Chapter Text
It had been six months since the trial that had literally turned Blitz's life upside down, and that of everyone around him.
And after all those months, Blitz could honestly say he had never been happier.
Things at the IMP were going so well, after all the notoriety that almost being beheaded on live TV had brought, that not only had Blitz managed to secure a salary for Stolas for his job as secretary, but he had also given the M&Ms a raise since they now had a third mouth to feed on the way. And to top it all, he had managed to afford the rent on a three-bedroom apartment! Of course, Loona had insisted—she had threatened—on pitching in (if I ever see you two old men being disgusting on the couch again, I'll have to kill myself , she had said). And Stolas had begged to let him do his part, and after several weeks of crying, screaming, and more crying, the rent had finally been split evenly between the three of them.
Blitz had never had a room of his own, and even though this was his and Stolas’s, it still felt strange. Loona’s room always looked the same, with her signs hanging on the door that was always closed and the punk rock music that came muffled from behind the doors.
And then there was the last room, the one Blitz had reserved for Octavia, which he and Stolas had painted blue and purple and decorated with bright stars on the ceiling.
Octavia had never used it, not yet, but Blitz had some hope for it. A couple of months after Sinsmas and the disastrous epilogue in the palace garden, the girl had contacted her father asking for a meeting.
It hadn’t been easy and there was still a lot of unclear things and a good dose of hurt and resentment, but at least Stolas had regained contact with her and the two were texting regularly. Once a week they went to a place on Sloth that made the best vanilla ice cream and was out of sight enough for Stolas to sit there with his teenage daughter without making too much of a fuss or having to worry about Stella and her pompous brother.
Loona and Via had started hanging out more and more and had become good friends, which, combined with the affection his daughter had developed with his boyfriend, lit a flame in Blitz’s chest.
On the wall of his new living room, the old photos—the ones with his face scratched out with a black marker—had been replaced with new ones of him, Stolas, Loona, and Via smiling happily with M&Ms and Fizz.
Blitz had kept the old photo of him hugging his sister, but Stolas had wiped it clean without comment—for which Blitz was grateful—and hung it on the wall with the others.
Sometimes the happiness was so much that Blitz felt overwhelmed, he had the urge to run away as far as possible or say something terrible to make them hate him. He had been doing this for so long that it was hard to resist the urge to destroy everything and retreat into himself again.
But then Stolas would smile at him from across the table, or Loona would call him ‘Dad’ and he would push the urge back inside himself, bury it deep in his head. He tried to shut out the voices that were screaming at him about how he didn’t deserve any of this and, somehow, he succeeded.
He found himself far too often fantasizing in an undignified way about the four of them doing things like eating a huge roast together around the table, the four of them watching a movie together on the couch, the four of them taking a trip to the beach crammed into the Van. They were laugh-filled fantasies draped in that soft light you see in the sappy movies that Stolas liked and that secretly made him cry, if only a little.
He never talked about it, not to Stolas or Millie—and he’d rather burn off the other half of his face than talk about it to Moxxie—and even with Fizz he’d never get past a generic “it would be nice if Via came to stay with us.”
Of course, that little shit Fizz had gotten it all anyway, and he kept literally sending out hearts and rainbows whenever Octavia’s name was mentioned, or Stolas’s, or even Loona’s. It was annoying, but also somehow reassuring.
“Who would have thought you’d be the family daddy,” Fizz had said one morning, slurping a shocking pink milkshake through a straw and adjusting his oversized glasses on his face. They were on a long avenue in Pentagram City and had stopped for a drink after an intense shopping session. Fizz believed that wearing those gigantic glasses worked as a perfect disguise and who was Blitz to point out that everything about the clown, from the rainbow pants to the pastel green hat, was extremely recognizable?
“Yeah, it looked like I was going to end up shoveling horse shit in our old circus for the rest of my life, and here I am. I don’t even know how it happened, honestly.”
“It happened because you’re a great assassin and a great businessman,” Fizz had replied, looking at him over the glasses, “not to mentionha great father.”
“Meh,” Blitz had shrugged condescendingly.
“Your mother would be proud of you, you know.”
And with that one sentence Fizz had ruined the light-hearted mood and he had quickly pretended to have to put on sunglasses because of the light and hide the fact that he was holding back tears.
Blitz had never been happier, and he never felt guiltier.
