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“You know what I fucking can’t stand?”
Stolas blinked, only turning his head as the window to one of his guest bedrooms was shoved wide, a familiar form ducking in through the allotted space at an awkward angle.
That’s right.
Full moon.
He’d forgotten after the first bloody hurdle of his day.
“I do believe the list is quite extensive,” Stolas answered with a weary lilt to his tone, wondering how Blitzø had even known he was here and not in his bedroom. He was laid flat on his stomach upon the bed, out of every fuck to give in the universe.
“I can’t fucking stand, fucking bad fucking days,” Blitzø ground out, standing by the window with dripping wet attire. He looked marginally pathetic, save for the fact he was glaring at the wall opposite with his shoulders hiked up, spines jutting out and fists balled, pupils narrowed into slits.
Stolas lifted his head a little, never having seen the Imp so blatantly riled without mouthing off or tearing into something.
Or someone.
He knew he should move, help the soggy Imp just standing there but he was too worn down. “There’s towels in the cupboard.”
Blitzø trudged over to said hot press, sifting through several folded bed sheets before tugging out a pale blue towel. He unfurled it with a huff, roughly rubbing his face before draping it over his horns.
“You’d think after so many years of bitch-ass misery, I’d catch a fucking break, but nah. I can’t catch anything but a shitty fucking bullet,” he griped as Stolas squinted at the window, curious as to how exactly the Imp had managed to climb up there.
He was used to Blitzø scaling the balcony to his bedroom, but this side of the palace was barren for the most part.
There was a crack of thunder and Stolas shook his head as Blitzø growled, locking the latch as the storm outside continued to rage on.
“Bullet?” Stolas echoed, giving the smaller demon a once-over as the admission registered.
Blitzø shrugged as he tilted his head into the towel he was using to dry off his horns before wrapping it around his shoulders. “Would’a been more effective if they’d shot me in the fucking face,” he muttered, placing a palm over his left pectoral with a grimace. “Popped me one in the fucking chest. Do you know how fucking long it takes to fish out a bullet from your own fucking body? Too fucking long.”
Stolas floundered mentally, confused by the information being relayed and the sight of Blitzø ranting on as though it were nothing to worry about.
“Are you telling me you climbed up here with a bullet wound?!” he finally exclaimed, exasperation biting at him as Blitzø glanced at the window then shrugged again.
“Yeah, fucking smarts,” Blitzø stated flatly, staring ahead at nothing as he stood there idly. “Think I’ve torn my stitches. They weren’t all that neat to begin with. Anyway I broke my fucking phone, and Millie confiscated my keys to the office so needed to let you know that you should go get your Grimoire from the safe since I’m fucked for the time being. None of those fucking assholes will let me back into work until I ‘recover’.”
Stolas dumbly nodded, watching as Blitzø slumped onto the edge of the bed, towel still hanging off him. “So what’s your fucking grief?” he half-demanded, kicking off his boots and starting to undress.
“Ugh,” was all Stolas could reply with, returning to face-planting the pillow. He waited a few seconds before inhaling deeply and shifting a little. “Call from Stella. Call from Father. Call from Andrealphus who called on behalf of Stella. Octavia turned a staff member to stone this morning by accident. She’s now insisting on wearing sunglasses around the house and staying in her room as much as possible lest she ‘petrify the populous of Pride’. I set my room alight by mistake and… oh yes. One of my plants swallowed my phone so we’re both suffering in that department.”
“That’s a shit fucking day.”
“Well, it could have been worse,” Stolas mused flatly, casting Blitzø a look. “I could have gotten shot.” He watched as Blitzø wrapped the bath sheet fully around his naked form before falling backwards upon the bed and then shuffling up to the headboard with a wince.
“Fuck… I gotta be fucking honest with you, Stolas. I don’t think-”
“If you even suggest sex I will throw you back out that window,” Stolas interrupted with a huff, turning away.
The quiet was a little tense after that, and he wondered if, in fact, he’d been a little harsh. He puffed out his cheeks and glared at the wall before scooting closer to the Imp who was just sat there cross-legged, quietly folding over the concave end of his tail.
Stolas sighed softly, resting his head against the Imp’s naked thigh, the flesh cold and damp still. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Nah,” Blitzø mumbled, lifting his free hand and running his claws through Stolas’ head feathers. “Lost my appetite hours ago. You?”
Stolas shook his head. “I have suffered the same fate, unfortunately.”
“Is your room completely fucked?” Blitzø asked, looking around the much smaller guest bedroom.
“Goodness no, I just can’t stand the smell of burnt paper and fabric right now. That and I can’t be bothered to clean it up.”
“How’d you manage that anyway?”
Stolas groaned, the memory unpleasant and marginally embarrassing. “I knocked a candle over when passing my vanity and didn’t notice until half-way through my bath.”
“Ouch.”
“I extinguished it then simply moved into here. I do not wish to deal with it.”
“You uh… want me to go in there and-”
Stolas whined quietly, wrapping his arms around Blitzø’s waist. “No. You are where you belong.”
“Can I get under the blanket then? It’s fucking freezing.”
Stolas reluctantly let him go, shuffling onto all fours so that he could pull the covers back and slip under them himself. The guest bed wasn’t as big as his own, but it was still warm and still large enough to fit them both. Blitzø took up such little space, it was impossible to be that fussed over the change.
“Whose room is this?” Blitzø asked, sounding a little miffed as he settled down with care.
“No-one’s,” Stolas replied airily, tucking an arm under his cheek as he turned to face the Imp. “How bad are your stitches?”
“They’re fine, I got the towel in case.”
“I don’t care about the bed, Blitzø.”
