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“Looney, Stols!” Blitzø yells as he steps through the portal. He sees both of them lounging by the couch. “We’re baaack!”
“Welcome back,” Stolas greets them. He has a small smile on his beak which isn’t even remotely close to his old, usual one but it still makes Blitzø grin in response.
“Please Blitzø, I can’t deal with your chipper attitude anymore. I’m too pissed off.”
Blitzø sees Millie nod in agreement.
“C’mon, you wet blankets, it was a blast,” he scoffs.
“I wanna kill something. Something with fins,” Millie growls out and Blitzø notices her raise her fist towards an innocent bystander locker — same locker that withholds all the expensive horse-plates he bought during his depressive slump — so he quickly grabs her arm and changes her aim towards the small plant on the coffee table. Its’ leaves fly around the office as the pot crumbles under Millie’s hit.
“It’s fake!” Blitzø turns around to reassure Stolas when he hears the bird gasp.
“What’s wrong with them?” Loona asks from her spot on the couch though she doesn’t bother to raise her gaze from her phone.
“Funerals, emotional stuff.”
“I wouldn't call this the usual emotional outburst after a funeral,” Stolas points out. He has walked closer to Blitzø and is frowning at the dirt on his jacket. Blitzø gives him a sheepish shrug and gives it a wipe.
“It was fucking waste of time, Blitzø!” Moxxie yells, then cradles Millie’s hand, checking for injuries. Millie calms down immediately and coos at her husband, telling him she’s fine. Blitzø suppresses an eye-roll.
“What, seeing Beelzebub herself, all depressed and shit, was waste of time?”
“Huh?” Loona is finally looking at them.
“Beelzebub?” Stolas asks.
“Among many others,” Moxxie adds with a shudder. “I can’t believe so many fell for his sleazy act.”
“We did too, Moxxie,” Millie says, now fully back in her lovey-dovey wife mode, and bumps her head against Moxxie’s cheek.
“Are you actually telling me fucking Bee was there?” Loona asks, with an almost giddy expression which is kinda melting Blitzø’s heart. She looks like a typical teen who has heard the gossip of the century.
“Yep and so many others, the place was packed. Someone fetch me pen and paper, I can make a list. Or draw it!“
As soon as those words leave his mouth, Stolas is handing him a piece of paper and his favorite unicorn pen.
“I'd love to see it,” he tells Blitzø, sweetly.
“Hell yeah, at least someone here recognizes artistic talent,” Blitzø says loudly, trying to mask the feelings bubbling up inside him with volume.
He leans against the reception-desk and begins to doodle. Briefly, he glances at M&M. “See, we got a front seat to so much tea.”
“I still can't believe they were all so… sad!” Moxxie says with his trademark dramatic whine. “And then so ready to fuck Chaz again.”
“Zahc,” Blitzø corrects him while drawing Verosika's mascara running down all the way to her cleavage. He hears Stolas snort and sees him peek at the sketch over Blitzø’s shoulder.
Moxxie is still going off with his rant and because Stolas is unnecessarily polite, he discreetly whispers to Blitzø, “She was there too?”
Blitzø makes some funny gestures with his hands which cause Stolas to try and hold in his hooting laugh. Blitzø can’t figure out why he does that because Stolas’ laughter has to be one of the best sounds in the world.
“- where's the self-respect?” Moxxie's still continues to ramble like he’s having one of his usual existential crises of the week. Millie’s patting his back and Blitzø wishes she would get her rage on again because watching that is at least fun. “Even Blitzø saw through him in the end.”
Blitzø groans loudly at that. He adds some more fur to Beelzebub's tail to make it look real fluffy and flips Moxxie off over his shoulder with his other hand. “I saw through that guy right from the beginning, thank you very much, baby-dick. Just had to get some proof to save your ass.”
“Please, my room was right next to yours. Do you expect me to believe that when I heard how it took Chaz literal five seconds to convince you to fuck, and I also had to listen to all the noises you two were— Ow, Millie?”
Blitzø pauses his hand to look behind and sees Moxxie rub his side with a confused expression. Maybe Millie’s feeling wild again but taking it out on Moxxie is pretty much unheard of. She looks concerned and her eyes flicker from Moxxie to Blitzø, to Stolas—
Shit.
