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It’s already pretty late by the time the circus tents finally appear on the horizon, their colorful peaks barely visible against the darkened sky. They’ve been dragging the walk back home after the whole Mammon concert fiasco, Fizz oddly quiet since that asshole of a so-called fan decided to spew his bullshit, leaving a bitter taste that’s been festering in Blitzo’s mouth. He doesn’t know how to get his friend out of this self-hate induced anxiety spiral, knows it might take a while before Fizz believes anything he might say about it.
He glances at him from the corner of his eyes and his gut twists at the sight of his childhood friend like this, all curled up on himself, delicate arms wrapping around his torso and tail carefully curved around one of his legs, as if to keep himself as small as he possibly can. His heart flutters painfully as Fizz lets out a small sniff, discreetly rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.
They should be back home by now, the venue wasn’t that far off at all, but he knows Fizz probably doesn’t want to be seen like this by anyone else. It makes the twisting in his gut turn into something warmer, a flush creeping up all the way to his chest at the thought that he’s the only one allowed to see his best friend like this, so vulnerable. His brain taunts him for enjoying it, and Blitzo has to look away from him, guilty.
He isn’t delusional enough to think Fizz wants to stay the night with him, he’d probably rather go to his room and sulk. But Blitzo is pretty sure the best course of action is to keep him company and not leave him alone when he’s like this. Fizz’s ability to twist his thoughts into a depressing pretzel almost rivals Blitzo’s own, and he needs something to pull him out of the bad brain space he’s been dragged into.
He sucks in a breath, weirdly nervous, even though he has already convinced himself he’ll gently force Fizz to agree to the half-baked plan he’s come up with in the last thirty seconds.
“Hey, Fizz?” The words come out in a mumble, his voice cracking as it jumps an octave at the end. Blitzo almost groans, resisting the urge to slap himself. At this rate puberty might just be the end of him.
He looks at his friend expecting a laugh at his expense, but Fizzarolli only startles, turns to look at him with wide glassy eyes, and Blitzo’s stomach sinks. He now knows for sure that the other imp has probably been walking in auto-pilot the whole time, not paying attention to anything except his own dark thoughts. Blitzo clears his throat, tries again.
“Fizz.” His voice comes out softer than he’d like, and he hates it, like the sound alone could give him away. He feels like he’s always just one look away from being caught. “Ya know, I don’t feel like going back to bed yet. Wanna do something fun?” He smirks as he says "fun," trying to make it seem like he’s just being reckless, the usual Blitzo. He’s hoping Fizz will latch onto the distraction, anything to pull his friend’s mind away from the thoughts he knows have been gnawing at him for the last hour.
“What? Now?” Fizz’s voice comes out thin and unnaturally weak, and Blitzo’s blood boils. He vows to track down the fucker who did this, imagines torturing him slowly until there’s nothing left but a gruesome puddle of gore.
“I- I don’t know, Blitzo.” Fizz’s grip on his arms tightens, his knuckles turning white with the effort. Blitzo wants nothing more than to pry those fingers away, gently, one by one. He longs to take Fizz’s hands in his, kiss them reassuringly. The force of his desire knocks the wind out of him, and he has to fight the urge to spill his guts right where he stands, letting them spill out raw and exposed on the dirty Greed Ring floor for anyone to trample on.
“I don’t really feel like doing anything right now, I think I just wanna sleep.” He finishes his sentence with a sigh, lashes fluttering prettily against the dark green sky. He hasn’t cried but his make-up is just on the side of slightly smudged, like he’s been rubbing at his eyes. It gives him a softer look, somehow, and Blitzo knows he’s fucked but he still surprises himself at times like this, when he thinks Fizz might just be the prettiest boy he’s seen in his life.
“Come on, dude!” He says, dragging the “on” out for dramatic effect. “Remember our last booze haul? There’s this one bottle I’ve been saving for a special occasion.” He waggles his eyebrows comically, trying to lighten the mood. “And now is the perfect time for it!”
