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Stolas found he enjoyed being edged. Blitz has edged him many times, and the resulting orgasm is always delightful, mind blowing, thigh quaking. He’d read the scenarios in the stash of erotica novels he began keeping before, thinking that perhaps it really just sounded frustrating.
But after the first time Blitz serviced him this way, pushing and pulling over four potential climaxes before the resulting fifth peak that had Stolas wailing and Blitz groaning, he saw the appeal.
They played this way often after that. Stolas thought the sexiest part was how well Blitz was able to play his body; having someone know you so intimately was intoxicating. Whether it was his long tongue, fingers, toys, the flex of his hips pushing into his own. The scrutiny of Blitz’s passion drew him closer so much faster than the sexual acts themselves, and still Blitz was able to pull him back and make him crave more.
But this, this was torture. When Blitz betrays his body its peak, it feels like heaven. His own broken brain keeping this one pleasure from him was another type of hell.
Another full moon. Another night of Blitz ravishing is body in such a way that betrays the transactional nature of this night.
Stolas remembers at first thinking that if it’s as transactional as he believes, wouldn’t they just be one and done? They both cum and he feels wanted fleetingly, and Blitz gets the book and hopefully an okay orgasm from a man who is more broken than the imp could even imagine?
Blitz proved him wrong over and over, of course, making Stolas feel more wanted than he ever has in his entire life. He noticed early on that Blitz will deny himself in favor of Stolas’ enjoyment for hours. Blitz is hard the entire time, always, (Stolas made sure to check) proving his delectation of the situation as well.
Tonight though, feels SO frustrating. Blitz is attentive as always, laying between his thighs and doing all the right things, fingers pushing at all the right spots and tongue lapping between the pulsing digits in a way that usually drives Stolas mad.
But tonight his mind feels heavy, blurry, empty. He enjoys this, he always enjoys everything Blitz does to him. Stolas knows what Blitz is trying to achieve, made clear earlier as the imp strung up his arms and proclaimed that Stolas was not to come until it was on his cock, but that he wanted to watch Stolas hold back until the imp was ready to feel him clench and squirt around his fat red cock.
There’s no holding back what isn’t coming though.
He feels nothing but shame as Blitz works him over. His moans feel half hearted even to his own ears, nothing feels quite right enough to get him there despite knowing that Blitz knows how to play his body like a harp. He can feel Blitz pulling out all the stops that would allow the imp to edge him successfully but there is no edge.
Stolas wants to cry. He turns his head into the crook of his arm.
Then Blitz pulls away, stops moving those clever fingers.
“Stolas?” He hears distantly.
“Hm?” He replies, non committal, grinding his hips down to try to get Blitz moving again. He does not.
“Stolas look at me,” he murmurs as he removes his fingers.
No please, don’t please.
Stolas removes his face from where he was hiding the growing tears.
“Please don’t stop,” he begs, more like a sob ripping from his throat than a plea.
Blitz is up and untying his arms in less than a second.
“Stols, hey, shh,” he comforts, and the owl feels betrayed that not only does Blitz know when he’s on the brink of ecstasy, but also apparently a breakdown.
Blitz positions himself against the pillows piled against the headboard and pulls Stolas down beside his hip where the owl finds himself clinging to the imp, hiding his involuntary sobs into his scarred stomach. Blitz rubs his back and shoulders despite the embarrassing display.
He’s so stupid, so stupid. This was supposed to be a night of rapture.
He’s hyperventilating.
“Stolas, shh, it’s okay pretty bird, slow down,” Blitz says in an even, cool voice.
The lack of disgust in his voice encourages Stolas to calm slightly. He presses his face harder into Blitz’s stomach, talons pressing hard into the imps red skin, willing his breath to slow. Blitz holds him regardless, why is he comforting him, Stolas doesn’t deserve this, his body is broken, his mind is broken, he-
“Stols?” Blitz’s gentle voice breaks the spiral. He’s mortified, he’s doesn’t even know how to describe what’s happening, how to tell Blitz how desperately he wants him, always, but tonight isn’t working and why isn’t it working?
