Demon's Game

by Ruunkur

Summary:

Blitzo does his best to appease his father, even if it means cancelling plans last minute that he'd be looking forward to all week. He could put on a smile as he does all the stupid shit he's made to do.

So he put on a grin and stepped into the belly of the beast, all to ensure that his dad wouldn't be upset.

Because he couldn't bare to lose his family.

Notes:

Breakdown:

Older gentlemen (Vassago & Stolas) rape 19 year old Blitzo after his dad sells him out for the night.

Blitzo is drugged for the entire endeavor.

I do not condone rape in real life. This is fictional.
And if you don't like it, don't read it.

Chapter 1: Demon's Toy

"Get your ass over here."

Blitzo counted three seconds before he finished wiping his face off with the cloth, looking at the makeup smeared there before throwing it in the sink. His performance had been middling at best, if not outright a complete fuckup, but it had been worth it to see Fizz get to be the highlight. But he could hear the anger in his father's grating voice.

"Now."

Blitzo turned away from the bathroom mirror, scurrying over to his father and offering him a hesitant smile. "Yeah?" He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. His gaze shifted to the left of his father's shoulder, fixating on one of the various posters that were plastered in the small room. The air was stale, the door propped open. His father, not necessarily a tall man, but broad and looming, glowered down at him.

"Despite your continual mishaps," Cash Buckzo drawled out the word 'mishaps', his gaze narrowing more as Blitzo hunched his shoulders, "you have a private show tonight." His gaze dragged down Blitzo's lanky form, taking in the worn and patched clothes he had thrown on after the show. "And wear something nice, the client is paying handsomely."

"I don't-" Blitzo began, but the glare from Cash had him shutting his mouth. He gave his father a curt nod, turning his back on the man and trudging to his closet. He gave it to the count of five, listening to the footsteps retreat and his door swing shut, though it didn't quite latch. Blitzo grunted under his breath and began rummaging through his shirts. He hesitated when he found a nicer long-sleeved silk shirt, his fingers gliding over the fabric before he tugged it off the hanger. He threw it over his arm, his scowl deepening when he heard the door open again.

"I'm getting-" He turned to look over his shoulder, the words dying in his throat as Fizz slipped into the room. The other teen raised a hand in greeting, smiling brightly as he settled himself on Blitzo's bed, tucking one leg under himself and letting the other dangle off the edge. He swung it back and forth, gaze tracking Blitzo curiously.

"Getting ready for me?" Fizz asked, leaning back on his hands.

"Hey Fizz, you were great tonight." Blitzo threw the shirt at the bed, Fizz catching it easily and looking at it with a raised eyebrow. There was still paint smeared in the crease of his nose and under his eyes. He reached up, running one thumb at a smear, letting Fizz push his hand away even as he giggled.

"You're getting better, the extra practice really has been helping." Fizz said, setting the shirt to the side and reaching up to catch Blitzo's hand. "So, I was thinking for tonight-"

"I can't." Blitzo cut in, pulling his hand away. He turned his back and headed to his dresser, unwilling to see the crestfallen look he was sure was currently plastering Fizz's face. "Sorry, Dad just... wants me to do something tonight. I'm not going to be able to go out." He pushed down his own disappointment, swallowing past the lump of anger that was starting to form. "But maybe tomorrow...?"

"Come on, I'm sure he'll let you off the hook for one night." Fizz protested. "We've been planning this for weeks. We shouldn't have to reschedule our date." The unspoken 'again' hung in the air, guilt pricking at Blitzo's skin.

He dug his hands into his dresser, sorting through the pants in search of a pair that would be good enough for his father’s standards. "I can't just not do what he wants me to."

"Right. Of course, your dad always makes you..." There was a beat of silence. "Whatever." He heard the curtness and disappointment in Fizz's tone as the mattress squeaked under shifting weight. "I'll see you later, then."

"Fi-" Blitzo turned around, wincing as the door was slammed shut. He angrily stripped out of his comfortable clothes, throwing them in a heap at the foot of his bed. He smeared the grease paint from Fizz onto the discarded cloth in the sink before changing, grumbling under his breath the whole while.

