Chapter 1: Welcome to The Pleasure Palace
Chapter Text
Artwork by Shnun
There were many ways in which Stolas was adjusting to his new life without his grimoire and its magic, but perhaps the worst change was needing to rely on public transportation.
Stolas clung to the grab rail as the bus careened around a corner, jostling him against a burly hellhound standing nearby. Stolas uttered an apology to the growling passenger and shuffled away, only to find himself pressed against an imp in sweat-soaked workout clothes. He covered his beak with his hand to mask the stench of body odor and snuck a glance at his watch: 9:30 a.m. Stolas was already thirty minutes late to orientation at his new job. He squeezed his eyes closed to keep the motion sickness at bay as he stumbled to keep his footing. His feathers, which he had meticulously preened that morning, were already starting to flatten against his body, damp with the sticky, unpleasant warmth of the bus.
After far too long, the bus rumbled to a stop at G Spot Terminal Station. Stolas squeezed himself out from the tight web of passengers, bending in half to fit through the exit doors. Once on the sidewalk, he glanced down at his uniform in dismay. He was wearing what was once a freshly pressed black button-up shirt with matching slacks, except now his clothing was covered in a mess of white and brown hellhound fur.
Stolas was already embarrassingly late, so there wasn't time to properly tidy himself. He briskly made his way down the sidewalk while swiping uselessly at the the hairs clinging to the fabric of his clothing, earning a few puzzled glances from other demons who were dressed in sleek designer outfits. Stolas hadn’t been to this part of Lust before, but it was a well-maintained and wealthier part of the city, with walls of skyscrapers and glitzy luxury stores.
Finally, Stolas arrived at the storefront of his new place of work, with the name Intimate Innovations in large, cursive lettering above the doorway. He gazed through the tall glass windows of the boutique, captivated by the rich dark wood interior, the plush burgundy flooring, and the sleek, high-end gadgets neatly arranged on the shelves. His eyes followed the impeccably dressed shopkeepers flitting around gracefully, seemingly resembling models more than they did service staff. Somehow, at nearly 10:00 a.m. on a Monday morning, the shop was already bustling with customers, including a line of several people at the cash register.
Stolas sucked in a breath. I can do this. I will be okay.
He pushed open the ornate wooden door and stepped inside. The store was filled with the soothing sounds of smooth saxophone jazz and a gentle blend of vanilla and sandalwood in the air. Instantly, he felt a wave of relaxation wash over him – a welcome contrast to the harsh sensory overload of the bus ride only a few minutes earlier.
A slender succubus in the standard uniform glided over to him, her posture impeccably straight and her hands clasped behind her back. “Good morning, Sir, how may I assist you?” Stolas’ gaze fell on her nametag: Zephyr - Supervisor.
“Hello, Zephyr. My name is Prince -” Stolas hesitated. That was going to take him a while to adjust to. “That is, ex- Prince, so please just call me Stolas,” he corrected and bowed deeply. Zephyr raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I believe Asmodeus spoke to you about beginning my training today?”
Somehow, Zephyr’s eyebrows arched even higher. “Training?”
“To work here, of course,” Stolas said nervously. He glanced around and noticed that a few other employees scattered around the store were staring at him with an equal level of confusion. “Asmodeus spoke with you about my employment… didn’t he?”
“I’m sorry, your Maj - Stolas,” Zephyr replied with a small shake of her head. “Asmodeus hasn’t mentioned anything regarding your employment here.”
Stolas sputtered. He fished his phone out from his pocket, and opened his recent text message conversation. The last text from Asmodeus read: “You’ll start Monday at 9:00 a.m. I already gave the supervisor a head’s up.”
Zephyr tilted her head when Stolas showed her the message. “I see that he didn’t specify which of his sex shops you would be working at.”
“He has multiple shops?” Stolas asked, scrolling through the other texts. She was right. Nowhere in any of the messages did Asmodeus confirm that it was Intimate Innovations. This was Asmodeus’ big name store, and the only one that Stolas knew of, so he had just assumed…
“He has numerous stores all over the Lust Ring,” Zephyr explained. “I would suggest giving him a call to confirm which one.”
Stolas nodded, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he thanked Zephyr for her understanding. He slipped out the door and walked a short distance down the sidewalk, trying to regain composure.
So he wouldn’t be working at Intimate Innovations like he was expecting. That was fine. He could handle working at one of Asmodeus’ smaller stores. Surely they’d be of similar or equal caliber to Intimate Innovations.
Stolas did his damndest not to let his mood sour any further as he dialed Asmodeus’ number to sort out the issue.
“Hey, birdy babe! ” the Sin greeted cheerfully on the other line. There was the sound of mechanical clicks and whirring in the background, indicating that Asmodeus must currently be at his factory. “How’s your first day of work going ?”
“Well, there seems to have been a misunderstanding,” Stolas explained, pacing down the street. “I realized you never mentioned which of your stores I would be working at, so I arrived at Intimate Innovations, and the supervisor said -”
“Oh, Stolas, you thought you’d be starting at Intimate Innovations ?” Asmodeus said, barely suppressing a chuckle. “We only employ our most experienced sales associates there after they’ve spent years in the field. Not that I doubt you’d do well, but since this is your first experience in customer service, you’ll need to begin somewhere else first.”
“I understand. So then, where will I be working?”
“I’ll open a portal for you,” Asmodeus replied, followed by the sound of shuffling and metallic banging. “And since I messed up by not specifying which store you’ll be working at, I’ll even meet you there and introduce you to your new supervisor myself.”
“Thank you,” Stolas replied, relief flooding through him as his nerves settled. The line disconnected, and a few moments later a shimmering blue portal opened on the sidewalk. Stolas peered through and grimaced at the sight of a much more rundown area of Lust, where dilapidated buildings were adorned with graffiti, and the sidewalk strewn with empty alcohol bottles and cigarette butts.
Stolas took a deep breath and steadied himself. He could do this. He had to do this.
Stepping through the portal, Stolas found himself beside Asmodeus and staring at a rundown storefront with barred windows. He squinted, trying to make sense of it. Were those… bullet holes in the wooden paneling?
“Sorry about the miscommunication,” Asmodeus said, clapping a hand over Stolas’ shoulder.
The owl offered a sheepish smile and shrugged. He couldn’t really be too upset with Asmodeus; after all, the Sin had been a significant help during the tumultuous weeks when Stolas’ life had been turned upside down. Asmodeus had pulled some strings to secure him a cheap studio apartment in Lust, and was now assisting him in finding employment after he’d faced rejection from countless jobs. Who would want to hire an ex-prince with no real-world experience?
Well, there was one demon who would, but Stolas wouldn't dare put another burden on him.
“This will be your new workplace, Stolas. Welcome to The Pleasure Palace!” Asmodeus declared, gesturing dramatically toward the shop.
The glass of the entrance door featured a chipped illustration of the store’s mascot: a cheerful, circumcised cartoon penis donning a red cape, a golden scepter nestled between the balls, and a crooked crown perched on the tip. In a white speech bubble, the words read: “Hi! I’m King Peeny! And welcome to my Pleasure Palace!”
This had to be a joke. A sick, cruel joke.
“This store certainly doesn’t have your usual aesthetic,” Stolas remarked hesitantly at the crude mascot.
“Well, there’s some history to this particular store,” Asmodeus explained. “It was actually first opened by Mammon a couple years ago.”
Stolas was taken aback. “I thought you forbade Mammon from opening any businesses in the Lust Ring?”
“I very strictly forbade it, yet that greedy asshole still went behind my back and opened a discount sex shop with shitty knockoffs of my products,” Asmodeus huffed, the flames around his head flaring to an intense white hot. “Believe me, I tore that guy a new asshole when I found out. Mammon ditched ownership of the shop, but by then it had already gained traction and popularity. Lower-class demons actually preferred buying the knockoffs at cheaper prices. I figured I could also sell some lower-grade products from the factory here, too. Plus, there were still employees whose livelihoods depended on The Pleasure Palace, so…”
“So you kept the store open,” Stolas concluded, then gestured at King Peeny. “But you couldn’t be bothered to rebrand?”
“Between being a deadly sin, running my factory, my club, and all my sex shops, things get busy. I swing by every now and then to make sure the place is still standing, but that’s about all I have time for right now,” Asmodeus admitted. “I know it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but this will be a great starting point for you to get your footing in the business. Plus, they’ve been operating on a skeleton crew, so you’ll be providing them with a lot of much-needed support.”
Stolas nodded, making an effort to mask his disappointment. He reminded himself that this job was just a temporary situation until he figured out his next move.
With a smile, Asmodeus held the door open to The Pleasure Palace. “Let me show you around inside and introduce you to your supervisor.”
The interior wasn’t much better than the outside view. Stolas immediately wanted to shield his eyes from the affronting fluorescent lights, which illuminated every water stain in the ceiling and torn patch in the carpet. The front counter was covered in an assortment of rotating displays with miniature vibrators and flavored condoms, and a stuffed plush toy of King Peeny was propped up next to the cash register.
Stolas glanced over at Asmodeus, who was pacing around the store, searching behind the counter and down the aisles. “Where is he?” Asmodeus huffed. “That lazy son of a… Dennis! You better not be getting high while you’re on the clock!”
“Right here, boss man,” a slow, deep voice called from behind a closed door marked ‘Employees Only.’ A tall, gangly imp with curly white hair and a beard emerged. He seemed vaguely familiar, though Stolas couldn’t quite place him. Dennis wore a tuxedo shirt that was several sizes too small, leaving his midriff exposed. His yellow eyes were half-lidded and bloodshot. It was clear that this imp was undeniably high.
Asmodeus sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m behind schedule today, Dennis, otherwise…” Asmodeus leaned in and grumbled something threateningly to the imp. Whatever it was didn’t seem to affect Dennis, his absentminded smile never wavering.
After the exchange, Asmodeus straightened up and gestured to the owl. “Aaaanyways, this is Stolas, the new hire I mentioned. You’ll be training him, and I need you to set a good example .” The last words came out as a terse growl.
Dennis’ eyes met Stolas’ and he blinked sluggishly. “Oh hey… Aren’t you the Goetia prince who’s hella good at singing?“ Stolas felt every one of his feathers stand on end.
“Singing, huh?” Asmodeus asked, placing a hand on a cocked hip.
“E x -prince,” Stolas corrected, pointedly avoiding Asmodeus’ question. So that was where he recognized this imp from – the Anti-Blitzø party. Stolas already regretted attending, and in this moment, that regret intensified.
Dennis bobbed his head in vague acknowledgement. “Cool, cool. Never trained an ex-prince before. Good to have you on board.” Stolas was silently grateful that the imp didn’t delve further into his singing abilities.
“You’ll train every day this week with Dennis, and at the end of the week, you can see whether you feel ready to fly solo,” Asmodeus said. “Anyways, Stolas, is there anything else I can help you with?”
Stolas felt his throat tighten as he looked at the Sin of Lust, who was smiling hopefully at him. How could Asmodeus, who had already helped him in so many ways that he could never repay, ask if there was anything else he could do for the ex-prince?
“You’ve done more than enough, Asmodeus. I can’t thank you enough for helping me, truly,” Stolas said, voice wavering slightly. “I’m rebuilding my life from scratch, and having a steady job and income is crucial for getting back on my feet. It’s all thanks to you that I have that now.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Asmodeus replied. “I always liked you the most out of those Goetian assholes, anyway. They didn’t deserve you and your heart.” Asmodeus nudged Stolas, coaxing a smile out of the owl. “I’ll let you two get to it. And hey, why don’t you come over for dinner with me and Fizz this Friday? I wanna hear all about how your training goes.” Asmodeus shot a penetrating glance towards Dennis, who was already distracted by his phone.
Stolas hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t had many interactions with Fizzarolli, aside from the disaster date at Ozzie’s and being ridiculed, or when he helped Asmodeus negotiate the jester’s return from Crimson. He still didn’t know much about the jester, but he supposed it couldn’t hurt to try to make some new friends. He needed all the support and community he could get right now.
“That sounds lovely,” Stolas affirmed with a nod. “May I bring anything for dinner?”
“I think you’ll have more than enough on your plate with starting this new job this week,” Asmodeus barely stifled a laugh. “I’ll text you the details for dinner. See you later, birdy babe, and good luck.” A flaming blue portal yawned open, and Asmodeus was gone.
Stolas turned towards Dennis, who was leaning with his elbows against the front counter and typing away on his phone. Having such a lackadaisical supervisor likely wouldn’t benefit Stolas’ training, but Stolas did feel better about his ability to perform this job if Dennis was able to do so while stoned.
A long moment passed, and Dennis didn’t look up from his phone as his fingers flew across the screen. Stolas cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose we should get started?”
Dennis tore his attention away from the phone and blinked, as if just now noticing that Stolas was there. “Oh, yeah. I guess we should.”
—
As it turned out, working at a sex shop entailed much more than just fake smiling behind a register and handling cash. It was significantly more physically and mentally taxing than Stolas could’ve ever imagined.
Dennis took Stolas through the ‘Employees Only’ door where they met a delivery man who had arrived with a shipment of B and C-grade products from Asmodeus’ factory. The three spent the next hour unloading dozens of heavy boxes from the truck and organizing them in the storeroom.
Stolas was so accustomed to using magic to manipulate the world around him that he hadn’t even considered how his physical strength may have suffered as a result. Dennis provided him with basic ergonomic tips for lifting boxes, like using his legs instead of his back and keeping his elbows locked at his sides.
Stolas leaned forward with his hands on his thighs to catch his breath. “What’s inside these boxes, anyway?” He couldn't remember lifting anything so heavy since Via was a toddler and would cry anytime she wasn’t held in her father’s arms.
The brief thought of his daughter made his stomach sink. Stolas tried not to think too much about the current state of their relationship, lest his mood plummet for the rest of the day.
Dennis sliced open one of the boxes and removed a rose quartz dildo. “Crystal dildos! Explains why they’re heavier than the usual shipments.”
Stolas’ arms felt like they might pop out of their sockets as he heaved another box on top of the ever-growing stack, his hands trembling with exertion. “I’m going to need a moment, please,” Stolas gasped as he rested against a pile of boxes, sweat soaking his brow and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows for ventilation. He was aware of the amused glances the delivery man shot his way as he struggled to catch his breath.
“No worries, dude, we’re almost done here anyway,” Dennis reassured as they finished unloading and organizing the boxes. Stolas felt humiliated that he was twice Dennis’ size, and yet the imp seemed to have no issue with maneuvering so many heavy objects.
The next portion of Stolas’ training was learning to take inventory, restocking shelves, and ringing up items in the computer system. Dennis guided him through the aisles, explaining the various types of products they sold. Overwhelmed by the amount of new information, Stolas started jotting down notes on the back of a flier for a sex hotline he found sitting on the counter.
“Oh yeah, another important thing is that we don’t do any refunds after purchase. So if someone buys a battery-operated toy, you gotta open it up in front of them, put batteries in, and turn it on to show that it works,” Dennis explained, opening the package containing a vibrating cockring and placing a battery inside. “Otherwise, we’ll have people shoving vibrators up their assholes and then try to return them the next day, saying they don’t work right.”
Stolas nodded, scribbling “NO REFUNDS - ASSHOLE VIBRATORS” on the paper. He was quickly running out of room for notetaking after writing down almost everything Dennis had told him for the past hour.
“And this is… a gun?” Stolas asked, pointing to a pistol-shaped object next to the computer.
Dennis laughed. “Man, I wish. Nah, it’s a barcode scanner,” he said, picking up the device. He pointed it at a box of condoms, pressed a button on the scanner and a red light flashed from the muzzle. The screen lit up with a picture of the condoms and its corresponding price.
Stolas hooted in delight and clapped his hands. “Incredible! Does it use magic?”
Dennis placed the barcode scanner back in its cradle and scratched the back of his head. “Dude, have you ever, like… been inside a store before? Ever?”
Stolas paused to ponder the question. “To be honest, not very frequently. I always had servants to handle errands for me whenever I needed,” he confessed. “Until I lost my title, I had no reason to visit stores, banks, laundromats, or any other places that ordinary people typically go.”
“Holy shit,” Dennis murmured, leaning forward on the counter. “So this is all brand new for you.”
Stolas nodded, nervously twirling the pen between his fingers. “I always thought of myself as quite intelligent. I spent my entire childhood and adolescent years studying the stars, learning their prophecies, and mastering the magic in my Grimoire. But now, I feel like a child struggling to learn the most basic skills that everyone else already knows,” he said with a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “My first trip to a grocery store was just last week. I had no idea where to find anything I needed or how to check out. The cashier had to help me figure out how to use the credit card machine. You should have seen the looks everyone gave me.”
Dennis shrugged. “It’s pretty dope that you’re getting out there and learning everything from scratch. Takes a lot of balls to rise to that challenge. Don’t worry about the haters. People who matter won’t judge, and people who judge don’t matter.”
Stolas blinked, processing that. “Thank you, Dennis. That was… surprisingly profound.”
“Thanks,” Dennis replied. “It’s a line from my screenplay, actually.”
A flood of questions raced through Stolas’ mind as Dennis shared that bit of information, but before he could voice any of them, a jingling sound from the front door signaled the arrival of the day’s first customer. A middle-aged baphomet dressed in a business suit walked in.
“Welcome to The Pleasure Palace, how may we tantalize you today?” Dennis greeted with a straight face. Stolas visibly recoiled. He’d assumed Dennis was joking when he’d mentioned their standard greeting earlier.
“Videos,” the customer replied plainly, not looking up as he idly browsed the fleshlight aisle.
“Right this way.” Dennis guided the baphomet to the aisle featuring adult videos and left him to browse the selection. He then returned to the register where Stolas was waiting.
“Video customers are the easiest,” Dennis said before dropping his voice to a whisper, “Just gotta check the security cameras occasionally, make sure he doesn’t start jerking it while looking at the DVD covers.”
Stolas paled. “It’s surprising that some demons still purchase physical copies of their adult material,” he mused. “Surely they’ve heard of… the internet?”
Dennis waved a hand. “Some people are into collecting that shit. But mostly, it’s older people who are paranoid that their search history is being tracked. Could you imagine Lucifer having nothing better to do than look through some average Joe’s porn search history?”
Stolas nodded vaguely and looked to the surveillance video screen, which displayed about a dozen live video feeds from each of the cameras around the store. They both watched as the baphomet picked up a DVD and examined the back of the case, adjusting the front of his pants every so often, but thankfully never proceeding any further than that.
After a few minutes the baphomet made his way to the register and placed a couple DVD cases on the counter.
“Oh, right on. Anal Destroyers 3. That one’s been a real crowd favorite recently,” Dennis commented as he scanned the first case.
Stolas’ jaw dropped. He was astonished that Dennis had the audacity to comment on a customer’s purchase. But to his surprise, the baphomet’s face lit up as he replied, “Angel Dust’s performance in the second one was spectacular, so I knew I needed to grab the third.”
“For sure. I never knew one hole could fit so many dicks,” Dennis replied casually as he continued ringing up the customer’s order, gesturing to the total on the screen. The two continued their discussion about their favorite scenes by Angel Dust, whose name Stolas was vaguely familiar with based on his own online searches.
After the customer left, Dennis raised an eyebrow at the incredulous expression on Stolas’ face. “This gonna be too much for you, or…?”
“No, no, I assure you, I can handle it,” Stolas insisted, shaking his head. He took pride in being more sexually open in recent years, but he hadn’t fully grasped how much his prudish upbringing had shaped him. “How long does it take for it to feel… normal? Discussing sex, porn and toys with total strangers?”
