Chapter Text
When Blitzø pulled up in front of his apartment building and put on the brakes, the moon was high with a fuzzy glow around the edges. The brick building was almost all dark.
It would feel so good right now to flop on the couch and forget everything for a few hours. There was something about almost getting shot and realizing that no one cared that made being asleep with an empty head seem like the best case scenario.
But the full moon stared at him— big, round, and unyielding.
Stolas had been very clear over the phone. He had no choice but to pay the horny owl a visit.
He was so tired. But he was already in deep enough shit without standing the guy up.
“Um . . . Blitzø? This isn’t a parking spot.”
He put the van in park and turned to look at his daughter. She was squinting and frowning. The part of him that was pissed at the world after tonight wanted to snarl at her. He stopped in time for his rational brain to kick in.
It was M&M, not Loona, who deserved to get snarked at.
Blitzø forced a tired smile. “Yeah. I need to go do something. Don’t stay up.”
Loona rolled her eyes incredulously. “It’s after 11 PM. What are you going to do?”
“Umm . . .”
He clenched his teeth. None of the ideas floating through Blitzø’s mind made sense . . . groceries? Another hit? There’d been that one delicious looking billboard earlier . . .
“Spicy cheeseburgers, buy two, get one free?”
Loona crossed her arms. “You would have driven there with me and tried to make me act excited about it.”
Blitzø scratched the back of his head under his horns, fuzzy headed, trying to think of anything else to say.
Loona could be so aloof one moment and not know how to mind her own business the next. She was being too nosy. Too smart. Why did she have to choose today of all days to give a damn about where he was going and why?
Fuck it. Might as well fess up.
He gripped the steering wheel for support. “Remember I told you about that bird guy, Stolas, who keeps texting me when I’m at work?”
“The prince who owns the book you stole, yes. You keep bragging to M&M, saying you fucked him for it.” She wrinkled her nose. “I can hear you when you talk, unfortunately.”
“Well, he called, and turns out I’m so good in the sack that he’s willing to let me keep the book just for an occasional pounding.” He sat up straight, tilted his face down haughtily, and gave his best impression of the prince’s mannerisms. “Once a month on the full moon, Blitzy, some kind of exchange, Blitzy, fornifi— fi . . .” He waved his arm and finished without the fake accent with a scoff, “Some fancy word for ‘fucking.’ ”
Loona raised her eyebrows, apparently unconvinced. Her voice went a notch lower, “He told you this . . . tonight? And he wants you to go there tonight ?”
“Yeah, but it’s no biggie! I mean, he’s hot, and really freaky . . .” He winked, to sell that he was into this whole shitshow.
“Dude!” Loona slapped the dashboard with her paw. “You stole from him!”
“And ran into his wife . . .” He winced and sighed. “I wouldn’t wade back into that mess just for a good lay, but if that’s what it takes to keep killing humans for profit—”
“Blitzø, you dumbass, you know those royals are really powerful, right? Like, the ‘snap their fingers and you’re dust’ kind of powerful.”
Blitzø nodded his head. “Duh.”
He watched Loona’s grimace deepening. A hopeful, ‘ You worried about me, Loony?’ popped into Blitzø’s mind, but he really wasn’t in the mood to get decked by her right now.
She harrumphed. “And you know that book you stole isn’t just any old spell book?”
“Who cares?” He shrugged. “Some shitty spell book with random ass spells, and one of them happens to do what we need it to do. So what?”
Loona spat out her reply with a growl, “Not just any shitty spell book!”
She produced the book from her bag. The moonlight caught the gold on the cover.
She continued, calmer, “I did some research online, because . . . I was curious. And I think this is a real grimoire. Ancient, with universe bending power. They have immortal souls trapped in them to increase the strength of the spells.”
Blitzø’s chest tightened in spite of himself. “Sure, these royal assholes can do some crazy shit. And?”
“So it’s really fucking valuable. No prince of hell is about to just lend one out because you ‘ did a sex good , ’ or whatever.” Her tone went low and bitter. “You moron.”
“Loona,” Blitzø crossed his arms, “if he were going to snap his fingers and end me, he wouldn’t need me to go visit him.”
