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For anyone else, replacing all the costumes, tights, and wigs at I.M.P. would probably fall lower on the long, long list of things the team needed to repair and rebuild.
For Blitzø, though, that shit was at the top. Really, they could make do without a new computer or the stupid paperwork, but how could they do any missions without disguises?
Moxxie turned a kind of concerning shade of purple when he explained all this, but that did not stop Blitzø from using the funds from all their new clients to place an order. Luckily, his account at Tight Ass Costumes was still active, so he was able to find even the rare shit. A blond wig was a must, obviously, plus a new ball gown…
A mere two days later, the box arrives. Blitzø gets the notification that morning from the office building’s mailroom and promptly sends a triumphant text to the team. He’s even fifteen minutes early to pick M&M up for work and then he’s zipping through traffic, honking the horn gleefully as he goes. None of the swears or curses from the other drivers even phase him today.
When they get to the office, he sends Looney up with the keys and diverts to the mailroom, shouting in glee when the clerk has him sign for everything. He doesn’t even care that he has to lug it up the stairs to I.M.P.; the weight is nothing compared to his joy.
He plops the box in the middle of the office lobby, right in front of Stolas’ desk. He uses a knife to cut it open and plunges half his body inside, digging through pokey feather boas, knee high boots, and fishnets until his hands meet the sweet, familiar feeling of his prized wig. He lifts it out and runs into his office, grabbing his styling tools. From there, time is a blur as he spends time getting the hairs perfectly into place.
“Sir?” Moxxie greets, stepping inside. “You know there’s another one in there?”
“Another what?” Blitzø asks, eyes fixed on the comb as it pulls through the synthetic hair.
“Another wig. Do you want me to bring it in?”
That makes Blitzø pause. He’s sure he only ordered the one, because he didn’t want to go too overboard and the blazers Moxxie likes to wear are kind of expensive. Putting his tools down, he crosses back into the lobby and finds Millie and Stolas rifling through the other objects in the box. Millie is holding what must be the other wig, but it’s already styled into a voluminous side ponytail.
“I didn’t order that one,” Blitzø says. “Must be a mistake.”
Moxxie just rolls his eyes and grabs the receipt, scanning it quickly. As he does, his smug expression turns into one of confusion. “Huh, you really didn’t. Receipt says it’s a gift, along with a few other things, for their quote most dedicated customer.”
“Aww, shucks,” Blitzø says, putting an arm around his employee. “See Moxx? That’s what loyal spending will get ya!”
“This looks a lot like the wig for that one costume,” Millie says, holding said hair up. Her brows furrow and she jumps into the box, throwing clothes out around them. A few land on Stolas’ head and the owl pulls them off immediately, staring at the fabric.
“Aha!” Millie cries, lifting out a purple hat and some white and red leggings. She gets out of the box and holds the pieces up, scrutinizing them. “Yeah, this is all that shit for–”
“Bathinee Goztfukr lives again!” Blitzø cries out, hopping over to the box. “Man, I thought she was gone forever.”
“You did look hot in this one,” Millie says, playfully elbowing his side. “As long as you promise not all of Bathinee is comin’ back, I’m happy to let you have this, B.”
“Nah, none of that,” Blitzø says. He puts his arm around Millie in a side hug and nabs the fabric from her. “These leggings are so hard to fuckin’ find though, I can’t believe they’d send ’em for free!”
“I feel I am missing something,” Stolas says, holding out his hand. Millie gives him the witch hat and Stolas turns it over. “Bathinee who?”
“Oh, well,” Blitzø starts, his face heating for some fucking reason. Probably because it would be pretty embarrassing to admit how sad he was after their fight and how he languished in his office with ice cream for a month and how Bathinee was just an escape from the self hatred eating him alive and all that. “Yeah, uh, nothing special. Just a character from an Earth show.”
“A pornographic Earth show,” Moxxie adds, holding his finger up like a little shit and everything. “However, the musical version is actually quite good. Very Avenue Q. ”
“Yeah, Blitzø watched that shit for hours,” Loona says. “Became obsessed with ghost fucking.”