“I dunno, I guess it’s like, you just think of yourself as selling a product, you know? Like, I’m not gonna imagine that guy going home and jerking it to the DVDs I just sold him.” Dennis winced. “Ugh. Well, now I am. But you get the point. You’re just helping a customer find the right product for them.”
“And do you discuss every customer’s purchase like you did with that gentleman?”
“Nah, I could tell by looking at him that he’s kinda freaky. Some people like you to be more hands-off and discreet. Give it some time, and you’ll be able to tell at a glance what kind of person someone is when they walk through those doors.”
Stolas fiddled with the edge of his messy page of notes. “I suppose I have much to learn from you, Dennis.”
“Most customer interactions are like that. Pretty straightforward,” Dennis explained, opening the notes app on his phone and typing away. He paused to add, “Sometimes you get some weirdos. You might get a little extra attention since you’re an ex-prince. There’s a panic button under the counter that calls the security guard, but he patrols the entire block so chances are he’ll be busy elsewhere. For backup we’ve got a baseball bat behind the register if anyone gets a little too handsy.”
Stolas laughed awkwardly, a response he found himself using often today whenever Dennis shared something that left him uncertain. He realized he had never swung a baseball bat in his entire life.
Throughout the day several more customers trickled into the store, and Stolas watched closely as Dennis greeted them, made recommendations, and operated the register to ring them up. So far, everyone who walked through the doors seemed pleasant, treating the visit as casually as if they were just picking up any everyday item. It gave Stolas hope that he could become more comfortable with the whole operation as well.
“Alright, you got to watch for long enough,” Dennis said. “Wanna take the next customer?”
“Certainly. There’s no better way to learn than by jumping into the deep end!” Stolas said, hoping his feigned confidence was convincing. He stood tall, adjusting his name tag, a light pink penis with “Stolas - Sales Associate” written across the shaft. Mammon certainly had a knack for penis imagery.
It wasn’t long before the bells jingled above the door again, announcing his first customer. This was Stolas’ chance to showcase what he’d learned and prove that he was capable of handling this job.
“Welcome to The Pleasure Palace, how may we-” Stolas began, but his greeting faltered as he turned to the door and found no one there. Whoever had entered must have moved so quickly that Stolas hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of them. His eyes flicked over to the security camera feed, searching the fuzzy video footage until he found what appeared to be a young, hyena-looking hellhound wandering through the vibrator aisle. She was wearing a sweatshirt with the hoodie drawn over her head, her mouth pulled into a tight, uncomfortable line as she looked back and forth, checking to make sure no one was nearby as she tried to covertly read the back of the boxes.
“Shoplifter?” Stolas whispered to Dennis.
The imp crossed his arms and shook his head. “Nah, she’s not here to shoplift. I’ve seen this type of customer many times before.”
“Why is she acting so… peculiar?” In the video feed, the hound had picked up two boxes, her stare flicking back between the two of them, before setting them both back and picking up another one. Her movements were frantic and nervous.
“My bet is she’s a first-timer,” Dennis replied matter-of-factly. “Never stepped foot in a sex shop, and has no fuckin’ idea what she’s looking for.”
“I see.” Stolas felt an ache of sympathy as he watched the hellhound scrub her paws over her forehead in frustration. He could relate deeply to her plight - feeling confused and completely lost when it came to sex, toys, exploration, all of it. That had been Stolas not too long ago. He could remember what it was like, having no knowledge of sexual gratification beyond romance novels or porn. Stolas was fortunate that he had an experienced mentor to guide him.
A vivid memory flashed into Stolas’ mind – being blindfolded and bound to the posts of his bed, his body exposed and vulnerable, trembling as he breathlessly confessed into the darkness. “I’ve never had anyone want me this way. You have no idea how long I’ve craved this kind of passion, and how much it means that the one who wants me is… my first ever friend.”
The bed shifted as a new weight settled onto the edge of the mattress. Stolas felt a warm, steady hand rest on his ankle. “You’ve never had anyone touch you, huh?” a low, sultry voice asked. “You like it gentle, like this?” The voice continued in a purr as the hand slid up his calf.
Stolas’ answer was a shudder of anticipation as claws began lightly skirting up to his knee, almost ticklish from the feather-light touch. Then he nearly thrashed out of his bindings when the sharp tips of those claws sank into the meat of his thigh.
“Or do you like being handled rough, like a dirty slut?”
“I like being handled like a dirty slut,” Stolas practically begged. Another hand clamped onto his opposite thigh, prying them further apart, and he felt his clothes being shredded from his body, startling a squawk of excitement from him.
“Let’s find out what else you like, birdy.”
That night began his first lesson in passion and intimacy, with the imp devoting hours to map out his body with touch and tongue until they figured out what drove the owl wild. That night would be followed by many more lessons with each subsequent full moon, with his teacher bringing new toys for them to experiment with, some which were screaming successes– the ballgag, the flogger, and wax play– and others that Stolas could do without– the anal beads. Stolas didn’t realize it at the time, but he’d been so fortunate to have such a thorough and patient instructor to help him learn about his body and preferences.
“This chick is definitely gonna need some pointers.” Dennis’ voice stirred Stolas from his reverie as they watched the hellhound pace aimlessly through the aisles. Stolas knew what it was like to feel so lost and alone in a confusing world of sex. He wanted to help her however he could.
Taking a deep breath, Stolas strode out from behind the cash register towards the aisle that the hellhound was currently perusing. Somehow, she’d found herself in the blow-up doll section, looking more lost than ever.
Stolas cleared his throat. “May I help you find anything today?”
The hellhound briefly caught his eye, before turning away and pulling the hood further over her head. “No thanks,” she replied quickly. “Just browsing.”
Stolas nodded. Of course she wouldn’t know how to respond to such an open-ended question. He needed to try a different angle. “Please take your time. Also, you may be interested to know that there’s a sale on vibrators in the next aisle over.”
“Oh,” the hellhound said, pausing for a moment, before letting out a sigh. “I tried a vibrator before but it was too, uh… intense. Even on the low setting.”
Bingo. That was exactly the kind of information that Stolas was looking for. “If you’re looking to find something with more gentle stimulation, might I recommend an air pulsator toy?”
“Air pulsator toy?” From her tone, it was clear she had no idea what that was, but it seemed to pique her interest. Stolas could now see more of her face peering curiously from the folds of her clothing.
“Yes, they’re located just this way,” Stolas answered as he stepped towards the next aisle with the hellhound trailing behind. “These toys use a burst of air to stimulate erogenous zones. The sensation would be similar to sucking or gentle nibbling, often more gentle than a vibrator.”
The hellhound’s eyes scanned the numerous boxes of all different shapes, sizes, colors, and price points. “There’s so many to choose from, though.”
Stolas nodded. “There are generally two types of pulsators,” he began, gesturing to each box in turn, “one that focuses only on external stimulation, and one which has dual components for both external and internal stimulation.”
The hellhound scratched at her forehead, causing the hood of her jacket to drop down over her shoulders. “I think just external would be fine.”
“Then we’ve already narrowed it down to this row here,” Stolas said, motioning to a row of external air pulsators. “Over at this end are more expensive options, which tend to be quieter and have more features like app control. At the opposite end are the more economical options, which are made of cheaper plastic and are slightly less durable.”
“Mid-range should be okay,” the hellhound admitted, but she still looked somewhat overwhelmed by the amount of options displayed before her.
“If you’d like my personal recommendation,” Stolas spoke softly, reaching for a box with a pink, oval-shaped pulsator toy pictured on the front. “This is an all-around good option with multiple pressure settings. It’s also lightweight and made with higher quality silicone.”
Stolas watched with bated breath as the hellhound examined the box. He felt slightly embarrassed sharing his own toy preference, but this toy was one of his favorites and he felt confident that this hellhound might enjoy it, too.
Finally, the hellhound looked up with the faintest smile on her face, pushing her bangs back from her eyes. “I think I’ll get this one.”
“Oh! I’m so happy you found something you like!” Stolas spluttered. He did his best to shake off the jitters of his first successful sale as he walked with the hellhound towards the cash register. He spotted Dennis leaning against a shelf in one of the aisles, and they exchanged exuberant thumbs-up when they made eye contact.
Stolas slowly rang up the hellhound’s pulsator before it dawned on him. “Oh! If you don’t have some already, you might also be interested in purchasing some toy cleaning wipes.” Stolas pointed the hellhound to the nearby spinner rack which contained small packs of wipes. After explaining the various options, the hellhound was able to make a confident decision on her own. Stolas felt a swell of joy at seeing the hellhound’s confidence increase within the short duration of their meeting.
It only took Stolas three attempts to successfully operate the credit card machine but his first sale was soon complete. The hellhound took her black bag filled with her new purchases and paused for a moment, considering her words. “Hey, thanks. I can tell you’re new to this, too, but you really helped me out a lot.”
Stolas was practically beaming. “Happy to be of assistance. Please come back anytime.”
With a jingling of the bells over the door, the hellhound trotted out with her new purchases in hand.
Stolas turned towards Dennis, who clapped as he emerged from the aisle he’d tucked himself into. “Look at you, New Guy,” he cheered. “Helping customers like a pro and breaking them out of their shell!”
Stolas blushed at the praise. “You’re far too kind. I believe it’s thanks to your excellent training.”
“Nah, you’re a natural. You can teach anyone to run a store, but you can’t teach someone people skills like that. You knew how to get through to her,” Dennis recognised. He glanced at the clock over the counter. “Anyways, getting close to lunchtime. Why don’t you take your break first, then afterwards you can run the shop while I take mine.”
Stolas felt a swell of pride. “You’d trust me to run the store on my own?”
“Only for like, 30 minutes and I’ll just be in the employee’s room if you need me.”
“Very well, I think I can handle that,” Stolas replied. Dennis explained how to clock out on the computer and gave Stolas directions to a small cafe just down the road.
—
It felt good to get some fresh air and escape the blinding lights of The Pleasure Palace, even if only for a short time. Stolas ordered a sandwich and sat at a table outside, nearly inhaling his food as soon as it was placed in front of him.
After polishing off his meal, Stolas checked his phone, the mail icon indicating two new messages. The first message was an attachment from Vassago with a photo of Octavia, holding up a small ID card with her photo on it. Stolas zoomed in to read the top of the card: Motorcycle License.
Stolas had the immediate knee-jerk reaction of, “What is she thinking? She could get seriously injured!” He squeezed his eyes shut as he reminded himself that it was no longer his place to guide her. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he opened the second message, a text from Vassago: “Hello my friend, I wanted to update you that Via is doing better recently. Her spirits were especially lifted when she passed her motorcycle license examination. She seems to enjoy the newfound freedom and independence. Without a doubt, Via inherited her father’s determined spirit.”
Stolas felt a lump forming in his throat as he scrolled down to read the rest of the message. “ I heard through the Goetia grapevine that you are starting work at one of Asmodeus’ stores. I hope you are adjusting well to life in Lust, and I will continue to give you updates on Via. I think of you often, and though Via won’t admit it, I’m certain that she does, too. Sending all my best wishes.”
Stolas raised his head slowly and stared wide-eyed into the distance. His body felt impossibly heavy, and the sandwich he’d just eaten churned in his stomach.
The divorce proceedings had been difficult for Stolas, but even more so for Via. He’d never forget the look of horror on her face when their lives changed with a single pound of the gavel– Stella was granted full custody, Stolas lost his title and power, and their little family, if it ever really was one, was torn to pieces.
Via disappeared after the court adjourned, nowhere to be found. Stolas had searched frantically for her, wandering the city by foot since he could no longer portal himself. He tried to check his former palace, where a fight with Andrealphus ensued in the courtyard. Stolas narrowly escaped with his life, thanks to a few last-minute saviors.
After several hours that felt more like a lifetime, Vassago had called him.
“ Via begged me not to contact you,” Vassago had explained in a hushed whisper. “But she’s safe. She arrived at my estate and asked me to take her in. She said she’s applying for legal emancipation.” There was a long pause. “ She told me… she doesn’t want anything to do with you or Stella anymore.”
Stolas hadn’t the slightest clue how to respond to that. He stammered over his words, the bitter reality settling over him like a suffocating weight.
“I’m sorry, Stolas. I couldn’t keep this information from you, even though she asked me not to tell you where she was. Right now Via seems rather distraught, so it may be best to give her some time and space,” Vassago sighed. “ I promise to keep an eye on her and keep her safe. I’m hoping that with time, she will find it in her heart to reach out to you again.”
It had been three weeks since Stolas had last seen Via. He gazed down at the photo on his phone of Via holding her new motorcycle license. Her expression in the photo looked… joyful. Even though Stolas wanted to be there by her side, experiencing the excitement with her, he was at least happy that she could still experience it on her own.
Stolas felt like he was floating outside of his body, staring down at himself as he tapped the screen to reply. He was merely an observer as his fingers typed out a response. “ Thank you for being there for Via.”
Send.
—
He passed the next few hours of work in a daze. Thankfully, the store remained empty while Dennis was at lunch, so Stolas tried to distract himself by reorganizing the condom rack. When Dennis returned, Stolas felt so distracted by the thoughts in his head that he barely processed any of his training, but he did his best to go through the motions.
Dennis paused in his explanation about counting the cash in the register and gave Stolas a serious look. “Don’t wanna pry or anything, but you doing alright?”
Stolas’ chest clenched, disappointed that he’d been so preoccupied that even his new supervisor had noticed. He just wanted to do something right, if he couldn’t even be a father properly. “I suppose I’m a bit distracted,” Stolas said. “But I want to continue doing my best to finish training.”
“I hear you, man,” Dennis said, setting a stack of dollar bills to the side. “First day is always the hardest. Information overload. If you want to head out early today, I can finish up the rest here.”
White pupils flashed in Stolas’ eyes. “No! No, I don’t want to disappoint you. I promise I’m able to continue–“
Dennis waved a hand. “Nothing to sweat over,” he tried to reassure Stolas. “You were a prince up until, like, a few weeks ago. I’m sure you got shit you’re going through. That’s a massive fucking life change.”
Stolas opened his beak, then closed it. He couldn’t argue with that.
Dennis stroked his chin in thought, then nodded his head. “Yep, I made up my mind. You’re taking the rest of the evening off.”
Stolas didn’t have the energy to fight Dennis’ decision, because honestly, having the rest of the evening to recuperate did sound tempting. “Very well. I appreciate your understanding, Dennis,” Stolas sighed. “Thank you for taking the time to train me today. You’ve been unbelievably patient.”
“No sweat,” Dennis replied. “And hey, nice work today. I know it’s a lot to take in when you’re just starting, but I promise it gets easier.”
Stolas did his best to smile. “That’s encouraging, at least.”
Dennis shrugged his shoulders. “All things considered, you’re catching on pretty fast,” he said, then began rummaging around in the storage underneath behind the cash register. “Oh yeah, one last thing, before you go. Gotta tell you about a little job perk,” Dennis said, holding a rabbit vibrator box out to Stolas. “Selling sex toys means you gotta know all the ins and outs… which means you get free samples to test drive.”
Stolas took the box. The toy was called The Magic Bunny . Never before in his life had he been given homework quite like this.
“Keep in mind, these are lower grade products from Big Oz’s factory. They might not work quite as well as what you’re used to,” Dennis explained, holding up a finger. “Be sure to read through the manual– how long it takes to recharge, how long a charge lasts and all that.”
Stolas tucked the box underneath his arm and nodded. “I believe I can fulfill that assignment,” he replied. Dennis didn’t respond, already back to typing away on his phone. “Working on your screenplay?”
Dennis’ eyes shot up, perhaps a bit embarrassed that Stolas put two and two together. “Yeah. Just something I do in my spare moments to keep myself from going crazy.”
“I think that’s commendable that you’re devoting yourself to a creative project. I’d love to discuss it more with you, if you’d ever like to do so.”
Dennis smiled warmly and adjusted his beanie. “Thanks, man. Yeah, let’s talk about it sometime soon.”
“Thank you again, Dennis.”
“Sure thing. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dennis raised his fingers in a peace sign as Stolas slipped out the door.
—
The journey home felt twice as long as the one this morning. Stolas repeatedly dozed off while standing on his feet, then jerking awake as the bus jostled along the road. He’d also forgotten to put the vibrator box into a bag, so he attracted even more bewildered stares than usual, but he was too damned tired to even care at this point.
After the bus dropped him at his station, Stolas trudged up three flights of stairs to his apartment. His legs were already aching from an entire day spent on his feet, but he knew it’d be a lost cause to check if the elevator was back in service. He hadn’t seen anyone working on it in the few weeks he’d lived there.
He swung open the door to his musty studio apartment: small, dimly-lit, and mostly barren except for a mattress on the floor, a single dining chair placed against the wall, and a few plants he’d managed to smuggle from the palace before Stella destroyed the rest. Despite its humble appearances, his apartment felt like the most comfortable place in the world right now.
Stolas went to set the vibrator box on the floor next to the mattress but hesitated. He had to admit, his body still felt tense and wound up from the day’s events. Perhaps it would do some good to relieve some stress before he went to sleep.
Stolas ripped open the box, withdrawing a bright pink rabbit vibrator. This was one of the toys he hadn’t yet experimented with, but it already looked quite promising, from the soft silicone shaft that sloped down to the rabbit ear-shaped stimulator at the base. He glanced through the manual and plugged the vibrator into the only working outlet by the kitchenette. A yellow light on the wand’s handle blinked on, indicating the toy was charging.
In the meantime, Stolas decided to fix himself dinner. There was only one item in his cabinet, a near-empty box of Greed Seed. Stolas grabbed a disposable plastic bowl and filled it with the remaining cereal, then reached into the mini fridge for some milk - only to realize he’d forgotten to pick up more. He’d been avoiding the grocery store out of fear of being humiliated again. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. Cereal and water for dinner, then.
Stolas sat in his dining chair and crunched on his bland meal. The rest of the cereal was barely enough to fill Stolas’ stomach, but it would have to suffice because he refused to head back out again that evening. He tossed the empty bowl into the plastic grocery bag that he’d repurposed as a trash bag, and moved to the closet to change out of his work uniform and into his purple robe.
When he finished changing, the light on the vibrator’s handle had turned green. Stolas unplugged the toy and swapped the charger to plug in his phone. He grabbed a pen and notepad and sat at the edge of the mattress, jotting the name of the toy at the top of the paper: “ The Magic Bunny.” Underneath he drew a two-column list, “ Pros” written on one side and “ Cons” on the other. If he was going to do his homework, he was going to do it right.
Under the Pros column, he wrote: “ Quick recharge time.”
Stolas lifted his legs onto the bed and relaxed onto his back, adjusting the pillows and scooting into a comfortable position. He started by placing the head of the vibrator against his stomach. The manual said this model had five different vibration settings, so he took his time flicking through each one, feeling the different vibration patterns and strengths rumbling through his abdomen. Once he found a pleasant, medium-strength vibration, he began to trail the toy down his navel, skirting along the inside of his thighs. He felt his limbs relax into the mattress, the pent-up stress already melting out of his body. Yes, he definitely needed this.
The head of the wand reached the top of his cloaca, running small circles over the sensitive area. Normally he would watch a video on his phone while pleasuring himself, but since his phone was charging on the opposite side of the room, he would have to make do with his imagination.
He raked his mind for a sexy visual to latch onto. The memories he had been reflecting on earlier today came rushing back to mind: his limbs bound to the bedposts, a warm weight straddling his body, sharp claws dragging through his feathers, a lithe tail squeezing his waist, lips and tongue lapping at his neck, a steady purr vibrating all the way through to Stolas’ core.
