Chapter Text
Blitz wasn't sure when he'd finally fallen asleep, but he was grateful that he finally did. It seemed like every time his body settled and he'd start to fall asleep, he would need to shift his position and then he'd be left glaring at the ceiling. It didn't help that his brain never shut the fuck up the whole fucking time, not until exhaustion finally won out. Truth be told, he would be glad to go home and get into their bed and leave this wreck of a weekend in the fucking past.
As his mind started to come to awareness, he nuzzled his nose into Stolas' forehead. Sometime during the night, after Blitz had finally fallen asleep maybe, he must have turned so his body faced him, his long arms woven around Blitz's shorter, sturdy torso. He was still very much asleep, was Stolas, and Blitz was in no rush to wake him. A soft sigh escaped him as he breathed in his Bird's natural scent, something light, slightly herbal. It put Blitz at ease so quickly, completely disarming him as his body sagged into the bed. Blitz thought better against pulling him as close as he wanted to, knowing that even being close as they were now was making not just Blitz's mind start to wake, but other parts. Parts that Stolas, were he any closer, would be able to feel.
So, Blitz rubbed his hand up and down Stolas' back, a soothing gesture. He hoped it would keep Stolas asleep for a while longer.
Not that he was against any sort of fucky stuff early in the morning. After the way last night went - Stolas was right to stop it, he was, because Blitz wasn't in the right headspace - he very much doubted that Stolas would be. Especially because his Birdie loved sleep, and would be a little bitch if he didn't get it.
(What? He can say that, that's his little bitch!)
So it surprised him when he heard Stolas let out a soft little noise, like a groan into a whine, and slotted himself right up against Blitz's body. His hands clutched the back of his shirt, and only when their bodies were so close that, somewhere in all his shifting and moving around, the shirt that Stolas had pilfered from him was now riding up, bunched up just under his chest. That meant his stomach could… fuck, okay. Blitz froze, one hand kept on Stolas' shoulder because he supposed it was bad relationship etiquette or some shit to tear your hands off your touched-starved partner in one sudden motion.
Okay. Think of something not sexy. Naked grandma. Naked grandma. Naked…
Shit… Blitz closed his eyes, annoyed at his own fucking brain. Not naked fucking Stolas.
And, well, now he had half of a whole issue and Stolas was pressed right up close to it and if he kept moving and applying friction then Blitz was going to have whole of a whole issue. If he could scream, he totally would. Instead, he went for a gentler approach.
"Stolaaaas," his voice was loud enough to be heard, but not his normal volume. "Come on, Birdie, gimme a break here." His hand stroked lovingly over Stolas' sleep-warm cheek, his skin soft, cheeks flushed. Fuck, he was so cute. He only nestled closer. "Stols," he said through gritted teeth.
"I'm sleeping," Stolas said back, his voice hoarse. His arms wove tighter around Blitz's waist and he slotted his hips right up to Blitz's with a contented sigh.
Blitz looked up at the ceiling; if he were a praying man, this is where he'd do it, for strength or for patience or something. Instead, he said in a softer, more pained voice, "You're actually giving me a boner."
And then, a little chuckle, like he was amused. Little shit. "That sounds like a personal problem."
Blitz dragged his other hand not currently touching Stolas over his face to mask his own amusement. So, they were going to play after all. "Well, if you let go of me, I can go take care of it."
The pout that suddenly appeared in Stolas' voice almost made Blitz laugh out loud, but he kept a straight face. "But you're so warm. I guess we'll have to deal with it another way."
"'We'?" Blitz did laugh then, threading his fingers through Stolas' dark hair so he could push it out of his eyes. "Thought you were sleeping, your Highness?" The last three words were emphasized with a pretty fucking decent English accent, one that he often used to teasingly mock Stolas with. As his hand pushed his fringe back, Stolas looked up and fixed him with an unimpressed look, not quite a glare but certainly in that territory. It only made Blitz laugh again, and he leaned down with both hands cupping Stolas' cheeks to give him a kiss.
His breath tasted like death. He'd had worse tastes in his mouth, though, and he'd never pass up a chance to kiss Stolas stupid.