“Ghost fucking?” Stolas repeats, his eyebrows rising. “Isn’t it meant to be ghost hunting?”
“Not for Bathinee Goztfukr, it’s not!” Blitzø says. He digs through the box again until he finds the costume’s heels and, most importantly, the tight dress. “Yeah, this shit is still a look.” He drops the shoes on the ground and holds the dress up to his body, noting that it seems a lot shorter this time. Shrugging, he lays it over the side of the box and looks up to ask Stolas to start cataloging everything. Stolas is already watching him, though, his white faceplate dusted with pink. “All good, big bird?”
“What?” Stolas asks, pausing to cough awkwardly into his fist. “Yes, fine, of course.”
“Well, anyway, these are the disguises we use,” Blitzø says, adopting his “boss-in-charge” voice. “Why don’t you go through, check the receipt to make sure everything is accounted for, and then do that organizing shit you like to do?”
“Oh, sure, yes,” Stolas says, nodding a little too quickly. “What system did you use before when you cataloged and stored all the costumes?”
Blitzø snorts, moving forward. He pats Stolas’ arm a few times and then marches himself into his office, adding over his shoulder, “You’re funny, Stols.”
**
Months pass and all the costumes in the box make their way out for various missions and stakeouts. All except for one, of course, since nothing they have on the docket really merits Bathinee Goztfuckr. Plus, if Blitzø is honest, putting the costume on again might remind him of how fucking sad he was and also all the bonkers shit that happened at that hotel. He hasn’t gone near a hotel since, and maybe he should stay away from the purple getup, too. After all, he’d gotten fucked in the bad way the last time he wore it. For all he knows, the thing could be cursed.
And truly, this would be the absolute worst time for shit to go south again. Business is good, Stolas is doing better, he and Blitzø are dating and also fucking because christ on a stick, that birdpuss is heaven.
So he lets the outfit drift lower and lower in the box, buried under all the shit they actually use for missions. He does hang the wig on his coat cactus, just so it doesn’t get tangled, because wigs are expensive. Otherwise, though, he leaves Bathinee to the shadows where she belongs. He can pretty much forget about her, especially when the purple fabric is out of sight.
Millie brings up the costume a few weeks later, checking in like she does sometimes. She started doing that more after the hotel and never really stopped. Blitzø always trips through those conversations with the grace of a newborn foal, but he appreciates it.
Even Stolas asks a few more questions about it, and eventually that leads to a whole other discussion about how Blitzø coped after everything that happened. They watch a few episodes of Ghostfuckers together and then binge the musical version too. It makes the dress less menacing, puts it all in a new light.
Still, he doesn’t know if it’s the right time to bring Bathinee out, even if he starts eyeing the ponytail wig a little more. In the meantime, he gets his drag fix in other ways, dressing himself up to the nines when he wears his ball gown. Stolas seems to like that, riding him good and hard after the mission with the fluffy skirt shoved and bunched between them. Stolas is into him in dresses, actually.
Which is why, really, Blitzø shouldn’t have been surprised when Bathinee was summoned out.
**
It’s 3 fucking a.m. when his phone starts blaring, screaming, waking him up out of a dead fucking sleep on the couch. Stolas is nowhere to be found, which kind of throws him into a panic until he spots the dim light coming out from underneath the bathroom door. The bird must be doing his night owl shit again…
The phone keeps fucking going so he blearily rubs at his eyes and reaches for it, hitting any and all buttons to get it to stop. He settles back into the cushions, tired as shit, but the thing goes off again.
He grabs it with a huff, bringing it to his face. “Fuckin’ what?!” Blitzø whisper-yells into the receiver.
“Is this the owner of I.M.P.?” the voice on the other end asks, all squeaky and high.
“Not again, fuck me, I didn’t do anything–”
“No, no, you’re fine. Well, no actually.” The person pauses. “It’s just that the alarm in the office is going off? We’ll need you to come by and reset that.”