Fizz snorts. “You want to crack open a bottle and, what, down the whole thing at ass o’clock in the morning?” He raises an eyebrow, trying to look unimpressed, but Blitzo can see a smirk threatening to escape. It feels like a victory.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, being an alcoholic at sixteen seems like a fucking fantastic way to kickstart that bad-boy persona you’ve been trying to go for, but- OUCH!”
He flicks Fizz on the forehead, hard, trying to ignore the way the words “bad boy” send a thrill through him, igniting something hot and restless in his gut. He pushes the feeling aside for later dissection. Fizz rubs at the spot, sticking his tongue out at him cutely.
Blitzo wants to kiss him.
He groans instead, pretending to be annoyed. “It’s late, everybody’s asleep so no one going to catch us with dad’s private stash.” At least, he hopes not. If he’s honest, even if his dad caught him and he had to pay the price for it, he wouldn’t regret it. Not if it means he gets to turn his best friend’s shitty night around.
Fizzarolli turns his head, focusing entirely on him now, and Blitzo basks in the warmth of his full attention. He stands tall, licking his braces self-consciously.
“Come on.” He tries again, hopes he doesn’t sound too much like he’s pleading. “We don’t even have a show tomorrow! It’s our only free day in literal weeks, let’s just have fun for once, we deserve it.” He adds the “we” just for Fizz’s sake, even though he’s aching to say “you”. There’s not a single imp in the entire circus, probably the entire Greed Ring, that works harder than Fizzarolli, but he fears that if he voices his actual thoughts out loud, he’ll just drag his friend deeper into the anxious pit he’s buried himself into tonight.
He knows he’s won when he sees Fizz’s arms unclench from where they’ve been stuck, one hand coming up to his hip while the other drops down to the space between the two of them. He is unable to resist the tug he feels then, as if Fizz has his own gravitational pull and Blitzo is the moon, drawn to orbit him. He inches closer, his entire focus zeroing in on the way their hands “accidentally” brush together, the contact sending a shiver through him.
“Alright, ya’ big dweeb, whatever.” Fizz says, scrunching up his nose in a way that makes Blitzo’s heart skip a beat. “Let’s grab your dad’s crappy drink and get smashed by the hell horses. I know that’s where you’ll drag me once you’re wasted, anyways.” He says, pinching the taller imp’s side. He aims for annoyed, but misses the mark completely when Blitzo catches the fond crinkle in his eyes.
It’s dangerous, the way he’s feeling tonight. Like a cord drawn too tight, like any small touch will send him crashing head first into a confession he’s not ready to give.
“Alright bitch, that’s what I’m talking about!” He hollers, pumping his fists in the air obnoxiously, trying to clear his head of all the romantic nonsense it has been spewing.
He steels himself and grabs Fizz, dragging him towards the now fast approaching circus tents. He has to firmly tell himself to ignore the fact that his -now stupidly sweaty- hand feels huge holding onto the other imp’s dainty wrist.
“Whoa, Blitzo, calm down!” Fizz hisses, picking up his pace to try and keep up with the way Blitzo is now power-walking towards their shared home. “I thought the whole idea was to not be caught? You’re gonna wake everyone up!”
“Fucking chill out, princess, nobody’s gonna-” But the sentence dies in his throat when he feels Fizz pull him back, sliding his hand into his own like it’s a thing they do all the time. He will deny the wheeze that comes out of him until the day he dies, and he feels like his whole brain has short-circuited as he stares at the way Fizz intertwines their fingers together.
He’s so afraid to look up, scared his eyes will say everything he’s been trying to hold for so long, that he almost runs head first into a light post, saved at the last minute by Fizz pulling him towards himself with a sharp tug.
Fizz giggles. “Indeed, foolish clown! It’s Princess Fizarolli to you, so you shall treat me with the utmost respect!” Ever the performer, he delivers a near-perfect royal accent. Blitzo snorts, amused, and tries to regain his composure.
“Sure, whatever you say, your highness.” He rolls his eyes and, daringly, moves Fizz’s hand up to his mouth, gives it a soft and fleeting kiss. He is immediately rewarded when a blush starts creeping into Fizz’s cheeks, going down all the way to his neck. Blitzo is struck again by the feeling that he’s never seen anything lovelier in his short pathetic life.
