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Stolas carried Blitzø all the way back to the palace. The imp barely noticed when the Goetic prince dropped his employees off at their respective homes— instead occupying himself with swirling his tongue against the owl’s in an attempt to distract himself from the night’s events.
The high from fighting their way through the human guards- compounded by the aftereffects of whatever drugs those two humans had pumped Moxxie and him full of- was wearing off. Stolas could likely feel the way his heart was pounding as his body and mind began coming down from their drug-induced trip, the slight tremor like little jolts of electricity coursing through his limbs. He compensated by digging his fingers deeper into the owl’s chest feathers, claws scraping the sensitive skin underneath and provoking a full-body shudder of pleasure from the prince. His tail curled tighter around the royal’s thin arm in a desperate attempt to ground himself.
“Oh… Blitzø !” Stolas moaned into his mouth, barely audible over what sounded like the thundering of a thousand wings beating in the imp’s eardrums. The Goetic prince was so close to him that it was hard to breathe— his throat choked by the heavy golden collar around his neck that evaded Blitzø’s grasp when he reached up to rip it off of him. His claws only grazed his own neck; but the inability to take in a full lungful of air was becoming more and more of an issue.
“Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?” Crooned the raptor with four glowing red eyes, its voice mocking him, taunting him. The assassin gasped against the lack of air, frantically lashing out at Stolas’ hands on his forearms that had suddenly turned to golden manacles on his hands and- and- and Blitzø couldn’t pull away. The chains held taut when he recoiled, rattling and ringing in his ears over the frantic pounding in his chest.
Moxxie’s voice echoed in his ears amidst the cacophany. “You simply cannot fathom proper intimacy, but also crave it as well.” The raptor now was dragging Blitzø closer by the chain attached to the heavy gold collar, its ravenous shadow loomed behind the raptor’s golden throne, red eyes thirsting for blood, gleaming ruby-like with smug superiority to him—
And full of worry.
“Blitzø?” Stolas’ voice was tentative and soft, quiet against the ringing in his ears that was dying down.
It was like he had blinked and the world settled around him on a shaky axis. It was blurry and his eyes burned like someone had poured an eyedropper full of acid into them. Four red shapes were able to be distinguished— Stolas’ eyes. They weren’t topside anymore, the imp recognized the prince’s bedroom well enough from all the time he spent there. His back was propped against the owl’s headboard, his host sitting in front of him with his legs folded underneath. How long had they been there? What had happened?
“Darling?” Came that oh-so-tender inquiry “Are you with me?” Blitzø’s stomach churned violently at Stolas’ voice— and if his stomach wasn’t already empty it would have just done so all over the prince’s duvet.
He swallowed with a dry throat, stomach feeling like cement had been poured into it, and attempted to respond— only for his words to stick in his throat. In his need to answer, the assassin settled with a slow and jerky nod.
Stolas’ eyes were round with concern. Blitzø didn’t want the prince’s sympathy. Loathing curled like a viper in his chest at the idea of having been seen so weak. The imp consciously commanded his legs and tail to move— legs forming a physical barrier to his heart, arms wrapping around them. His tail followed suit, coiling around his body, its tip flicking agitatedly. The movements caused aches and pains his body had ignored to flare up all across his body. He must have winced, because the owl’s eyes widened in worry— a hand reaching for him.
“Are you hurt?” His voice had an edge of desperation to it, but it was all wrong. It wasn’t desperation to be fucked harder, no. It was a plaintive plea for him to open up, to lay himself bare before another and let them utterly destroy him after they had taken what they wanted. The idea of it had Blitzø’s lip curling back into a snarl, a hiss slipping through defensively bared teeth. “Blitzy, what’s wrong?” Stolas was hardly phased. His outreached hand lowered, but all the concern remained on his face.