“Alarm? What fuckin’ alarm?” Blitzø says, doing his best to keep his voice low so he doesn’t bother Stolas and/or wake Loona up. She does not take kindly to that shit, no way. “I didn’t install any fuckin’ alarm.”
“Well, one is going off and we need you to come disable it, sir.”
“What? You’re really saying I have to drive my fuckin’ ass out there?” Blitzø hisses, sitting up. “There’s no bluetooth or remote option?”
“No, sir, it’s manual only.”
“Fuck me,” Blitzø says, rubbing his eyes roughly. He forces himself up and off the couch, grabbing his boots. He starts searching for his gloves so he can use a portal to get there faster. He finds one, but of course it’s not the one with the crystal attached. He growls to himself and grabs his keys instead, the chucklefuck on the other line still blabbering about the alarm. “Fine, shut the fuck up already, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
He hangs up and hisses out a stream of curses. Moxxie must have fucking installed the alarm, always harping about security and shit. Which, whatever, sure, they have weapons and shit that they need to keep safe. But fuck him if he’s gonna be the emergency contact for this shit, no way…
He whispers out a hasty goodbye to Stolas, hoping he’ll be back before the bird even knows it. He gets to his van in record time and breaks just about every traffic law in Hell as he floors it to the office, already dreaming of the moment he can go the fuck back to sleep.
When he gets to I.M.P., the main door is ajar and there’s a red, pulsing light on the other side. He doesn’t hear whatever fucking alarm the person was talking about, but the door being open does creep him out. He pushes the thing open, wishing he’d grabbed his flintlock on his way out, and peeks his head around…
On the other side of the door is… well, Blitzø isn’t sure what the fuck it is at first. Someone wearing a sheet with eye cutouts. Four eye cutouts. Which means–
“Boo!” Stolas cries out, putting his arms up and everything. The sheet isn’t long enough to cover his hands, black talons popping out from underneath the white fabric. “It is I, a ghost!”
“Stolas?” Blitzø says, closing the door behind him. “Stolas, what the fuck?”
“I am not Stolas!” he says, waving his arms in flowy motions. He even pitches his voice lower, but it doesn’t do much to mask his accent. “I am a ghost! Haunting I.M.P.! I need to be dealt with!”
“You need to be dealt–” Blitzø pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Stolas, is this about that ghostfucking thing?”
“I have no idea what you mean!” Stolas says. “I do know that only Bathinee Goztfuker is capable of eradicating me!”
“Oh I see,” Blitzø says, rolling his eyes. This whole thing is so fucking stupid, but he’d also be lying if the prospect of fucking around with Stolas in his costume isn’t getting him a little wet. “Okay, well, just continue being a big friendly ghost while I go get Bathinee, then.”
“Yes, sounds good!” The “ghost” says, tittering with glee and bouncing on the very visible talons on his feet. He spins around and glides over to the couch, taking a seat with one leg crossed over the other. “I will wait diligently!”
Blitzø snorts and makes his way to his office, opening it with a twist of the knob. He finds the box of costumes and has to dig through a bit to find the purple dress, but it’s there. He slides off his sleeping clothes and starts with the leggings, pulling them up onto his legs. The dress is next, then the boots, and then the last touch is the bouncy blond wig, complete with the wide brim hat.
He brushes his hands down the front of the dress, smoothing the material under his claws. It’s good, but not complete… Pursing his lips, he walks over to his desk and takes out a mirror and some makeup. He quickly applies a layer of eyeliner and mascara, moving as quickly as he can without getting it all over his face. Pulling back from the reflective surface, he grins at himself.
Damn, it’s too bad he doesn’t have that limited edition Ghost Sucker 9000 anymore. It had been lost to that shit at the hotel and he definitely couldn’t spend the couple thousand buckaroos for a new one, at least not yet. Sighing, he roots through his other desk drawers and finds a purple vibrating wand. He can at least use that as part of his getup.