Somehow, despite the pills and everything that had happened to him in the last year of his life, Stolas hadn’t felt this good in a very long time. He felt like he was living in a dream, one of those you don’t even know you have until you find yourself in the middle of it. It was so different from his fantasies, the ones where he had imagined Blitz handsome and wild and passionate, coming to kidnap him from his castle to take him on extraordinary adventures and wild sex. It was domestic, sweet, not always easy, with his relationship with Via still uncertain and the fact that he had to work for a living now, not to mention how a lot of the people he met still hated him in a very not-so-silent way.
The sex was… well, not as wild as it had once been, much to Stolas’ disappointment. At first, he had still felt too dizzy from the shock and the lack of his pills, then he had felt even worse with the pain of losing Via and the return of the pills. Blitz seemed to have transformed into a completely asexual being, all nurturing, platonic physical contact, and absolutely no sex. And Stolas had been grateful for that, because he didn’t know how to tell him that all appetite for that seemed to have died out.
But his meds had stabilized, he had started going to therapy once a week, and every Saturday he met Via for ice cream, and they talked and laughed and seemed well on their way to reconciliation. And Blitz was irresistibly sexy again, and Stolas' cloaca throbbed painfully every time his tail curled around his leg, every time the imp took his hand, every time he snuggled up to him.
And then it had finally happened.
Having sex with Blitz after all this time and after they had become more or less an official couple had been a mind-blowing experience, and not because it hadn’t been before — the sex between them had always been incredible, it had literally brought Stolas back to life — but because the knowledge of what was between them was enough to send Stolas into ecstasy. He couldn’t understand how he could have mistaken what had been before for love, when it was so obvious that this was something else entirely.
Stolas had discovered that when Blitz loves someone, his first instinct was to protect them. Blitz had always made sure that at all times, even during the most extreme scenarios, Stolas was always comfortable, they had always used safe words and everything, but now there was a complete dedication from the imp to making sure that every minute and every second Stolas felt not only comfortable, but safe. It was like being wrapped in a blanket of care and dedication and sweetness and strength that was impossible to ignore and that sharpened his orgasms like a kind of spell.
And he had also discovered that when Blitz loved someone his facade fell away and he became soft and insecure and oh so tender.
It was nice to have sex with Blitz now that they both knew they love each other.
But Stolas missed the thrill and excitement sometimes, especially moments like this when he was sitting at the table sipping his morning tea while Blitz was busy flipping pancakes in his boxers and a baggy t-shirt that hung way too loosely over one shoulder, exposing his collarbone.
The day before, Blitz had been out shopping with Fizzarolli all afternoon, while he had met up with Via, and he had come home cheerful and more ‘physical’ than usual.
He had literally climbed on top of him, scaling him like a wall, to give him a long, intense kiss, which Stolas had every intention of turning into something else before Loona interrupted them by slamming the front door and making her presence known with an irritated “could you please avoid doing this in the common areas?”
They had all three eaten together and then gone to bed, but Blitz had not shown any intention of picking up where they had left off, he had hugged him and buried his head in his chest, falling asleep shortly after purring happily.
But this morning Loona had gone out and Stolas was a very stubborn owl.
When Blitz approaches the table to put down the plate of pancakes and sit down himself, Stolas casually slides the edges of the robe he’s wearing – it’s very similar to the one he once owned, although it’s not silk but a cheaper satin, but Blitz had given it to him because he said you looked pretty damn hot in that, pretty bird – revealing his shoulders and chest. He hears Blitz holding his breath and widening his eyes slightly, trying to pretend nothing is happening and continuing to put pancakes on the plate with a mechanical gesture.
“So, are you busy this morning, Blitz?” he says taking another sip and looking at the imp over the top of the cup.
It takes him a moment to absorb his words, too busy staring at Stolas' chest. But suddenly the implication of his words sinks in and Blitz runs his tongue over his lips in an unconscious gesture that makes Stolas' mouth go dry.
"Why, did you have some plans, pretty bird?" he asks.
Ah, that adorable switch! Stolas would have gladly died just for that moment when Blitz's face went from adorable to pure desire. It was one of the reasons he tried to provoke him at every possible opportunity.
"Mmmm maybe"
Blitz starts eating the pancakes, licking his lips and never taking his eyes off Stolas.
"Angry bird"
Blitz feels his erection pressing against his boxers in a truly undignified manner and is grateful for being seated.
Stolas had always been incredibly sexy, but in those last few months he had found it really hard to control himself. Maybe because you finally realized you were in love with him, shithead says a voice in his head strangely similar to Fizz's. As usual the clown was right, of course.