Blitzø doesn’t even really want to look and see the expression on his face but it’s a pure reflex to crane his neck and glance up. Crimson eyes blink at him, something unreadable on Stolas’ expression before it disappears and then he averts Blitzø’s gaze.
Fine, it’s not like Stolas doesn’t know Blitzø has a few notches on his bed. Fine, a couch — or a random bathroom in bars or clubs, or a floor, or… And fine, it’s more than a few and he doesn’t take shame in that except when all those people are gathered to have a party about hating him and Stolas is attending that party, probably thinking he’s just a notch as well.
Maybe Blitzø hasn’t explicitly told him why he attended the funeral with Moxxie and Millie — because he knew that Stolas, who has a very good memory about dates and all, has become really familiar with their case files and unfortunately Chaz was in those files as well.
Sure Blitzø made out with a bunch during their deal, mainly at Beelzebub’s party, and only because he was so drunk he couldn’t see straight. But that stupid shark was the only one in hell he fucked back then, sober and all, and he really wanted to keep that under wraps from Stolas.
Stolas coughs, in a way someone does when they don’t need to but because they feel uncomfortable.
“Oh,” he simply says. He still refuses to meet Blitzø’s eyes as he walks around the desk and pulls out some files before sitting down.
Blitzø only spares Moxxie a half a second lasting I’ll fucking kill you-glance which the younger imp at least has the decency to react with a startled squeak, before he crumbles the sketch and turns all his attention on Stolas.
“Um, Stolas—”
“Now that the funeral is over, you have one mission left for the rest of the day.” Stolas slides a paper to him without a glance, his beak down and eyes roaming over the files. As if he hasn’t memorized all of those already. “It seems quite taxing so I assume you need Loona there as well. I can keep up with the recent paperwork and answer calls while you’re away.”
That’s a given and Blitzø doesn’t need the reminder that Stolas can hold the office on his own now so why is the bird telling him this like he doesn’t want to risk Blitzø opening his mouth and trying to explaining?
He glances at Loona, like asking for help, and his daughter only mouths the words, “you fucked up,” and shrugs.
As Loona stands up from the couch and stretches, Blitzø can hear Millie whispering something to Moxxie so he looks at them again and says, “M&M, gear up, we’ll leave in five so we can get this day over with.”
Whatever expression is on his face seems to make Moxxie really nervous again so for once he doesn’t hear any complaints.
“Sure thing, B,” Millie replies, pushing her husband towards the meeting room. “Remember to give that thing to Stolas,” she adds with an overly cheerful tone.
“Oh, yeah.” Blitzø waits until he’s left alone with Stolas — who is still not looking at him — before he opens his jacket and pulls out his, thankfully not too crumbled, souvenir. “Hey, look what I snatched from the reception.”
Stolas looks up from his work and when he sees the three hell-lillies in Blitzø’s outstretched hand, his reaction is miles away from the one Blitzø hoped for. He blinks and warily glances at Blitzø. “For me?”
“Obviously, big bird! Who else?”
Stolas doesn’t even smile. Instead he frowns and even though Blitzø isn’t that good on reading macro-whatever-expressions, he can see it isn’t an angry frown but a troubled or hurt one. And that feels so much worse.
“Yeah, they probably need water and shit,” Blitøz chuckles, desperately trying to break the sour mood Stolas has going on. “Do we have a vase here?”
“You’re asking me?”
“You definitely know this place better than me by now, so yeah.”
The corners of Stolas’ beak tremble before he does give Blitzø a smile. “I wouldn’t go that far, but yes you do have a vase in your office. Did you also know you have approximately hundred horse-themed plates?”
“Fuck yeah,” Blitzø says with pride.
Stolas’ smile widens a fraction and Blitzø wants to give himself a high-five.
He offers the lilies to Stolas again. “Wanna hold on to these while I get that vase?”
“No need, you’re busy enough as it is,” Stolas replies and cradles the flowers in his hands. He looks at them like Blitzø gave him stars instead of stolen plants from a funeral. “They’re very beautiful, thank you.”
“No problem.” Blitzø knows he’ll need to do more damage control later but getting Stolas to smile is enough for now. “How about a take-out tonight?”
“Are you sure?”
“Business is really good right now so I can spoil you a little, birdie.”
Blitzø has every intention to word that differently but the faint blush on Stolas’ face is worth the cheesy line.