They creep into the circus holding hands still, which is totally a thing they do now and Blitzo is definitely not overthinking things. Their limbs finally disentangle once they arrive to his room, as he starts rummaging around looking for the promised bottle. He lets out a cackle once he finds it and Fizz kicks at him, trying to keep the noise down.
Giddy with the rush of getting away with it all, they push at each other playfully on the way to their final destination, rushing into their favourite secluded corner to sit down. Fizz immediately plops down on the small plush cushion they managed to drag out here, once they discovered people only used the place to store old tools and broken equipment nobody actually used anymore. The spot isn’t only unoccupied most of the time, but it also offers Blitzo a prime viewing spot into the hell horses stables, making it his favourite place in the entire circus.
Fizz scoots over to the side, as if making space for Blitzo to sit down next to him, but even though he has calmed down from his earlier episode, he still doesn’t trust himself enough to practically cuddle the other imp. He waves his hand dismissively and decides to sit on the ground in front of Fizz, hoping the dirt beneath him will ground him enough to keep his thoughts strictly on the platonic side of clown town.
“To never spending that much money on a shitty Mammon concert ever again!” Blitzo says, opening the bottle with a “pop”. The drink fizzles up dangerously and he has to lick at the bottle to keep any of it from going to waste. He hears a sharp inhale and looks up, mouth still working its way up the bottle’s neck. Fizz has a look on his face that he can’t quite place, with his eyebrows downturned and an angry blush high on his cheeks.
“Urgh, Blitzo, you’re so gross!” And oh, it’s probably anger then. His thoughts are confirmed when Fizz crosses his arms, frowns and looks away. “And don’t say that! I told you, I want to do the whole clown pageant thing, I think it’s cool.”
This conversation is dangerously gearing into the exact subject that Blitzo wants to steer clear off, so he passes the bottle to Fizz -who grabs it and grimaces at the sticky feeling that’s now all over his hands- and leans down on the floor, elbows digging into the earth.
“Yeah, says the dork who thinks juggling is cool.” He mumbles, snorting at the unimpressed look Fizz shoots at him. “Anyways that’s enough of that!”
His brain scrambles to come up with something safe to talk about as Fizz takes the first sip of alcohol. He had closed his eyes, face a grimace as if preparing himself for their usual shitty cheap booze, only to open them again, a pleasantly surprised expression on his face.
“Holy shit! This is actually good?”
Blitzo grins. “I told you I was saving the good shit for a special occasion. Seems to me like having some pretty princess here with me is a good enough reason.”
Fizz giggles, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, and Blitzo wonders how far he can take this “joke” until his best friend realizes it’s a thinly veiled attempt at flirting. He normally doesn’t need to think when talking to the other imp, just spouts whatever bullshit he feels like at the moment. But tonight feels different, fragile, and he can’t afford to mess it up now that Fizz finally seems to be in a better mood.
They’ve been passing the bottle back and forth for a bit in comfortable silence when thinks he lands on something not work or Mammon related to talk about, sends a mental apology to Barbie for the treason he’s about to commit.
“Did ya' know I caught Barbie making out with Nix the other day?”
Fizz chokes on his drink, sputtering as some of it comes out of his nose, eyes bulging out comically, and Blitzo almost howls in laughter, has to cover his mouth with his hands for fear of actually waking up the entire circus this time.
“Not funny, asshole.” His friend wheezes out, eyes and nose watering as he gets himself back in control. “But seriously? Hot contortionist girl Nix? No fucking way, when?!” He passes the bottle back to Blitzo -who is still snickering- and punches his arm playfully. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“I’m telling you now, genius.” Blitzo says rolling his eyes, acting nonchalant. He’s hoping Fizz won’t mention this to Barbie next time he sees her, because he had sort of twin-promised he wouldn’t tell a single soul about it.
“And it was a couple of weeks ago. She said it was a one-time thing or whatever so I didn’t think it was that important.” Blitzo adds with a shrug, taking another sip of his own.
