Chapter Text
Stolas stood back from the edge of the van, trying desperately to reel in all his messy emotions.
Control yourself, you disgrace of a man!
Stella’s words echoed in his mind and he closed his eyes against them, trying to block them out. It did no good. As soon as Stella’s insults stopped, all he could hear was Blitz’s cold voice saying don’t act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you. You make that really clear all the time.
He wanted to deny it, wanted to say it wasn’t true, that Blitz meant so much more to him than any superficial sexual exploits they might engage in - but just like they had with Via at LooLoo Land, just like they had so many times with Stella, with his father, words failed him. They filled his head to bursting, everything he wanted to convey overlapping and converging into a writhing mess that he couldn’t articulate.
Pain, both at Blitz’s callous attitude and at the way he had reduced their time together into something so crude, made Stolas want to crumble.
Stop snivvling at once! Never forget your station! Get ahold of yourself!
Stolas found himself following the orders his father had given him so many times before, forcing his expression to go blank, his voice to stay steady, his hands not to shake. He pulled away from the van and maintained his composure. He wouldn’t embarrass Blitz any further with his outbursts. The imp had already dealt with enough of Stolas’ melodrama.
He said his goodbyes, and watched, frozen, as Blitz drove away.
And then, when the van was finally out of sight, Stolas collapsed back onto the stairs and finally allowed himself to weep.
***
Stolas indulged himself in one night - to wallow in his pain, to let self-pity envelop him, to drink until he could drown the tears. And the next morning, just as he’d been doing for most of his life, he put aside his own hurt and focused on what was needed. On what he could fix. He couldn’t have what he wanted, so all that was left was to try and appease those he cared about.
Via came first. He wouldn’t let her see him break down. He couldn’t self-destruct when she still needed him. He would keep it all bottled up and only show her the love and care she deserved. He wouldn’t allow her to see the wreck of his heart. She didn’t need that worry.
Then… Blitz. Stolas forced himself to look at their relationship without his rose colored glasses. To look at it the way Blitz would. And the reality that he had been purposely blind to was a stark, cruel one. Blitz had only ever wanted the grimoire. He hadn’t, as Stolas had allowed himself to believe, come to seduce Stolas like something out of one of his romance novels, and decided to take the grimoire as a way to make Stolas contact him again. No, he’d come with the intention of stealing the book, and sleeping with Stolas had been an unwanted, last ditch effort to keep Stolas from stopping him.
Which meant…
Which meant, that Blitz had never wanted to sleep with Stolas. Not that first night, not any of the times after. He hadn’t just been playing coy those times he’d ignored Stolas’ messages, when he’d brushed off Stolas’ advances. He genuinely hadn’t wanted anything to do with him.
All those times he’d shoved a gag in Stolas’ mouth and pushed his face into the pillows - that had been to try and erase the least palatable part of their arrangement, Stolas himself.
Oh, how Stolas had deluded himself into thinking that it was all part of their games, that it was exciting for them both. That Blitz wanted him.
And Stolas, in his unforgivable ignorance, had done to Blitz what Stella had done to him. He had forced his attentions onto the imp, keeping the use of the book over his head as leverage.
Stolas felt sick. The pain was agonizing, and his disgust with himself somehow worse.
How could he have been so cruel to someone he loved?
Stolas had read a story once, when he was younger, about a Goetia who had suffered from a broken heart so severe that eventually the despair consumed him, leaving behind a black hole where once a star had been. At the time, Stolas had found the notion terribly romantic. Now, he wondered if the pain ended, when the demon’s atoms had imploded and become dark matter, or if it had remained, a sucking vortex of agony for all time.
He wondered if it mattered, since he didn’t deserve anything less.
But no. Whatever he deserved, whatever he thought would become of him if he allowed his grief to consume him, that wasn’t an option. Stolas had to keep going, if nothing else, than for Via’s sake. If he died, she would have to take his place as the heir, and the idea of putting her through the things he’d suffered was unconscionable. He couldn’t allow it. He had to be strong for her, even if it took everything in him.
There was nothing he would ever be able to do to put this right. All he could do was try his best at restitution and hope that maybe someday, Blitz would grace him with a forgiveness he didn’t deserve.
***
Blitz hated Fizz sometimes.
Hated his fucking guts.
Because over and over that fuckers words kept playing in his head, picking away at the walls Blitz protected himself with.
Sounds like you just hate him for being a prince. Because no one, and I mean no one, pretends to care that much just for a cheap lay.