“Don’t!” All his emotions building up in his chest exploded in a single shout. His tail tip pointed like a weapon at the prince, claws digging so tight into his pants it was a wonder they didn’t tear. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Stolas wasn’t meant to worry over him, he wasn’t supposed to care. The wings were back, fluttering in his eardrums and suffocating him with their feathers. Blitzø gasped for breath, the world around him quaked and he was nothing in comparison— worthless, useless, terrified…
“ Blitzo ,” A voice cut through the fog, authoritative and commanding his attention “Look at me.” It demanded the imp obey, and when his vision came back into focus, Stolas was towering over him. He craned his head up to look at the prince, heart stuttering in his chest for a moment. He caught a glimpse of the same look the owl had worn earlier that evening— the stone-cold and powerful Goetic prince. The look was gone before he could blink, replaced again by nothing but worry. “Blitzy,” That gentleness was back, as if the assassin was breakable glass in his talons “Tell me what happened.” His voice promised nothing but understanding and compassion, and it scared the imp.
His breath caught in his throat, heart pounding in his chest as he teetered on the knife’s edge of giving into the instincts warring within him; to fight against the perceived threat (but Stolas wasn’t a threat to him), or to flee (the raptor would never allow him such easy escape). It was too much— all too much.
“Shut the fuck up!” The imp exploded, the words ripping their way from his throat with their jagged claws and horns scraping against his insides. Stolas blinked, and Blitzø seethed, “Stop fucking doing this! Stop acting like you give a shit about me!” The owl flinched when the assassin’s tail unfurled like a whip cracking, lashing agitatedly. “Because I know you don’t-” his voice broke off into a choked sound, eyes blurring with tears. He hid them, pressing his face to his knees and wrapping his arms and tail tighter around himself as if it would protect him from the owl seeing him brought so low.
He went stiff when he became aware of a light pressure on his horn, pushing down and turning his head up in turn. Before Blitzø could jerk his head away, a hand gently caught his chin and held his face up to where Stolas was looking at him. The owl looked upset— genuinely upset.
“Blitzø,” the prince sighed, chin tilting down and away from the imp as he averted his gaze for a moment “ What makes you think I don’t care?” The question was spoken softly, almost mournfully. Those big, red eyes met the assassin’s gaze again, and he was drowning in their soulful depths.
“The book,” Blitzø replied scornfully. Favors for favors , that’s all that it ever was. A trade. “You only came for us because of that damn book.” He growled, jerking his head free of Stolas’ grasp. “You said it yourself.” He added in a low, bitter murmur, resting his chin on his knees again and glaring at the duvet beneath the two of them.
Silence, uncomfortable and thick, filled the master bedroom. Blitzø’s tail found itself laying limp, the defensive posturing now nowhere to be found.
“I… admit… that when all this began, I never would have expected this sort of outcome.” Stolas confessed quietly, shoulders slumping. Blitzø sighed, eyes shifting to watch the owl. “You know just how shitty my marriage is— and I thought I could use you as a reprieve. Something fresh, something that wasn’t a loveless marriage.” He gave a hollow hoot of laughter.
“Your subconscious tells you you can’t fathom proper intimacy, but you also crave it.” Blitzø did crave it— Satan knows he did. He wanted to be loved— really loved. Like how Moxxie and Millie loved each other. Like he never had been. Stolas loved him, but it was purely physical. Using him for sex, and using the book to keep him coming back— facts that were being confirmed right before his very eyes. The imp’s knuckles turned white as he looked away from the Goetic prince. New tears burned his eyes, and he shuddered in a stubborn attempt to bite down the sob that fought its way to the surface.
The imp turned his back to Stolas, scrubbing at his teastreaked face as he shifted towards the edge of the bed. He’d heard enough; it was time to leave.
“Blitzø, wait- ” a feathered hand grabbed his upper arm, the prince’s voice high and desperate and oh-so plainative “Let me finish… please .” He pleaded, and the assassin scowled.
“Fine.” He agreed, despite telling himself that his mind was made on the matter.