No. Anyone but him, Stolas thought with a small shake of his head as if to banish the memory. He’d forbidden himself to reflect on these memories since they had lost contact, out of respect and the need to move on. But even so, he pressed the vibrator more firmly to breach his entrance, as his mind was filled with images of a certain assassin’s half-lidded, sex-drunk gaze. Stolas pressed the shaft of the vibrator deeper into his core, shifting so that the undulating rabbit ears were rubbing against the sensitive nerves on the outside of his cloaca. Stolas imagined a long forked tongue lapping at his hole while claws crooked within him. Stolas arched his back and grinded his hips in earnest against the dual vibrations.
“Fuck… Blitzø …”
Stolas’ chest heaved as a myriad of memories were unlocked. Blitzø, tugging on the chain of the collar around Stolas’ neck as he mercilessly pounded him from behind. Blitzø, tongue fucking countless orgasms out of him until Stolas was a gasping, shivering mess. Blitzø whipping him, Blitzø teasing him, Blitzø biting him, fingering him, choking him, bending him over…
Stolas’ hips lifted and talons clenched in the sheets as he pressed the button to increase the strength of the vibrator. He barrelled towards climax, his body arched, eyes closed tight, and beak pinched–
Then the vibrator went completely dead. Motionless.
Stolas squawked, eyes flying open as he jabbed repeatedly at the power button, desperate to turn it back on. Nothing, except a faint red light blinking on the handle. Out of battery.
Stolas’ head flopped back against the pillow as his arousal quickly dissipated and was replaced with agitation. He thought back to what Dennis had mentioned earlier in the shop: “ Keep in mind, these are lower grade products from Big Oz’s factory. They might not work quite as well as what you’re used to.”
Stolas let out a groan and rolled onto his side, discarding the toy as he grabbed the pen and notepad off of the floor. In a frustrated scribble, he wrote under the “ Cons” list: “ Short battery life."
—
During his fifth and final shift of the week, Stolas' mind was already wandering to all the sleeping and relaxing he planned to do that weekend. The cumulative exhaustion from his first full week of work was weighing heavily on his body and mind.
Thankfully, he was slowly feeling more competent and comfortable each day with running the store, and nothing particularly terrible had happened – though he did have to deal with one irritating customer who insisted that none of the standard condom sizes fit him (“They’re just so tight and uncomfortable,” the demon had asked as he walked his fingers up Stolas’ waist, “Don’t you have anything bigger that could fit my monster cock?”). It was the first time Stolas saw Dennis reach for the baseball bat behind the register, but thankfully the customer lost interest and left before Dennis got to swinging.
There was also the occasional prank call where the individual on the other end would breathe heavily into the receiver, accompanied by wet squelching sounds. That didn’t bother Stolas as much, as he could just throw the phone back down and get on with his day. No immediate threat to his safety.
Friday morning was blessedly quiet and slow. He and Dennis had spent their time dusting the shelves, scrubbing the graffiti out of the bathroom, and organizing the stockroom. They’d even had enough free time that Dennis let Stolas read through the first act of his screenplay, Forbidden Pleasures.
“It’s a love story about a poly relationship between a demon, an angel, and a human, and how they navigate their relationship within the confines of their respective societies,” Dennis explained. “Oh, and they fuck a lot.”
Stolas hummed in acknowledgement as he read through a scene where the human was getting simultaneously fucked by the demon’s tail and asphyxiated by the angel’s halo. When Dennis had mentioned he was writing a screenplay, this wasn’t quite the type of writing Stolas had been expecting, but he’d read enough smut that none of the scenes were particularly shocking.
Stolas finished reading and nodded, holding the phone out to Dennis. “The first act is certainly gripping, especially with the cliffhanger about Desire being impregnated with a demon-angel hybrid baby.”
Dennis beamed with pride. “Thanks, dude! I figure, working at a sex shop gives me a pulse on what people enjoy, so maybe I can really make this into something big. I wanna make a name for myself one day.”
Stolas nodded. “I have no doubts you will, Dennis. It’s quite a thrilling story you have here.”
“Y’know, I haven’t actually told anyone about my screenplay before.” Dennis scratched his chin. “Well, except for… you-know-who .”
Stolas tilted his head. “Who?”
“Blitzø,” Dennis replied. “I met him at one of Bee’s parties. He was super fucking hammered, coming up to me and telling me all about some horse characters he made. So I started telling him about my screenplay, and out of nowhere, he shoved his tongue in my mouth. We made out for a while, which was pretty cool. But when he found out my name was Dennis, he was kind of an asshole about it.”
“I’m so sorry that happened,” Stolas sighed. “I suppose that explains why you were at the Anti-Blitzo party that night.”
Dennis shrugged. “It was a shitty thing he did, but I don’t really hate the guy. Mostly I just wanted an excuse to get drunk with Verosika Mayday.” He pulled a lighter out of his pocket, absently flicking the cap open and closed. “I was waiting for the right time to bring up the party, since you seemed kinda uncomfortable when I mentioned it at first.” He snapped the lid shut. “If you don’t mind sharing, what’s your story with that guy?”
“We were…” Stolas struggled with how to finish that sentence. Definitely not ‘ boyfriends.’ Perhaps ‘lovers’? That didn’t feel exactly right, either. “... Seeing each other for a while, as part of an agreement that I unfairly started.” Dennis gave Stolas a puzzled look. The owl sighed and reluctantly explained, “He came to my palace once a month to have sex with me, and in exchange I let him use my grimoire for his assassination business.”
“Whoa,” Dennis breathed. Stolas braced himself for the imp’s reaction, anticipating anger or disgust or hatred at Stolas’ wrongdoings. But no such emotion was evident on Dennis’ face. He only leaned forward eagerly, waiting for Stolas to continue.
“I developed feelings for Blitzø and realized the grave mistake I’d made in starting the deal. So, I decided to end the arrangement, and…” Stolas shook his head. He didn’t even know where to begin explaining the next part of their story. “There were a series of miscommunications. Feelings were hurt, and neither of us listened to the other. I felt so low that I ended up attending the Anti-Blitzo party.”
“And your song was kickass! Seriously, I bet you could record yourself and get millions of hits on Voxtube!” Dennis exclaimed. Stolas chuckled and waved the compliment away.
“I’ll admit, it did feel good to give in to my bitter and petty feelings for a while.” He crossed his arms over his chest and squeezed his upper arms. “Blitzø actually showed up that night at the party, you know. He tried to make amends with me, but I was so drunk and emotional that I wasn’t receptive to any of it.”
“That’s the last time you saw him?” Dennis said, pulling out a bag of barbecue chips from his stash underneath the counter.
Stolas shook his head. “No. Rather, he came to my aid only a couple weeks later,” he said. “Right after my divorce hearing was finalized. I’d lost everything to my ex-wife and brother-in-law. My daughter went missing, so I returned to my palace to find her, but my wife’s brother refused to let me in. We started fighting right outside the palace doors, but I didn’t stand a chance as I’d just had my magic taken away from me.”
An image flashed into Stolas’ mind, of Blitzø standing over him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other arm pointing a sword at Andrealphus, the assassin’s fangs bared with an expression of rage twisting his face.
Stolas squeezed his eyes shut. “But Blitzø and his team arrived at the last minute and helped me to escape before I was seriously injured.”
“Dude, that’s fuckin’ crazy,” Dennis said, words muffled by a mouthful of chips, crumbs flying past his lips as he spoke.
Stolas slumped over the counter. “After all the ways I hurt Blitzø, he still came to my side. He and I had a conversation afterwards, and I was finally able to properly apologize to him. For starting the deal, for not listening to his feelings, for being completely selfish throughout our relationship. He said that he forgave me.” Stolas buried his face in his hands. “And that was the last time I saw or spoke to him.”
“Really?” Dennis asked, “But you guys were finally on good footing. You apologized, he forgave you, so then…?”
“I still feel guilty for everything that happened. Blitzø was so gracious and kind to me. When he found out that I lost my title and my home, he even offered me a job at his company.” Stolas wiped a hand across his face. “Honestly, I was tempted to accept. But I felt that I’d made enough of a mess of his life, and I didn’t want to burden him any more than I already had. That’s why I decided instead to work for Asmodeus, and why I haven’t reached out to Blitzø since.”
Dennis stroked his chin and said, “You’re still hung up on him, though.”
Stolas opened his mouth to object, but he really couldn’t deny that. “I don’t think I’ve ever met, or will ever meet, anyone quite like him. He was the first boy I ever had a crush on. The first and only man I’ve ever slept with. I fear he may be the last.”
Dennis hummed in thought and dumped the rest of the bag of chips into his mouth, chewing slowly. After swallowing, he asked, “Ever heard of Sindr?”
Stolas blinked at the unexpected question. “Cinder? Like… burnt coal?”
“No, Sindr. It’s a dating app,” Dennis explained, opening a tab on his phone and tilting the screen towards Stolas.
“I’ve heard of these types of apps, but I’ve never actually used one,” Stolas said. He was astonished as Dennis scrolled through what appeared to be hundreds of different profiles for demons of all shapes, sizes, species, and genders. The mail icon at the bottom of the app indicated Dennis had 20 unread messages awaiting him.
“You’re still down bad for that dude. Maybe it’s too soon to start dating or whatever, but it might help you find a rebound or two. Plenty of other demons in the inferno, y’know.”
The bell over the door jingled and a shark demon in a leopard-printed dress strolled in. “Welcome to The Pleasure Palace, how may we tantalize you today?” Dennis called out, shoving his phone into his pocket.
“I’m gonna need your finest lingerie and throat numbing spray,” the shark replied, tapping their fins against the counter.
“Right this way.” Dennis paused to quickly whisper to Stolas. “In the meantime you could make yourself a profile.”
Dennis disappeared down an aisle with the customer before Stolas could reply. There were so many reasons to not start a dating profile, but perhaps Dennis was right. Surely there wasn’t any harm in at least making a profile to look at the other options that were out there.
Stolas pulled out his phone hesitantly, searching for Sindr in the app store and hitting the ‘download’ button. Moments later, he was automatically brought to a screen to create his profile.
First, he needed a username. Stolas decided to reuse the one he had for Sinstagram, “Daddy_HootHoot.” He answered a few more basic questions: his age, location, and sexual orientation. Easy enough.
Next, he needed to upload a profile picture. Glancing through his gallery, Stolas realized he was wearing his regalia in most of his photos, which eliminated many of his options. He opened the inner camera of his phone and smiled nervously as he snapped a quick selfie, doing his best to cut his penis-shaped name tag out of the picture.
Once his selfie was uploaded, the app prompted him to swipe either left for “not interested,” or right for “interested” on a profile for a user named “HuGe_CocK69.” The profile photo showed a chiseled hellhound with too many piercings to count, lifting up his shirt to reveal a set of sculpted abs.
Shrugging, Stolas swiped right. HuGe_CocK69 looked pretty hot, and his username sounded promising.
Stolas continued swiping through more profiles as Dennis and the shark demon made their way back towards the register with a basket full of items. After the customer finished checking out and walked out the door, Dennis turned towards Stolas and grinned broadly. “Well, someone’s getting into it already,” he laughed. “Lemme see what you got for your profile so far.”
“I just filled out the basic information,” Stolas said, opening his profile and handing his phone to Dennis.
“‘Daddy Hoot Hoot,’ huh? That’s a kinky username,” he commented, scrolling down to look at Stolas’ profile picture. “Oh Satan, you used this photo? It looks like a fuckin’ mugshot, dude.”
“It does not!” Stolas peered over the imp’s shoulder and… okay, Dennis was right. Between the unflattering fluorescent lighting, the deep circles underneath Stolas’ eyes, and the deer-in-headlights expression on his face, it was possibly the least flattering photo Stolas had ever seen of himself.
“Guess it’s not a big deal, though. Look at the amount of matches you’re already raking in.” Dennis opened another page on the app and held the phone out to Stolas. Somehow, he’d already amassed over 50 matches in less than 10 minutes that he’d made a profile.
“How is that even possible?” Stolas asked incredulously. Admittedly, he was flattered that so many demons were interested in him. He just never could’ve imagined having so many different suitors.
“Let’s see what kind of pick-up lines they’re throwing at you.” Dennis tapped the mail icon and opened the first message. “HuGe_CocK69 says, ‘I must be a Rubix cube because the more you play with me, the harder I get.’ Hmm, points for creativity, but he could’ve come up with something better.” He scrolled down. “Oh, hey, congrats! Your first dick pic.”
Stolas recoiled at the sight of a veiny, fully engorged cock with a furry hand wrapped around the base. “That’s… a lot, for a first impression,” Stolas muttered, looking away and shielding his eyes with one hand.
“You can always block those types of guys, but unfortunately they tend to be rampant on these apps,” Dennis explained. When Stolas deflated a bit, he added, “You can add more details in your profile to weed out those kinds of interactions. Talk more about who you are, what you’re looking for.”
Stolas nodded. “Perhaps I’ll add that later this weekend. I think that’s a decent start for today.”
“For sure. Take it at your own pace. You never know what you might find.” Dennis strolled towards the employee area. “Anyways, I’m gonna take my break now. You know where to find me if you need anything.”
Stolas began organizing credit card receipts to keep himself busy. He was tempted to continue swiping and reading through his inbox. It was exciting, but also terrifying, and he needed a break from it. A fresh cloud of marijuana smoke began seeping through the cracks in the employee door behind him. Stolas half wished that he had a puff to calm his nerves, too.
The store phone rang, and Stolas quickly picked up the receiver. “Thanks for calling The Pleasure Palace, how may we tantalize you today?”
Once again, it was Stolas’ new best friend: the sound of haggard breathing, punctuated by a moist slapping noise.
He shook his head and put the phone back in its cradle. Between dick pics and lewd phone calls, he was getting more attention now than he had in his entire life.
—-
The rest of Stolas’ shift dragged on, with only a slow trickle of customers passing through the shop. Stolas felt too nervous to use his own Sindr account, so he watched Dennis swipe through profiles and respond to messages. Dennis was somehow able to juggle twenty flirtatious text conversations, and his phone calendar was packed with dates for every night of the week. He made it look so easy. Stolas wasn’t sure if he would ever get to that point.
At last, the clock struck 5:00, and Stolas was free. He heaved a sigh of relief as he stepped onto the sidewalk and walked towards the bus stop. Stolas was looking forward to heading home, getting cozy in his robe, and–
His phone buzzed with a 30-minute reminder that he was due at Asmodeus’ penthouse for dinner tonight. He slapped a hand over his face. Satan fucking dammit. He cursed his past self that agreed to social plans without knowing how utterly exhausted his future self would be. And it was too short of notice to cancel now.
Stolas rode the bus home to change out of his uniform, plus a quick trip to the grocery store to pick up a bottle of wine. He mentally patted himself on the back for his bolstered confidence in navigating the store and knowing how to swipe his credit card correctly. Then he headed to Asmodeus’ factory and rode the elevator up to the 69th floor.
The elevator doors slid open, and the enormous mauve door to Asmodeus’ penthouse loomed over him. Stolas felt slightly intimidated and gently rapped his knuckles against the dark wood.
The gigantic door scraped open, and to his surprise, Stolas didn’t see anyone there - until he craned his neck downward and found Fizzarolli looking up at him excitedly.
“Stolas! So glad you made it!” the jester shouted, extending a robotic arm out to guide Stolas inside.
“Thank you for having me over tonight,” he replied, scanning around the penthouse. It reminded him of his former palace, only much sexier: deep burgundy curtains, an enormous fireplace with flickering blue flames, and several partially-nude portraits of Asmodeus and Fizzarolli posing in all manner of erotic positions together. Stolas cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from a particularly explicit painting that depicted an open-legged Fizz in a pair of frilly panties, with Asmodeus pulling down the waistband with his beak.
Stolas shoved the bottle of wine at the imp. “Here! I brought wine!”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Fizzarolli said, taking the bottle and examining the label. “Never heard of this brand… ‘Two Buck Chuck’?”
“I’m sorry, I know it’s not the nicest brand… I’m on a bit of a limited budget until I receive my first paycheck,” Stolas explained sheepishly.
“Don’t apologize! It’s the thought that counts!” Fizzarolli gushed, hugging the wine close to his chest. This Fizzarolli was a far cry from the one Stolas had met so many months ago, on that fateful night at Ozzie’s club. “Anyways, Oz texted that he’s gonna be a bit late to dinner. Got caught up with some last-minute business at the factory. Which leaves me in charge of cooking!”
Stolas followed Fizarolli, who swung from the ceiling rafters towards the kitchen. As Stolas moved closer, he recoiled as a putrid scent assaulted his nostrils.
“Smells like…” He sniffed the air a few times. “Fish and… gravy?”
Fizarolli extended his legs so he could remove the lid from one of the pans atop the burner, releasing a smoking plume that caused the stench to permeate the air more heavily. “Oooh, that’s a great guess! I’m cooking up my nonna’s famous spaghetti bolognese recipe, and now we’re just waiting for the tomato sauce to thicken!”
Stolas peeked at the syrupy, burbling concoction that did not at all resemble tomato sauce. “Hmm, that certainly looks… quite bubbly!”
Fizzarolli leaned closer to Stolas. “I gotta be honest, I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. But since you’re here now, we can work together to save this mess!”
“Well, We can certainly try!” Stolas chuckled nervously, not quite ready to disclose to Fizzarolli that he’d been eating only cereal and takeout. And since his savings started dwindling, his diet was now leaning heavily towards the cereal side.
“Alright, you can get started with chopping some garlic for the garlic bread,” Fizzarolli stated, extending one arm out to set up a cutting board and knife on the counter. He squinted at the recipe book. “Hmm, it says to mince one clove of garlic.” Fizzarolli held up an entire garlic bulb. “... Do you think this is a ‘clove’?”
“Yes, I think so,” Stolas said, though he had no clue whatsoever. Fizzarolli tossed the bulb onto the cutting board, and the owl blinked down at it, trying to determine the best way to go about cutting it. He hesitantly slid the knife into the thin leaves of the vegetable, revealing the yellow interior. He wrinkled his nose at the strong, spicy odor it released and the unpleasant stickiness it left on his fingers.
“Thanks so much for helping out!” Fizzarolli said as he began pulling out nearly every container from the spice rack and shaking a hearty amount of each one into the sauce pot. “Hey, Ozzie mentioned you started at The Pleasure Palace this week! How’s that going?”
“It’s presented some interesting challenges, but I believe I’ve finally started to get my bearings,” Stolas said, holding both hands on each end of the knife and sawing away at the garlic. “My life is so drastically different now. It feels like yesterday I was a prince of the stars, living in a palace with everything provided for me. Now, I’m working in customer service and figuring out how to survive day-to-day. I know it’s for the better, but sometimes I miss the way things were before.” Stolas glanced up, just in time to see Fizzarolli dump a full bundle of basil into the concoction.
The jester frantically stirred the pot to keep it from bubbling over. “I can relate to the feeling. Our situations are different, but I also left a job I’d been doing for a long, long time– working too many hours, toxic boss.” The pinched expression on Fizzarolli’s face indicated to Stolas that this was something that still deeply unsettled him. “My life is objectively better now that I’m free, but it comes with the uncertainty of not knowing what to do next.” He tapped the spoon against the side of the pot, tilting his head thoughtfully. “So, I know what you mean when you say that you miss it sometimes. It’s like, change is important for you to grow, but you also miss the comfort of what’s familiar.”
“That’s exactly right,” Stolas said. “You took the words out of my mouth. Although it’s exhausting and intimidating, the most important part is realizing how much your life has improved for the better.”