“Maybe. But humiliate you? Punish you for stealing?”
A snappy innuendo came easily. “Seems like he likes things the other way around.” Blitzø flashed Loona a toothy grin. “But I’m down.”
Loona’s expression mellowed, making her look more lost than angry. “You never take things seriously.”
Blitzø couldn’t let his thoughts travel down the ‘ taking this seriously’ route. He tried to laugh, obnoxiously, as if nothing about this situation could ever worry him, but his breath fell short, and a series of loud coughs came out instead.
He closed his eyes, took in air slowly, and babbled, hoping he’d arrive at something to make Loona let him off the hook, “Okay, let’s say you’re right. It might be super convenient for him to have this whole sex freak act. Make me think we’re all good. Have me show up and look stupid. And then just turn me inside out or chop my horns off or . . . ngh . . .”
Blitzø was running out of breath again.
He shook his head vigorously. Get your shit together!
He took another sharp inhale and kept speaking, steadier, “Nah. Loona, you didn’t see how he looked at me. I gave him the best fuck of his life. Not a chance he’d give that up over a petty theft. He’s been texting me for weeks about all this stuff he wants me to do to his feathered ass.”
Loona’s eyes were downcast, and her ears drooped. She spoke, resigned, just a tiny sliver of hope still lingering in between the words, “What if you just give it back and apologize? We can find some other way to get to the human world. Try to rob another succubus, or search the dark web for some cursed object, or . . .”
Blitzø cleared his throat, and his eyes darted to the road. It was getting late .
“Or anything,” Loona continued, “that won’t get you killed. Because I . . . uh . . . don’t want to lose all the hard work we’ve done.”
Blitzø wished Loona hadn’t said that, because now he was on the verge of fucking tears, and he didn’t have the time or the dignity to spare for that.
Blitzø ran his hand down his face and stretched the skin under his eyes, exhausted.
He replied with a gruff edge that he hoped would make Loona stop trying, “Go upstairs, and go to sleep, Loona. Leave the book on the passenger seat. I’ve got this.”
Loona snorted derisively. She opened the door to the car.
“Fine. I’m done babying you. Do what you want, dipshit,” she spat, before stepping out and tossing the book onto the seat.
Ergh. This wasn’t the way he wanted to drop her off. Blitzø reached out his hand momentarily, and then hesitated.
What was he going to do? Hug her? Say he was sorry?
Unable to decide in time, he turned the gesture into an awkward wave.
“Good night, Loony!” he called.
She slammed the door in response and swiftly turned to walk inside.
Blitzø kept the van parked and looked toward the upper floors of his building until he saw the lights turn on in his own apartment. He imagined Loona grabbing snacks from the fridge, flopping on the couch, watching TV.
A couple of minutes flew by before he realized he was still just staring up, his hand frozen on the ignition key.
It was time to go. He’d gotten himself into this.
With a frustrated grumble, he backed up and then pulled the van out into traffic, honking a few times to make sure the other drivers let him in.
The city streets he wove through were wide awake. Run-down apartment buildings with scattered lights on, restaurant staff closing up for the night, clubs just getting going, with music blaring and demons smoking and chatting out front.
Blitzø tried to turn his radio on but only got static. He smacked it, but all it did was sputter off and release a foul smell. So he had no choice left but to listen to the sounds of the city honk and buzz. Snippets of songs hummed in his ears as cars sped by.
He stopped at a red light, and his eyes landed on a young couple at the street corner. The girl leaned on her date as they waited for the walking signal, and he draped his jacket over her. Blitzø watched them hold hands as they took their sweet time crossing the street, her going first and pulling him along. So lovey dovey, just like fucking M&M.
It brought his mind back to earlier that night, when he watched in a heap on the ground as those two fuckheads embraced, nuzzling their faces together with wide-ass smiles. They probably wouldn’t have even bothered to check if he was okay if he hadn’t said anything.
It was stupid to hope they cared. He was just some schmuck who gave them a paycheck. Did he really expect them to value him in some way, when all he did was annoy them, order them around, and pathetically insert himself into their private lives? When he couldn’t keep his temper or excitement under wraps for anything?