***

Blitzo took in the massive double doors, glancing over his shoulder one last time to ensure he was truly alone. The driver had deposited him at the end of the long drive-way, giving a short nod before continuing through the roundabout and leaving. The doors he stood before were massive, black with gold inlay depicting what Blitzo thought might be different constellations, but he wasn't sure. He bent forward to study one such decoration, shivering as a sharp breeze blew threw him.

Blitzo steadied himself, lifting a hand up to let the silver knocker clang against the door. He could hear it echo for several long seconds before fading out. Blitzo rubbed at one arm, nearly jumping out of his skin when the door opened to reveal a rather normal looking (though older than Blitzo would have first assumed) man.

He was fair-skinned with slicked back hair and pearly white teeth when he smiled. He was wearing a sweater vest, with the shirt tucked into the tops of his slacks, and no shoes, only socks. Blitzo jerked his gaze back up to the man's eyes, a shiver creeping down his spine as he was smiled at.

"Good evening, my name is Stolas." His voice was soft, sliding into the silence rather than breaking it when he spoke. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Blitzo." The man held out his hand and Blitzo took it, startled by how firm the man's grip was. "I saw you perform earlier tonight and I must say, it was quite delightful." He stepped to the side, beckoning Blitzo into his home with one flourish of his hand.

"What kind of rich fuck opens his own doors?" Blitzo asked warily, stepping into the entrance. He jumped when the door shut with a loud bang behind him.

"The servants have been sent home and my wife has taken our daughter this evening to visit her family. I prefer to have the house empty when I have company over. Come, we'll be in my study." The man, Stolas, turned on his heel, crossing his hands behind his back as he walked down the hall.

Blitzo followed hesitantly, glancing at several older looking paintings that lined the entry hall. Stolas took a left turn, then a right, stopping at one particularly plain door and pushing it open. He beckoned Blitzo inside, the crackling of a fire greeting him. Blitzo let his gaze drift over the room, taking in the organized bookcases, the desk cluttered in charts and paper, and an expensive leather couch in front of the fireplace, with a table set with three glasses, each containing a liquid of a different color.

Stolas shut the door behind him, gesturing for Blitzo to take a seat on the couch. "Have you been performing long with the circus?" Stolas asked curiously, following Blitzo. He stopped to pick up an iron poker, thrusting it into the flames and adjusting the logs. The fire flared higher, heat creeping past the tile and making Blitzo uncomfortably hot in his long sleeves. He fiddled with the edge of one sleeve as he considered the question.

Finally, he answered though his tone was hesitant.

"Uh, sure? I guess, I mean. The circus has been in the family for a few generations. Dad performed before he took over, I've been performing since I was a kid." Blitzo sat on the couch, perched awkwardly on the edge. His fingers curled around the front of the seat, anchoring him in place. "What am I doing here?"

Stolas let go of the iron, leaving it in the fire and turning to the teenager. "You're here to entertain. Please, get comfortable, pick a drink, they're all perfectly safe." Stolas gestured to the glasses and Blitzo let his gaze be drawn to the table.

There were three tall wine glasses, with silver stems shaped like a bird's body. Its claws extended to become the base while the wings were used to cradle the glass itself. He picked up the silvery drink and tilted it towards the fire the way he had seen his mother tilt a glass of liquor towards the light when he was younger. The red-orange of the flames reflected in the liquid, giving it an odd red glow.

"What's in them?" He asked, bringing it to his nose and taking a sniff. It smelled the way a crisp night air would after a winter storm, cold but in that muffled sort of way, Blitzo decided as he set it back down and picked up the second glass.

That wine was red, with what looked like gold glitter swirling through it. He sniffed it as well, making a disgusted noise as the stench of rotting fruit met him. He quickly set it back down, picking up the third drink, a curiously black concoction with, when tilted towards the fire, what looked to be red running through it. This one smelled of wood burning, but Blitzo couldn't be sure when he set it back down, if it was the drink or the fire that had given him that impression.

"Alcohol, my own concoctions. Nothing harmful, I assure you." Stolas said pleasantly, watching him curiously. "You are over eighteen, yes?"

"Well, yeah, but drinking age is twenty-one and I'm not-" Blitzo began but Stolas cut him off with a wave of his hand and a small laugh that echoed around the room.

"Oh, that doesn't matter, I assure you. I'll keep it a secret if you do." He winked.