“Yup! Every experience leads to bigger and better things.” Fizzarolli reached one arm out to hunt through the cabinets, rummaging through the supplies. “So, I realized we don’t actually have any bread to use for the garlic bread. Do you think shortbread cookies would be an okay substitution?”
Stolas laughed, thinking it was a joke, before he realized Fizzarolli was serious. Even Stolas knew enough about cooking to know that wasn’t acceptable. “No, I don’t think so, but if you need me to swing by the store -”
“Nonsense! I can’t have you venture out in the cold!” Fizzarolli declared, slapping a sleeve of shortbread cookies onto the counter. “Here ya go, just go ahead and throw some of that garlic clove on there.”
Reluctantly, Stolas began scooping the garlic mush from the cutting board and drizzling it on top of the cookies. “And how was your week, Fizzarolli?”
“Oh, you can just call me Fizz,” the jester stated, turning the burner down just as it was about to erupt into flames. Stolas wondered if the kitchen would survive by the end of the night. “Well, I spent my morning doing some business meetings at the factory, then I caught up with Blitzø over coffee - ” Fizz stumbled in the middle of his sentence, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “Uh, but I know you two have a bit of a checkered history so, we don’t have to talk about him…”
“It’s alright. Although Blitzø and I aren’t in contact, we left off on decent terms,” Stolas responded. This was the second time that day that the assassin had been mentioned. It felt almost impossible to escape his influence in Stolas’ life.
The tension in Fizz’s body quickly dissipated. “I’m glad, because he and I hang out pretty often. It’d be hard to avoid talking about him altogether.”
“Of course. I understand you two are long-time friends with a lot to catch up on. How is Blitzø doing, anyway?” Stolas asked, hoping to sound nonchalant. In reality, he was desperate to know.
“Seems like he’s doing pretty damn well for himself!” Fizz exclaimed. “He said that he’s hired two new assassins and a new office clerk because they’ve been getting so many clients!” Fizzaroli poured some red wine into the pot then dipped a spoon in to taste. He smacked his lips, considered for a moment, before dumping the entire rest of the bottle in.
“That’s… wonderful to hear,” Stolas said, warmth blooming in his chest. He knew how devoted Blitzø was to his business, how many overtime hours and sleepless nights he poured into I.M.P. – so Stolas could only imagine Blitzø’s joy that his business was expanding.
Fizz peered knowingly over his shoulder at Stolas, who was smiling fondly to himself as he continued scraping together the last of the garlic. “Ya know,” Fizz said with a playful lilt to his voice. “Blitzø often asks about you, too.”
“He does?” Stolas asked, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, because a positively shit-eating grin stretched across the jester’s face at his reaction.
“Hey boys! I’m so sorry I’m late!” a voice called from the entrance as the front door slammed shut.
Fizz gasped. “Ozzie! You’re finally home!” The jester quickly swung himself out of the kitchen. Stolas remained by the stove, stirring the sauce occasionally, trying not to eavesdrop on the hushed giggles and wet smacking of lips as Asmodeus and Fizz greeted each other at the doorway.
Eventually Asmodeus made his way into the kitchen with Fizz perched on his shoulder, the jester’s clothes looking slightly more disheveled than they did earlier. The sin’s eyes widened as he took in the mess in the kitchen, from the sink piled high with dishes to the numerous bottles of oil and seasoning strewn across the countertops. It was a warzone, and nobody was winning.
“Oh, Satan have mercy. Froggy, did you really try to cook all by yourself this evening?”
“Of course not,” Fizz objected and gestured towards Stolas. “Stolas here helped me out! We make a great team!”
“Well, if Stolas lended a hand, then maybe there’s a chance he was able to salvage your cooking,” Asmodeus sighed, pulling out dishes and cutlery from the cabinets.
The three gathered around the dining table with plates full of charred spaghetti noodles smothered in fish-and-gravy smelling sauce, along with a side of shortbread cookies drowning in an ungodly amount of garlic. The three exchanged nervous glances, as if daring one another to take the first bite.
Fizz finally cracked. “Oh, it can’t be that bad, you guys. I ate this all the time growing up,” he said, twirling a hearty amount of noodles around his fork and slurping them into his mouth. He chewed once, twice, before spitting the mouthful into his napkin. “Okay. Fine. It tastes like vomit. We’re gonna need to incinerate the plates. And possibly the entire kitchen.”
“Well, at least you two had fun with your little cooking party,” Asmodeus chuckled, grabbing his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Who wants pizza?”
—-
Stolas leaned his head back against the backrest of the sofa and swirled the ginger ale in his glass, exhaling a long breath. His stomach was full from the extra large supreme pizza Asmodeus had ordered for the three of them. His face hurt from laughing so hard from Fizz, who had been practicing his comedy routine while standing on the coffee table.
Asmodeus held up a wine bottle and swirled the remaining liquid. “You sure you don’t want any wine before I finish the rest, Stolas?”
Stolas shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ve been trying to cut back,” he stated, intentionally vague. “And besides, this ginger ale is quite delightful.”
“Alrighty, then.” Asmodeus emptied the last of the wine bottle into his goblet. “How are you feeling? If you’re too tired from your first week at work, I can always portal you home whenever you want.”
Stolas paused to consider this. When he’d left work today, all he’d wanted to do was get back home so that he could relax. But that would’ve also meant being alone in his miserable little apartment, contemplating his mess of a life. But here, in this moment, he finally felt safe. Accepted. Seen. He felt almost… happy.
“If I’m not imposing, I’d happily stay a little while longer,” he said. “I’m rather enjoying my time with you both this evening.”
The couple exchanged an overjoyed expression. When Fizz looked back at Stolas, the jester’s eyes were wide and glassy. “We’re so happy you came!” he said. “I’ve been wanting to reach out to you for a while now. I still feel fucking awful for how I treated you and Blitzø that night at the club. I wasn’t really sure how to go about apologizing, so… I’m sorry about that.”
“ We’re sorry about that,” Asmodeus chimed in, placing a gentle palm on Stolas’ shoulder.
“I appreciate your apologies, but you’ve already been forgiven. If anything, I should be thanking you both, as your words that night helped Blitzø and I to confront some rather difficult feelings,” Stolas said, patting the back of Asmodeus’ hand.
“You really are too kind.” Fizz placed a hand over his chest. “I’m glad we’re still able to be friends despite all that.”
“And the fact you stuck around after Fizz nearly gave us all food poisoning tonight!” Asmodeus exclaimed. “I mean, that’s real friendship right there.”
“Okay, that’s enough feelings for one night. Can we watch something, please? A movie to lighten the mood?” Fizz suggested, reaching out to grab the TV remote from across the room.
“I don’t have a television in my apartment yet, but I’ve been meaning to catch up on the latest Hellanovella episodes,” Stolas said.
Asmodeus’ face lit up. “Would you mind if we started at the beginning of the season? We’ve been so busy that we haven’t been able to catch up for a while.”
Stolas shook his head. “I wouldn’t mind in the slightest!”
Fizz grabbed a few blankets from a nearby basket and tossed one over to Stolas. Stolas unfolded the blanket and snuggled deeper into the couch, stretching his legs out on the ottoman. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Fizz and Asmodeus cozying up to one another, their foreheads resting together as they settled in for a Hellanovella marathon.
Stolas’ life was still a huge fucking mess, and he had no idea where the future would lead him, but right now, he was safe and among friends. He could breathe and worry about the rest later.
—
The next week of work felt easier, somehow. Although his talons ached from standing all day, and he still had moments where he felt lost on how to handle certain customer interactions, he felt better knowing that he had a few trusted friends he could rely on.
One day, Stolas was surprised when an elderly couple strolled through The Pleasure Palace’s door. The general age of their clientele ranged between 20 years to about 40 years. By the amount of wrinkles and gray hairs these two were sporting, they had to be pushing 70 years old.
Stolas gave the usual Pleasure Palace greeting from behind the register, and they both stopped in their tracks with a gasp.
“Oh, my!” the taller baphomet exclaimed, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her smushed nose. “You’re King Paimon’s son, aren’t you? I remember seeing your picture in the newspaper when you were just a featherless little blob.”
Her partner, a succubus whose posture resembled the letter C, craned her neck up as far as she could. Her eyes lit up with recognition. “Yes, I remember! Now look how you’ve grown!”
Stolas chuckled awkwardly, uncertain about how to respond to such a comment. He didn’t have any grandparents, but he imagined if he did, this is what the experience might have felt like. The safest response he could think of was, “How may I help you ladies this evening?”
“We’re looking for a way to spice up things in the bedroom,” the succubus said. “We’ve both had our hips replaced so we need something ergonomic for our creaky metal joints.”
Stolas stroked his chin. “Hmm, I can’t claim to be an expert on sex after hip replacement, but we do have some positioning devices that may be useful for finding more comfortable positions.”
The two demons hobbled slowly behind Stolas as he led them down an aisle where they stocked their pillows, chairs, and swings.
“Look at this, Sweetie!” the baphomet cackled, gesturing to a demo sex swing that was set up in the corner. “Just like they used to have at the playground.”
“It’s a much sexier playground now!” giggled the succubus, placing one knee on the square platform of the swing to hoist herself up. When she was unable to bring up her other leg after a few attempts, she waved Stolas over. “Help a girl out, would ya?”
Stolas helped the succubus climb the rest of the way onto the swing. “The height of the swing is adjustable. You could lower it so it’s easier to climb aboard,” he explained as the succubus rolled onto her back, accompanied by a melody of crackles from her hips and spine as she moved.
“Oh, baby! You know just what sounds to make to get me going,” the baphomet exclaimed, standing between her wife’s legs and pushing the swing experimentally. “Well, isn’t this a neat little contraption! Might save me from throwing out my lower back, too!”
Stolas spent the next 20 minutes with the ladies, showing them from aisle to aisle so they could pick out a new strap-on, an assortment of lubes, and a couple new vibrators. All the while, the couple was giggling, flirting, and almost sickeningly in love.
“So, how long have you two been together?” Stolas asked as he hauled their selection to the front counter and began ringing up their purchases.
“50 years!” the baphomet declared happily.
“51, as of a couple weeks ago,” the succubus chided, smacking her wife’s butt with the end of her cane. “Started dating in grade school, went our separate ways until after college, and then somehow found our way back to each other again. We’ll be together ’til the grave, that much is for damn certain.”
“Just ’ til the grave? You’ll have to deal with me for whatever comes after this life, Honey!”
Stolas couldn’t help but smile at their banter. He swiped their credit card and bagged up their purchases. “I wish you both many more years of happiness together.”
“You’ve been extremely helpful, young Prince! How nice that you decided to work in a sex shop in your spare time,” the baphomet said. Stolas nodded, but didn’t have the heart to correct her. “Do you have a special someone?”
Stolas’ cheeks went hot. “Oh. No, I don’t. Not at the moment,” he explained.
“A handsome thing like you is sure to get snatched up in no time. The right one will come along eventually, don’t you worry.”
Stolas scratched his head. “Yes, well, thank you for that. I look forward to your next visit.”
The couple waved happily as they strolled out of the door arm-in-arm, their lively chatter still audible even after the door had closed.
The baphomet’s words hung in Stolas’ mind. “Together ’til the grave.” Now that he’d lost his title, and by extension, his immortality, that was a concept he was still trying to wrap his mind around. Eventually, his body would begin slowing down, wrinkling, and aging – just as any other hellborn demons’ would. It was a terrifying thought, but it forced him to re-examine what he wanted in life and his relationships.
In the past, Stolas’ view of romance had been unrealistic and juvenile. He had believed that one person could solve all his problems, and that love was all about grand gestures. Now, after his divorce and the end of his situationship with Blitzø, he realized that healthy love was about mutual respect, open communication, and compromise. Stolas knew that it would take time and patience to find a partner with whom he could share that level of trust.
Regardless, he still couldn’t help but yearn for that day when he could share his life with someone special. He thought of the two elderly customers: giggling, flirting, and still so deeply in love despite having spent so many years together. When he grew old and wrinkled, would he have someone who would visit the sex shop with him? When he was lying on his deathbed, would someone be at his side and holding his hand until the end?
Stolas heaved a sigh. It was hopeless to dream and then do nothing about it. He pulled out his phone, tapped the fire icon to open Sindr, and began to swipe left and right on profiles. If he had to endure a dick pic or two in order to find his life partner, he was willing to give it a try.
Chapter 2: The Red String of Fate
Chapter Text
Stolas sprinted down the sidewalk towards Asmodeus’ factory, still dressed in his work uniform, with a rainbow-patterned gift bag looped around his arm. He had clocked out late from his shift and subsequently was running late to Fizz’s surprise party, and it was all because of fucking Dennis.
At the beginning of the day, Stolas had warned Dennis that he needed to clock out on time in order to arrive at Asmodeus’ penthouse on time for the big surprise. Dennis had nodded, eyes glued to his phone as he tapped away at his screenplay, and muttered, “Yup, sure, that shouldn’t be a problem at all.”
As it turned out, Dennis forgot to mention that today was The Pleasure Palace’s annual 50% off sale on everything in the store. Once Stolas flipped the sign in the window to “Open,” the bell above the door didn’t stop jingling for the entire day. A relentless stream of demons poured in, items flew off the shelves, and Stolas entered a panicked state of survival mode. Dennis didn’t seem to be fazed even slightly at the abrupt torrent of customers, somehow able to simultaneously count change for one customer while ringing up another.
The upside of a busy day was that it passed by quickly, but Stolas was finding it was going a bit too fast. He eyed the clock as it neared his usual 5:00pm clock out time. The next time he checked, it was 5:20, and there was still no end in sight to the swarm of demons hunting for a good discount. Once 5:45 approached, Stolas threw his hands in the air and shouted at Dennis that he needed to clock out right now. Dennis gave him a lazy thumbs up, and Stolas took the opening to bolt out the door.
And now, the owl was running as fast as possible to reach Asmodeus’ penthouse. He didn’t want to be the one to ruin the surprise for Fizz, especially now that he’d formed such a pleasant friendship with their weekly takeout dinners and Hellanovella viewings.
Stolas reached the factory elevator and jabbed at the button for the 69th floor. He leaned against the wall and caught his breath as the elevator slowly crawled upwards. To his dismay, the elevator stopped at nearly every floor, prolonging his journey even longer. Stolas let out a resigned sigh and pulled out his phone, using the extra time to check his messages for the first time that day.
The first text was from Vassago. It contained a photo attachment of Via, eyes and hands glowing light purple, as she levitated a small table and two chairs off the floor. The accompanying text read: “ Via’s magic lessons are proceeding smoothly! She continues to show promise in harnessing the grimoire’s power. It’s hard to believe it’s already been six months since the hearing. Give me a call whenever you have a spare moment. I’d love to chat and hear how life has been for you.”
There was still the sharp sting of regret every time he received an update about his starfire, but Stolas was endlessly grateful to Vassago for his frequent updates and ensuring his daughter remained safe and happy. “ Thank you for the updates, Vassago. I am pleased her lessons have been going so well. I will give you a call tomorrow.” He downloaded the picture of Via, zooming on his daughter’s excited expression as she exercised her magical abilities. Would there ever be a time that their paths crossed again, when Via could bear looking at him without resentment?
His phone vibrated as a new message appeared at the top of the screen. “I had an amazing time with you. When can I see you again?”
Stolas grimaced and reluctantly opened the message. He hadn’t even bothered adding the contact name to his phone, but he knew it was from one of his recent Sindr dates, most likely the mild-mannered baphomet who he’d gotten coffee with a few days ago. The baphomet was kind of cute and told a couple funny jokes, but Stolas just didn’t feel any spark. It also didn’t help that his date chattered endlessly about himself, barely pausing long enough to allow for any responses from Stolas. By the end of their two hour date, Stolas felt as though he’d hardly said more than a few words.
“Hello. I’m sorry, but I do not realistically see this going anywhere. I wish you all the best,” Stolas responded. He’d been going on enough Sindr dates that he knew it was best to be firm and direct.
In the beginning, Stolas tried to be fair to his dates and give them a few chances to see if any spark developed, keeping in mind what Dennis had told him: “Get out there, sample the different flavors hell has to offer!” The furthest Stolas had gone was kissing a date, but it was purely out of obligation after being treated to a lavish evening. The experience brought him careening back to memories of “deals” and “arrangements.” He swiftly cut contact with the suitor and vowed that any act of intimacy would be purely out of desire, not obligation.
Three dots hovered at the bottom of the screen before the reply appeared “ Whatever. You aren’t even that hot, anyway. Should’ve expected as much from an arrogant ex-royal.”
Stolas rolled his eyes. As if he hadn’t heard that one before. He jabbed the ‘block contact’ button and then deleted the dating app. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d deleted Sindr, only to re-download it a couple of days later. He always came crawling back out of boredom and loneliness. Maybe this time would be different.
Stolas’ eyes flicked up as the elevator dinged. He’d finally arrived at the 69th floor. Stolas bolted through the elevator doors as soon as they slid open far enough, rushing to the enormous door to Asmodeus’ penthouse and yanking it open.
“About time, birdy babe!” Asmodeus’ voice boomed as Stolas stepped inside. Stolas rotated his head around to locate the sin, but the penthouse was packed with more demons than Stolas could have ever imagined in one place. Colorful streamers, balloons, and pictures of Fizz’s face were plastered everywhere he looked. Stolas spotted a glimpse of Lucifer and Beezlebub somewhere amongst the shifting kaleidoscope of faces circling around the living room. He should’ve expected such an impressive turnout, but he’d gotten so well acquainted with Fizz that he’d almost forgotten the jester was a celebrity throughout hell.
Suddenly, the room was plunged into darkness. “Shut your holes and get to your hiding places! He’s coming up the elevator right now!” The din of conversation lowered to a murmur as everyone scrambled to hide.
Stolas hesitated as his eyes adjusted to the sudden lighting change, stepping carefully to avoid tripping over any of the smaller demons as they scrambled past his legs. Everyone was moving with purpose, seemingly having already picked out a spot. Stolas panicked, eyes darting around for the best place to conceal his tall, lanky body.
“Hurry up, I say, I say!” A voice yelled, prompting the owl to start running towards the large sectional in the middle of the living room. As he rounded towards the back of the couch, his talons caught on something hidden in the shadows, and the floor rushed up to meet him.
Stolas flinched and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for impact, but none came. When he blinked his eyes open, he found himself hovering in midair. Something was supporting him by the waist, holding him safely above the floor in a dip pose. He looked up and found a pair of glowing yellow eyes with pinprick red pupils staring back at him.
It can’t be, Stolas thought, squinting at the face to discern any other features in the darkness. He had to be mistaken, surely fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to put him face-to-face with –
Stolas’ suspicions were confirmed when all of the lights flicked on, accompanied by a roar of, “SURPRIIIIIISE!!!” Stolas didn’t register any of it as he stared up at Blitzø’s face, who looked back at him with an equal amount of shock.
Artwork by Sundae
It felt like they were frozen in time, staring at one another while Blitzø held Stolas in his arms. The bustle of the party continued around them: party poppers booming, confetti flying, and cheers filling the air as Asmodeus scooped up a giggling Fizz into his arms and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips.
“Um,” Stolas finally said, turning his face to focus on the commotion at the front door, but mostly, to break the eye contact that had grown a little too intense.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” Blitzø laughed nervously, helping the owl to his feet.
“No need to apologize,” Stolas said, adjusting his clothes. “In fact, I should be thanking you. You just saved me from getting acquainted with the floor.”
“Ah, no biggie,” Blitzø replied, shrugging. “Kinda crazy this is how we meet again after all this time, huh?”