Stolas, however, had no such qualms about complaining. "Your breath tastes horrid."
Blitz grinned, and took a comically-large inhale that Stolas quickly put a stop to when he clamped his hand over Blitz's face. "If you would like me to assist you, I suggest you not do that."
Blink blink.
…wait.
He wasn't … upset?
"Now, why on earth would I be upset?"
Shit, said it out loud, he thought to himself, ducking Stolas' questioning gaze as he sat up. He was now leaning over Blitz, his hand slowly removing itself from Blitz's mouth. There was an amused little smile on Stolas' face, which would normally make him feel like he was being made fun of, but all Blitz could really think of was how couldn't you be?
Thankfully, that part stayed an inside thought.
"I'm sure, in your mind, I have every right to be. Maybe a part of me is, after last night, but I don't think I'm upset about the part you think I am." Blitz watched, transfixed, mesmerized, by the way Stolas threw his leg over Blitz's stomach and sat carefully above his morning wood. His hands splayed over Stolas' thighs, rubbing up until he could rest them on his hips, and Stolas let his hands rest over them, fingers playing with Blitz's own before he pried them off. "I wonder, Blitz, what part you think I'm upset about?"
Pretending, a voice mocked him. Pretending you care.
Blitz's face turned away, something hot and angry and raw burning up his throat that he refused to let spew.
"Pretending you care is a new low, even for you, Blitzo."
His eyes squeezed shut. Hearing the words back then, before they were together but when Blitz wanted it so badly, had been nothing more than Verosika being bitter. But it was also low-hanging fruit, not that she knew that. In fact, she didn't know anything because when they were together, she only saw the parts of him he wanted her to. The parts that were all festering wounds and self-destruction. She was a very unlucky recipient of his so-called love. The truth was, she hadn't experienced love, real love. And she … deserved to. Just not from him.
Decency, a voice croaked angrily. Decency to pretend.
Blitz grit his teeth, sucking air in like a sharp hiss as the memory of the day before played like a broken record.
"At least you have enough decency to pretend you care about what you did."
Because that was it, wasn't it? From the day he was born until this moment, Blitz Buckzo was a pretender. He grew up in a circus, for fuck's sake, his whole fucking shtick was that he could turn off his own fucking emotions and put on a fucking show. But when someone accused him of putting on a show whenever he cared for someone was … it was low. It was lower than anything, because … because…
…a stale beer bottle held precariously between a thumb and pointer finger, words slurred between clumsy, lying lips…
…because to compare him to someone who pretended to care was to compare him to…
…a smile pasted on, a heavy hand clapped on his shoulder, insincere words promising him things he would never have because he wasn't…
A shuddered breath. A hot tear over the bridge of his nose that it took too long for Blitz to realize was his. Opening his eyes was a slow process, like he had to pry them open with a crowbar, but by the time he slid his gaze back up to look at Stolas, there's a look of endeared patience on his face, and Blitz felt entirely undeserving of it.
He gulped, then. Stolas leaned forward until he could press a kiss to his forehead.
"There we go. Are you ready to tell me who made you feel like you were unlovable?"
To have it said so plainly like that made Blitz's heart jump in his throat, his response stuck somewhere between there and his tongue. Letting out a pained laugh, he said in a voice too soft, "Goin' right for the jugular, huh, Stols?"
"No, never." His lips started a trail from his forehead down the bridge of Blitz's nose, over one cheek and over to the other. The affection made Blitz close his eyes, the attention making his dick harder. Fuck. "I just know what that feels like. To be convinced you are unworthy of love until you start to believe it." One of his hands reached up to cup Blitz's cheek, his normal side. Stolas kissed the other side, the burned side - the side that made him broken - then kissed a path to his lips, which he surged into like a dying man craving water.
When they pull apart, Blitz chased his lips. Even he wasn't sure if it's because he wanted more kissing or less talking. This sort of conversation is what gets Blitz in trouble. Feelings, emotions … the hard ones, the ones he can't fuck or drink or smoke away. Stolas grants him one more kiss. "I did believe it, until you came for me at the airport. I have never had someone do that for me before. For … us, before."