She hadn’t said that. In fact, his sister had suggested that they might start to see each other more seriously, but he thinks that maybe this will keep Fizz entertained enough while also kind of upholding what he promised Barbie. He’s not scared about breaking the promise per se, but the idea of Barbie taking retribution? Yeah, that’s a little terrifying.
He’s starting to get a little bit anxious about the whole thing now, but he has no time to dwell on it long enough because Fizz is kicking at his feet and leaning over. He grabs the bottle from his hand, and Blitzo has to supress a shiver again as his friend’s hand closes against his own, the warmth spreading straight to his core, adding itself to the pleasant buzz he’s got going on now.
“You know,” Fizz looks up at him through his lashes as he takes the bottle away again, and Blitzo can’t seem to be able to look away from the way his eyelids flutter, soft and mesmerizing. Feels like he’s been caught in a spell. “I- I haven’t kissed anyone yet.”
The world stops to a halt.
Blitzo has never been much for self-confidence, but he is now pretty confident in the fact that he’s the dumbest fucking loser in the entire seven rings of hell.
Fizz draws back from him, spine ramrod straight as he sits back unto his plush cushion. His face is flushed as he downs more of the alcohol, and Blitzo thinks he should have paid more attention to it when he notices that the bottle is almost empty, considering he himself has only taken a couple of sips.
Great, on one hand he managed to get Fizz drunk enough to relax and, on the other one, he got him smashed enough to talk about the one subject they seem to awkwardly skirt around every time its mentioned.
Blitzo knows why he doesn’t talk about it. Sure, he’s made out with people before, maybe copped a feel here and there, but it’s never been anything more than that, and it’s certainly never been with people he’s actually given two shits about. He also feels weirdly guilty about it, like he’s cheating on Fizz even though he’s only got the biggest fattest crush on the guy and they’re literally not together. But he’s a horny teenager and when someone attractive asks him for a little make-out sesh, well, he’s not going to say no.
He’d always wondered about Fizz, assuming he was just shy on the topic and would open up once he finally liked someone for real. Every time Blitzo thought about it, jealousy gnawed at him, but now it seemed the real reason was that Fizz had no experience at all. The realization stirred something possessive inside him, creeping up from the darkest corners of his mind. A fierce desire to be Fizz’s first and only everything.
“Have you?” Fizz asks, biting his lip. He leans backwards to get more comfortable, making his already short crop top ride up even more. The soft expanse of his belly is exposed to the morning cold and Blitzo has full frontal view of perk nipples poking through the thin green fabric.
He thinks he might have a stroke.
“Uh? Have I what?” He stutters out, trying and failing miserably to remember what they were just talking about.
“Urgh, don’t act dumb Blitzo.” Fizz rolls his eyes, peeved. Blitzo doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he is, in fact, this fucking dumb. He can’t seem to hold a single thought in his brain as his body appears hell-bent in directing his blood flow elsewhere. “Have you made out with anyone before?”
Oh yeah. That.
Definitely not helping his current problem.
His gaze has been wandering dangerously low, and he forces himself to stop staring at Fizz’s skin. He looks up and a little bit to the side, afraid of making eye contact that might expose the raw hunger he feels low in his gut right now.
“Well, I mean.” He stops. He doesn’t want to lie to him, but he also doesn’t want to make him feel insecure in case this is something Fizz has been wanting to try but just hasn’t had the opportunity to. He settles for a half truth. “Yeah, a couple of times, but nothing serious and with nobody you know.”
Fizz looks at him and squints his eyes, like he’s trying to gouge how truthful he’s being right now. Blitzo schools his face into what he hopes is a bored enough façade that the other imp won’t ask any more questions. He’s starting to sweat by the time Fizz hums, seemingly content with his answer.
“Why haven’t you told me about it before?” Fizz asks, and if he were anyone else it’d seem like a normal question. But he’s not anyone, he’s been obsessively in lo-something with his best friend for years, knows all his tells like the back of his hand. Would know just by the tone of his voice. Fizzarolli is hurt.
“I don’t know Fizz, it never felt important enough to tell anyone about it.” He tries to sound light, like it really is just not that important, but he knows he’s said something wrong when he can see the imp’s tail curl back onto his legs, the slight downturn of his lips.