“You don’t need to spoil me, Blitzø.”
“Take-out it is then,” Blitzø says with a grin.
“Fine,” Stolas rolls his eyes at him but he’s still smiling.
Blitzø has the best, kindest, and smartest daughter, ever.
“Yeah, you two need to talk so I’m gonna go out with Russ,” she tells Blitzø the moment he opens the portal to Earth.
“Looney, you don’t need to.”
“I know I don’t need to but I really, really fucking want to be out of the way if you two start getting handsy. Or fight.”
“It’s not like that!” As if they are anywhere near the word ‘handsy’, imagine how cool that would be. “Wait, are we gonna fight?”
“I don’t know, dad. Depends on how you’re gonna bullshit your way out of this. And thanks by the way, I really needed to know another demon you fucked.”
“It was Moxxie’s fault!”
“Sir, again, I’m so, so sorry about that…”
“Don’t start with the ‘sir’-crap again, it’s not gonna help you. You’re banned from singing ever again in the office.”
“But—”
“And talking. For a week.”
Moxxie exhales loudly.
“And every time you let out those opera-gasps, I’ll add another week.”
It takes them around two hours to murder a whole bike-gang, but when they return and Stolas greets them, greets Blitzø, with his normal pretty voice and smile, he feels more energized than tired. It’s going to be okay. Blitzø doesn’t need to bullshit anything and they aren’t going to fight.
Maybe they don’t even need to talk about this.
Ohhkay, they definitely need to talk.
In hindsight, Blitzø maybe shouldn’t bring up the funeral again but who expects him to not spill the beans about fucking Asmodeous himself being there as well.
“Are you serious, Blitzø?”
“I swear, I’m not lying!” Blitzø tells him with his mouth full of pizza. “Glam sisters, so many of my clients, even that guy you fucked.”
Stolas, comically pausing his chewing, blinks at Blitzø. “Who?”
“That cockbag from the party?”
Blitzø should know by then that he’s treading on thin ice but he’s an idiot who wants some moral high ground, or moral high balance at least. He might have fucked Chaz during their deal but Stolas isn’t completely innocent either. Alright, maybe he didn’t fuck anyone during their situationship but he still did it when things were very much open. At least for Blitzø and his fee-fee, thanks Verosika. And no, he wasn’t jealous, he was annoyed.
Stolas doesn’t seem to be even a bit embarrassed, only confused.
“Again, who?”
Blitzø groans, dropping down his pizza slice in growing frustration. “That incubus from my anti-Blitzo party! With stupid hair and annoying voice.”
Just when Blitzø is starting to worry Stolas remembers nothing about that night, a flicker of recognition appears on the bird’s face. He lets out a pondering hum.
“And why do you think I fucked him?” he asks, shifting on the couch.
Because I saw you making out hardcore on the dance floor, Blitzø wants to say but immediately realizes how stupid that sounds. Just because he’s the kind of guy who can’t just kiss someone without it leading to fucking, or at least hands on dicks and pussies activities, it doesn’t mean Stolas is like that.
“And why are you smiling now?” Stolas asks. Now he sounds somewhat annoyed.
“N-no reason.”
Blitzø feels so enormously relieved that he can’t even mourn the loss of that moral high ground.
His relief doesn’t last long though because he quickly becomes aware of the mood shift in his apartment, evoked by Stolas pushing away his own pizza box and standing up with clear tension in his posture. He’s, again, avoiding looking at Blitzø.
“I’m going to take a bath.”
“Stolas, wait. Waitwaitwaaait,” Blitzø sputters as he jumps over the back of the couch and blocks Stolas’ way to bathroom. “I’m sorry.”
“For what exactly? Assuming? For being happy about how miserable I was that night?”
“What— Fuck no, why would you say that?”
Stolas tries to move past him but thanks to Blitzø’s amazing side-stepping skills, he prevents that and Stolas lets out a frustrated thrill which would be adorable in another situation. He turns around and tries to escape through a different route. As he circles the couch, Blitzø once again jumps over it and steps in front of him.
“Would you stop that?” Stolas snaps at him, the feathers on his neck ruffling like he’s trying to make himself look intimidating.
“You’re way too eager to always run away and I’m supposed to be the emotionally constipated guy here.”