“Indeed,” Stolas replied, offering a sheepish smile to match the one Blitzø wore, and then his mind went completely blank. Silence descended over them as they turned to watch Fizz crowd surfing above everyone’s heads towards the gigantic birthday cake that took up most of the kitchen.
“Looks like Fizz is going to blow out his candles in a moment,” Stolas pointed out the obvious, but he was desperate for something to fill the awkward air between them. He snuck a glance down at the assassin, who was dressed in a black tank and acid-stained jeans with his red skull charm as a belt buckle. Stolas also noticed that Blitzø had his tail wound tightly around his own leg, the way he always did when he felt uncomfortable. He felt a twinge of guilt that his presence made Blitzø feel that way. Why do I always have to be such a burden to him?
“Yeah, we should probably start heading over.” Blitzø stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked alongside Stolas towards the gathering in the kitchen. The mass of guests quickly separated the two as they made their way over.
In a deep, booming voice, Asmodeus led the massive crowd in singing “Happy Birthday,” the guests’ varying vocal abilities resulting in an overall off-key and discordant rendition. Fizz didn’t seem to mind in the slightest as he sat perched atop Asmodeus’ shoulder, swaying his head to the rhythm with a look of sheer joy on his face. After the final note was sung, the deadly sin lifted Fizz in his arms to blow out row after row of candles on his birthday cake that had no less than ten tiers.
While the cake was cut and passed around, Stolas retreated to the living room to get his bearings. His nerves still felt frazzled from the unexpected meeting with Blitzø. He approached the drink table and scanned the many alluring options spread across the tablecloth: a bowl of jungle juice, cans of cola for mixing with various hard alcohols and… oh, Satan, there was even an unopened bottle of absinthe.
Stolas had been abstaining from alcohol ever since the Anti-Blitzo party. He’d made a fool of himself, had said and done things he didn’t really mean. He was tired of drowning his problems in alcohol.
But the alarm bells of anxiety were shrieking in his head. The feeling was heightened from an unbelievably hectic day at work, followed by a party where he barely knew anyone, and then falling directly into the arms of the man he’d been trying to get over but shamefully masturbating to for the past several months.
Stolas found his hand already reaching towards the absinthe, the tips of his talons brushing the smooth green glass, just before he pivoted at the last moment to grab a can of cola instead. The decision shouldn’t have been as difficult as it was, but Stolas felt like he was fighting every instinct that told him to just drink the whole fucking bottle and forget about his problems for a while.
Pouring himself a red cup with ice and cola, Stolas took a seat on the sectional as the guests dispersed throughout the penthouse. He was adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces once more. Stolas was used to being the odd one out at these sorts of gatherings. Usually he enjoyed the people watching opportunities and watching the drama unfold before his eyes, but he couldn’t quite enjoy his usual people watching when he was subconsciously scanning the crowd for one particular person. It took a moment, but eventually he spotted Blitzø leaning against the wall, a bored expression on his face as he picked at a small plate of meat and cheese.
Stolas knew they were both in the same boat: only really knowing Fizz and Asmodeus, who were too preoccupied with entertaining everyone else, which meant they were left to fend for themselves during this party. Stolas took a deep breath and mentally rehearsed a few questions to ask Blitzø. Once he’d mustered up enough courage, he stood from the sectional, weaving his way through the tangles of partygoers.
“Fizz tells me that your business is doing well,” Stolas nearly shouted over the background music, causing Blitzø to flinch in surprise and dump his snack plate onto the floor. In a smaller voice, Stolas muttered, “Ah, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine. Their cheese selection is shit anyway,” Blitzø laughed, looking down at the mess of snacks he’d dropped. “But yeah, I.M.P. is doing pretty damn well. Hired a few new assassins to help with all the extra work. Plus Millie’s expecting a little bastard in a few months, so we’re gonna be extra busy soon.”
“Millie’s pregnant?” Stolas asked excitedly. He fondly recalled the black-haired imp’s broad smile. He’d only met her twice - when she’d saved him from Striker, and then from Andrealphus - but he already knew he liked her immensely. “Please give my congratulations to her and her husband.”
“I’ll do that,” Blitzø said, flashing him a sideways smile. “I can tell Moxxie’s scared shitless, but I told him I’d give him parenting pointers anytime he wants.”
“It is extremely daunting when you’re expecting your first child,” Stolas said, his tone somber as thoughts of his own daughter flashed through his mind. “It’s hard knowing whether or not you’re equipped to properly care for another being."
Blitzø noticed the change in Stolas’ mood, regarding the owl with a tilted head. Stolas shook his head and continued, “Regardless, this is all wonderful news. I’m glad to hear that the crystal has been working well for I.M.P.”
Artwork by Sundae
Blitzø lifted his left hand to look at the back of his glove, the familiar golden crystal shimmering in the rotating lights of the disco ball. “Yep, been a real fuckin’ lifesaver.”
Silence descended over them once more. Stolas racked his brain for the other questions he’d rehearsed, but came up completely blank. Instead, he gazed out at the crowd and sipped at his drink.
Stolas heard Blitzø give a small chuckle beside him. “Y’know, back when we were kids, the whole circus planned a surprise party for Fizz’s eighth birthday,” Blitzø said, tipping his head back against the wall. “We had this port-o-potty way out in the woods behind the tents, and when you had to shit in the middle of the night, you’d have to hike in the dark to find it. So the night of Fizz’s birthday, we all hid in the bushes around the outhouse and waited for him to wander out. And when we jumped out, the poor kid was so surprised that he shit his pants in front of everybody!”
Stolas, who had just taken a sip of cola, spat his drink out and doubled over in laughter, clutching his stomach as giggles wracked his body. Blitzø’s eyes sparkled in delight at Stolas’ reaction. Multiple partygoers turned to stare, including Fizz and Asmodeus, who exchanged sly grins when they saw what had caused the scene.
“Blitzø, that’s terrible!” Stolas tittered.
“I’ll never hear the phrase ‘shitting your pants with excitement’ the same way again.”
Another round of hooting giggles overcame Stolas, clutching at his stomach, already sore from laughter. It was incredible, how a little humor immediately tore away any awkwardness and uncertainty.
“Oh, Satan. No one makes me laugh quite like you do, Blitzø.” Stolas wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.
Blitzø’s grin stretched even wider, his tail happily swaying behind him. “Hey, just noticed your outfit,” Blitzø said, pointing a claw at the penis nametag over Stolas’ chest. “‘The Pleasure Palace,’ huh?"
“Oh! I’d forgotten about that,” Stolas said, looking down at his uniform. “You’re looking at the newest sales associate at The Pleasure Palace.” He swept his arms out, as if offering himself for appraisal.
Blitzø was more than happy to appraise him, his crimson eyes flicking up and down the owl’s body. “Well, well, well! Never thought I’d see the day you’d be hooking people up with kinky shit, when for so long I was the one who…”
Blitzø’s words trailed off as a look of realization crossed his face, snapping his mouth closed and glancing away quickly. Stolas’ stomach fluttered in a strange combination of embarrassment and arousal. He knew exactly where that thought was headed.
“Alright, everyone! Gather ‘round for gifts!” Asmodeus shouted, prompting the partygoers to pool around where Fizzaroli sat on the sectional. The jester had changed into a sparkling, rainbow sequined tuxedo. Stolas thought of his own silly work uniform and wished he would’ve thought to bring an extra change of party clothes.
“This is gonna take a while,” Blitzø muttered, motioning towards the mountain of presents surrounding Fizz. “What’d you get him?”
“Nothing exciting. Just a few plant clippings,” Stolas replied, almost embarrassed at how small his gift bag was compared to the larger boxes. “Last week, I was telling Fizz about gardening and he mentioned that he was interested in starting one. Though, I’m not sure if he was just being nice.”
“I’m sure he’s gonna love it, Stols,” Blitzø said, nudging the owl gently with his elbow. Stolas felt his brain short circuit at both the casual touch and the mention of his old nickname.
They watched together as Fizz began opening gift after gift. He received a number of hamburger-themed items: burger phone, burger pillow, burger rug, burger hand towels. Stolas wasn’t aware the imp had a fondness for burgers, but apparently there were still many things he had yet to learn about Fizz.
The next gift was a rectangular package wrapped in brown paper grocery bags, covered in sharpie doodles of horses.
“I don’t see a card with this one,” Fizz hummed, turning the box over to examine each side. “But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what weirdo made these doodles.” He cast a grin at Blitzø, who threw him a playful middle finger.
Fizz tore the paper open, his teasing expression quickly melting away to a look of wide-eyed awe. He held up a scrapbook, the cover photo showing a young Blitzø and Fizz in their clown costumes, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders as they each balanced on one leg. “Holy fuck. I thought everything burned in the fire,” Fizz breathed as he carefully flipped through the pages. “How did you get all this?”
“Had a little chat with the old head of the circus,” Blitzø replied with a casual shrug.
Stolas blinked as he pondered their exchange. There was a fire? And wasn’t the old head of the circus… Blitzø’s father?
Fizz continued poring over the rest of the scrapbook, before he turned it around for the crowd to see. “Blitzø got a hold of some old photos and memorabilia from our circus days,” Fizz explained, his voice strained, eyes glassy. “Look! These are tickets to our show! And these were the flyers we hung up all over the town! And some old Polaroids when Tilla let us use her camera.”
Asmodeus leaned in close to bump his forehead against the smaller imp’s. “Truly an amazing time capsule.”
Fizz closed the book and ran his hand fondly over the cover. “Thank you, Blitzø. Really, this means a lot to me,” he said. Blitzø crossed his arms and nodded.
Fizz wiped his eyes on his sleeves and passed the book to Asmodeus. “Way to go, making the birthday boy cry,” Fizz joked, his usual lighthearted smile making its way back to his face. Asmodeus carried over another armful of gifts, and the jester slowly returned to his jovial self.
Stolas glanced over at Blitzø, who had his arms crossed over his chest and a satisfied smile on his face. There were so many questions Stolas wanted to ask, but they all felt too raw and personal, especially for their first time seeing each other after months of no contact. He mentally filed the questions away for later.
“That was a very thoughtful present, Blitzø.”
Blitzø waved the compliment away. “Just something I threw together at the last minute.”
Stolas chuckled. He knew that wasn’t the case, especially with how many photos and personal touches were put into the scrapbook. “You’ve always been a wonderful gift giver. I still recall the gift basket you gave me when I was feeling ill.” His chest warmed at the memory of a basket crashing through his window, filled with his favorite teas, packaged mice, and an entire bundle of sticky notes that Blitzø had doodled on. It had worked better than any medicine at making Stolas feel better.
Blitzø looked up at the ceiling and laughed, as if reliving the memory himself. “Hah! That’s fuckin’ right! I’m the gift basket king !”
“Stolas!” Fizz called out. Stolas turned and noticed the jester holding a bundle of plant cuttings above his head. “Thanks for the cool leaf things!”
“They’re golden pothos cuttings,” Stolas explained. “For starting your own garden. Put them in a glass of water for now, and I’ll teach you more about plant care during our next dinner.”
“Awesome!” Fizz’s face lit up as he whirled over to look at Asmodeus. “Babe, Stolas is gonna teach me how to grow my own garden!”
“Well, can’t be any worse than when you two tried cooking together,” Asmdeus huffed. Fizz climbed up on his shoulder and gave one of his long head feathers a playful tug before turning to his guests, clearing his throat to gather everyone’s attention.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming out tonight to celebrate my birthday! I’m so grateful for each and every one of you.” Fizz placed a hand on his chest. “This past year was a rough one for me, between quitting my job and figuring out what direction to go from there. But I’m free now, and my life has been better than ever, thanks to the support of all my amazing friends! And, of course, my very sexy partner.” He traced a finger along Asmodeus’ jaw, before extending an arm out to grab a remote control from the table. “Anyways, enough with that sappy shit. Let’s really get this party started!”
All at once, the lamps dimmed, laser lights flashed across the room, and pulsing dance music began thrumming through the speakers. Asmodeus and several other guests shoved the furniture against the wall to make enough space for a dance floor in the center of the living room. The guests cheered and began jumping and swaying to the music, with Fizz in the center of it all, the lights reflecting off the hundreds of colorful sequins on his outfit.
Blitzø and Stolas continued to chat casually and watched the commotion from their corner. It wasn’t long before Asmodeus spotted the pair and gestured for them to come over. They both shook their heads, making no move towards the dance floor. Fizz stretched his arms out and grabbed each of their wrists, slowly reeling them into the center of the dancing circle.
“Thought you could escape the dancing fever, huh?” Fizz shouted over the music, giving both Stolas and Blitzø a twirl before releasing his grip. Blitzø laughed and joined in, head bobbing and hips swaying to the beat.
Stolas swallowed, trying to imitate the graceful and fluid movements of the demons around him, but his body felt stiff, rigid, and uncertain. The roaring of his heartbeat in his ears started to overpower the music.
Someone nearby laughed loudly, and Stolas whipped his head around, trying to locate the source. You can’t dance for shit, you despicable excuse of a man, Stella’s voice cackled in his mind. His stomach clenched as he felt the overwhelming feeling that everyone’s eyes were on him. Every muscle in his body felt tense, white pupils darting around the room, each breath coming shorter and faster.
“Hey, you doing okay?” Blitzø asked, touching Stolas’ elbow gently. The owl glanced down at the imp, who had stopped dancing and was looking at Stolas with concern, eyebrows knitted together.
Stolas ran his trembling talons through his feathers, wiping away the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. “I’m fine,” Stolas gasped, suddenly feeling breathless and lightheaded. He swayed on his feet as the room began to slowly rotate around him.
“Looks like you’re about to pass the fuck out.” Blitzø placed a hand on the small of Stolas’ back and guided the owl out of the dancing circle. Blitzø’s eyes scanned around the room. “Is it okay if I portal us somewhere a little quieter?”
Hunched over and holding his face in his hands, Stolas could only muster a single nod. He felt the sudden rush of magic as Blitzø summoned a portal, and then the assassin’s hand was on his waist again, gently guiding him through the opening. Wherever they had stepped into was blessedly quieter and cooler, making Stolas feel calmer already.
Blitzø helped Stolas settle onto what felt to be the plush cushions of a couch. The imp’s weight settled beside him, rubbing small, reassuring circles against Stolas’ back and whispering, “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Stolas concentrated on timing his breaths to the slow, soothing movements of Blitzø’s hand on his back. Gradually, his muscles began to unclench. He felt his heart rate gradually slow to a steady rhythm. Eventually he raised his head from his hands and found they were in the living room of a modern apartment with clean white walls and dark wood accents. There were a few boxes stacked in a corner, with the words “Looni’s stuf” and “Blitzø’s stuf” in Blitzø’s unmistakable handwriting. “Are we… in your apartment?”
“Yup.” Blitzø followed Stolas’ gaze towards the boxes. “Still moving in, after almost a month. It’s slow going.”
Stolas wiped his tears away with his thumbs. “It does take some time to get settled in, doesn’t it?”
Blitzø nodded and pulled his hand away from Stolas’ back. “Takes fucking forever, especially when you’re working full time,” Blitzø chuckled. “You want some water?”
“Please.”
Blitzø headed towards the kitchenette and pulled a glass from the cabinet, when the sound of a honking clown horn sprang from his pocket. “One sec. Fizz is calling me.” Blitzø balanced his phone between his shoulder and ear. “Heya, Fizz. No, Stolas wasn’t feeling well, so we’re back at my place now.” Blitzø froze, his posture rigid. “We’re not – I’m taking care of him... No, you prick, not like that-”
As Blitzø bickered with Fizz, Stolas took in the room around him. The space was undeniably Blitzø’s, from the mustang lamp on the end table and horse blanket thrown over the back of the sofa, to the large framed adoption certificate above the brick fireplace. Loona’s tastes were present as well, as Stolas scanned the row of posters for punk bands that lined the wall.
Blitzø strolled back over to the couch, handing a glass of water to Stolas. “I let Fizz and Oz know that we headed out early. They said they hope you feel better soon.”
“Thank you. I am feeling much better already,” Stolas said. Blitzø settled next to him, pulling his feet onto the cushions to face Stolas. “Your home is very nice. Much nicer than my own. I’ve only recently been able to afford a few cheap pieces of furniture, but it isn’t much.”
“Hey, we all start somewhere,” Blitzø replied with a shrug. “I.M.P. is finally making enough cash that we could move out of my one-bedroom. Satan knows my back is grateful to not be sleeping on a couch anymore.”
Stolas blinked at Blitzø incredulously, before glancing around the apartment with a renewed sense of appreciation. “Being able to run your own company for so many years while sleeping on a couch,” he mused. “That’s true willpower.”
“Yeah, yeah, enough with buttering me up,” Blitzø scoffed. He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you wanna talk about what happened while we were dancing?”
Stolas sighed, massaging the dull throb against his temples. “Dancing is still somewhat… triggering for me. For too many years, I was forced to do ballroom dancing with Stella, and she would purposefully stomp on my feet and take the lead position. It was just another avenue for everyone to ridicule and berate me.”
“Fuck those assholes,” Blitzø snarled, tail lashing. “’Least you don’t have to deal with their bullshit anymore.”
“And the last time I danced,” Stolas struggled over the words, wiping a hand over his face, “was at that horrible party. I was so drunk and kissed an incubus that I knew nothing about. I still feel so humiliated about everything I said and did.” Stolas gave Blitzø a pleading look. “I’m still so, so sorry about that night.”
“What’s done is done. You were just lettin’ loose, like anyone would. No need to be so hard on yourself.”
“You’re very gracious. And clearly you’ve done far more processing than I have. It still feels like a fresh wound to me,” Stolas sighed. He stared at the wet mascara stains on his sleeve. “Today was more overwhelming than I’d expected.”
Blitzø gave a humorless chuckle. “That rough seeing me again, huh?”
Stolas jerked his head towards Blitzø, eyes wide. “No! Absolutely not! In fact, seeing you has been my favorite part about today.”
Blitzø’s expression softened as he met Stolas’ gaze. “Same here.” He swallowed, hesitating over his next sentence. “Y’know, I’ve been wanting to reach out for a while. But I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me.”
“I had similar feelings. I’ve missed seeing you.” Stolas tapped his talons nervously against his leg. “But, after everything that’s happened between us, I don’t want to continue to burden you.”
Blitzø’s eyes narrowed to give Stolas the most serious, intent expression he’d ever seen on the imp’s face. “Stols, you were never a burden to me.”
Stolas swallowed. He couldn’t think of much else to say besides, “Okay.”
Blitzø leaned his head back against the armrest to stare at the ceiling. Stolas noticed the imp’s tail winding closer towards his leg, before curving away at the last possible moment. “So, a sex shop, huh?"
Stolas laughed at the abrupt change in conversation, but was grateful for the lighter tone. “It’s not the type of job I would’ve ever expected for myself, either. But I’m actually enjoying it so far.”
“No kidding? My first job in customer service was at a shitty drive-through joint. Can’t say I miss being yelled at for not making a triple bacon cheeseburger fast enough.”
“Oh, I’ve had my fair share of irate customers,” Stolas tittered. “Just the other day, I had to convince a lady why she wasn’t allowed to bring her toddler into our shop. She spent 15 minutes arguing with me while her son played with a foot-long dildo like it was a sword. They only left when the kid tried to eat some erectile dysfunction pills because he thought they were candy.”
Blitzø laughed loudly, throwing a hand over his eyes. “Man, I bet you see the craziest shit in there! At least you never get bored.”