Stolas’ anxiety was palpable as he averted the assassin’s gaze. “At first, yes, this began as an exchange… Yet despite it, I found it has become so, so much more.” Honesty replaced the anxiety, the owl’s red eyes wide as he talked. “I’ve seen what a strong, independant, and wonderful person you are. You’ve managed to prove yourself despite odds stacked against you, and I admire that among the many other qualities you possess.” His hand slid down the other’s arm until it rested atop the back of Blitzø’s; the offer and desire were clear.
The imp hesitated— the urge to pull away was strong, but so was the want for… more…
“…Like what?” He asked, voice small, hesitant.
The prince smiled softly; a small, adoring coo escaped his beak “You care for others, despite your tough exterior,” it was like a sledgehammer blow to the assassin’s defenses as Stolas earnestly continued “and you never let what others say put you down. Whenever you’ve met opposition, you’ve never hesitated to spit in its face.” For a moment, the owl hesitated, before murmuring low with averted eyes, “I wish I could be the same way…”
Blitzø blinked hard, finding himself gripping Stolas’ hand back. The Goetic prince looked at him, eyes widening in surprise and their hands parted moments before a featherlight touch brushed away the imp’s stray tear that had rolled down his cheek.
“It is alright to cry,” The royal reassured him, hand cradling the side of his face. “You’re safe here.”
And despite his attempts to hold back further tears, he found he simply couldn’t anymore. A dam had been broken tonight, releasing with it a torrent of emotions. Stolas didn’t mock him for it, didn’t look down on him. The prince simply wiped his tears and gently spoke reassurances.
When he had cried himself dry, with his tail wrapped around Stolas’ wrist, Blitzø closed his eyes and looked away.
“Sorry…”
“Please, don’t be. You needed it.” Came the gentle answer, full of understanding.
The assassin thought for a moment, “Well… maybe I need a distraction now. You still down for me fucking your brains out?” He offered.
The way the owl’s eyes lit up at the proposal was answer enough, and Blitzø wasted no time pouncing on Stolas— who was all too eager to reciprocate.
Afterwards was a familiar scene. Bedsheets rumpled and covered in fluids; toys and bindings discarded onto the floor as the two of them sat on the bed, smoking.
The Goetic prince took a drag, before exhaling a ring of smoke that slowly dissipated into the air. “I’d be happy to give you a salve.” He offered.
“It’ll heal just fine on its own,” Blitzø shrugged. “Not my first time getting tazed, not gonna be the last.” He didn’t miss the momentary flash of disappointment on the other’s face, and blew a cloud of smoke at him.
Stolas’ face wrinkled up, waving a hand to clear the obstruction “I suppose that is true in your line of work.” He conceded “You must be more careful though.”
The assassin glared at him “We’re plenty careful,” He replied “Those fuckers just got the jump on us good this time.”
The corners of the owl’s beak turned downwards “And there’s no telling if or when the next time is.” He aired the clear omission.
“Don’t get your bird puss in a knot so soon after I pounded it,” Blitzø waved his cigarette as he spoke.
“Wouldn’t you like that?” Stolas responded coyly, frown replaced with a smirk, before returning the previous favor and blowing smoke into the imp’s face.
“Fuck you.” Blitzø grumbled with a cough, “I’ll admit I’m too beat for another round, you’ll have to settle for jacking yourself off.” He put out his cigarette, before settling himself more under the sheets.
“Woe is me,” The owl sighed theatrically, the duvet being pulled up around them both with a wave of his hand. “…Would you like to stay the night?” He offered suddenly, sounding nervously hopeful “Stella is away.”
Blitzø turned onto his side “Sure,” He agreed after a second of mulling it over “Now shut the hell up and let me sleep.” He said, receiving a soft hoot of laughter.
“Of course. Sweet dreams.” Stolas agreed.
Right as the imp felt sleep begin to claim him, he heard the owl add the three words that had scared him shitless for years, and never imagined he’d hear them spoken so earnestly again.
“I love you.”
A long-foreign warmth fluttered to life in his chest, hopeful and tentative. So much had changed in one night, and he had no idea where it would lead.
Maybe it was something good, this time around?