“Yeah but I’m not anyone.” He whispers, his speech a little slurred from the alcohol, gaze turning downwards. “I’m your best friend.” And he sounds so small, Blitzo can feel his heart breaking at the sound. Hates himself for being the one that caused it.
He gets on his knees and shuffles closer, grabbing both of Fizz’s hands in his own, impulsively. Fizz looks up, eyes wide and startled, like he wasn’t expecting him to be so close. Blitzo doesn’t understand all that’s happening right now but he needs Fizz to understand this, so he pushes on and looks him in the eyes.
“I- I… You’re right, you’re not anyone.” It’s as much as he can say without revealing that Fizz is actually the centre of his entire fucking universe. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It just really didn’t seem important enough to tell you.” He squeezes Fizz’s hands and allows his gaze to turn softer just this once, willing for the other one to believe him.
“Well, it is to ME!” Fizz’s sudden outburst startles him enough that he lets go of his friend’s hands entirely. “Blitzo, I…” He closes his mouth. Opens it, then seems to think better of it and closes it again. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when Fizz suddenly covers his face with both of his hands, muffling a long groan.
He’s drawn his legs up, arms wrapping tightly around them as he nestles his face against his knees, cheeks slightly squished in a way that makes him look endearing without even trying. “Would you, I mean, you don’t have to but… well...” His face is suddenly the most flushed he’s ever seen it. Blitzo can’t help but stare, feeling like he should be committing this moment to memory.
“Fizz?” He asks, voice shaking slightly. He has no idea what’s going on right now, but it feels like he really -really- should.
“Would you, uh, help me?” Fizz finally rushes out, staring at him with wide eyes and a slight quiver to his mouth. His knuckles are white from the force of holding onto his legs, but his tail is swishing excitedly behind him.
“What?” The word is almost startled out of him. Blitzo has actually never felt this dumb in his entire life. The conversation seems to have escaped him entirely and is now probably high-tailing it out on the highway, never to be seen again.
“Urgh, for fuck’s sake, Blitzo!” Fizz clutches his horns in frustration, staring at him in disbelief, like he can’t believe he’s actually making him spit out whatever it is he’s been trying to say via weird hints that make no sense at all. “Can you kiss me already?!”
Blitzo blinks once. Twice.
“Huh?” He finally manages to croak out, unsure now if this whole night has just been a hallucination his brain has come up with and he’s actually comatose, stamped on by Mammon’s clown tsunami.
Fizz is looking at him again, eyes glassy and mouth downturned. “This was stupid, never mind, just forget about it, I’ll-” He starts getting up and Blitzo’s brain finally catches up to him, alarm bells ringing that he can not fuck this up. There’s a fire blazing in his heart.
“NO!” He cries out, holding on to Fizz’s leg with such obvious desperation, but he just doesn’t care anymore. “No, Fizz, don’t go I- I…” The words stutter out of his mouth, a delicate staccato of longing.
He has to tell him. Has to let Fizz know that he’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. Opens his mouth to finally confess, lay his entire heart on the chopping block, when his best friend wobbles, unstable on his feet, and crashes right back into him with an “oof”.
Reality slaps him in the face then. Fizz is drunk, pissed out of his mind, actually, if the glazed look in his eyes is anything to go by. He’s currently on his lap, brows raised as if he can’t remember how he got there.
His heart squeezes at the sight, and he snorts, rubbing tenderly at Fizz’s head. Just his luck actually, to have everything he’s ever wanted served to him on a silver platter, only for it to be taken right out from his greedy hands.
He looks up and sighs, hand still rubbing soothing circles around Fizz’s horns. He can feel his best friend start to purr, and his heart slams right into his throat when he feels the imp's tail search for his, lacing them together affectionately.
He thinks harder than he ever has, probably. Fizz is in no state to understand the nuances of why they should definitely not do this now, will probably only register the “no” and sink into another self-deprecating spiral, which is exactly what Blitzo has been trying to avoid this whole time.