Blitzo swallowed back his protests, picking up the first glass and sipping at it cautiously. The taste was pleasant and it slid down his throat the way silk felt against his skin. The couple of times Blitzo had gotten into his dad's alcohol cabinet, it had always burned and tasted awful, but he had appreciated the feelings it brought. This, however, was different. The fire in front of him crackled and he turned his gaze towards it, watching the flames lick upwards. They danced in front of his gaze, the tops of the flames reaching out towards each other before pulling away.

He jumped when Stolas sat on the couch, feeling awkward as he placed the now empty cup on the table.

He couldn't remember taking more than one sip.

"Delicious?" Stolas asked and Blitzo licked his suddenly dry lips. "It's a homemade brew, my own concoction, as I said. I like to experiment with different mead recipes in my spare time." He waved a hand towards the other untouched glass. "I do have a companion that will be joining us tonight, but I'm afraid he's running a bit behind."

"Yeah, that's... why am I here?" Blitzo asked, running his palms down his pants. The room felt hot and he wanted to take his shirt off, scratch at his skin, but he forced himself to sit still instead.

"To be our entertainment." There was a pause. "More so for me, but shared entertainment nonetheless for the evening."

Stolas was suddenly a lot closer, Blitzo realized. He nearly jumped when a hand rested on his upper thigh. His heart fluttered in his chest as Stolas lifted his right hand up, resting a finger under Blitzo's chin and drawing his gaze over. He swallowed, feeling the weight of Stolas's gaze, the warmth of hands on him. A shiver crawled up his spine as Stolas chuckled warmly.

"You know, you did catch my eye, when I first saw you tonight." Stolas commented, dropping his hand away from Blitzo's chin. There was suddenly ample space between them and Blitzo felt like he could catch his breath. "My darling Octavia has been begging to do something fun while we were at our summer home and I heard so much about your father's circus in particular. I was so delighted to see that you would be here the same week as we were visiting! Absolutely wonderful. Of course, I sent Octavia and Stella both on for the night. She was quite eager to get to her mother's and Octavia was very excited at seeing her grandmother. But what a bother, I had some work to get finished and thus had to stay behind."

Blitzo listened to the man's words as he picked up his own glass, swirling the black liquid inside. Blitzo followed the trail of red that appeared in the drink, watching it with some fascination until Stolas cleared his throat.

"Do you enjoy performing, Blitzo?"

Blitzo stared at the man, his pupils wide in the dim light. He was unsure why Stolas was asking him the same questions, or why the man was staring at him so intensely. "I... guess?" He said slowly, swallowing hard. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with it, per se. I'm not really the best clown, but it's not something that I actually wanted to do. Always knew that my sister would be training to take over dad's position one day, she's the one with the head for numbers and managing books."

Stolas hummed. "Your clown act, it's the traditional role of the Auguste Clown, correct?"

Blitzo narrowed his eyes at that.

"I looked into clown history, is all. I was curious about the different styles that were bound to come up. I find clowns rather fascinating. And I must be thorough when I do my research when it comes to... certain assets. Of course," Stolas added quickly, "I have no intentions of making you put on that sort of performance. Come here."

Blitzo moved closer to Stolas. His body felt heavy, like he was moving through molasses as Stolas smiled.

"Is it true that clowns have to register their face designs on eggs?" Stolas asked, causing Blitzo to blink in confusion. He had drawn his legs up and under him, his body was half-turned to the man. He twisted back around, tucking his arms around his knees and fixed his gaze back on the fire.

"That's for the ones who want to take it professional."

"Are you not considered professional now?"

He frowned at that, shifting his gaze back to Stolas. The fire reflected in his eyes oddly, making it hard for Blitzo to get a read on him. "No, because if you want to go professional, you have to pass the ba-" He shook his head. "It's stupid and I don't want to talk about it."

Stolas hummed softly, taking a slow sip of his drink. Blitzo watched as the man swallowed, following the motion of his throat before jerking his gaze away. "Are you comfortable?" He asked once he had sipped more of his drink.

He wasn't, not with the way Stolas was staring at him, head tilting to the side, but he nodded anyway. He could hear his father already yelling, calling him a disgrace if he fucked up this job. Maybe even worse, if the way he had glowered at him the last few weeks were any indication. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Stolas nodded. He leaned forward, placing his glass on the table and glancing at the unclaimed drink. "Vassago was meant to be here by now... I suppose we can start without him and he'll just have to catch up." He got up, walking over to the fire, and picked the iron poker up, turning it in the light. He placed it back in the coals and returned to the couch, right next to Blitzo.