“I just don’t want to have this talk.”
“You never do and I’m not a fan either but it seems like we gotta, Stols.” When Stolas turns around again, Blitzø knows he’ll get tired of this acrobat-routine in the next two seconds so he chooses to grab Stolas’ wrist instead. “Tell me why you’re angry at me.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t try to bullshit me.”
“I’m not! I’m angry at myself!” Stolas tries to jerk his wrist out of Blitzø’s grasp but Blitzø holds on tight.
“That’s even more bullshit.”
When Stolas doesn’t answer him, he weakens his hold enough to slide his fingers down from the frail wrist to those long talons. He gently pries Stolas’ clenched fist open and attempts to intertwine their fingers but Stolas uses that moment to pull his hand away entirely and fuck, that hurts. It’s like a bitch-slap directly to Blitzø’s heart and then he remembers that night at Ozzie’s when he pulled his own hand away from Stolas — the memory changes that bitch-slap into a proper fist and his chest trembles with the impact.
Stolas doesn’t attempt to flee again - instead he stands there with his back towards Blitzø and the overwhelming deja vu of that makes him speak.
“I’m sorry, okay,” Blitzø says with a small voice. “About all that. Assuming. Hurting you then and hurting you today.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Stolas answers. After a heavy pause, he softly adds, “Least of all for today.”
“I saw how you reacted, I’m not that dumb. But I really, really mean it when I say that guy was a bad lay.”
Stolas glances over his shoulder. He isn’t crying but he looks so pained that Blitzø wishes he was brave enough to try hold his hand again. Instead, he keeps talking.
“Like, the worst I’ve ever had. Too fucking focused on his own dick, which by the way wasn’t even that big, and didn’t know how to use that mouth. Or teeth. Actually, he used those way too much so fucking serves him right he lost them. And the shit ton of times he slapped me with that tail, christ on a stick. That thing was huge and not in a good way. And when I told him to chill out, it was like I wasn’t even there. I guess I could have beat him up when it hurt but hey, the whole thing got me the keys to—”
Then, Stolas’ hands are on his cheeks, effectively shutting him up. He has folded his long legs under his body so he’s kneeling right in front of Blitz, looking at him with hypnotic, unblinking stare.
“Oh, hey there, birdie,” Blitzø says. He feels his tail, which turned rigid at some point during their talk, starting to relax and then sway lazily.
“He hurt you?” Stolas asks. His trembling voice and gentle hands on Blitzø’s face are a weird contrast to how serious he looks.
“Not like that.”
“But you just said it hurt.”
“Well yeah, he was really fucking bad in bed,” Blitzø snorts despite himself. “Didn’t know what to do with his dick.”
“And you told him to stop.”
Blitzø suddenly feels uncomfortably vulnerable and he isn’t entirely sure if they way Stolas starts to caress his cheeks makes that worse or better.
“Not in those words—”
“But you at least asked him to slow down and he didn’t?”
“I guess?” Blitzø answers unsurely. It seems like the wrong answer because Stolas frowns, seemingly hurt again. “It’s fine, Stols, really—”
“No, it’s not,” he says with enough vigor to shut Blitzø up completely. “That fucking bastard. Oh lords, I’m a fucking bastard as well. I only thought of myself and my own feelings, again. Blitzø, I’m so sorry.”
“Hey,” Blitzø says and holds Stolas’ wrists. “You don’t get to apologize if I can’t do it first. And you’re…” he doesn’t know why the absolute truth is so hard to say out loud, even now. “...the best sex I’ve ever had. Every time. So don’t you dare compare.”
There’s a small flush on Stolas’ feathery cheeks. What do you know, saying stuff out loud might actually be worth it.
“I don’t have much experience to compare —”
Thank Satan.
“—but um. The feeling is mutual.” Stolas gives him an almost bashful smile and Blitzø swears his dick has never gotten so hard, so embarrassingly fast.
“Aside from that,” Stolas decided to continue talking (Blitzø’s dick flinches in disappointment). “As I said before, you don’t owe me any apologies. Our… agreement didn’t include any rules regarding other sexual partners. And, as I’ve also said before, the whole deal in itself wasn’t right. So, you don’t need to worry about hurting my feelings.”
Blitzø gives him a look which makes Stolas sigh in defeat.