“Thankfully there’s ebbs and flows to how busy it gets, so I have time to focus on other tasks, like cleaning and organizing the store,” Stolas said.
“Must’ve been a big change, doing all those kinds of things you never had to do before.”
Stolas nodded. “I’ve picked up plenty of real life skills since I’ve started working there, but there’s still so much more that I’m still learning.”
“Like what?”
Stolas hummed and tapped his chin. “Like…. Cleaning my clothes at the laundromat. The whole process makes no sense to me. I tried it once, and all my clothes changed colors.”
“Oh, Stols,” Blitzø sighed. “You have to separate your whites and colors.”
“How is one supposed to know that!” Stolas shook his head. “Anyway, it was so humiliating that I’ve just been taking my clothes to a dry cleaning business every week.”
“Christ on a stick. Taking your clothes to the dry cleaner is way too expensive,” Blitzo said, sitting upright. “You want me to show you how to do laundry one of these days?”
Stolas waited for Blitzo to end that sentence with a joke, or a laugh or something to indicate he wasn’t serious. But when the assassin looked at him expectantly, Stolas realized it was actually an invitation. “Oh!” he said. “I mean, only if it’s not an imposition.”
“It’s not,” Blitzø replied. “Wednesday is when I usually do laundry. I could portal down to your nearest laundromat, and we can get shit done together. If you want.” He paused, drumming his claws nervously against the armrest. “Plus, it gives us another reason to hang out again.”
Stolas’ heart leapt to his throat. Despite Blitzø’s reassurances, he was still having a hard time believing that the assassin actually wanted him back in his life. “Of course. I would very much enjoy that.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Blitzø said, pulling out his cellphone. “I had to get a new phone again after smashing it on a mission. I can add you to my contacts and shoot you a text.”
Stolas recited his number to Blitzø and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. “ itz blitz,” the message read. Stolas never thought he would miss that texting style so much.
He saved the contact under Blitzø’s name and then noticed the time displayed at the top of the screen - it was a few minutes to midnight.
“This evening has been… not at all what I expected. Much better, in fact,” Stolas said. “And I wish I could stay to chat more, but I should be getting home, since I’m opening the shop tomorrow.” He internally cursed his work schedule, wishing he didn’t have to leave so soon, but was relieved to know that he’d be seeing Blitzø again in just a few days.
“If you wanna give me your address, I can get ya a portal right to your door.”
After Stolas recited his address, Blitzø abruptly spit on the Asmodean crystal, then delicately stroked it with the tip of his claw in a manner that made Stolas’ cheeks go red hot. A yellow portal sprang from the crystal, directly in front of Stolas’ apartment door.
“I’ll see you Wednesday, then?” Stolas asked, turning to give Blitzø a small smile over his shoulder.
“Wednesday,” Blitzø confirmed with a small wave. “See you then, Stols.”
---
It was impossible for Stolas to get any sleep once he returned to his apartment. He laid wide awake on his mattress, all the blankets thrown off his body, feeling far too jittery, and replaying the night’s events in an endless loop in his head. He could still feel the warmth of Blitzø’s firm, grounding hand on his back, the thrill that shot down his spine when the imp cast a smile in his direction, the weightless feeling when Blitzø admitted that he wanted to see Stolas again.
Eventually, Stolas rolled onto his side and checked his phone for the time. 6:58 a.m . It was already time to get ready for work, and he hadn’t slept for a single minute. He could already feel a dull headache forming behind his eyes.
Almost as if on cue, a new message notification from Blitzø appeared on the screen. Stolas tapped the notification and found a meme of a hellhorse and her foal sticking out its tongue, with the caption: “When a customer wants to speak to the manager, and the manager just tells them the same thing you did.” Stolas tittered softly.
“ Hope u hav a gud day @ work,” read the accompanying text, followed shortly by, “it wuz nice catchin up lazt nite :)”
Stolas’ heart clenched. It was ridiculous how a simple good morning text from Blitzø could jolt him awake as if he’d just drank a gallon of coffee. “ Thank you for sharing this funny meme! I hope you have a good day as well, Blitzø. I very much enjoyed our time together. ♡”
Stolas re-read the message and quickly deleted the heart. He’d simply included it out of habit - that was all.
When he arrived at work, Stolas felt brimming with energy: chattering enthusiastically with customers, humming as he vacuumed the floors, skipping down the aisles as he restocked the shelves. He felt a renewed sense of enthusiasm for life, and that joy spilled over into every work task.
By the time Dennis clocked in for his afternoon shift, Stolas was busy dressing the window display mannequin in a strappy bondage suit. Normally, Stolas would quickly throw on whatever the newest shipment of lingerie they’d received; but today, he had coordinated an entire outfit with matching leather shoes, chain necklaces and bracelets, and an auburn wig that he braided into an intricate crown atop the mannequin’s head. All the while, he had a blissful smile on his face as he bobbed his head to the bouncy pop music he was playing over the store’s static-filled speakers.
“Haven’t seen you this jazzed in, like, the entire fucking time I’ve known you,” Dennis commented. “Have a nice time at the party last night?”
“Oh!” Stolas’ hands fell from where they were fussing over the mannequin’s braids. “Yes, I did! And, well…”
He hesitated to bring up Blitzø. Dennis had a brief history with the assassin, and he also seemed determined to help Stolas move on to other romantic options via Sindr dates. Stolas wasn’t sure how Dennis would react, but he also couldn’t keep the news to himself.
After a pregnant pause, Stolas stated quietly, “I spent most of the evening catching up with Blitzø.”
To Stolas’ surprise, Dennis’ eyes immediately lit up in excitement. “I shoulda known that’d be why you’re over the moon!” he laughed, slapping a palm against his forehead. “I’m happy for you, man.”
“Thank you, Dennis,” Stolas replied. He felt silly for thinking Dennis would ever be upset about anything - the imp was the very definition of easygoing.
Dennis spent the remainder of the shift asking Stolas for all the juicy details of his reunion with Blitzø. Stolas recounted the night as thoroughly as he could, from tripping and falling into Blitzø’s arms, to his panic attack on the dance floor and their subsequent retreat to Blitzø’s apartment.
“And? And? ” Dennis prodded.
“That’s all there is,” Stolas insisted. He was using both hands to stabilize a ladder that Dennis was standing on in order to organize the extra boxes of inventory atop the shelves. “He portaled me back to my apartment, and we’re planning to meet up to do laundry together on Wednesday. That’s it.”
“Sure,” Dennis said, glancing down to squint at Stolas. “ ‘Do laundry together.’ Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Stolas clicked his tongue and rattled the ladder in response, smirking in satisfaction when Dennis yelped and clung to the shelves for support. “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, and we’ve both had a lot of changes to our lives,” Stolas explained as the imp carefully descended the ladder steps. “It would be beyond foolish to jump back into an intimate relationship so quickly.”
“Yeah, it’d be foolish,” Dennis acquiesced, walking with Stolas back towards the register before he added in a sing-songy voice, “But it would be fun ! ”
Stolas gave his coworker a chastising nudge to the ribs with his elbow. Dennis knew exactly how to push his buttons. By this point, Stolas affectionately regarded imp like the younger brother he never had - one who loved writing about dramatic romances almost as much as he loved gossiping about them. Stolas wasn’t at all surprised when the rest of his day was spent enduring Dennis’ incessant teasing.
---
It felt like an eternity before laundry day finally arrived. Stolas had exchanged a few memes with Blitzø over text during their time apart, but the sparse interaction was nowhere near enough.
After his Wednesday shift ended, Stolas hauled a basket of his laundry to his nearest laundromat, Salacious Suds. Through the windows he spotted Blitzø sitting in a chair and staring out at the street blankly. Stolas studied his fatigued expression and considered just how demanding the assassin’s job must have been recently, between the growth of his business and training several new employees.
However, as soon as the assassin noticed Stolas through the window, his eyes immediately lit up as he raised a hand in greeting. Stolas stomach did backflips as he strode inside and set his laundry basket next to Blitzø’s. “Good evening, Blitzø. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”
Blitzø’s eyes widened briefly, as if caught off guard by Stolas’ statement. “Yeah, me too,” Blitzø replied, voice wavering slightly. He stood from the chair and stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, are you ready for your first lesson from the laundry master?”
Stolas nodded and pulled a small spiral bound notebook and pen from his pocket. Blitzø couldn’t contain his laughter. “You know what? I’m not even surprised. You fucking would be a notetaker.”
Blitzø gave Stolas a detailed rundown of how to check his clothing’s care labels, sorting by color and fabric type, adjusting the laundry machine settings, and where to place the detergent and fabric softener. Stolas took diligent notes on every word.
Once Blitzø had finished his explanation, the pair began sorting and loading their laundry into several adjacent machines. The assassin tossed the last of his clothes in, then pulled up the fabric of the shirt that he was wearing and gave a quick sniff. He recoiled immediately.
“Think this shirt may have gotten some guts on it from today’s mission,” Blitzø laughed. “Do you mind if I, uh…” His words trailed off as he gestured vaguely at his torso.
“Not at all,” Stolas replied, though he wasn’t entirely sure what Blitzø was asking permission to do.
The owl’s face went red hot when Blitzø tugged the bottom of the shirt up over his head, arm muscles flexing as he wrestled the shirt off from around his horns. Stolas’ beak was agape as his eyes shamelessly roamed over the revealed skin, taking in the familiar scars and toned lines on the assassin’s abdomen. It had been far too long since Stolas had seen that naked torso.
Once Blitzø freed himself from his shirt, Stolas snapped his jaw shut and turned his attention to fiddle with the laundry machine’s control panel. Blitzø tossed his shirt into the machine and slammed the circular door closed.
“Once you’ve got everything inside, you press this,” he explained, pointing to a green button on the panel. “It locks the lid and starts a 30 minute timer. When it’s done, we’ll move it over to the dryer, and then I’ll explain the shitload of settings on those machines.”
“Sounds good,” Stolas replied, fighting to keep his eyes from slipping down towards Blitzø’s chest. He pressed the green button, training his gaze on the circular window as he watched his clothing swirl in soap and water.
After starting their laundry cycles, they sat in the plastic chairs in the corner, catching up on how their past few days had been. Stolas filled Blitzø in on his long days at work, recounting a few funny customer interactions that had the imp cackling. Then Blitzø shared about the baby shower he’d planned with Millie’s family.
Stolas could barely focus as Blitzø told him about the baby shower games that involved hog wrangling. He was far too distracted by the tensing and relaxing of Blitzø’s biceps and shoulders as he gesticulated with his arms, the way his abdomen flexed every time he took an inhalation.
However, Stolas’ attention immediately zeroed in when he heard Blitzø mention, “-- And then after all that, Millie’s mom tried to set me up on a date with one of her sons.”
“And what did you say?” Stolas blurted.
“That it would be better if I focused on the business right now,” he explained with a flick of his tail. “Mostly just an excuse to get her off my back, though.”
Stolas nodded, trying not to get too excited at the confirmation that Blitzø was still single. “That’s understandable.”
Across the room, the lights on their laundry machine changed from red to green. They headed towards the machines to remove their wet clothing and transfer it to the dryer. As they worked, Blitzø asked, “What about you? Seeing anyone?”
“Not really. My coworker convinced me to sign up for a dating app , but it’s just a time sink. I’ve gone out on a few dates who seemed promising on the app, but nothing ever came of them."
“Shit, I haven’t been on Sindr since my twenties!” Blitzø groaned. “I know what you mean by ‘time sink.’ I remember a few dates where they just used me for a free meal. Or one time, when my date came back to my apartment and ended up stealing a bunch of shit.”
“Goodness!” Stolas laughed along with Blitzø. “I haven’t had anything that drastic, thankfully. Although, I still haven’t gotten used to the amount of dick pics.”
Blitzø’s shoulders tensed at the mention of that. “Fucking assholes shouldn’t be sending unsolicited photos,” he grumbled under his breath. Stolas glanced over at Blitzø, unable to see his face as he stared into the open dryer.
After a moment, Blitzø turned back to Stolas, face relaxed and voice back to its usual cadence. “Anyways, let me tell you about dryers, because this is where your clothes can really get fucked up.”
Blitzø gave a full rundown on the dryer settings, and after starting their machines, they wandered back towards the waiting area, laughing over their worst dating stories. Stolas was enjoying the conversation so much that it felt like no time at all before the dryer cycle had finished.
They retrieved their laundry and dumped their piles onto a large metal table. Stolas was somewhat disappointed when Blitzø pulled on a clean shirt, but at least it made paying attention to their conversation infinitely easier.
Blitzø demonstrated how to fold his shirts and pants into neat rectangles to avoid wrinkling. Stolas followed his teachings, and gradually a tidy stack of folded laundry began to form. They fell into a comfortable silence as they worked alongside one another, lost in thought.
Being with Blitzø again felt impossibly easy. Despite how awkward Stolas had initially felt and acted at the party, Blitzø had been nothing but kind, patient, and vulnerable. Stolas couldn’t believe that he’d learned more about Blitzø in that one night than he had over the entire course of their relationship.
Suddenly, Stolas remembered something he’d been meaning to ask. “Did you go to visit your father recently?”
Blitzø glanced up at Stolas, his expression unreadable.
“At Fizz’s party,” the owl elaborated, “You mentioned that you’d recently spoken with the head of the circus. Isn’t that your father?”
“Surprised you remember that.” Blitzø wore a smile, but his eyes were sad. “But, yeah. I saw him recently, after almost two decades. His drinking finally caught up with him, and he’s got a shitload of medical problems now. Losing his mind, too. Can barely remember his own name, where he is, or even how he’s fucking related to me.”
“I’m so sorry,” Stolas whispered.
Blitzø shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, even though it clearly was. “Anyways, he’s such a mess that he had to move into a nursing home. He’s driven away everyone, has literally no one by his side, so I was called in to help clear out his old place.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s where I found all of those old photos and circus memorabilia for the scrapbook I made for Fizz. The old bastard had been holding onto them for all these years, never bothered to tell any of us about it.”
“I’m glad you were able to get some important keepsakes out of it,” Stolas said. “But I can’t imagine it was easy seeing your father, especially if he wasn’t able to remember any of your history together.”
“It fuckin’ sucked. Seeing that old prick again was what made me head back to therapy,” Blitzø sighed. “It fucked with my head, seeing him act so pleasant without any of his memories. Made me think about what our relationship might’ve been like, if he hadn’t been an alcoholic piece of shit.” He furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Anyways, my therapist helped me sort out a lot of my shit from my past because there’s… a lot. Probably too much to explain in one day. But you probably heard Fizz mention a fire at the circus, and that’s something that’s fucked with me over the years, too. Learning not to blame myself, learning that I’m worthy or love or whatever.”
Stolas put down the pair of pants he was holding and turned to face Blitzø. “I know I’ve said this before, but it’s truly admirable how resilient you are. You’ve managed to overcome so much in your life, and bring up many others with you. It’s truly commendable.”
A deep flush colored Blitzø’s cheeks, especially pronounced on the white side of his face. “Yeah, well, that’s my ‘ healing journey ,’ or whatever the fuck you wanna call it,” Blitzø said with finger airquotes. “Anyways, I know you’re peddling sexy products to folks now, but how are you really doing with everything?”
Stolas tilted his head, contemplating his answer. He was used to this question by now whenever Fizz, Asmodeus, or Vassago asked, but he felt like he was always giving half-truths – trying to soften the gravity of his situation so others wouldn’t worry about him. Blitzø had been nothing but open and vulnerable with him, so he deserved the same in return.
“It’s been an ongoing struggle not to let myself slip into depression – back to coping by drinking heavily. I quit drinking entirely, but I’m still often tempted,” Stolas said, trying to keep his voice even.
“It’s not easy going cold turkey like that,” Blitzø commented. “Proud of you for quitting, though.”
“Thank you, Blitzø. But honestly, the hardest part is knowing how badly I hurt Via.” Stolas wasn’t able to keep his voice from cracking this time. “She and I haven’t spoken for about six months now.”
“Ah, shit. So she still hasn’t come around,” Blitzø muttered. “I remember you got a phone call from your friend after we fought that icy peacock. Is Via still staying with the same friend?”
Stolas nodded, having almost forgotten that Blitzø was already aware of his situation with Via. On that day six months ago, he had been sitting in the van with Blitzø and his team while he spoke on the phone with Vassago, trying to maintain composure as he learned that Via no longer wanted contact with him.
Stolas ran his hands over the wrinkles on one of his work shirts, unable to meet Blitzø’s eyes. “She’s still with Vassago. He sends me periodic updates about how she’s doing.”
He pulled out his phone, opening his gallery to show Blitzø some recent photos. “All things considered, she’s doing well,” he says, flicking through pictures of Via hanging out with friends, riding her new motorcycle, and practicing her magical abilities. “She doesn’t have to live in an unstable household anymore, with her mother’s temper tantrums and my depression and binge drinking. She’s learning how to control her magic - see how she’s able to levitate chairs and tables now? Via has grown so much in the past six months, it makes me wonder if she shouldn’t have cut me out of her life sooner.”
Stolas suddenly found himself pulled down into Blitzø’s arms, the imp’s snout tucked into his Stolas’ neck.
“I’m so sorry, Stols.” Stolas felt Blitzø mouth move against his feathers, the imp squeezing him tighter. Stolas froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around Blitzø’s shoulders.
“Thank you for listening,” Stolas laughed bitterly. “I feel like my life is such a mess right now.”
“You’re not alone.” Blitzø drew back, keeping one hand on Stolas’ shoulder. “I can kinda relate to what you’re going through. I actually have a twin sister, and we were really close growing up. The fire that burned down our circus was an accident, but she blamed me for it, and, well…” Blitzø shrugged. “She cut me out of her life, too. Then I had to start my life over from scratch.”
“How awful, Blitzø.” Stolas wanted to take Blitzø into his arms again, hold him close and let their aching hearts find solace together. “How long has it been since you’ve spoken to your sister?”
“The last time she actually wanted to see me was about 15 years ago.” Stolas’ stomach sank, imaging himself without contact with Via for that same amount of time. He didn’t think he could survive it. “I tried to force myself back into her life multiple times since then, and you can imagine how well that went for me. It took way too many therapy sessions for me to realize that I just needed to respect her wishes. If she does have a change of heart, then I’ll be here. But if not…” Blitzø sighed. “Well, anyways. I know exactly how much it fucking hurts to be left behind.”
Stolas nodded silently. He felt hollow from the fact that Via may never wish to speak to him again, but oddly comforted at the fact that he wasn’t the only one to go through this kind of situation.
“But, I’m sure Via will come back around,” Blitzø said, trying to be encouraging as he paired up his last two socks together.
They finished loading their clothes and carried their baskets towards the exit. “It’s funny. Laundry day goes by so much faster with good company,” Stolas commented, turning to smile at Blitzø. Despite the heavy conversations, his heart felt lighter than it had in months.
“Yeah, well, time flies when you’re having fun, or whatever it is they say,” Blitzø replied. He hefted his laundry basket against his hip and returned the smile. “Got dinner plans? We can drop off our clothes, and then I can portal us to this awesome greasy spoon in the sloth ring.”
A familiar thrill shot up Stolas’ spine. “I’d love that.”
—-
Over the next couple weeks, their routines began to meld together. The Asmodean crystal’s portals made it much easier to see one another during their breaks, sometimes to grab a meal or for a stroll around the park. A majority of their hangouts were just doing everyday tasks together: going to the grocery store, stopping by the bank, or mailing a package at the post office. By this point, they were all tasks that Stolas had mastered, but there was something about those everyday moments with Blitzø—so simple, so free of complications—that made everything feel right.