Beep.
They’d be absolutely fine, better even, if he died tonight. There was no shortage of assholes in Hell willing to pay to have people killed.
Be-ep.
It made him seeth but also want to cry, picturing them cleaning the office once he was gone, maybe laughing about what a messy bitch he’d been.
Be-e-e-ep.
Blitzø was shaken out of his stupor by the horn of the car behind him, which was blaring obnoxiously. He honked back, then rolled down his window and stuck his hand with a middle finger out.
“I’m going, fuckwad! Eat a bag of dicks!”
It felt good to yell at least.
There was something crocodilian about the appearance of the woman who glared back. She produced a gun, which promptly went off and put a hole in his bumper.
Shit! Blitzø stepped on the gas. He sped ahead and made a right turn at his first opportunity. As he barrelled down the cross street, he recognized fear rising in his stomach, and got the fleeting thought.
The thought that it would be really fucking irresponsible of him to die right now.
Then what? What would Moxxie and Millie do? What would Loona do?
He swerved down another cross street and began zigzagging block by block, jolting the van with every turn in the general direction of out. Cars honked their displeasure as he scraped by them.
Every once in a while, he checked behind him. Did he even remember the color of the car whose driver had shot at him? He thought silver, but he was unsure.
He waited to accelerate now, relaxed his hands on the wheel, and checked around for any sign of the reptile lady. No one seemed to be actively closing in on him. He wove his way, much slower now, back to the main thoroughfare.
Blitzø was halted by the traffic light on the edge of town.
Now that his immediate surroundings were still, the question hovered in his mind— what would they do next, after not mourning his death?
If Blitzø died tonight, Moxie and Millie were practical enough that they would probably go work for the first mob boss or overlord who seemed ready to pay them enough to put food on the table. It would go alright at first. Maybe they’d even thrive, for all Blitzø knew. But . . .
But sooner or later, Moxxie would let his stupid overthinking get the best of him, and Millie would go into an impulsive fit of rage just to stand up for him. Everything would go to shit.
And what about his sweet baby Loona? Would she end up working in retail, or fast food, or would she decide to give assassin work a go? He hoped she had the sense not to; she had a lot left to learn. She was still so young, needed someone looking out for her . . . Even if that someone was an asshole who didn’t listen to her.
As Blitzø drove past the traffic light, he noticed that the streets had grown darker. He’d reached the part of town where almost no one was out at this time of night.
The road stretched on, dotted with strip malls and suburban gated communities, all equally silent and empty, the landscape flat, vast, sprawling.
Maybe he didn’t give his employees and daughter enough credit. Maybe they’d all be fine. Loona and Millie were very resourceful. And Moxxie? He had Millie for that.
But the truth was, whatever the reason, Blitzø didn’t want to die.
He drove by empty parking lots, side roads with names as far flung as Mesa Flats, Pinecone Way, and Calle de la Gata. Sinners liked to try to recreate their earth homes, in one way or another. Blitzø never liked it out here. If Pride wasn’t imp friendly to begin with, its suburbs were the most bigoted part. Even right outside of Imp City.
Stolas’s mansion was a few turns away from the main road, at the end of a long narrow wonky one which some moron thought to be fun to curve around without a hill in sight. When the street began, there were a few houses, but once he wandered farther along, he couldn’t see anything but big hedges that made the road seem to close in.
When he came here before, with the aim to go unnoticed, he’d pulled over about half a mile before the entranceway, shoved his way through the hedge, and climbed the fence. Now, he was an invited guest? In a sense? So hiding was pointless.
The tall, intricate gate that guarded Stolas’s property was wide open, as if another party was being held, except there weren’t any cars or other demons in sight. Stolas’s palace loomed and glowed from afar, deep blue against the dark red of Pride’s night sky.
Blitzø half held his breath as he drove on through. This property was probably guarded by the same towering hellhounds who had managed to subdue him once before. There had to be cameras everywhere too.
But no one stopped him.
The road’s concrete turned to cobblestone after the gates, but the ride remained smooth, and the stones looked glassy in the moonlight. He crept his van down the driveway at a snail’s pace, trying to gather his thoughts.