“Tell me what’s wrong?”
Stolas shakes his head, still hiding in the warmth of Blitz’s embrace.
“I don’t-“ his voice breaks and he clears his throat, “I don’t know. You felt so good but I can’t-“ he trails off.
He can’t handle disappointing Blitz. This feels like Stella all over again, but different. With Stella, he felt nothing, not really, but with Blitz it’s electric, why isn’t it electric? He waits for the berating speech of another unsatisfied lover.
Blitz’s hands tighten around his shoulder and back, a reassuring squeeze as he clears his throat.
“Stolas I know, um-“ he hears Blitz swallow nervously, “ I know it’s not something we’ve talked about or that I should know or that you want me to know but…” he trails off.
Stolas is tense. What could he possibly know in regards to this foolish situation.
“I- you take anti depressant right?”
Stolas jolts upright from where he was lying, holding himself up, avoiding Blitz’s gaze and feeling more vulnerable than any position he thinks he’s ever been in. Blitz must see the look on his face and is quick to ramble his defense.
“I saw the bottle in your bathroom when I drew you a bath one time and it’s not a big deal, for real Stols, really, I just think - and I’m not assuming! But…”
Stolas’ entire body feels weak, his ears are ringing. Blitz knows he’s broken now, without a doubt. He says it’s no big deal but Stolas thinks it is, knows it is considering the near volatile state he enters when he isn’t taking them.
“Have you, um, y’know, been taking them? Regularly?”
Stolas refuses to meet his eyes. Blitz’s hands are still on him, rubbing soothing circles into his feathers.
He thinks back on this past week. He… hasn’t has he. Stolas combs through each day and remembers the three or four missed doses.
Oh.
Stolas sags, forehead coming to rest against Blitz’s shoulder.
“No…” he mumbles out. “I’m sorry, Blitz, I’m so sorry,” he starts but Blitz pulls him in tight until his words are muffled against his collarbone.
“Brains are dumb, pretty bird, even more dumb when you mix in other chemicals. Let’s just… relax?”
Stolas hesitates, but nods. If Blitz has not run by now, surely he can dissuade the urge to place disappointment in Blitz’s voice and accept that as always, Blitz has read him like a book and offered him just what he needs.
Blitz pushes him slowly but firmly onto the mattress, and he expects the imp to follow but is disappointed as he crawls from the bed. A distressed chirp escapes is beak before he can stop it. Blitz turns and caresses his face, ruffling the feathers at the side of his face plate.
“I’ll be right back, stay,” he soothes again, before making a beeline for the bathroom.
Stolas stays, pulling the blankets up around his shoulder as that empty feeling crowds his throats. He hears the water in the bathroom run for a second before Blitz is returning. He has a glass of water and his pill bottle in his hand.
“You haven’t taken them today?”
Stolas wants to lie, wants to say yes, what kind of adult would he be if he couldn’t even keep a pill schedule but Blitz already knows so why bother. He shakes his head, extends his hand for the bottle.
Blitz sets the water down and opens the pill bottle himself and shakes one into his hand, offering that to Stolas instead. Stolas takes it and pops it into his mouth, accepting the glass of water Blitz offers him next. He wants to cry again, being taken care of like this. This isn’t how the full moon is meant to go, and here Blitz is caring for him like a lover. He’s so confused.
“I can hear you thinking from here, just relax,” Blitz grouses as he takes the water and sets it in the nightstand again. Blitz clambers over him and climbs under the covers, arms immediately circling Stolas’ waist. He feels a faint brush of lips against his back.
“Just rest, pretty bird,” he whispers.
Stolas feels himself relax into the mattress, into Blitz’s arms, away from the scrutiny of the world and any thought that maybe this is what love is.