturn’s rings, how everything falls perfectly in orbit.
Blitzø doesn’t care for any of it but thinks it’s amazing all the same. Especially when watching Stolas talk about it.
He hugs his knees to his chest, watching the meteors. Some are close to colliding, and he wonders if they would. If they’d make a sound, or if the ‘ no sound in space’ would apply.
He asks Stolas this, and he receives an enthusiastic answer. As if he is happy to have been asked.
And it’s just not fair.
Blitzø has to say something.
After they fall into silence, he takes a chance.
“No one’s done…No one’s taken me…to anywhere like this.” It’s not a thank you, but it’s not not a thank you.
Stolas nods agreeing.
“I can imagine you’ve never been to Dione.”
“Okay, smartass. You know what I mean.”
Stolas tilts his head back at the shooting stars, and hums. “I’ve always wished to take you here.”
Always.
“I’ve always wished to show you the stars.”
That stars themselves.
Stolas opens his mouth and bites his lip. Stopping himself from saying whatever he was gonna say.
Blitzø fails at doing the same.
“…Why?”
“Because they’re lovely.”
“Why me?” Another failure.
“Because I…you deserve to see them.”
Red and yellow meet, with all the other colors dancing around them.
He is a weak, weak man.
This kiss is sudden but also a long time coming. It’s not aggressive or too soft. Not sloppy or too practiced. It’s the kind of kiss people write songs about. The kind seen at the end of a movie when the two leads finally get together. The kind of kiss that revisits the night and haunts the day. The kind people reminisce and long for. The one people tell their children to prove to them that magic is real.
The one people call…
“…Perfect.”
Stolas looks at him, smiling, pretty, ethereal, untouchable. The meteors cast a glow behind him that he can only describe as fucking angelic. It reminds him of everything in between them, the heights to which Stolas is and Blitzø can never reach.
“We can do better.” It’s a tease, but Blitzø takes it as something so much more.
Blitzø laughs but the jokes not funny at all.
“I don’t think I can.”
Stolas doesn’t respond. Instead leans over and puts the stars behind him to shame.