He didn’t know the first thing about the Goetia or what they got up to besides reading books and filling their houses with shiny shit and laughing at the poors.
It didn’t matter. If Stolas was telling the truth, it would be another fun enough night, though a little weird. If the bird was lying and wanted to fry him for stealing . . . he’d come up with something. For all the things he couldn’t stand about himself, Blitzø was good at fucking people and maybe even better at wriggling his way out of dangerous situations.
Blitzø brought his van to a stop. He took a deep breath and pulled the keys out of the ignition.
I’ve got this.
He glanced up elegant steps with sweeping, curling railings on both sides that led to towering double doors with bright and fragmented glasswork.
Was he expected to knock? Would Stolas come to the door himself? Or would some servant greet him? Maybe one of those imps who think that working for royals makes them special, with their backs straight and their noses in the air. He could deal with that. Might even have a bit of fun messing with them.
But what if his wife showed up?
Fuck no. The ugly face she’d pulled when he tumbled into her tea party was not something he wanted to deal with tonight.
So instead, he walked right by the stairway and cut across grass to make his way around to the back of Stolas’s palace, where the balcony looked out toward Imp City.
He was able to scale the wall quickly by digging his claws in the cracks between the stonework, glancing here and there to see if anyone was below. Memory helped too— there were spots where he knew he could get a decent foothold.
Last time, he remembered climbing the walls to investigate various points of entry, and then laying low in the garden. Once the party was in full swing, he’d gotten down to business. And everything went smoothly until a stupid plant got in his way, all green and pink and spiky, chilling in a pot between two columns. He meant to just nudge it out of the way, but the thing fell over . . . Before he could even take in that the plant was moving, it was chewing on his fucking leg.
Shame he hadn’t considered that those teeth were the real deal before picking a fight with it.
The plant seemed to think he was more fun to play with the more he struggled. If plants think, anyway. The guards heard his yelp and ended up pulling him out.
Blitzø got lucky that the prince appeared to be into imps.
Getting over the balcony railing from below was harder than he expected, especially with the book tucked under his shoulder. Gripping the floor of the balcony, he swung his tail over the slippery rail, used it to grab on, and pulled himself up. He lifted one leg over and then the other, holding on for balance with both hands.
A splash of laughter.
Blitzø startled. The fuck? He turned his head. Who? Where?
A glimpse of feathers. A panicked wave of dizziness. A slip of his boot, his grasp on the book releasing.
A real grimoire. Ancient, with universe bending power.
No.
He swished his hand in a last ditch effort to catch it.
No-no-no-no!
The artifact, which apparently cost way more than his own head, was already too far.
He reflexively closed his eyes, bracing for the fall.
But somehow the impact never came.
Instead, he hovered, enveloped in a deep purple, shimmering mist. The book was also safe, right next to him. He felt his weight being gently lowered to the ground, and the magical aura vanished.
The book flew past Blitzø’s face and through an open door, which he knew led to Stolas’s bedroom. He felt momentarily annoyed at having it taken back so fast.
Maybe this was it, and his ass was about to get kicked right back off that balcony?
But Stolas stopped that thought in its tracks by rushing over and bending down over Blitzø instead. The prince was looking at him with those big, liquid-ruby eyes, which were creased with concern.
“Blitzø, are you alright?”
Blitzø shook his head; gawking at him like an idiot wasn’t going to impress. Embarrassment settled queasily in his stomach.
“Yeah, I um . . . thanks.”
His mind was a little cloudy, and words a little hard to find. It had been a long night already.
Stolas was fidgeting with his hands a little. Nervous? What did a guy like that have to be nervous about?
The owl chattered, his eyes flashing brighter red in the moonlight, “Do you want water? Wine? Whisky? It was so rude of me to startle you!”
Blitzø took in what the prince was wearing now— just a really short robe, made of some fancy patterned fabric, with the feathers on his head all neat and sleek.
Nah. Not nervous. Just excited to get that birdpuss pounded.
Loona’s assessment of Stolas was way off. Yes, this was some kind of game, but it was the kind of game Blitzø was good at playing. Maybe other royals would kill him for stealing, but this one was either too kind or too horny.