“Very well, yes, I was momentarily hurt today but I was not angry at you. It was extremely petty of me and I apologize for making you worry, just because of my own selfish feelings.”
“Selfish feelings, like... jealousy?” Blitzø tries to keep his tone as neutral as possible. But he can’t keep his body in check at the same time because his hands are moving down to Stolas’ arms, lightly squeezing the feathers there.
That movement seems to make Stolas aware of how he’s still holding Blitzø’s face in his hands but, despite the clear conflict on his face, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he slides his right hand onto Blitzø’s horn and scratches the keratin gently with his talons. “I suppose so,” he softly says.
“No reason for that, Stols.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m only absolutely livid right now for what he did to you.”
“Stop saying it like that, he didn’t molest me or whatever,” Blitzø scoffs.
“I never said he did that, I’m saying he hurt you so please stop trying to convince me it was anything less.” Stolas looks at him gently and isn’t that the ultimate boner-killer? Nothing nicer than having the love— the lay— the bird of your life looking at you with pity, like you’re a toddler who fell down. And here Blitzø thought they were getting somewhere.
He’s about to roll his eyes but his brain hits breaks and a stone-wall when he feels Stolas’ beak grace his forehead in a kiss, right where the circus mark is. The gesture is so sudden and embarrassingly thrilling that his claws on the feathered arm twitch, making Stolas let out a small gasp.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t scratch you, did I?” Blitzø asks and inspects Stolas’ arms in concern. Stolas ceases his fretting by taking Blitzø’s hands and intertwining their fingers together, as if apologizing for denying it from Blitzø before.
“I’m fine,” Stolas says, squeezing his fingers. “Actually, indulge me for a moment. What if, during one of our full moons, I called safe word–”
“You did it like once.”
“— and you ignored me?”
“That would’ve been a fucking shitty thing to do.”
Stolas nods in agreement, giving Blitzø a pointed look.
“Wha— you can’t compare those two!”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m good at sex!”
“You’re absolutely ridiculous. Ignoring your sex-partners’ feelings in bed isn’t a disability. Imagine if I would have fucked that incubus and he didn’t listen when I asked him to stop. Would you call that being ‘bad at sex’?”
Blitzø’s tail slashes sharply. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
“I didn’t say he did, this is a thought experiment,” Stolas sighs rather dramatically before he shoots Blitzø a half-hearted glare. “And bold of you to call me out on my jealousy when you’re just as jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. If someone does shit like that to you, I’ll kill them. End of fucking story.”
Stolas lets out a thrill, this time a pleased one, though he still has a frown on his face, looking both happy and conflicted.
“It baffles me how you can be so kind and protective when it comes to others but fail to give yourself the same treatment,” he says and slightly squeezes Blitzø’s cheek. His fingers then caress the scarred skin. “But I suppose it’s something you can only fix within time, not one night. Just… please remember that if someone hurts you like that, in bed or otherwise, I’ll make them regret.”
An untamed laughter escapes from Blitzø and the sound makes Stolas drop his hand. Blitzø takes that hand and puts it back on his cheek, closing his eyes and nuzzling against it. He wants to tell Stolas how it’s going to snow in Hell before he lets anyone who’s not Stolas that close to him again so there’s no need for Stolas to declare all this.
Instead he says with a smirk, “How exactly would you do that, huh? Cut them in line? Break their washing machine?”
Stolas lets out one of his weird annoyed sounds that sounds like a mix of chirp and growl. Blitzø laughs again and when Stolas huffs in his usual pretentious style, Blitzø doesn’t only want but needs to kiss him.
It feels like an unfair desire because he knows how hard this all still is for Stolas. He doesn’t need a horny imp to deal with but support and care.
Stolas just needs.
A lot of love.
Blitzø doesn’t know if he’s the right person to give Stolas that. He does have it, so much of it, and it’s there for Stolas to take any time. But should something as big and amazing as love really come from a guy who has been hurt so many times he, apparently, can’t even see the difference between bad sex and a fucking (ha) assault?
“Hey, Stols?”
“If you’re going to continue making fun of me, I’ll have you know I can throw away all your horse-decoration without any magic.”
Blitzø stares at his scarred hand and it suddenly looks so ugly resting there against Stolas’ own. He doesn’t really notice how quiet Stolas has gone as well. He can only focus on the drowning feelings of regret and guilt, and the longer he stares at their hands together the more those feelings attempt to suffocate him. His eyes sting and he moves his hands away.