Sex with Stolas had always been crazy, the real reason why he had accepted their agreement from the beginning. Completely crazy, absurd, with all those unlikely role-playing games and extreme fantasies that the owl wanted to try at every meeting.
When they had started again, after a – too long – period of abstinence, Blitz had not had great expectations, partly because you know that things in your memories are always better, partly because they had set themselves on something much less extreme and almost vanilla. But he had realized from the first time that he was an idiot and that sex with Stolas was overwhelming and all-encompassing even without being crazy. That just watching Stolas suck him was enough to make him have an orgasm that left him unable to see or think for minutes on end.
And now the bird was there, in that slutty robe of his and it seemed to have every intention of taking the morning to a decidedly... hot level.
Stolas finishes his tea and stands up, heading towards the bedroom.
“I really feel like lying down, why don’t you come and keep me company, Blitzy?” he says, looking over his shoulder and dropping his robe on the edge of the door, before disappearing into the bedroom.
Not the most original of sentences, but Stolas could say the most absurd things and make them sound like the horniest thing Blitz had ever heard.
he gulped down his pancakes and hurried after him, finding him already naked on their bed, lying on the back with his legs deliciously bent and slightly open.
“Why don’t you come over here and finish your breakfast?”
Oh, it's so... cringe... and it goes straight to Blitz's cock.
He doesn't even know how or when he got on the bed, but he's looking at his cloaca from an extremely close position and he can barely think straight.
He licks a spot right in the center of the opening with the tip of his tongue and Stolas moans loudly.
It's so intoxicating, lying with his face between Stolas' legs, feeling Stolas' hands on his horns pushing him deeper and his moans and his Blitzys .
After a few minutes, Stolas lifts him up by pulling his horns back slightly and it's one of those casually dominant attitudes that makes Blitz's mind go numb.
Stolas drags him like a leash, until they're face to face and can kiss. Blitz knows Stolas likes to taste himself in his mouth, so he opens his lips and deepens the kiss.
He moves his tail until the spade is on Stolas’ cloaca and inside it, and Stolas mourns on his mouth loud and clear.
He feels Stolas’ long fingers grip his cock and start moving slowly at first, then faster and faster until he too is moaning and they are both panting in each other’s mouths.
Blitz feels Stolas come hard on his tail and the sensation sends shocks to his brain and blood to his cock, until he too comes in Stolas’ hand.
As always, Blitz is lying on top of him and with his face buried in his chest feathers. He is still wearing his boxers and a T-shirt, far too much clothing for Stolas’ taste.
He wants Blitz to fuck him so hard he will forget his name. He also wants to fuck Blitz, and this is a new idea, one he would never have had the courage to have when the deal was looming between them.
He opens his mouth to ask but is interrupted by the scream that is Blitz's phone ringtone.
"Maybe you should answer, darling," he says, "so we can pick up where we left off."
Blitz raises his head and without answering begins to kiss him, forcing his tongue into his mouth.
An eloquent answer.
But the phone keeps ringing and ringing until finally with a grunt of frustration Blitz rolls to the side and reaches across the nightstand to grab the phone.
“What?” he practically growls.
Stolas hears him answer “Yeah, it’s me, what the fuck do you want?” and watches his annoyed expression become attentive and then, suddenly, he sees him go white. He didn’t think the white scar on his face could get any paler, but evidently he was wrong.
He sits up and instinctively covers himself with the sheet, while Blitz holds the phone tightly to his ear, so tightly it’s incredible it doesn’t break.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, in a voice Stolas struggles to recognize and that makes him sick to his stomach. “Sure, I’ll be right there.”
Blitz ends the call and stands there staring at the screen.
“Who was that?”
The imp doesn’t respond, as if he hadn’t even heard him, completely still and his eyes fixed on the phone screen. In fact, he didn’t seem to see it, and he kept squeezing it frantically.
“Blitz?” he touches his shoulder and the imp jumps, as if he’s forgotten Stolas was there. “Who was that, darling?”
Blitz is looking at him now as if he doesn’t even recognize him, a frightened expression on his face that Stolas is sure he’s never seen before. The lump in his stomach grows heavier.
“Oh…it…it was the hospital.”
He goes back to staring at the screen, the tail curling around his waist in a gesture that seems instinctive.
“I have to go,” he says, but doesn’t move.
“The hospital?” Stolas is really nervous now. “What happened? Is it Loona?”
“No. It’s not Loona,” he says. Then he looks at him and his face is something Stolas wishes to not see ever again. “It’s Barbie.”