There was too much heat pressing up against his side as Stolas closed the distance, placing a hand on top of Blitzo's knee. Blitzo glanced to the side, turning his head in time for Stolas to catch him in a kiss. Blitzo wanted to pull away, to run from the room, but the heat pressed closer to him and he whimpered, feeling an arm dig into his back before he was dragged onto Stolas's lap.

He was straddling the older man now, his gaze somewhere to the left of Stolas's shoulder as cold hands slipped under his shirt, fingers pressing against bare skin before they slid further up. Hands roamed across his stomach, up to his chest, and lingered there, sliding over his nipples. Stolas tugged Blitzo's shirt off after a moment of study, the teen lifting his arms with the movement. Once the shirt was removed, Stolas guided Blitzo's hands to rest on his shoulders, helping keep himself secure.

Blitzo stiffened as Stolas's hands wandered back down to the top of his jeans, his gaze darting to the man's eyes. They were red, reflecting the fire. Something shifted and Blitzo was laying on his back, Stolas hovering over him. In the scant few seconds he had been lost in the depths of nothing that was Stolas's gaze, he had been stripped out of his pants and Stolas was straddling him instead. He shifted and he felt Stolas's tongue trail down his neck, before there was another kiss there, then he was moving further down and Blitzo was staring at the ceiling of the library.

His heart was pounding in his chest as Stolas's hands landed on his hips. His breath caught as a mouth surrounded his dick. The hands were different, exuding warmth where Blitzo had thought he’d feel cold. The hum, humming that should have been laughter as they fooled around, was ancient in its origins, sending a pulse through Blitzo's veins. his body felt heavy, the touch too light, the mouth all wrong-

He shuddered, heat crawling up his skin as he came, the man between his legs sitting back and locking gazes with Blitzo as he used one thumb to wipe away the smear of cum that had escaped his mouth. He licked his thumb thoughtfully, letting out another long hum.

The man stood up, walking back to the fire. Blitzo tracked his movements, brain still soaking in the post orgasm bliss. He watched as Stolas picked up the poker, turning it in his hand and walking back over to the couch. He placed one hand on Blitzo's shoulder, leaning down to kiss his forehead before he brought the poker up and pressed it into Blitzo's thigh. He wanted to scream as the heat flashed through him, but his words were choked off by Stolas's hand, the poker removed and the man smiling as he bent to study his work.

The pain was already receding, a distant, fleeting memory as Blitzo coasted in the softness of nothing that he had found creeping around him, surrounding him and cradling him, keeping him distant from the harsher movements as Stolas laughed softly, drawing too cold fingers over the brand that Blitzo would have to see later.

"Did you start without me?"

Blitzo tilted his head back from its spot on the arm of the couch, blinking as light spilled in from the hallway. Another man pursed his lips in the sharp light, adjusting his glasses as the door swung shut.

"You were late, Vassago, what else was I supposed to do with our guest until then?" Stolas questioned, voice drifting away as he returned the poker to its home and returned to the touch, resting a hand on Blitzo's splayed leg. His right leg was pressed tight against the side of the couch to brace himself. "I was just getting him warmed up. Isn't he precious?"

Vassago walked over, taking the third glass from the table and tasting it. He let his gaze trail over Blitzo, resting his gaze on his face after several long beats. He walked over to the arm of the couch, reaching out and running his fingers through his hair. "Certainly your type. Where did you pick this one up?" Vassago let his fingers drift from Blitzo's hair down to his cheek, taking another sip of his drink.

"The circus."

"And he's not in his face paint? How odd."

Stolas chuckled. "Oh no, I wanted to see his face. The whole circus is branded." There was something hidden in his tone, the fire flaring brighter.

Blitzo's eyes dialated, his mouth opening as Vassago pressed a thumb to it. The digit slid against his tongue, the other man letting out a soft hum.

"And they didn't lay claim to this sweet thing?" Vassago guessed.

"Completely unprotected." Stolas agreed. "I paid handsomely for rights." Stolas licked his lips, gaze flashing up to Vassago's face.

"And here I thought you didn't play those games anymore."

"I have to do something to keep things interesting."