It’s only a kiss, Fizz wants to know what he’s missing on, came to his best friend for help. Blitzo feels once again like he’s full of feelings that cling to him like tartar: sticky, heavy and inescapable. At least if anyone’s going to get hurt it’s him, when Fizz completely forgets about this by the time he wakes up with hell’s greatest hangover.
In that moment, the answer feels obvious. He can only hope he’s doing what’s best for Fizz, and not just following his own selfish desires.
“Yeah.” He finally gets out, but the sound is closer to a sigh than an actual word. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah ok, I will.”
Fizz has been contentedly purring on his lap for a while, and Blitzo wonders if this is what being in heaven feels like. His pulse skyrockets when the smaller imp stares at him again, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown.
He pushes his head against the hand that’s been caressing him, like the contact isn’t enough, and turns into a puddle when Blitzo redoubles his petting efforts.
“You don’t have to force yourself Blitzo, it’s ok; I didn’t think you’d want to, anyways.” He says now, and it seems like he has finally calmed down, pleased enough with Blitzo’s ministrations that all the fight has left him.
There’s a record scratch inside Blitzo’s head.
“You what?! Why?!” His hand freezes mid-motion, the other one coming up to grab Fizz’s face between them, forcing their foreheads together. He’s trying to understand what his friend is saying, but is coming up short, as is apparently the theme for this entire fucking train-wreck of a night.
“I don’t know, I just think you’re cool, ok?” Fizz says, his cheeks now perpetually blushing as he shifts his gaze anywhere else, hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, Blitzo’s newest nemesis.
“I didn’t think you’d find me attractive enough for it, urgh, like I said, just forget about it.” He pushes Blitzo away, just far enough to cover his eyes, looks at him peeking through his fingers. Blitzo’s heart feels heavy with something he might have to call love.
“Fizz, what?” He knows laughing probably isn’t the best course of action right now, but he’s been swept away with this revelation and he can’t help it. Not for the first time in his life, he feels like Fizz and him live in completely different realities.
“Are you actually fucking blind?” His best friend pouts at the slight, adorably unaware that he’s currently proving his point. “Do you seriously not see how hot you are? Urgh, Fizz, this is so embarrassing.” Blitzo swallows down every other thing he wants to say.
He feels like he’s stepping on an old landmine, something that may or may not blow up in his face.
“I wouldn’t be forcing myself at all, what are you even talking about.” His voice is once again softer than he’d like, but the fact that Fizz is inebriated is allowing his defences to go down a little. Making him bolder than he should probably be.
“Really?” Fizz is looking at him, eyes wide.
“Yeah really.” Blitzo swallows, hard. He hopes his friend can’t feel the way his hands are shaking.
“Then…” The smaller imp shifts, lifting himself slightly off Blitzo’s lap, hands gripping his shoulders for balance. With a quiet, deliberate motion, he lowers himself back down, this time straddling Blitzo’s thighs. His knees press into the ground on either side, and his hands slide from Blitzo’s shoulders to settle gently behind his neck, carefully avoiding his spiked choker. Their faces are so close, breaths mingling. “Is this ok?”
“Y-yeah, fuck, it’s more than ok.” He wheezes the words out, thinks he might have to believe in a god now.
He’s pretty sure he’s had a wet dream like this before.
Fizz glances at him before quickly averting his gaze, sharp teeth worrying his lip and legs trembling. The sudden clarity that Fizz is probably way more nervous than he is right now makes him pause.
“Hey, Fizz, it’s fine. We’ll go slow.” He’s kept his hands at his sides, gripping the fabric of his pants to resist the urge to reach out. But now, he lifts them slowly. The first brush of Fizz’s skin against his own makes the smaller imp’s breath hitch in surprise, a shudder escaping him as Blitzo’s trembling hands ascend from his hips, gliding toward the delicate curve of his waist.
“This ok?” He whispers.
He barely registers Fizz’s enthusiastic nod before a warm mouth crashes against his own.
“Hmpf?!”
It’s messy. Fizz clearly has no idea what he's doing, just pressing his mouth against the taller imp’s with a fierce urgency. Blitzo moves away for a second, trying to slot their lips better, but Fizz whimpers and chases at his mouth, desperate. It sends something hot zipping through his spine all the way to his groin.
