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Summary
“Darling,” Stolas huffs with an intent grind of his hips, interrupting Blitz’s spiraling train of thought, all four of his bright eyes half-lidded and unblinkingly focused on him, “kiss me.”
Blitz’s eyes dart to the beak hanging open barely two inches from his own mouth, flicks his forked tongue out at it as the idea worms its way into his brain, mutes his alarms, then complies with the prince’s request.
or: stolitz kiss during