It should have been easy to dismiss. Fizz didn’t know Stolas the way Blitz did. Didn’t realize just how dramatic he was, just how big of a thirsty bitch he could be. Stolas clearly had a kink for big imp cock and was more than willing to fake caring to make sure that it kept coming.
Heh. Pun intended.
It was definitely part of his plan to apologize for the disastrous night at Ozzie’s, as though he was the one in the wrong, even though Blitz had asked him out on a date just to use him to get into the restaurant and then ignored him for as long as possible.
Part of his plan to try and keep Blitz safe even while he was worried out of his mind about his daughter, to thank him sincerely without any innuendo or request for a romp. To call him Blitz instead of Blitzy, which Blitz definitely preferred and didn’t at all miss the old nickname. Part of his plan, too, to tell Blitz that he didn’t need to come over the next full moon, he could do without the book.
Part of his plan to do the same the next two months as well, offering for them just to talk, and when Blitz balked, telling him he didn’t need to come but he could keep the grimoire all the same.
Part of his plan to only call Blitz when he had been captured by an assassin, bound in blessed rope which he’d conveniently neglected to tell Blitz meant that he could be hurt. Could be killed.
Part of his plan to leave the door open, so that Blitz could visit him in the hospital, but not to push, not to even ask.
And all the gifts too, those had only been to keep Blitz on his leash. Not lavish things that were just money thrown at a problem, but simple, thoughtful things tailored to Blitz’s interests and likes. They couldn’t have been because Stolas cared , enough to learn the things that Blitz enjoyed and then want to share them with him. It was all just a trick, a manipulation that Blitz was way too smart to fall for. He wouldn’t let himself forget that he wasn’t Stolas’ lover, he was his impish little plaything. Stolas was a prince, and Blitz was a failed clown.
Stolas didn’t care about him beyond his ability to make him come. He was a repressed demon on a power trip, riding the high of having a low class dick to fulfill his fantasies. For fuck’s sake, he’d spent nearly twenty years married to a frigid bitch who made him believe his body was broken.
Even recalling the night they’d spent together when he discovered that made his fists clench.
Stolas, on his back with his wrists bound above his head, Blitz between his legs wishing like fuck he’d remembered to gag the verbose demon to save his ears from the wild stream of dirty talk Stolas couldn’t seem to stop spouting.
Deciding that if Stolas could still form coherent words, Blitz wasn’t doing his job well enough, and bringing his fingers up to massage the apex of his cloaca while his tongue teased the tight opening. He figured that Stolas’ owl-demon anatomy couldn’t be all that dissimilar to any other demons’ anatomy, and if there weren’t obvious external sexual organs, there were likely internal ones. He just had to find the right-
And then with a growl of Stolas’ name, claws of one hand in the meat of his thigh and the fingers on his other hand rubbing the slight protrusion at the top of his cloaca, presto chango there it was, a dick slid out, hard and slick.
Stolas screeched, and for a moment, Blitz worried it had hurt, but then Stolas’ eyes were staring down at it, huge and crimson in shock. Blitz chuckled.
“Now where did you have this hiding away, Birdie?”
Stolas choked on words, shook his head, still goggling at the cock rising from between his legs. “I haven’t- it hasn’t-” he shook his head again, still clearly disbelieving. “This hasn’t happened since I was a teenager.”
Blitz laughed. “Uh, you do have a kid, you know. Pretty sure you’d have needed this for that. ”
“N-no, it wasn’t-” he stopped, biting his lip. “I c-couldn’t. Thankfully, it wasn’t necessary for… insemination.”
“Bet that’s a party trick,” Blitz quipped, but his laugh faded at the stark look in Stolas’ eyes. “Well, we don’t have to do anything with it if it makes you uncomfortable-”
“No! No, please- I mean, if you don’t mind, I would greatly enjoy it! I thought… I was told that I was - broken. That this part of me was-” he stopped, shaking his head, eyes still on the lightly pulsing appendage. They were huge and luminous, and if Blitz wasn’t seeing things, they might have shone a bit too much just to be a trick of the light.
“Lemmie guess. The old ball and chain couldn’t get you up, so she said you were defective?”
“Amongst other things,” Stolas admitted quietly.
Anger simmered in Blitz’s blood. “And when it didn’t happen, you started to believe her, which probably made it next to impossible to do anyway.”
Stolas was quiet, but Blitz knew enough about that sort of toxic shit to make a pretty good guess he was right. “Well she’s a cunt who was clearly shit in bed. So let’s forget about that bitch and instead, we can both take this thing out for a test drive.”
“Test drive?”
Blitz cocked a brow. “Anyone ever have their mouth on this part of you, Birdie?”