Stolas doesn’t let him. He tightens his hold on Blitzø’s fingers and it’s so typical of Stolas that Blitzø has to bite his lip so he won’t cry.
Stolas always holds on when Blitzø doesn’t expect him to.
“I don’t know where your mind went there but please,” Stolas whispers to him. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry,” Blitzø says. He isn’t exactly sure why he’s apologizing but he can count with one hand the times he has said those words and meant them as much as he does now.
Stolas seems to really understand the head-space he’s in because he hears the bird hush him gently and pull him closer so Blitzø’s forehead is resting against his shoulder. It’s a slightly awkward angle so Blitzø lets his legs give out so he’s kneeling down like Stolas. It gives him more space to shuffle so he can lean against Stolas’ chest. The feathers that peek out from the cut of Stolas’ shirt rub against Blitzø’s face and that sensation is the sweetest comfort Blitzø has ever felt aside from his mom’s hugs. The way those feathers smell like the same soap Blitzø uses is a nice plus.
“Oh, darling,” he hears Stolas say and his whole body shudders with that old pet name. He nuzzles his forehead against Stolas’ chest because he can’t answer with words. He squeezes Stolas’ hand too, just in case.
He doesn’t entirely know what this non-verbal answer means but it’s something he wants to convey to Stolas anyway. Maybe it’s a “thanks for being here,” or “I missed your touch,” or it’s another “I’m sorry”.
Or “I really fucking love you even though I don’t deserve to”.
He blames the mind-numbing effect Stolas’ feathers have on him for not being able to actually say any of those things out loud. But maybe Stolas understands him loud and clear anyway because he doesn’t let go, breathing out comforting bird-sounds against Blitzø’s horns.
Blitzø doesn’t know how long they stay like that.
He’s brave enough to speak again when he feels like the muddy thoughts have stopped drowning him alive.
“It sucked,” he says with a hoarse voice.
“What did?” Stolas whispers against his horns.
“The whole fucking thing but you still don’t know all the reasons why it sucked. He didn’t have a stupid beak or big red eyes or feather-tits—”
“Tits—”
“No bird-puss or long legs which are always in the way, or embarrassing dirty talk. I’m ruined and it’s your fucking fault, you asshole.”
Blitzø is mostly joking because that’s what he does best when he’s terrified of admitting something big and heavy — he knows he’s ruined but Stolas was never the cause of that.
He feels Stolas nip his horn gently and then he’s leaning back so he can dip his chin to look at Blitzø. His gentle stare strangely doesn’t scare Blitzø anymore, instead he feels like he can’t look away.
“Thank you for telling me,” Stolas says softly. Blitzø feels like he could fall asleep listening to that soft tone. “And don’t say that you’re ruined. You’re not. Ever. You’re you, perfect just as you are.”
Leave it Stolas to ignore the obvious romantic intention Blitzø tried to pull out his ass.
Stupid, dumb bird.
“You’re smiling again,” Stolas says as they stare at each other. “Thank Lucifer.”
“You can’t seriously think I’m perfect,” Blitzø chooses to ridicule the bird before he blurts out how much he loves the bird.
“I could live without the belittling names you’ve invented for my bodyparts.”
“Those were compliments,” Blitzø tells him sincerely and slips out his tongue in satisfaction when Stolas’ laughter echoes in his living room.
“And you could have more faith in me,” Stolas says. He must sense the heartfelt protest Blitzø is ready to give him because he continues, “Even without my powers I have many ways to cause pain to those you dare to hurt you. Thankfully that fucker is already dead.”
Blitzø barely manages to file away for later the amount of horny he feels hearing Stolas say ‘fucker’.
“Oh, he’s not really dead,” Blitzø can say that to Stolas because denying it was really only to mess with Moxxie and Millie.
“Excuse me.”
The soft and sweet Stolas has gone eerily still.
“He faked his death.”
“Oh. Alright.”
Stolas gently squeezes Blitzø’s hands before lifting them up to bestow a kiss on them. Blitzø’s tail twitches like crazy and the rest of his body isn’t doing any better, shivering like a virgin maiden during her first time seeing a man’s wrist or something.