“I know.”
Stolas exhaled at length as Blitzø scooted closer, tail draping over a feathered thigh as he mirrored the owl’s position.
“Sorry you had a fucked up day, Stolas.”
“I’m sorry you had a bad day, too, darling,” Stolas murmured, reaching out to deftly peek under the towelling. He winced at the bandages and pouted lightly as Blitzø shrugged him away with a grimace.
“It’s nothing.”
“I hope you killed whoever did that.”
“Course,” Blitzø muttered, lashes lowered to the point that Stolas could almost count each individual one.
“You’re so very pretty, Blitzø,” he praised, voice barely above a whisper.
He got a raised eyebrow in reply. “You inhale too much fucking smoke back there?”
“I wish,” Stolas tutted, mind going back to the gruelling events of his day. “I miss my phone.”
“Yeah, how you gonna get that back?”
“Wait for it to be spat back out, I suppose.”
“Fuck that, just order a new one.”
Stolas whined again, not wanting to go through the rigmarole of having to do so.
“I wish I had mine,” Blitzø grumbled, shifting to lay on his back again. “I’d be watching those fucking bottle videos right now.”
“Bottle videos?”
“Yeah. You know… the fucking ASMR’s where they roll fucking glass bottles and jars down staircases? See when they smash or if they even do?”
Stolas stared at his small lover with a blank mind, lost and partially confounded. “Why in Hell would anyone-”
“It’s just fucking chill to watch, Stolas.”
“What kind of bottles?”
“I don’t know, I never really paid fucking attention to what was in ‘em. Sand- those always break fucking easy. Beer, cider, wine… fucking… anything, really. Jars are usually olives or shit like that.”
“How peculiar.”
“Fuck it, let’s make your plant vomit your phone up.”
“It won’t be in a digestive system, Blitzø. It’ll just be somewhere.”
“Shouldn’t that kill your damn fucking plant?”
“Most likely.”
“Wow. You really don’t give a fuck today, huh.”
Stolas exhaled at length, having closed his eyes as Blitzø continued to natter on. “No, I really do not.”
The quiet ate up the space between them again, though it was not tense this time and Stolas hooted softly as he registered Blitzø draping his shorter body across and over him, outstretched arms dangling off the side of the bed.
The weight was pleasant and Stolas ended up laying flat on his stomach again, Blitzø doing nothing more than lifting himself in order to allow for the adjustment. Now the Imp was laying across Stolas’ lower back, and there was a gentle lull to the room that was near-serene.
Blitzø’s tail was constantly oscillating over the quilt that was mostly off the shorter’ demons body and Stolas absentmindedly caught it, feeling Blitzø still upon contact.
“What you doing?”
Stolas emitted a noncommittal note, idly folding the concave tip and brushing the pad of his thumb over the smooth flesh.
“It’s a lot softer than I expected,” Stolas mused, stroking along the prehensile appendage before Blitzø slipped free of Stolas’ grasp. “I take it it’s sensitive, too.”
“Fuck off.”
Stolas tittered quietly, folding his arms under his chin as he merely lay there. He grunted as Blitzø clambered round, flopping atop him properly and nuzzling into the back of the owl’s head before scooting forward and burying his face into Stolas’ neck and shoulder.
The Prince lifted his chin in order for scarred arms to settle atop his own and he rest his cheek upon them, unable to resist pressing a kiss to warm ivory skin.
It earned him a whisper-quiet purr and Stolas smiled despite his heavy heart, fluffing up as Blitzø rubbed their cheeks together.
“Should do this more often,” Stolas murmured, a tiny chirp escaping his as Blitzø took to grooming the fine florentine feathers blanketing the side of Stolas’ face.
“What, have shitty days?” Blitzø joked, lightly preening the owl who was thoroughly enjoying the attention. “Kinda chill, just hanging out like this.”
“Mhm.”
“Sorry about not being able to fuck like we usually would, being a full moon and all. Couldn’t even bring the fucking book.”
Stolas clicked his tongue, bumping against Blitzø’s cheek with his beak. “I honestly do not care, darling. Your company is everything I need right now.”
“Yeah… kinda just wanted to be with you, too,” Blitzø admitted lowly, sinking into Stolas’ frame. “You’re really comfy.”
“I make a good mattress, do I?”
“Mhm. Getting fucking sleepy like this.”
Stolas hummed in agreement, feeling the same tiredness pull at his own consciousness. “Do get yourself under the covers properly, Blitzy.”
“Don’t wanna move.”
“You can sleep there, sweetheart. Just pull those covers up or you’ll get cold again soon.”
Stolas smiled as the smaller demon did as instructed, though he returned to the exact same position and promptly cuddled into Stolas’ back like he belonged there.
“You better have a good day tomorrow, Stolas,” he warbled sleepily, words slurred as he began to drift off.
“Stay with me and I have no doubt that I shall,” Stolas returned fondly, feeling his feathers fluff up as Blitzø snuggled against him.
“Mhm. I’ll stay.”
Stolas sighed contentedly as he allowed the pull of sleep finally sweep him away. Before all awareness left him, he felt Blitzø’s claws slide through the spaces between his talons, holding tight and warmth swept through the Prince whose heart skipped a significant beat.
Full moons were always a monthly highlight but perhaps the biggest highlight of all was knowing that whatever time Blitzø spent with him was sincere and genuinely enjoyed by the both of them.
It was the first sign that maybe, just maybe, the love Stolas held within wasn’t as one-sided as he once feared.
Only time would tell, but for tonight the Prince of the Ars Goetia would merely cherish the closeness that he and the Imp of his desires, held dear.