Blitz's face was flushed, a smattering of pink over his cheeks. Now, Stolas cupped his other cheek, both of his hands holding Blitz's face as he leaned down and kissed him again, deeply, deep enough to pull a needy sound from Blitz that he hadn't really made before. Stolas giggled into his mouth, a soft hoo! that bid Blitz's arms to wrap around him to hold him closer as his tongue prodded into Stolas' mouth. They kissed like that, hot and passionate, for what felt like eternity. It was perfect. Stolas was perfect.
He was so lost in it that he never felt one of Stolas' hands trail down his body, long fingers dragging down his pecs, his stomach, and all the way to…
"S-Stolas," breathed against his lips, which were quirked up in a smile, as his finger circled his length through his boxers. "Y-You don't have to-"
"Oh, but I already said I would help," he sounded so fucking hot like that, like he wouldn't take no for an answer. Like he was so determined to have his way, which Blitz liked, he liked so much. "And I know just how to get you out of your own head, even if only for a moment." His touches were lighter than Blitz liked, like he was still giving him a chance to tell him 'no'. Like he would. It made sense, given his history, that Stolas would feel conflicted about this type of pleasure being good when it wasn't, but Blitz had no such history. His relationship with sex wasn't quite so tumultuous. He was a little unused to it accompanied by this many feelings, but then, that was just the experience of it with Stolas, wasn't it? His Birdie was a fountain of feelings and he was a thirsty, thirsty bitch.
At least, until the kissing stopped, and he had about two seconds to register it before soft, warm lips closed around the tip of him, and his hand slammed into the bed sheets, fingers clutching them tight.
"A-hah, Stolas, warn a guy…" but Stolas did no such thing, instead humming around his sensitive, flushed tip, before taking him in as deep as he could get him. Blitz forced his hips to stay down, which made his chest shoot up, propelled by his hands on the bed. He folded one of his arms at the elbow to lean on so he could free his other, his hand dipping into the dark of Stolas' hair, supporting him even as he bobbed his head in a slow rhythm.
One thing they had learned, on this journey of rewiring Stolas' brain when it came to pleasurable things, was that as much as he liked to allow Blitz to have his way with him, to touch and taste and bite and mark, he also liked to do the same to Blitz. He was definitely a sweet little bottom bitch, but he didn't want to sit there and let Blitz do all the work. He enjoyed giving just as much as he enjoyed receiving. But this wasn't something they did very often, because Blitz's hips had a way of—
"Mm-ngh!"
"S-sorry, sorry. Don't take me so deep, then, you little- hah, like that, fuck, Stolas…"
—kicking up in a quick, hard thrust when Stolas took him too deeply. He couldn't help it, though - when you learn that your boyfriend's gag reflex is almost non-existent, what the fuck else did he expect to happen?
He made an active effort to keep his hips still, which was actually impossible. Apparently Stolas' patience far outweighed Blitz's will, because even though his hips were still moving, rolling rather than popping up into his throat, Stolas rewarded him with a particularly loud moan that made his hard, weeping dick vibrate. He shuddered, the hand in Stolas' hair combing through the strands, pushing his fringe out of his face and fuck, when he met his eyes and the fucking lust-drunk haze there, it- fuck.
Stolas pulled off, laving his tongue on the underside before he sloppily kissed a trail up his length. When he reached his tip again, he did these little kitten licks over his slit before he used the thicker part of his tongue to lick a trail from base to tip and Blitz had half of a second to push Stolas' face out of the way as his hips kicked up again, the tiniest spurt of precum arcing in the air and back down onto the base of his hips.
"F-fuck, Stolas," his voice was a thin, reedy whimper as he reached down to hold the base of his dick to stave off his climax. "I'm gonna fuckin' die if you keep this up."
Stolas, the bitch, giggled lightly. "You aren't going to die, Blitzy. You're just going to orgasm."