One afternoon, Blitzø opened a portal for Stolas to join him for a picnic at the park near his office building in Pride. Stolas set up a blanket and arranged an assortment of cheeses and hot sauces, while Blitzø supplied iced coffees that he’d picked up from his favorite cafe. They lounged on the blanket, picked at their snacks, and filled each other in about their days.
When they ran out of things to talk about, a comfortable silence settled over them as they stared out at the activity in the park. A groups of young imp children played tag on the grass, their shrieks of laughter carrying through the air. A lanky sinner with six quieves on leashes walked along the pathway, each quieve pulling in a different direction. Two Envy demons sat on a nearby bench, wrapped in each other’s arms, their hands running circuits along each other’s torsos as their kisses grew more and more heated.
Stolas cleared his throat and flicked his gaze towards Blitzø, who was leaning back on his elbows. The assassin looked especially handsome, his skin highlighted by the scattered light that filtered between the leaves of the tree they were sitting under.
When Stolas turned his head again, a muscle in the side of his neck abruptly tensed, causing a sharp jolt of pain from his upper back to the base of his skull. He hissed in discomfort and prodded the tips of his talons into the stiff, irritated muscles between his neck and shoulders.
Blitzø watched for a moment before he asked, “Back pain?”
“Just some aches. I’ve been noticing more knots in my upper back, likely from lifting so many boxes every day in the store.”
“I could walk on your back, if you want,” Blitzø said, already pulling off his boots. He pointed at his pointed heel. “This lil’ jabby part here is especially good at working out any pesky knots.”
Stolas tapped his chin in thought. “Are you certain it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience?”
“Nah, I’d be happy to!” Blitzø said, motioning for Stolas to lie down. “Back in my circus days, I would have a line of performers outside my tent, wanting me to walk on their backs. I know how to get the job done.”
Stolas slowly lowered onto his stomach on the picnic blanket, turning his cheek to the side and resting his head against his hands. Blitzø placed one hoof onto the fleshy part of Stolas’ hip, slowly pressing more weight down to test Stolas’ tolerance. The pinpoint pressure already relieved some tension in Stolas’ muscles.
“Okay so far?” Blitzø’s voice asked from above.
Stolas responded with a small nod. Blitzø continued adding weight onto his hoof until he could plant the other one alongside Stolas’ spine. The owl exhaled slightly as he bore all of Blitzø’s weight against his back. Thankfully, the assassin wasn’t very heavy, but it did take a moment to adjust his breathing to accommodate the new weight. Blitzø rocked on his heels experimentally, kneading out the tension in Stolas’ lower back.
“Good to keep going?”
“Yes. Please,” Stolas sighed, nearly a whine.
Blitzø began carefully massaging his heels up and down Stolas’ back, somehow able to detect where Stolas’ most problematic areas were in his upper back and shoulders, and focused his efforts there. Stolas couldn’t comprehend how Blitzø was able to keep his balance as he rubbed his hooves small, slow circles into a particularly troublesome knot in his right shoulder. It must have been Blitzø’s many years of acrobatics coming in handy.
Finally, the irritating knot in Stolas’ shoulder was released. Stolas heard himself exhaling a long, deep moan of satisfaction, far louder than he’d expected it to be. It hung in the air between them, the imp’s hooves frozen against his body, and Stolas slapped a hand against his beak.
“I’m so sorry. That was… unnecessary,” Stolas spluttered, feeling his cheeks go red hot.
“No worries,” Blitzø laughed reassuringly. “It’s, uh, a really good way to know that what I’m doing is working.”
Blitzø continued working at the tight muscles beneath his heels. Stolas did his damndest to bite back any more humiliating noises, though he couldn’t help the light, shuddering exhale that escaped him every time Blitzø found a new problem area. It felt like Blitzø was working magic on his body.
After several more minutes, Blitzø finally said, “Okay I’ve done as much as I can from this position.” He carefully stepped off of Stolas’ back and sat cross-legged on the blanket. The owl slowly pushed himself upright, rolling his shoulders and marveling at how much looser and flexible they felt.
“My diagnosis: Your upper back and shoulders are tight as fuck. Goes all the way up to your neck.” Blitzø shrugged off his jacket, folded it several times into a square, and placed it on his lap. “If you lay your head down, I can work some more on your neck.”
“Only if it isn’t too much trouble.”
Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Like I told you before, Stols. I’m happy to do it.”
Stolas nodded. He would agree to anything if it meant Blitzø touching him more. He laid down on his back, settling his head against the makeshift pillow in the imp’s lap.
“Comfortable?” Blitzø asked, lightly combing through the feathers on Stolas’ scalp.
Stolas gave a short nod, his eyes slipping closed as Blitzø slid his claws down along both sides of his neck, gently working at the tendons with his thumbs.
Blitzø was right; Stolas hadn’t even realized how much tension had worked its way into his neck, all the way to the muscles that connected to the back of his skull. Stolas felt his body melt into Blitzø’s hands as he focused on the firm but comforting squeezes against his neck, the warmth of the sun through the leaves, the gentle breeze stirring his feathers.
Stolas didn’t even realize when he’d drifted off to sleep. As he regained awareness, he faintly registered something gently tracing the line of his beak. Stolas slid one eye open, just in time to notice Blitzø quickly pulling his hand back.
“Hey,” Blitzø said quietly, barely louder than the rustle of the leaves in the wind. “You nodded off for a bit.”
“Oh! I’m sorry,” Stolas said, quickly pushing himself up into sitting and brushing his talons through his feathers to coax them into lying flat.
“No worries. It gave me an excuse to take a little longer lunch break,” Blitzø replied, stretching out his legs.
“Shit! It must be getting late.” Stolas quickly tossed the leftover plates and food into his bag. “I really should head back to work.”
“Yeah,” Blitzø said, his voice distant as he watched Stolas clean up their picnic, expression unreadable.
Stolas paused when he noticed Blitzø’s aloof demeanor, tilting his head. “Something the matter?”
Blitzø hesitated, pursing his lips and scratching at the base of his horns. “Stolas -” he began, struggling over his next words. Finally, he sighed heavily and swept his hands out. “I think we need to talk about… what this is, exactly.”
“Ah,” Stolas said, his hands dropping to his side. “Yes. It does feel like we’re stuck in a nebulous state of things.”
Blitzø crossed his arms and glanced towards the ground. “Exactly. Things between us are going really well, but… I just don’t want things to end up how they did last time, where we don’t talk about shit and then everything blows up in our faces.”
“I understand.” Stolas nodded. “To be honest, I’m not sure what I want right now. What I do know is that I’ve missed seeing you, and that spending time with you makes me happy.” He brushed a talon across his beak, which was still tingling with the faint warmth of Blitzø’s touch. “It can be difficult, at times, because there are so many vivid memories of our nights we spent together.” Stolas threaded his fingers together in his lap nervously. “The attraction is still very much there.”
“Yeah,” Blitzø said, biting his lip. His cheeks were dusted pink. “It’s the exact same for me, too. Like my body wants you out of instinct.” Stolas felt his stomach do a freefall. Blitzø noticed the owl’s shocked expression and backpedaled, “Ah, shit, that came out wrong – what I meant to say is… I’m really enjoying getting to know you, and I don’t want my urges to interfere with that.”
“I understand what you mean,” Stolas said, though he was still reeling from Blitzø’s earlier statement. “And there’s a lot going on for each of us. I’m still getting settled in my new apartment –”
“ – and I.M.P. is keeping me pretty busy -”
“ - I’m still finding stable footing at The Pleasure Palace - “
After they mumbled their way through several other half hearted reasons about why they weren’t ready for anything more right now, Stolas laughed and said, “So… it sounds like we both lean towards keeping things as they are and just staying friends?”
“That’s what I’m hearing, too. Agree to just stay friends.” Blitzø said with a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He quietly helped Stolas with gathering the last of the picnic supplies, then opened a portal in front of The Pleasure Palace.
Stolas lifted a hand to wave goodbye, pausing when he noticed Blitzø biting his lip and furrowing his brow, appearing as if he had something else to say.
“Aaaand we can always… check in later,” Blitzø finally said, his voice slightly strained. “Just in case, ya know, our feelings change, or whatever.”
Stolas looked at Blitzø, noticing the subtle tension in the imp's posture. The uncertainty in Blitzø's voice mirrored the conflict Stolas still felt inside, a tangled mess of emotions he wasn’t sure how to articulate. But at least they were doing their best at being honest.
“Of course. We can always check in later,” Stolas said softly, giving a small nod. “I believe that time and communication will help us figure out the path forward.” He offered a smile, but it was just as faint as Blitzø’s.
Blitzø’s gaze softened. He gave and gestured toward the portal. “Alright, then. Take care, Stols.”
Stolas stepped toward the glowing portal, the familiar hum of magic vibrating through the air as he approached. He gave Blitzø one last glance, the imp’s expression a mixture of relief and longing, before the light of the portal enveloped his vision, and Stolas found himself on the sidewalk in front of The Pleasure Palace, alone.
—-
The following days felt different, even as Stolas and Blitz continued to hang out. There was an unspoken shift in the air between them. They sat together at cafes, walked through the streets, and shared casual conversation, but it felt like each glance lingered a little longer than it used to. Stolas found himself distracted, his thoughts constantly drifting back to the moment when Blitz had given him that massage in the park. He couldn't stop reminiscing about the feeling of Blitz’s fingers working through the tension in his neck, the warmth of his touch, and the way his body had melted under the imp's care. Every word Blitz spoke held more weight, every smile felt more meaningful, and Stolas couldn’t quite figure out if it was a good thing or not.
One afternoon, Stolas’ phone vibrated in his pocket while he was unloading a shipment of bondage accessories with Dennis. He hefted the box he was carrying on top of a stack, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Qestiun 4 u mr sex toy expurt. Duz lube go bad? ” Blitzø texted, with a photo of several lube bottles assembled on his bathroom countertop, most appearing to be about half full.
Stolas chuckled to himself and typed: “Yes, they can. You should be able to find an expiration date on the bottle. If not, you should toss any that have been sitting open for about a year.”
“Texting your sweetheart?” Dennis teased, leaning against a nearby stack of boxes. “I can tell exactly who you’re talking to by that dopey look on your face.”
Stolas stuck out his tongue playfully and turned back to his phone. "Den I got 2 tos them al out :( Lame,” Blitzø replied. “Can i cum by da shop sumtiem to restok?”
Stolas glanced over at Dennis, who was already looking at him expectantly. “Do you mind if Blitzø comes by the shop tomorrow so I can help him with some shopping?”
“Gonna have a sexy shopping date while you’re on the clock, huh?” Dennis gave a low whistle. “Man, I need to start doing that with my Sindr dates.”
Stolas clicked his beak. “I already told you, he and I agreed to stay friends. I’m just lending my expertise to him.”
Dennis rolled his eyes and headed towards the front of the store, leaving Stolas to finish typing out his response. “Of course! How about tomorrow? First thing in the morning would be preferable, as fewer customers tend to come by, so I can focus more of my attention on you.”
Blitzø sent a thumbs up emoji, and: “ i’l brign da cofeez if u brign da toy recs ;-)”
Stolas wondered if Blitzø knew how much that simple winking emoji made his stomach flutter.
“See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Text
Stolas paced back and forth behind the counter, glancing nervously at the clock. It was almost time for Blitzø to arrive, and the mere thought made his heartrate accelerate. He tidied up a shelf of dildos, rearranged a few spinner racks, and repeatedly fixed his feathers in his reflection in the window. The anticipation was gnawing at him. After all, this wasn’t just a typical customer.
"Y’know," Dennis said from behind him, causing Stolas to jump. "You’re acting like you’re about to have an audience with King Peeny himself. You sure this is just a ‘friendly’ hangout?”
"I’m not—" He cleared his throat, hoping to sound more casual than he felt. "It’s the first time Blitzø’s come by the shop. I just want to make sure everything’s prepared.”
Dennis raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Preparing by dusting every corner of the shop and restocking every damn shelf?"
“Oh - I forgot to restock the bondage shelves!,” he blurted, dashing into the back of the shop and grabbing a box of handcuffs. As he knelt down to start unpacking the contents, he wondered if he was overthinking things. It’s just Blitzø, he reminded himself. Just a regular customer. No need to get worked up.
As if on cue, he heard the faintest jingle of the doorbell. Blitzø had arrived.
Shit. Stolas could only imagine what kind of embarrassing things Dennis would be telling Blitzø without Stolas there to watch him– probably mentioning to Blitzø about how giddy Stolas was anytime the assassin’s name was mentioned. “Coming!” he shouted, carefully balancing a stack of handcuffs in his arms as he dashed out of the storeroom.
When he approached the front of the store, Stolas found Blitzø and Dennis chatting at the counter. He overheard Dennis saying, “… and then all of them are kicked out of their respective societies and start their own society on an entirely different planet. I’m practically done writing, just need to add a few finishing touches to it.”
Blitz smirked. "Sounds like a pretty solid story. Just get some wild explosions, maybe throw in a few more orgy scenes, and you’re golden." He paused, glancing at the shelves. "But, hey, what do I know about screenwriting? I’m just here for the recommendations."
Stolas, who had been standing frozen, took a step forward. Dennis glanced up at him, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Well, look who finally decided to join us," Dennis said, turning toward Stolas with a sly grin. "Blitz and I were just talking about my screenplay. Stolas here is basically my co-writer at this point, right?"
Stolas' cheeks flushed as he shifted awkwardly. "I—uh, I don’t know about co-writer, but I’ve definitely been giving him some input. It’s coming along."
Blitz raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Dennis and Stolas, his smirk still in place. "Sounds like a real team effort."
Dennis grinned, clearly enjoying the way Stolas was flustered. “Anyway, don’t let me keep you dudes from your big, exciting morning of shopping for sex toys,” he said, taking Stolas’ armful of handcuffs. “Hope you find what you’re looking for, Blitzø.”
Stolas grinded his beak at the suggestive tone Dennis added during his last statement before his coworker disappeared down an aisle. “Well… I’m glad you got to catch up with Dennis a bit,” he said with a strained chuckle. “Now, are you ready to begin?”
“You bet your ass I am. Looks like we have a lot to get through,” Blitzø commented, head swiveling around to marvel at the numerous aisles and displays around the store. He turned back to Stolas, offering him a takeout cup. “Thanks again for letting me come by so early today. Got ya a tea latte for your troubles.”
“Thank you so much,” Stolas said, taking a sip and humming in delight at the warm, spicy flavors of a golden turmeric latte. He was delighted to know that Blitzø still remembered his favorite drink. “I know you mentioned that you wanted to stock up on lubes, but was there anything else in particular that you’re looking for?”
“Huh, I don’t really know yet,” Blitzø replied. “Can you start by giving me the grand tour? Show me some things you think I might find interesting?”
Stolas’ entire face felt red hot. That last request would require Stolas to think about the kinds of memories that he reserved strictly for more private moments. So instead, he focused on Blitzø's first question. “I can certainly show you around. Right this way.”
Stolas walked with Blitzø through aisle after aisle, opting to show him some of the stranger items that the store sold. “Have you heard of a masturbation egg?”
Blitzø gave him a deadpan expression. “Egg?”
Stolas nodded, plucking what appeared to be a half dozen carton of decorated eggs off of a shelf. “Yes. Each egg in the pack contains a textured silicone interior and its own lubrication. It’s similar to what many people refer to as a ‘pocket pussy.’”
“Now that is some crazy shit!” Blitzø marveled, opening the carton and turning the egg over in his hands. He twisted the plastic shell, unveiling the silicone interior. “Well, the size is convenient, but could you imagine if you were about to bone somebody and found a fucking egg in their pocket?”
Stolas hooted with laughter. “I thought you would find that particularly amusing. It tends to be a customer favorite.”
“Plenty of freaks out here in Lust,” Blitzø said, placing the carton back on the shelf and continuing down the aisle. He didn’t go further than three steps when he stopped and gasped. “Oh, shit, you’ve got these?”
Blitzø rushed over to the demo sex swing, which was now displayed with a pair of hanging stirrups that Stolas had setup yesterday. He knew that Blitzø would especially appreciate those, given his fixation on horses. “Oh, I’m totally buying this whole fuckin’ setup!” he gasped. He hopped onto his back on the swing, lifting his boots into the stirrups. Stolas swallowed heavily as Blitzø assumed a spread eagle position in front of him.
“Well, this brings back some memories,” Blitzø said, using the stirrups for leverage to begin gently swaying the swing. “You remember that time we had some fun on that old tire swing in the garden?”
“I do remember that,” Stolas replied, his chest fluttering at the memory. A distant part of his brain was flashing red warning signs – UNSAFE TERRITORY: DO NOT ENTER – but another part assured himself that it was just harmless reminiscing. “I also recall we’d been so rambunctious that a branch fell and hit you on your head.”
Blitzø cackled, kicking his legs in the air. “Fuck! I forgot about that!” He held his stomach as he struggled to catch his breath. “And you felt so bad for me that you spent the entire rest of the day nursing me back to health.”
“You were the worst patient,” Stolas tittered, feeling weightless as he and Blitzø laughed together. “You refused to sit still, even when I requested you to rest in bed.”
“I mean, how could I? Especially when you were wearing that slutty little nurse outfit,” Blitzø purred. Blitzø kicked his feet out of the stirrups to sit at the edge of the swing, staring at Stolas with enticingly half-lidded eyes.
Stolas bit his lip, immediately sensing the air between them shifting. He couldn’t help himself from leaning into it. “I liked that outfit. Such a shame you tore it into shreds.”
Stolas planted one knee on the swing next to Blitzø’s thigh, looking down at the imp. Now that Stolas was up close, he could see how affected Blitzø was by their conversation: pupils blown, mouth slightly parted and panting softly, his tail flicking back and forth with renewed energy. It felt like there was a magnetic pull as their faces began inching closer together, close enough that Stolas could feel Blitzø’s breath brushing against his beak -
“Ah, we’re at my work,” Stolas blurted out, turning his head to the side at the last moment. He pushed himself back off the swing to stand upright. “This probably isn’t the right time or place for… that."
“I know, I know,” Blitzø said, holding up his hands. “Taking things slow. Sex at work is, like… third date fare.”
Stolas tried to steady his breathing as the imp carefully climbed off the sex swing. Neither of them looked at each other as they walked to the next aisle, the air between them considerably more awkward now. Stolas cleared his throat and tried to steer the conversation towards a safer topic. “So, is I.M.P. closed today?”
“Nah, I just left the crystal with the team and told them I was running some errands. They’re pretty independent at this point.”
“I see. You must really trust your assassins, if they’re embarking on missions all on their own now.”
“Yeah, well, they all learned from the best,” Blitzø said with a confident smile.
“You are quite the sharpshooter,” Stolas commented, unable to help the flirty lilt to his voice as he recalled how attractive Blitzø was when he was on the job, the way he handled his firearms with precise, lethal skill, each movement sharp and calculated as he expertly neutralized any threat that came his way.
Blitzø narrowed his eyes at the owl. “What’s with that tone of voice? Did we not literally just say we were going to keep things friendly?”
“We are, I just -“ Stolas’ retort died on his tongue as he saw the scathing glare that Blitzø shot at him. He sighed. “Okay, okay. You’re right, that was crossing a line. I’ll behave myself.”
“But I kinda like it when you misbehave,” Blitzø said with a wide grin, before it quickly faltered. “Fuck. Okay, you set that one up perfectly for me, so it’s your fault again.”