Outfit sorted, he takes a second to breathe and let out a soft chuckle about this whole fucking situation. Clearly, Stolas had fabricated this whole thing for a chance to play, and it kind of reminds Blitzø of the stupid shit they did during full moon nights. Except better, because they were an actual couple now.
Blitzø clears his throat, preparing to adopt Bathinee’s voice, and then steps in front of his office door. He opens it with a flourish and flounces out, holding the vibrator up triumphantly. “I heard there’s a ghost that needs fucking?” he announces, striking a pose with a hand on his hip.
In front of him, Stolas hoots and he swears he can make out the blush on his face even underneath the sheet.
“Now there should be a ghost somewhere around here…” he says, taking his sweet time walking around the lobby, pointing the vibrator up. He makes sure to swing his hair around and shake his ass teasingly. “Supposedly some kind of… tall owl thing…”
Behind him, there’s a rustle and Blitzø turns just in time to watch Stolas shove the white sheet off of himself, his movements quick and clumsy. Underneath, Stolas is in his usual sleepwear, which as of late has just been a pair of loose shorts. His white faceplate is still pink and his beak is open, pupils fixed on where Blitzø stands across the room.
“Aha!” Blitzø cries out, pointing the wand right at Stolas’ face. “There you are!”
Stolas just grins, not even standing up from the couch or trying to play it off. He just puts his hands up, widening all four of his eyes. “Oh, dear, it appears I have been caught!”
“That’s right!” Blitzø says. “And my measurements are tellin’ me that your horniness readings are off the chart!” He walks forward, his movements slow and sure, like he’s hunting. At the last moment, he turns around and waves his ass in front of Stolas, bending over a little. Behind him, Stolas chokes out some kind of sound of appreciation and it makes Blitzø feel so fucking hot. Warmth curls in his gut and his cunt slicks up as he turns around, stepping in between Stolas’ legs. He puts one hand on Stolas’ thigh, claws digging into the feathers there.
“Are you ready to get your ghost-ass fucked?” Blitzø asks, leaning in close. Then he climbs onto Stolas’ lap, each knee on either side of Stolas’ hips. Stolas doesn’t answer for a second, his gaze trained on the hem of his dress, his thighs. A moment later, talons grip at his ass, pulling him to Stolas’ soft, fluffy chest.
“Mmm, actually,” Stolas breathes, his breath warm as he kisses at Blitzø’s cheek and then moves down, nipping at the sensitive skin of his neck. “I think, Bathinee, that you are the one who will be fucked tonight.”
“Wha–” Blitzø starts, but the words cut off when Stolas uses the grip on his ass to pull him down, his slit making contact with something decidedly hard in Stolas’ lap. “Oh, shit,” he moans as Stolas rocks him, the friction so fucking good against his cock, already half hard and sticking out of his cunt. “Y-you sure thought of everything, huh?”
“I do try,” Stolas says, his voice lilting. He moves his head back up and his beak catches Blitzø’s lips easily. He pulls back and runs one talon under Blitzø’s eye. “Such pretty makeup.”
Blitzø finds himself fucking blushing which is stupid, but Stolas’ compliments always do that to him. And there’s something about how Stolas looks at him in dresses and shit, it makes Blitzø feel pretty in a way he’s always wanted to. Stolas grins as he kisses him again, an answering smile curling on Blitzø’s lips.
They kiss until Blitzø gets a little impatient and starts shifting on Stolas’ lap.The owl responds by tapping his thigh, issuing a silent command. Blitzø shivers and moves to rest on his knees again, hovering over Stolas’ lap.
Stolas chuckles lowly, the sound heady, and uses his talons to shred through the leggings blocking him from Blitzø’s slit. Then he grabs the wand that’s still vibrating in Blitzø’s hands and presses it between his legs, the hum quiet in the room between them, almost like a low purr. Blitzø moans out as it runs along his opening, Stolas paying extra attention to his sensitive head.
“Oh, yes, you need to get fucked, don’t you?” Stolas asks, the tone simpering and sweet but still dark, still wanting. The vibration stops just as Blitzø is getting close and Stolas ignores his protest, lifting him up and off his lap. “All fours, belly to the armrest, my dear.”