Satan-damn it all, he needs that beak on his mouth and tongue right the fuck now.
“I’ll kill him right now,” Stolas declares just as Blitzø is ready to grab his face and drag him into a kiss.
“Wha?”
“Yes,” Stolas says calmly as he stands up from the floor. He straightens his blouse and clears his throat. “He lives in Greed, right? You don’t need to see him ever again but I’m afraid I do need your crystal to portal there.”
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Blitzø says from the bottom of his heart but that doesn’t help him to hold in a wide, probably a really love-sick, smile.
“If you’re not going to help me, then I will take a cap there for all I care.”
“With whose money?” Blitzø stands up as well, smoothly slinking closer to his bird. Stolas doesn’t seem to notice him. “Mine?”
“Do not joke about this,” Stolas says. It’s no doubt he’s actually really serious about this avenge-for-Blitzø’s-honor-plan because he outright ignores the flirty way Blitzø strokes his hip. “I’ve never been this furious in my life and I’ll do anything I can to make sure that disgusting creature will choke on his own dick.”
“You’re my hero, Stols.”
“Seriously, Blitz… Oh—”
The moment Stolas finally glances at him, Blitzø is ready with all of his limbs and tail. He pulls Stolas into his arms — well, drags him down because no horny intention can erase the fact the bird is tall as fuck — and kisses him hard. He swallows Stolas’ surprise, tastes it and all the familiar corners of his mouth with his tongue. It takes only a few seconds for Stolas to turn into absolutely puddy and then his tongue is finally participating in the play Blitz’s own is doing in his mouth. He feels Stolas collapse back onto his knees before the long talons are stroking his neck and face, then pulling on his shirt and horns to get Blitzø closer than physically possible.
Blitzø is good at defying stuff like logic though, so he tries his hardest to keep Stolas glued to him, too. His tail is snaking around Stolas’ waist and dragging his body against Blitzø’s own, in a rhythm mimicking the pace their tongues are stroking each other in. His hand is on Stolas’ chest and while he can’t help but momentarily think about how dirty his scarred hand must look on Stolas’ beautiful feathers — wow, this thing that never caused any insecurities for him before, is definitely going to be a thing now, isn’t it? — he’s not going to let that stop him, ever. He tugs on that chest-fluff and the moan Stolas lets out into his mouth is enough to chase away any remaining ugly thoughts.
After some more pulling and stroking, and kissing like they could lost in it forever, Blitzø absolutely has to pull away and pant like dog, because breathing through his nose is not working anymore with how hot and heavy he feels.
His eyes roam over Stolas’ face. He has a blissed out expression and all of his four eyes are closed as he inhales and exhales irregularly. When Blitzø strokes his cheeks, he opens his eyes and blushes so intensely that his whole face is turns red. Blitz hasn’t seen that look for so many months and he could weep at the realization of how much he’s missed it.
“You were saying?” Blitzø asks him with a smirk.
“I…” Stolas tries to gather his thoughts but whatever he could have found seems to disappear when Blitzø takes his hand and presses wet kisses to his talons. “I was… saying something?”
Blitzø hums and wraps his tongue around the longest talon. Stolas moans, not as high and loud as Blitzø knows he can but they’ll get there.
“I don’t remember anymore,” he says with a shaky exhale. Blitzø scratches the side of his neck and moves his kisses from Stolas’ talons to his wrist. “Words are… so unnecessary anyway.”
“Yours aren’t,” Blitzø speaks against the feathers on Stolas’s arm before he looks up at that heart-shaped face. “I like them and sometimes they’re really needed because I can’t do half the time. But right now I just need you, Stols. Need you here, with me.”
It’s as close to ‘I love you’ as Blitzø can get right now and he hopes Stolas hears it.
10% of it might be ‘Your revenge mood is really fucking hot but don’t go hitch-hiking to Greed’ too.
“Blitzø,” Stolas chitters, wrapping his arms around Blitzø’s shoulders and kissing the corner of his mouth. “I need you too, constantly, so why would I ever leave your side?”
He then uses all the power he has in his hollow bones and drags Blitzø properly onto the floor as they kiss again.
His tail curls into weird shapes in the air, doing that embarrassing stuff it only does when he’s with Stolas. He’s too happy to feel annoyed about it.
Fucking A. He heard me.