Blitz felt his chest tighten as he fought as hard as he could to keep his next words at bay, but as soon as he looked back at Stolas' face and saw his stupid smile and flushed cheeks and he felt his hand giving slow strokes over his length, he couldn't stop himself. "Please let me cum. Please let me fucking cum."
Leaning up enough to place one long kiss to his lips, Stolas' grip tightened on him and he whispered, "Alright, my darling. You may cum now."
One … two … three strokes, and Blitz closed his eyes so tight that he felt moisture in the corners as his orgasm rocked his entire body, hitting him as hard as he had ever felt it before. His hips helped Stolas pump him through it while the hand not currently holding him up closed around Stolas' wrist to stop its movements. Blitz's chest heaved with the effort it took to force his breath to even out, but then crawled back into his previous position next to Blitz on the bed, his eyes fluttering invitingly, and, well. How could Blitz deny that face?
Except, when he started to adjust, rolling his body and Stolas' so that he could hover over him hungrily, Stolas didn't pull him down or widen his legs to wrap around his hips, or … anything to trigger another round. Instead, he saw Stolas reach his arms up toward his head, asking him for an embrace, and Blitz tilted his head curiously before leaning down to allow Stolas to wrap both arms around his head. Blitz, a man who could take silent direction well no matter what anyone fuckin' said, leaned down to lay bodily over Stolas' body until his head was cradled against his chest. There wasn't much cushion there, but Blitz felt himself sigh anyway, caught between completely melting into the feeling and wanting to shift his weight into his arms so as not to crush his Bird.
Stolas had no such qualms, and hugged his head to his chest a little tighter. Blitz kissed the swell of one breast through his shirt - well, Blitz's shirt.
"Give one hell of a blowjob, Birdie."
Fingers played with his hair, combing through tangles and giving the illusion of a tamed bedhead. He huffed, his chest puffing up slightly. "I will be honest, I have never been told that before." The way he tittered, however, made Blitz grin a bit. "Of course, I did have an excellent teacher."
Rolling his eyes, Blitz nuzzled against Stolas' chest some more. "Tell me if I get heavy."
"I won't."
Picking up his head and offering a half-hearted glare, Blitz leveled Stolas with a frown. "Fuckin' better. How else am I gonna know if I'm hurting you or not?"
"Mm. You wouldn't hurt me," he said it so confidently, so matter-of-factly, as if it was the only truth that existed. Scoffing under his breath, Blitz put his head back down, swallowing down the argument that sat like a weight on his bruised heart. Stolas' fingers continued to groom him, taming wild strands and combing through knots and tangles. The affection made Blitz's body droop slightly. "Do you feel any better, darling?"
That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Did Blitz feel better, or did his body feel so good that he could convince himself he'd forgotten he was upset? His body felt good, drained, a quiet buzz in his brain, but it wasn't a permanent thing. Uttering a sigh, Blitz curled himself slightly so his heavy hips were off of Stolas' body, his head still pillowed on his chest and arms wrapped around his back.
"Yes and no," he admitted, like he didn't want to. He didn't. But if it was safe for Blitz to not be okay here, then he would give the honest answer. He turned his face into Stolas' warm body. "The … noise in my head is quiet for now, but it'll be back. It always comes back."
The hand that had been so lovingly stroking his hair was holding onto his shoulder, not painfully tight but firm, as Stolas' arm remained wrapped around his shoulders. Blitz hadn't realized they'd been trembling, his shoulders, as he staved off a bout of emotions until Stolas kneaded his hand into the ball of his shoulder. His face was gently tilted up by a finger, and Blitz the whipped bastard, allowed his head to be moved. He could have put up resistance, fought it, pushed Stolas away … but he chose instead to let him see it: the bruise on his heart that showed in his eyes. And Stolas, his sweet, stupid boyfriend, cooed in that sweet and stupid way he did when he was being sympathetic, and Blitz let his eyes fall shut when Stolas pulled his head close for a kiss on his forehead.
"Who hurt you, my love?"
A deep breath. It shuddered on the way out. He couldn't give breath to the names on his lips, so instead he turned his face into Stolas' neck and held on. "Everyone, but you."