Blitzø scrambles to comply, the shreds of his leggings falling away from his crotch as he crawls across the lumpy cushions. Behind him, there’s the sound of clothing rustling and falling and Blitzø turns back, aiming to get a look at whatever Stolas was hiding under his shorts.
art by @phe__lina
“Did I say you could turn around?” Stolas asks. Blitzø turns back with a gulp and flattens himself to the armrest more, his ponytail falling over the side and nearly brushing the carpet. “Good boy.”
Blitzø whines a little at that, shaking his ass plaintively. By now, his cock has slipped halfway out of him, his slit wet with his need.
There’s the sound of the couch creaking under Stolas’ movements as he joins Blitzø on the cushions. A moment later, soft feathers against his back as Stolas folds himself over Blitzø’s prone body. Fingers prod at his slit, pressing inside and easing his cock out fully. Blitzø huffs and moans, shaking underneath Stolas, waiting for more, but Stolas does not push inside again.
“I’m wondering if just one is enough, tonight,” Stolas murmurs. Blitzø isn’t sure what he means, not until he feels fingers at his ass, using the wetness he gathered to ease the slide. He hums, as if pondering something. “I think you need to be full, don’t you?”
A pop of a lid and then suddenly his ass is far more wet, slippery with whatever fucking lube Stolas picked out. Stolas hums and prods at the puckered muscle with one talon, rubbing at the sensitive area a few more times before he starts working it inside. Blitzø shakes under the touch, ass pushing backwards for more. At the same time, Stolas brings the head of the wand back to Blitzø’s slit, the vibration gentle against his skin. Stolas must have turned it to a low setting, the tease, and it’s not nearly enough.
“Stols,” Blitzø says, wiggling under his grip. Stolas moves the wand up against the bottom of his cock, traces it up the shaft, the contact tickling the spikes there. He works another finger inside Blitzø’s other hole, murmuring his praise as Blitzø relaxes underneath him. His body droops more over the armrest, boneless, and his mind starts drifting into that syrupy space only Stolas gets him to.
“There you are,” Stolas says, using his beak to push some of the wig away so he can kiss the back of Blitzø’s neck. Another squirt of lube and then there’s a third finger pushing inside his asshole, stretching the ring of muscle out. Stolas’ talons are so fucking long, sharp in a way that should be scary but has only ever been good . He presses deeper, angling until he’s pressing at the sensitive spot inside. At the same time, the vibrations against Blitzø’s cock ratchet up and Blitzø nearly comes immediately, almost leaps up from his position. Stolas holds him down with his body against his, moving the top of the vibrator down to Blitzø’s opening.
He removes his fingers and sits up a little, and Blitzø has been in this spot enough times to know when Stolas is adjusting the strap, the dildo, lining it up. A slightly pointed head nudges at his asshole and he huffs out, pushing himself back as if that’ll get Stolas to move faster.
He should know better, really. Stolas just hums and slides the dildo up, rubbing against his hole and between his cheeks. He gasps as he rocks against him and Blitzø reaches a hand back blindly, feeling for the toy. He gets as far as feeling where the base connects to two parts, one for the dildo and another, slippery and wet and already tucked inside Stolas’ cloaca. Blitzø only gets to play there for a second before Stolas grabs his wrist and pushes it back down against the armrest.
“I don’t have to fuck you, you know,” Stolas says, moaning softly. “This works perfectly fine for me and I could just let you sit here while I get myself off.”
“Please,” Blitzø whimpers. He arches his back, sticking his ass out, feeling the way his tight dress shifts and reveals more of him.
“Oh, I suppose since you asked so nicely,” Stolas teases. “Is this what you want?” The question needs no answer, because as soon as he pushes the dildo inside, Blitzø is groaning long and loud. Fuck, the stretch is so good, the toy the perfect girth and complete with spikes on the underside.