Now he just needed to lock in. The sooner things moved along to sex, the sooner he could get the book back in his possession and go home.
Blitzø responded with a smirk, “We both know I’m not here for a drink.”
He braced his palm against the stone and began to push himself up. But Stolas was offering him a dark, slender hand.
“It’s so good to see you,” the prince cooed as Blitzø accepted his hand and found his footing. “Did you climb all the way up here to steal my heart this time? I do have a door, you know.”
The bird’s joke was straight out of some romance shit off a grocery shelf.
“Fuck the door.” Blitzø chuckled.
Stolas’s smile widened, and he cocked his head playfully. “You want to fuck the door ? I’m wounded.” He loosened his grasp on Blitzø’s hand but let his fingers linger there.
Blitzø felt the adrenaline from earlier returning, but now it felt energizing instead of panicked. The worries had passed, now giving way to the fun of watching this actual prince wanting him so much. He narrowed his eyes, licked his lips, and turned his leer to the owl’s chest and gradually down to his waist, where the robe’s tie pinched the garment inward.
”Don’t worry, horny bird. Your door’s okay to look at, I guess, but I’d much rather see what’s under this robe . . .”
He tugged the tie loose, pulling a startled chirp, followed by a hooting laugh from Stolas’s beak.
“Oh, Blitzy, you waste no time.” The owl seemed to bubble over with excitement. “At the most inappropriate times, I keep thinking about those strong hands of yours all over me . . .”
Half-listening, Blitzø reached under the hem of Stolas’s robe and ran his fingers through the soft feathers that covered the prince’s slender leg.
Stolas leaned his knee toward Blitzø. His eyes gleamed, and his voice gained a strange quality of reverence to it as he kept talking, “And that tail around my waist, and your big cock, and how much I want to—”
Stolas squawked his surprise as Blitzø suddenly squeezed his inner thigh hard.
“How about I throw you down on the floor and rail you right here and now?” the imp purred, grinning.
“Not yet.”
Blitzø glanced up, bemused, to meet Stolas’s gaze. The owl’s cheeks were growing pink (how did that even work with feathers?) and he could feel Stolas’s leg tensing under his grasp.
“No?” Blitzø teased, sliding his palm up a bit, ruffling the feathers.
Stolas brushed Blitzø’s hand off of his thigh.
“No.” He got down on his knees, bringing himself to Blitzø’s level. “I want to do something I’ve been craving. Something we skipped last time.”
“Skipped?” Blitzø moved his hand to Stolas’s waist and looked at him with wide, questioning eyes. “Well, we kind of covered the basic bondage shit . . . how about a little roleplay? I’m an outlaw like in the cowboy movies, maybe, and I rode in on my horse to take you hostage . . .”
The thought of it made him smile wide, showing teeth, and grasp the robe’s thin, delicate fabric.
Stolas cut in gently, “Maybe later.”
He reached out slowly and cupped Blitzø’s cheek.
Blitzø raised an eyebrow. “Your kink is touching my face?”
Stolas leaned in close, and Blitzø could feel the bird’s fingertips shift to caress his temple. The soft feathers that framed his features looked gorgeous in the soft red light from his eyes. He smelled like lavender.
In a sweeping motion, Stolas closed the gap between them, and pressed his beak firmly to Blitzø’s lips. Then he paused there, as if asking.
A kiss? Last time, they got into kissing after he untied Stolas, before fucking him some more. The makeout session was hungry, sloppy, and awkward at times, with Stolas’s beak crashing into Blitzø’s teeth hard at one point.
So he wanted to slow down and savor the build-up. Fair enough.
Blitzø took Stolas’s cue and responded as if he had all the time in the world, pulling Stolas’s waist closer, lips moving slowly, tenderly, eyes closing. Stolas followed his lead. The beak was hard, but as their mouths started to open, the inside was soft and so responsive.
He could feel Stolas smiling against his mouth.
And, fuck— kissing him like this felt good .
Blitzø’s sense of urgency faded away. If he had to be here anyway, he might as well enjoy it.