"You-" Vassago paused, pulling his drink away from his mouth to study it in the light of the flames. He pulled his hand off Blitzo's face, shifting his gaze sideways to Stolas. "And you're sharing him with me?"

"In this one moment, but not after." Stolas responded. "Perhaps, maybe in the future, but not forever."

Blitzo watched in dazed confusion as Vassago finished his drink and returned the cup to the table. He jumped when Stolas's hands slid down his legs, trailing along his delicate inner thighs and then moving his arms under, the man cupping his ass. The unzipping of pants drew his attention back to Vassago as the man lowered his pants to the floor. The newcomer seemed to dip through the shadows as he pulled his gloves off, letting them fall to the floor. He dropped his jacket at his feet, even as he undid each button slowly, taking almost too long. Stolas stared all the while, breath hitching with each motion.

One of the logs popped, a burst of light revealing flashes of red and white before the light dimmed again, leaving Blitzo blinking in confusion. There was a brush of feathers against his face, his gaze cut off as a blindfold was placed over his gaze. The satin cloth rubbed at his skin, irritating Blitzo. He was starting to squirm uncomfortably, trying to get his hands under him, but the press of a finger to his asshole made him go completely still.

It was silent for several long heartbeats as the two men paused in their actions, Vassago letting out a question that he couldn't catch.

They were pulling him upwards and his back was pressed to the man's chest and his legs spread wide by his knees. His breath picked up as he felt the press of a dick against his hole and he let out a whimper.

"Oh, you do make noises! How beautiful your voice must sound when you give in to your urges." Stolas whispered in Blitzo's ear, his hand drifting down to Blitzo's leg. His fingers pressed into tender flesh of the recent burn and he couldn’t muffle the cry of pain.

There was pressure, then a spark of pain followed by pleasure. He was floating, something being pressed to his mouth, which he opened. More of the smooth drink followed and he swallowed, trying to reach out when the cup was drawn away. His hands were secured behind him, though he couldn't tell when it had happened or what he was bound by. Stolas was humming, hands running up and down his chest while his hips moved, keeping his attention scattered.

Blitzo was comfortable drifting, the repeated rocking from Stolas lulling him. He was comforted, the warmth of the second drink spreading through him. His dick was hard again and he wanted to beg Stolas to stop, but there was another mouth on him, preventing him from speaking and a heat that had his skin burning from the inside out.

The heat from the fire, blazing now. Blitzo felt his skin crawl as the man mounted him fully, claws digging into Blitzo's upper arms hard. Stolas moaned as the smell of blood joined the smoke clogging the air and he shuddered, pulling Blitzo close to his chest and cooing, nuzzling his cheek. The man on top of him came as well, slumping forward against the human and huffing, withdrawing his hands from Blitzo's arms. He went to try and take a lick of the blood welling there, only for Stolas to smack him.

"Mine," he reminded him sternly and Vassago rested his chin on Stolas's shoulder instead.

"And what a lovely treat he'll be." Vassago murmured.

Stolas reached up, ruffling Vassago's hair before running his fingers to smooth it back. "How is Andy doing?"

Vassago blinked sleepily, nuzzling his cheek against Stolas's shoulder in response. "Just fine." There was a long silence. "Do we have more time to play? Or have I used up all your goodwill towards me?"

Stolas chuckled, bringing his hand up to Blitzo's chin and tilting his head back. His gaze met unseeing eyes and he smiled, eyes flashing. "This was just the appetizer. We still have the main course. Don't worry, darling, I wouldn't let you leave on such a small sample, would I?"

Blitzo imagined the two men as fire, both of them lapping at his skin. He turned his gaze to the flame, wondering if the fire would be less painful.

***

He had gone still when the door squeaked open, his eyes unseeing as they watched the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain, the cloth in his hand stained from his constant scrubbing. But he couldn't get the stain out, no matter how many layers he tried to scrape away.

He flinched when the hand reached out, his breathing unsteady and his skin crawling, as it brushed his skin. Another hand plucked the rag from his hand, a soft constant noise radiating just beyond where he could understand it. The scent of blood clogged his nose and the soft, delighted cooing laughter echoed in his head as arms wrapped around him and he was pulled close.

Notes:

(I want a creepy hot older man to spout nonsense facts about clowns at me before he fucks me)
And shout out to my friend who beta'd for me!