Stolas shook his head, leading Blitzø over towards the lube shelves. “I believe these were the products you were the most interested in checking out?” Stolas said, gesturing towards the numerous colored bottles. The sooner he was able to get Blitzø what he came for, the sooner they could say their goodbyes, and Stolas wouldn’t have to worry about getting himself fired for letting his control slip.
“Oh, yeah, they are,” Blitzø said, picking up a bottle and squinting at the label. “This one is… hotdog scented?”
Stolas laughed. “We have an assortment of different scents… mostly, the lubes that didn’t sell especially well at Asmodeus’ other shops.” He turned towards the shelf and tapped his chin in thought. “Our customers have given especially positive feedback about this one,” Stolas said, holding up a bottle with bright red fluid inside. “This brand is warming with an added tingling sensation. Flavored, too, if you’re a fan of cinnamon.”
“Warming, tingling, and cinnamon?” Blitzø murmured, tipping his head to the side. “I haven’t really used anything like that before. Do you do free samples?”
Artwork by Rina
Every neuron in Stolas’ brain was screaming at him to not take the bait, but he could help the sudden sugar of boldness that took hold of his body. He squirted a drop of the lube onto his talon, the spicy scent of cinnamon immediately hitting his nose and a tiny pinpoint of heat where the drop of lube sat. He held it out towards the assassin, who stared at him with wide-eyed surprise. “Here,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a low, sultry octave that he reserved exclusively for the bedroom.
Blitzø looked at him skeptically. “Stols… You sure?”
Stolas swallowed, shoving down the last of his inhibitions. “Absolutely.”
Blitzø leaned forward, his forked tongue snaking out between his lips to lick the drop of lube off of Stolas’ talon. The imp coiled his tongue all the way around the digit, lowering his head to seal his mouth down to Stolas’ knuckle. The owl couldn’t fight the full-body shiver as Blitzø began sucking. Blitzø’s half-lidded eyes locked with his as he stroked at Stolas’ talon with his tongue, spreading the lube between his feathers and down to his flesh.
By the time Blitzø detached his mouth from Stolas’ finger, both were panting through open mouths, Stolas’ hand hanging in the air, forgotten. There was a long, weighted pause as they wordlessly searched in each other’s eyes for some sign of reassurance, some signal that this was okay.
One of them must have moved first, but neither would ever recall who it was, as they seemed to snap simultaneously: lunging forward to connect their mouths and tongues, wrapping their arms around each others’ torsos, hands grabbing at any inch of flesh or feather they could reach.
Artwork by Rina
Blitzø, who had scaled partway up Stolas’ body with the owl bent halfway over to meet him, tried to pull his head away. “Fuck, we shouldn’t. I don’t wanna get you fuckin’ fired,” he gasped, before Stolas yanked him all the way up into his arms, mashing their mouths together roughly.
It was after a few heated moments of twisting tongues and groping hands that Stolas pulled his head back, a string of spit still connecting his mouth to Blitzø’s. “No, you’re right. This is completely irresponsible,” Stolas breathed out, kneeling to lower Blitzø back down to the floor and pressing his forehead against the imp’s while they struggled to catch their breath. “Of all times, this couldn’t be the worst scenario for us to decide to…”
Stolas’ words were interrupted by a deep moan from Blitzø, and the owl looked down to realize his hand had snuck down to palm at the front of Blitzø’s pants, kneading his talons against his fully erect member. Stolas didn’t even remember moving his hand — his body was moving of its own accord, out of habit, out of the learned movements of a dance he thought he’d long forgotten.
Stolas yanked his hand back as if he’d touched coals. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -“
Blitzø grabbed Stolas’ wrist. “No more of this wishy-washy bullshit,” Blitzø nearly growled, narrowing his eyes into slits. His tail stilled behind him. “Do you want me, or not?”
Stolas felt a rush of warmth spread through him, his mind clearing of all doubt. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was certain. He knew exactly what he wanted.
“I want you, Blitzø,” Stolas breathed against Blitzø’s mouth as he initiated another forceful kiss. Blitzø fervently responded by wrapping his tongue around Stolas’, guiding the owl’s hand back between his legs. Stolas traced his talons along the outline of hardness he found there, squeezing lightly at the tip, before abruptly plunging beneath pants and boxers to take Blitzø’s hot flesh into his hand. Blitzø released a choked moan against Stolas’ neck as his cock twitched eagerly. The sound of Blitzø’s arousal triggered a tingling wetness to spread between Stolas’ legs. “Blitzø… I want you so desperately.”
“ Fuck,” Blitzø cursed under his breath, rocking his hips against Stolas’ hand as he nibbled kisses along Stolas’ collarbone. Stolas massaged his talons along Blitzø’s ballsack, causing the imp to nearly choke out. “That lube is… something else.”
Stolas had nearly forgotten that he had lube on the hand that he was teasing Blitzø with. Judging by Blitzø’s glazed eyes and quivering jaw, the tingling, warming sensations were very much welcomed. A devious smile stretched across Stolas’ face. “Are you gonna let me try it out, too, or keep it all to yourself?”
“What are you asking me for? You’re the one who works here,” Blitzø said, pushing Stolas back against the shelves, yanking the owl’s slacks down to his ankles. Blitzø grabbed the red lube bottle in one hand and Stolas’ wrist in the other, squeezing a generous amount into Stolas’ open palm. Stolas shot him a questioning glance.
“Go ahead,” Blitzø prompted, sitting back on his heels with a wicked grin. “Try it out.”
Stolas’ cheeks burned. He opened his knees as far as he could manage with his pants bunched around his ankles, sliding his lubed hand down towards his entrance, a thrill shooting up his spine as Blitzø’s dilated pupils followed the motion all the way down.
“Spread it for me, baby,” Blitzø said, planting one hand on each of Stolas’ knees to open him up even more, pressing the owl back against the shelves. “I want to see every inch of you.”
The dirty talk was already having a tremendous effect on Stolas’ arousal. He used his clean hand to pull apart the lips of his cloaca, feeling entirely too exposed even under the eyes of someone who has seen him in a similar state of undress a countless number of times. He felt even more vulnerable now, knowing that they were in a semi-public space where a customer, or worse, Dennis, could stumble upon them. He tried to push the thought away. He was already too far gone to stop now.
Stolas paused with his cloaca spread wide open, running his slicked up fingers along the outer edges and feeling the slight warming tingle in his most sensitive areas, relishing in the utterly starved look on Blitzø’s face. The assassin made short work of his own pants, yanking open the button and zipper to free his straining length.
“I’ve been thinking about you every night,” Stolas whispered, inserting one talon up to the knuckle inside him. The tingling sensation from the lube was a little uncomfortable at first, but eventually faded into a pleasant warmth that made Stolas crave even more. He carefully began pumping the finger in and out, beak falling open as he moaned softly. Blitzø matched his pace, tunneling his fist around his cock and sliding slowly from base to tip. “Thinking about all the ways you made me feel so good. When you’d fuck me against the wall, in the bathtub, in the garden.” Stolas inserted a second finger, scissoring himself open under Blitzø’s watchful gaze.
“Yeah?” A forked tongue flicked out of Blitzø’s mouth as he circled his thumb over the head of his cock, the shine of precum trickling down the length. “What else?”
“When you’d… call me filthy names. When you’d slap my ass. When you’d… yank my tail,” Stolas gasped between strokes, already working himself up to three fingers. “And all the… time we’ve spent together recently. I know it’s… silly, but I think about the times you’d make me laugh. When you let me fall asleep in your lap.” Stolas squeezed his eyes closed, stroking his fingers roughly against the most sensitive areas inside him. “When you’d… tell me how you were feeling.”
“Shit, Stols,” Blitzø laughed, voice strained. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our time together, too.” He squeezed and stroked his cock harder, the squelch of precum punctuating the movement. “When you told me you missed me. When you told me how proud you are of me.”
“Fuck, I could get off to everything about you, Blitzø,” Stolas whined, his back arching. He knew he was fast approaching his climax, but he forced himself to yank his fingers out. Blitzø stared at him, his eyes wide and trained unwaveringly on Stolas’ exposed, leaking hole. “Please. I want you to fill me with your cock. I need you.”
Blitzø slid between Stolas’ legs, running his claws along his ankles all the way up to his thighs, in the same manner he did during their very first night together. Stolas felt his cloaca clench as the memory filled his mind.
Blitzø traced the head of his throbbing cock along the wet line of Stolas’ cloaca. “I need you, too, Stols.” He pressed his face into the feathers on Stolas’ chest, inhaling deeply as he slowly eased inside, both biting back the full volume of their moans as Blitzø sheathed himself completely. Stolas’ talons scrambled for purchase against the edges of the shelves behind him, trying to relax as he adjusted to the assassin’s impressive girth.
… Then came the dreaded jingling of the front door bell. Stolas’ eyes bulged as he let out a startled yelp, and Blitzø slapped a hand over the owl’s beak. Wrapping his other arm around Stolas’ waist, he quickly rolled them over to the opposite side of the aisle, pressing their conjoined bodies against the shelves to hide behind a cardboard display of King Peeny.
“Welcome to The Pleasure Palace! How may I tantalize you today?” Dennis’ voice rang out, much louder than he usually was when greeting customers. He was trying to make sure Stolas knew that he had the customer covered.
Blitzø buried his face into the crook of Stolas’ neck to muffle his laughter. “Is that seriously your standard customer greeting?” he whispered, the hitching of his laughter inadvertently causing his cock to begin stimulating areas in Stolas’ cloaca that hadn’t received much attention in a very long time. Stolas could only respond with a moan. Blitzø’s eyes widened with realization, beginning to slowly grind his hips to tease Stolas with that enticing friction. The owl dug his beak into the imp’s shoulder to muffle his cries of pleasure.
Artwork by Rina
There were the distant sounds of muffled conversation as Dennis spoke with the customer, followed by footsteps heading in the opposite direction. Once their voices were far enough away, Stolas unlatched his beak and Blitzø stilled his hips, regarding the owl with a serious expression.
“I know what we’re doing is fucking insane,” he murmured. “Are you sure you want to keep going?”
“Do you want to stop?” Stolas asked teasingly, wrapping his arms around Blitzø’s neck and rocking his hips down, trying to take the imp in deeper, hoping he would take the hint.
Blitzø exhaled heavily and bared his fangs. “Fuck no. Don’t hate me if you get fired, though.” With a strained growl, Blitzø braced his hands against the shelves and rocked his pelvis hard, driving himself deeper into Stolas’ needy hole. The bottles and boxes on the shelves rattled with the movement, causing Blitzø to pause and readjust his angle to avoid accidentally knocking the shelves over completely. He tried another forceful thrust, causing a glass lube bottle to topple from one of the higher shelves and smack Stolas on the cheek.
“Oww–!” Stolas yelped, brushing a hand over the blossoming pain on his face, before Blitzø latched their mouths together to silence him and began gently circling his hips, almost apologetically.
“Alright, we’re gonna need to switch things up unless you wanna lose an eye,” Blitzø huffed, wrapping his arms around Stolas’ waist and shifting the owl onto his back into the middle of the aisle, at a safe distance from the shelves but more exposed to anyone who may walk by.
Stolas looked up at Blitzø, his chest swelling with emotion at the look of concentration on the imp’s face as he repositioned them. “Satan, I’m so lucky to have you again,” Stolas murmured, skimming his talons down Blitzø’s cheek. The tenderness of the touch seemed to momentarily stun Blitzø, his expression softening as he turned to gently press his lips against the palm of Stolas’ hand.
“Do you want me to fuck you slow,” Blitzø asked, “Or fuck you like the slut you are?” Stolas was again reminded of their first night together, when the imp had checked in with Stolas at every turn to determine what made the bird really sing.
“You should already know the answer to that,” Stolas chuckled, clamping his legs around the imp’s waist and digging his heels into Blitzø’s back to force him in deeper. “I want you to show me how much you missed me, darling.”
And that seemed to snap something in Blitzø, his body rumbling with a feral growl, each one of his spines standing on end, tail binding Stolas’ ankles together behind his back in a vice grip, and slamming his hips in at a merciless pace. The owl arched his back to meet every thrust, biting his tongue to keep his noises at bay, but the rapid, slick slapping of their pelvises was a dead giveaway.
Perhaps it was the fact Stolas hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year , perhaps it was the urgency of the location they’d chosen to fuck, or maybe just the thrill of possibly being caught, but Stolas felt his climax encroaching far too soon. The heat and pressure in his core was fast approaching a boiling point, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He wanted to bring Blitzø to the tipping point with him, and remembered the imp’s words from earlier.
“I… missed you, darling,” Stolas whispered between thrusts, cradling Blitzø’s head between his hands. “And I’m so… fucking proud… of you.” He immediately felt Blitzø’s movements stutter in the way they always did, right before he was about to blow.
“Holy fuck, Stols,” Blitzø groaned, his breath hitching in his throat, as he finally unloaded himself into Stolas, filling him with hot cum that trickled down between the owl’s legs and soaking the floor beneath them. Stolas stroked Blitzø’s face through his orgasm, whispering gentle affirmations as the imp came down from his high: “ You did an amazing job. You’re so strong. So brave. So resilient.”
They remained locked together on the floor for a blissful moment, catching their breath between small, quick kisses, grazing fingertips along each other’s sweat-soaked bodies. It was only when Blitzø’s softening cock slid out of Stolas’ entrance that they reluctantly separated.
“Cleanup in the lube aisle, huh?” Blitzo laughed, nodding his head towards the sizable stain on the carpet. It seemed that it truly had been a while since either of them had a decent release.
Stolas sighed. “Indeed. I’ll get some supplies from the closet.”
“I can give you a hand,” Blitzø said, leaning closer to tug Stolas’ pants back over his hips. As he did, he took the closeness as another opportunity to give Stolas a chaste kiss.
The innocent gesture left Stolas craving more. He hooked his hand around the back of Blitzø’s neck and pulled him back in, giving Blitzø a few quick pecks, before inevitably they began licking into each other’s mouths again. It wasn’t long until things devolved into another passionate make out session.
As Blitzø’s hands tried peeling down Stolas’ pants that he literally just pulled up, Stolas separated from the assassin’s mouth with an audible pop. “Cleaning supplies!” he gasped, his chest heaving for air as he and Blitzø stared at each other with blown pupils. “I’ll grab the cleaning supplies!”
Stolas scampered towards the closet before Blitzø could distract him again. He grabbed a bottle of disinfecting spray and a bucket full of towels.
When Stolas returned to the aisle, he found Blitzø leaning against the shelves, clothing pulled back into place but still looking rumpled and disheveled, his expression somewhere between sleepy and satisfied. Exactly the way he’d looked after all of their past full moon meetings, but usually he would have a cigarette balanced between his claws.
Stolas tossed Blitzø a cloth and spray bottle. “Let’s clean up the mess you made,” he teased.
“ Me? Okaaay, I saw how wet you got just from a little dirty talk,” Blitzø fired back, spraying a generous amount of disinfectant on the floor and shelves. The static-filled sound of Stolas’ favorite pop playlist filled the air between them as they began scrubbing away the evidence of their tryst.
“So, I guess now it’s my turn to ask,” Stolas ventured, rubbing his towel along the metal shelves. “What are we?”
Artwork by Rina
Blitzø bit his lip and wrung out his rag, watching the cloudy water drain into the bucket. “I feel like actions speak louder than words.”
Stolas sat back on his heels and looked at the imp fondly. “I never stopped thinking about you, Blitzø. I spent many months trying to move on, to let you live a life without me dragging you down. But despite everything I did, it was as if every path led back to you.” He looked down at his hands. “I know I have a tendency to put too much stock into rom-coms, but I truly do believe that we were meant to be together. I believe it’s written in the stars.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Blitzø laughed. “Like the universe wants to keep smooshing us back together.”
Stolas giggled. “‘Smooshing’ is the perfect word for it.”
“I’d like to give this another shot, if you are,” Blitzø said, finally looking up to meet Stolas’ eyes.
“Blitzø, I…” Stolas swallowed back the sudden lump in his throat. He felt the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t believe how fucking emotional he felt, after finally hearing Blitzø utter the very words he’d been wanting to hear for the last year. “I would like to give this a shot, too.”
Blitzø smiled at him, then looked down at his hand. “If my hands weren’t dirty from scrubbing cum, I’d grab that tight feathered ass and give you a big fat fuckin’ kiss right on your face.”
Stolas tittered. “And if I weren’t equally as filthy, I’d get my mouth on that big dick of yours and make you scream my name for all of Lust to hear.”
Blitzø gave a low, eager growl at that. “When did you say your lunch break is, again?”
Stolas’ pupils appeared as he, too, was already feeling the need for another round. “If you finish up here, I’ll go see if I can talk Dennis into letting me take an early break?”
“You got yourself a fuckin’ deal,” Blitzø said, giving Stolas a thumbs up as he sprayed another layer of disinfectant along the carpet.
Stolas fixed his feathers and made his way to the front of the store, where Dennis was at his usual spot at the register with his nose buried in his phone. “Dennis, would you mind if I took my break now?”
“You guys really aren’t finished, after all of that?” Dennis questioned with a shake of his head.
Stolas stammered over his words, but Dennis interrupted him with a jab of his thumb towards the security camera monitor.
The fucking security cameras.
Stolas slapped a hand over his face. He’d worked here for half a year now, and he’d been so cockhungry that he hadn’t even considered that Dennis had seen literally everything on the security cameras. “Ah, sorry you had to witness all that Dennis,” Stolas said, looking away bashfully.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, dude,” Dennis replied, barely looking up from his phone. “You definitely owe me one for covering the shop for the last 30 minutes and for the early break you’re taking.”
“Of course,” Stolas said. “I’ll get you lunch for a week, do your laundry, anything you want!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dennis said. A small smile worked its way across his face. “You’re both a couple of freaks who can’t contain yourselves. You’re a match made in heaven.” He paused. “Well, hell, technically. You get what I mean.”
Stolas smiled broadly. “Thank you, Dennis. You’ve always been so kind and supportive to me, and I’m truly grateful for our friendship.” Stolas clasped his hands in front of his chest.
Dennis snorted at the gesture and waved his hand away. “Okay, now you’re just buttering me up because I could totally get you fired for what you just did. Now go finish cleaning that aisle before your lunchtime bang session.”
Stolas nodded gratefully before he turned to head back over towards the lube aisle, with that telltale bounce in his step that Dennis noticed anytime he spent time around Blitzø.
Dennis shook his head and leaned his elbows on the counter, scrolling through the document on his phone to find where he’d left off writing. He wrote a few more sentences to the final sex scene of his screenplay, and in his peripheral vision, the surveillance video screen showed Stolas and Blitzø finishing their cleaning and gathering their remaining supplies into the bucket.
Dennis looked up expectantly for the two to approach the front of the shop to drop off their supplies. A long, quiet minute passed, but neither appeared. Dennis cast his gaze back towards the video feed and found that the two were now in the bondage aisle, doing the world’s shittiest job of hiding behind a mannequin. In plain sight, Stolas on his knees with face buried between Blitzø’s legs, the imp’s head thrown back and mouth open in a silent moan.
“SERIOUSLY, GUYS,” Dennis shouted into the intercom, his voice blasting through the static-filled overhead speakers. “GET A FUCKING ROOM.”
He watched the explosion of movement as the two accidentally knocked the mannequin over in their hurried attempts to straighten themselves up. The two scrambled towards the front entrance, clothing dissheveled, giddy smiles painted on their faces, laughing together the entire way.
“Sorry, Dennis!” Stolas shouted over his shoulder as they ran hand-in-hand through the front door and disappeared down the street. In that fleeting, crazy moment, it was clear that their
real
adventure was just beginning.
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