Mutely, Stolas shook his head.
“Why don’t we start there, and we can work our way up to teaching you how to fuck me?”
The look on Stolas’ face after that had been enough to fuel countless nights at home alone with his fist. It had been intoxicating, showing those things to Stolas, opening up a whole new world of sexual pleasure for him. And that was part of why Blitz had let himself get swept up along with it all. What had let him ignore how cheap their arrangement made him feel in the darkest of his nights.
It had been exciting, thrilling even, to be with Stolas, even if it was only ever about sex.
Blitz was just Stolas’ way of exploring his unleashed sexuality, of diving into the world of deviancy and kink. Fuck, even just his own normal damned desires.
The soft way he’d looked at Blitz the first time he sank his cock into Blitz’s well prepared ass, the gentle way he held him, pressed kisses to his face, feather light and tender, had nothing to do with his feelings.
The way he’d held Blitz after, as though he was something precious, something to be cherished, the way he’d thanked Blitz for sharing this with him, voice hushed with reverence, couldn’t have any deeper meaning behind it than basic consideration for his fuck toy.
The way he’d dressed up, been so eager he was practically tripping over himself at the invitation for a date with Blitz, the literal hearts in his eyes as he’d looked at Blitz like he’d hung the fucking moon rather than just invite him to dinner. Holding Blitz’s hand proudly for everyone to see as they were seated.
The quiet pain in his voice when he’d bid Blitz goodnight after everything.
All of that… all of it was transactional. Just an arrangement. Stolas couldn’t-
“Are you alright, my darling?” His hand, gentle and loving, caressing Blitz’s cheek, looking him over for injuries, his first concern for Blitz’s safety.
Stolas couldn’t-
Ah, fuck. What if he was wrong?
What if Fizz was right?
What if, somehow, someone like Stolas could love a fucking trash heap like Blitz?
If it was true, then Blitz wasn’t just unworthy of Stolas - he deserved to be drawn and fucking quartered for the way he’d treated the other demon. Because if it hadn’t all been an act, if Stolas did see him as more than just a cheap fuck, then every time Blitz had brushed him off, every time he’d turned away, every time he’d put on a big show about how inconvenient Stolas’ desire for him was…
Fucking damnit all, Blitz was a bastard.
Memories from before Stolas’ rescuing them in the human world resurfaced - the bad trip that had returned to haunt his nightmares for months after. All his fears laid out in crystal clarity, his subconscious displaying the terror he couldn’t even admit to himself. The fear of being chained to Stolas, shackled to someone who would use him up and then toss him away. Leashed to him by their arrangement, by Blitz’s own useless feelings, by their respective stations. Blitz had worked so hard to become his own man, to stand on his own two feet, to not ever belong to someone again. And yet… and yet, here he stood on the precipice again. Whether Stolas used the grimoire to own him, or Blitz’s own treacherous heart forged the shackles, he would be chained all the same.
Eventually, the polite, silly, charming persona Stolas was putting on would fade, and once he realized he no longer had to tug on the leash to make Blitz answer his beck and call, everything would change. Or, perhaps worse, he would realize that Blitz wasn’t worth the effort and would toss him away, but Blitz would already be too lost on the prince to ever stand on his own again.
Blitz… wouldn’t be able to withstand the loss of Stolas. Not if he allowed himself to care. He couldn’t let himself care. Blitz had to protect his heart, because no one else would.
Beside him, his phone chirped.
As though thinking about him had summoned him, Stolas’ name blinked up at Blitz from his text notifications. His hands only trembled slightly as he opened the message.
I need to see you as soon as is feasible for you. I apologize for the inconvenience, but this time must be face to face. Please bring my grimoire with you as well.
Dread iced along Blitz’s veins. Stolas had been so careful never to insist before. The only possible reason Blitz could think of that he would do so now, was if he’d had enough. Why else would Blitz need to bring him the book?
He was going to take it back and end their arrangement, and Blitz would be royally fucked.
No Stolas.
No book.
No future for his business.
So what would he do? Beg Stolas to take him back? Offer whatever the prince could possibly want from him, no matter how demeaning? Try to steal the book again?
Coward that he could be, Blitz seriously considered trying to fob it off. Claim he was too busy for another month at least. Maybe by then, he could find another way to reach the human world, and he wouldn’t need Stolas. The business could be safe at least. But who was he kidding, he’d exhausted every other avenue of getting topside long before he’d scaled Stolas’ palace walls.
2morow nite?
Thank you, Blitz. I’ll await your arrival.
Blitz tried not to choke on the lump in his throat.