Chapter 2: Bridge

Notes:

Content warning: Suicide attempt

"Blitzo!"

The world is a smear as he stared up at the ceiling. He could hear water splashing onto tile, could feel hands shaking his body. He closes his eyes against the light, tries to resist the urge to vomit as he's pulled from the bathtub.

He's twenty three and it's been four years since that fateful evening that ruined-- him? Is that even what he could call it?

He turned his head enough to vomit on the tile floor instead of all over himself. There were hands, someone pushing him onto the side of the tub as he coughed again, more bile crawling up the back of his throat, burning.

"Blitzo, what the fuck?"

The question was small, hanging heavy between the pair of them. He wanted nothing more than to fall into the darkness he had been chasing, but he was cold now. He wasn't comfortable, not with the sharp fingers digging into his side, steading him so he couldn't choke, couldn't slip back under the water.

"I'm going-" The voice began and panic clawed its way through the haze and the burn.

"Don't." Blitzo swallowed, pushing himself up into a sitting position. When he opened his eyes, Fizz's face was inches from him, his pupils blown wide.

He could see the hesitation flash through Fizz's gaze, and the anger that was underneath the concern even as he lowered his hands into his lap. He bit his lower lip, listening as water dripped.

"Are you okay?" Fizz whispered, voice strained.

The man looked away, gaze distant. The bathroom floor was a mess, even more so now, and in need of a good sweeping. The water needed to be turned off, but his head pounded and he wanted nothing more than to crawl under the sheets and sleep for the next week. His tongue was heavy, he couldn't get the words out but the hand was still tight, keeping him from slipping back under.

"Let's get you into dry clothes." Fizz stood, bending over and unplugging the tub. He turned off the water, hesitating as he looked for a dry towel before he gave up and wiped his hand on his pants. He bent down once more, wrapping his hand around Blitzo's upper arm and tugging on him, uncaring of the water that was soaked his jeans.

In the daze of the bathroom light, Blitzo could see the smears of grease makeup under Fizz's eyes, could smell the perfume from the dance studio clogging the small space. Fizz's hair was matted with drying sweat, his shirt sleeves pushed up, though they were wet. He wasn't wearing shoes, Blitzo thought distantly, gaze unfocused and thoughts struggling to form.

"I need-" Blitzo began, but he let Fizz drag him up, let him guide him out of the bathroom and into his room. Fizz deposited Blitzo on the bed, eyeing the boxers he was still wearing. He turned his back long enough to rumage through the dresser, pulling out a dry pair and turning back to Blitzo.

He was hunched over now, freezing in the air conditioned room. His legs were pulled up to his chest, his face hidden by his knees.

"Come on, dry underwear at least." Fizz said, holding out the item. When Blitzo didn't move, he frowned. "Come on, we've known each other for years. Do you need me to leave the room for you to get changed now?" There's hurt there and bitterness in Fizz's tone and it gnawed at him. It was a small part that could still feel the guilt of seeing Fizz hurt, but he hadn't been able to get rid of it. Even when he had-

He shied away from the thought, fixating on the question that only registered when Fizz asked it again. He couldn't be sure how long he'd been floating. He pushed back the bile that threated to rise again, meeting Fizz's gaze.

"Yes."

Fizz recoiled at that, mouth hanging over as he stared at Blitzo. "I don't know what's going on, but you need to talk to me. Did I do--?"

Blitzo shook his head, swallowing hard. "You shouldn't have pulled me out of the tub, Fizz."

"Why?"

"I'd rather be dead than haunted."

Fizz stared at him, puzzling through the words. He glanced at Blitzo more closely, stepping towards the bed. "What happened?"

Blitzo burried his face in his arms again, unable to bear looking at Fizz anylonger. His teeth chattered once before he clenched his jaw hard and dug his nails into his skin.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Fizz spoke as he carefully reached around Blitzo's, grabbing one of the bigger blankets and tucking it around his shoulders. "I don't need to know the details,

"He- they-"

He wasn't sure where he was supposed to start, where the words might come from. He lifted his hands up to grip at the blanket instead, chin still tucked against his knees.