Stolas rocks his hips and Blitzø bites down on the armrest, teeth digging into pleather and stuffing. The vibrator is back at his opening, too, the bulbous head pushing inside. He’s not open enough, not really, but he’s wet enough that Stolas can get the top of the toy in. Fuck, he’s so full. He huffs and groans against the couch, the sound somewhat muffled. There are tears at his lashes and he can feel the way his makeup is slipping down his face, mascara running down his cheeks.
“Now that won’t do,” Stolas says. He grabs at the back of Blitzø’s neck, at the scruff like he’s a fucking kitten or something, talons tangling in the blond wig. He uses his grip to pull his mouth off the couch and his body upright, his ass and slit tightening against the intrusions.
“Fuck, Stolas,” Blitzø cries out. Stolas just hums and works his hips again, aiming exactly for where it feels best. The vibration kicks up again, too, and Blitzø feels his spikes flitting out as he prepares to fucking blow.
“Will you come?” Stolas asks, his hand reaching around to Blitzø’s cock. He pumps it once, twice, the spikes dragging against his palms. Blitzø loses it on the third swipe, his mind blanking out as he comes with a cry, painting his seed across the couch. Stolas keeps up his movements, the vibration, letting Blitzø ride out his climax while he gets himself there, too. He screeches a little, the sound birdish and kind of weird but also perfect and it makes Blitzø wonder if they can go another round right the fuck now.
Which is exactly what they do. Blitzø pushes his hips back, begging for Stolas to keep fucking going until he’s plumping up again. Then he pulls himself off and the two rush to get the strap off and away so he can have his turn fucking Stolas into the cushions.
They fuck around for a while, the night passing and the early morning light filtering in through the blinds. Blitzø wonders if it’s even worth going home or just napping here until their workday is due to start, especially since he’s so fucking comfy here, laying on Stolas’ chest. They’ll need a shower, definitely, both of them sticky and covered in cum, and they need to clean the couch before Moxxie absolutely loses his shit.
When Blitzø brings that point up, Stolas laughs. “Oh, darling, I don’t think any of them will be rushing in this morning. The van is here, after all.”
“Yeah, but they’ll be expecting me,” Blitzø huffs out. After a minute, he squints one eye open to peer at Stolas’ face, which is markedly relaxed. “Unless they won’t?”
“Who do you think called you about the alarm, my dear?”
“No fuckin’ way,” Blitzø says, using his arms to push up from Stolas’ chest so he can hover above him. “That guy did call me ‘sir’ a lot…” He flops down again, taking a minute to rub his face in Stolas’ chest fluff. He pops back up, eyebrows furrowing. “How the fuck did you get Moxxie in on that? He’s normally such a prude.”
“To be honest, I got Millie’s support first,” Stolas says, one hand coming up to cup Blitzø’s cheek. “She said you needed it, and from there Moxxie was… convinced.”
“I gotta say, I’m impressed,” Blitzø says, winking. “You fit right in, already schemin’ with Mills.”
Stolas smiles, the sides of his beak a little crooked, like he’s emotional. Blitzø decides to change the subject for now.
“We still gotta clean,” he says, forcing himself up. “There’s a full dock of clients today, isn’t there?” He groans as he jumps down, his ass distinctly sore but definitely in a good fucking way. He looks down at his legs, the shredded remains of his leggings.
“Do you think they could send you another pair?” Stolas asks, sitting up with a frown.
“Oh, what, you’re not done with me yet?” Blitzø asks, smirking.
“Never,” Stolas says, grabbing Blitzø’s waist and pulling him in for a cuddle. “Are you finished with your ghost fantasies already?”
“Definitely not,” Blitzø says, making a home for himself in Stolas’ lap. He picks at the strands of his wig, frowning at the cum that somehow made its way to his hair. He rips it off and throws it across the room. “Actually, do you think you could conjure your scary form again? Now that would be a real ghost fucking.”
Two hands slide between his legs, prodding at his wetness, his cock. “I'm not sure, but it could be fun to try, couldn't it?”