He groans softly as he brushes his lips against his friend’s, savouring the slow, tentative rhythm they’ve managed to create. Fizz hums and tightens his hold on him, pleased, and Blitzo is suddenly incredibly thankful he’s had some kind of practice before, because he must be doing something right.
Emboldened, he lifts a hand to gently grasp Fizz’s chin, tilting his head just right as he trails his tongue along the curve of his bottom lip. The moan his friend lets out is glorious, will surely feature front and centre in every single wet dream and wank session in the foreseeable future.
His plans to go slow go immediately out the window when Fizz opens his mouth, an invitation that sends a jolt of electricity through him. Blitzo hesitates for just a heartbeat, and then his tongue is gliding over sharp teeth, exploring the heat of Fizz’s mouth. Their tongues brush together, and it’s a revelation; hot, slick, and intoxicating. Fizz responds with soft whimpers that vibrate between them, each sound setting him on a fire that only seems to grow hotter. It’s like the world has narrowed down to just the two of them, the sensation of their mouths moving together making him feverish.
He's getting swept up in the moment, losing track of everything but the intoxicating heat between them. Unable to help himself, he lets the hand still gripping Fizz’s waist drift upward, fingertips brushing against the softness of his shirt. The gentle pressure against Fizz’s torso feels electric and Blitzo allows himself one last thing. He gently brushes a nipple with his thumb, igniting a thrill that races through his entire body.
“Ah! Fuck!” Fizz gasps and jolts away from him.
Blitzo’s stomach drops.
“Shit, Fizz, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to get so handsy, fuck.” He’s abruptly yanked back into his body from what he’s pretty sure was a religious experience. He shakes his head a little, trying to clear the haze. He’s beginning to realize he just tried to go to second base with his best friend when he was probably only supposed to give him a chaste first kiss. Fuck.
“No! It’s fine, I-”
“It’s not, I’m so fucking sorry, you only asked for a kiss and I turned into Mr. Sleazy Fingers, urgh!” He groans, covering his face with both hands.
“Blitzo! I said it’s fine! I’m fine! I’m not a baby!” Fizz huffs, exasperation seeping into his voice.
Blitzo glances up, taking in the sight of his friend. Fizz’s face is scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and an embarrassed pout twists his lips. His hands are on his lap, fidgeting, and his tail stands tall and stiff behind him.
“It’s just, uh, a lot ok? Fuck, leave me alone.”
Blitzo braces himself, half-expecting Fizz to get off him, but he’s pleasantly surprised when Fizz simply shimmies closer, settling back against him. The smaller imp's hands find their way behind him, and his head flops into the crook of Blitzo’s neck, a comfortable fit. Instinctively, Blitzo wraps his arms around Fizz, rubbing soothing circles on his back, feeling the warmth of his body relax against him.
“So,” Blitzo begins, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Was a kiss with me too much? Was it that good?”
“Urgh, do you ever shut up? You probably suck at it, I’ve got nothing to compare it to.” Fizz’s voice is muffled, but a contented purr rumbles through him, rendering his attempt to deflate Blitzo's ego utterly ineffective before it even gets off the ground.
“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m the best you’ll ever have, you little shit.”
Fizz snorts and cuddles closer. “Mhm, sure.”
They stay like that for a while, Blitzo happy to keep cuddling and also insanely thankful that he had enough alcohol to not get a raging boner the minute their lips touched. He’s still reeling from it all, trying to piece together how they ended up here, but hey, never check a gifted hell horse for cavities or whatever the fuck, right?
“Hey clown, my legs are falling asleep here.” He wiggles them to make a point. “Sooooo… wanna keep making out, or-?”
He glances down only to find Fizz soundly asleep, his heart swelling at the sight. He’s not sure how he’s going to manage his crush now when he was already barely able to reel it all in, and that was before knowing what it felt like to have Fizz in ways he never thought he would.
“Satan’s taint. I’m so fucked.” Blitzo sighs. He grabs Fizz and hoists them both up, thankful that circus training has given him enough strength and equilibrium to not send them crashing to the ground.
“Let’s get you to bed, princess.”