"The dinner dad made me go to." Blitzo said hesitantly, voice scratchy. He let out a cough, clearing his throat. "Every year it's like I'm back there. I can't..." Even in the darkness, he had heard them. He couldn't breathe, couldn't picture anything other than water pressing down on him, but they were still here. He was still there, spreading his legs apart, bending down-. "I can't stop reliving that night, every moment just..." He swallowed, peaking up just a tad to see Fizz staring at him, hands twitching at his sides. "Over and over, and it's worse on these nights."

"Can I touch you?"

"I guess."

Blitzo felt him settle on the bed in front of him, heard him reach out -balanced ever so carefully on his knees- and draw him into a hug. Blitzo froze, face being pulled into wet fabric. He whimpered, his shaking slowly coming to a stop as Fizz held him.

They stayed like that until Blitzo finally nudged Fizz, clearing his throat. "I need to uhm..."

"Right, dry underwear." Fizz pulled away, turning his back on Blitzo. "I'll just-"

"He branded me."

The admission had Fizz freezing. Blitzo studied his reactions, wishing he had just let the moment go.

"I didn't want you to see."

It hurt to speak the words, but he forced them out of his throat. When he looked up, Fizz was still staring.

Chapter 3: Night's Stalking

Notes:

Takes place several years after the 1st two chapters

There's hands sliding down his legs. Another hand curled into his hair and jerked his head back, baring his neck for the press of lips.

Each brush of feathers sent fire running under his skin. He's gasping for air, the- (was it an owl he saw in the corner of his eye? When he looked down to see the creature)- man looming over him, eyes reflecting the flames. His attention is drawn to the fire, watching the flames lick upwards. His breath catches and the men shift, moving him like they would a toy.

His limbs were heavy, and there was another glass pressed to his lips and he was-

Blitzø jolted upright, sweat dampening his skin. He held his breath for thirty seconds, listening to the apartment. There was the sound of slow dripping from the faucet, the gentle whooping sound of the fan above him, and the soft breathing of another person next to him. He reached a hand out in the darkness, freezing when he touched bare skin before relaxing, feeling the warmth that came from the body next to him.

"Something wrong?"

Blitzø pulled his hand away, catching the barest glint of Fizz's eye from the faint streetlight spilling in from the curtains. "Nah, I just need some air." He itched for a cigarette, his skin still crawling from the touch that wasn't there.

"Want company?"

Fizz was snuggled deep into the blankets, one arm under his pillow as he peered up at Blitzø. He shook his head, offering Fizz a hesitant smile.

"Just need some air." He said again. He was careful as he climbed out of the bed, throwing his half of the blankets on Fizz.

"Take your phone."

Blitzø was already pulling on his boots, grabbing his jacket from the hook on the door and patting down the pockets. "Yeah, will do." He made sure he had the house key before slipping out of the door and locking it. He threw his jacket on, shoving his hands in his pockets and walked down the stairs and into the late evening heat. He patted down his pockets once more, pulling out his lighter and locating his final cigarette. He hesitated before lighting it and slowly walking down the apartment sidewalk and onto the main street from the complex.

It was overcast, shadows darker then they normally would be. The occasional car would pass, but the streets were clear, the air still too hot, though Blitzø knew the people that hung around this late at night wouldn't be able to escape it. The area wasn't the best, but it was the best he and Fizz could afford and that was all that mattered to him. With Blitzø's job (currently up for debate on if he should quit) and Fizz's semi-regular shows at one of the clubs downtown (also up for debate, but for different reasons), they were making do.

He shivered, cold even in the heat. The full moon gleamed blood red, shining among the clouds. He took a shuddering breath, taking a long drag on his cigarette and glancing down at his arm and the scars still there.

Seven years.

Even after seven years, that night haunted him. He went to roll down his sleeve, gaze darting behind him. Fizz hadn't followed him out of the apartment, he was more than certain. Slowly, he took his cigarette out of his mouth and brought it down to his skin.

The anticipated burn didn't come, Blitzø jerking forward and loosing his balance as someone collided into him. He turned, fist raised in defense only to stop and stare. A young girl stared back at him, eyes wide. She looked frantically over her shoulder, reaching out to tug on Blitzø's coat.

"You gotta help me," she begged. "Please, he's after me."

"What the-"

Blitzø ducked and pulled the girl under him as a gun shot rang out. He narrowed his gaze, feeling the girl trembling under him as he carefully turning his head to the side. He could just barely make out the shadow of another man standing at the end of the street, gun pointed at Blitzø.

"Why don't you move out of the way? I got some business with that kid there and you wouldn't want to get in the way of it." The man growled and Blitzø tensed.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, chasing after some kid in the middle of the night, let alone my sister, but you better move the fuck along, creep!" Blitzø spat and stood up straight, placing himself between the strange girl and the man. There weren't any people out, but the one car that had slowed down to see what was happening picked up speed.

"That it, then?" The man asked, gaze shifting from Blitzø to the girl. "You going to throw in with that lot?"

"Did I fucking stutter?" Blitzø demanded, hand shifting to his hip. He heard the girl whimper, felt her press closer to his leg, her one hand still gripping the back of his jacket.

The man stood up up straight, eyes sparking in delight. "You know the rules of the game, then?"

Blitzø hesitated, gaze shifting to look down at the girl. "Game? What game?"

"It's the Harvest Moon. This little tyke," the man pointed his gun at the girl, who had just started to poke her head around Blitzø's leg, "is quite a ways away from her home." He tapped the barrel of his gun to his temple. "Her loving mother just wanted me to come and make sure she returned home, safely."

"That's not..." The girl hesitated, gaze darting from Blitzø to the man with the gun. "I mean..."

"What the fuck does the harvest moo-"

"When the clock strikes midnight, I'm going to hunt you down. You have..." The man slid his gaze up to the sky. "I'd say about an hour and a half to try and hide." He smirked, holstering his gun. "Time's ticking."

"Wait-"

The strange man was already gone, there one moment and just... gone the next. Blitzø stared at where he had been, confusion overriding his earlier anger.

Blitzø let out a curse, glancing at the girl. "Who the fuck are you?"

She stood up straight, clearing her throat. "I'm Octavia but call me Via, and my father is Stolas, of the Ars Goetia. And I'm called upon my father's ownership of you to return me to my father."

"No one owns me." Blitzø muttered, feeling a shiver run down his spine as the girl looked up at him. Her eyes looked oddly empty until she blinked again, a frown crossing her face as she glanced at him before she looked down, tears filling her eyes.

"I need help." She whispered, her voice wavering.

Blitzø stared at her before finally glancing back at where the stranger disappeared.

"And where is your father?" Blitzø demanded.

Via rocked on her feet for a moment, hands behind her back. When she spoke next, all signs of her impending crying were gone. "He's busy with his duties for the Harvest Festival."

"And where are his duties?" Blitzø asked.

She stalled, her mouth pulling into a frown as she thought. "Hell, I think?"

Blitzø let out a low hum, tapping his fingers against his thigh. His head hurt and he wanted to go home, but if the man was crazy enough to track him down, he couldn't risk Fizz like that. "And what am I supposed to do?"

Via shrugged. "The festival will be over soon. Then he'll realize I'm gone and he'll be here in an instant to retrieve me." She tilted her head to the side, stepping as close to Blitzø as she can. "It's a game we play."

"And it's a game you roped me into?" Blitzø asked. He let out a slow breath as Via hummed in agreement. "And what happens if the scary man catches us?"

"He'll probably kill your loved ones in front of you before killing you." Via hesitated, frowning. "Or some light torture, depends on how bored he is."

"Oh." Blitzø swallowed, gaze shifting to the sky. He didn't crave the pain of self harm anymore as the thought of how his night might end overtook him. "Do this often, then?"

Via shrugged.

"Do many people make it out alive...?" Blitzø pressed.

Via considered this. She held up three fingers.

"Out of?"

Blitzø hesitated as he followed Via's fingers, going pale as she signed the number '29'. "Don't let him know where your loved ones are. Those are always the messiest."

"Three. Out of twenty nine?" Blitzø whispered, his voice hoarse as he parsed out those odds and the age of the girl before him. He hadn't gotten a good look at the man, hadn't seen his face clearly, but fear was crawling through his veins and taking root at the mess that could befall him.

"Yep." Via smiled, teeth flashing. "I think you'll be lucky number four." Her eyes gleamed like a dying coal. "The zeros always have good odds!"

Blitzø shook himself, gaze shifting left and right. "Right. How do you feel about amusement parks?"

Octavia frowned. "What?"

"We can go to to the indoor amusement park that's downtown." Blitzø suggested, licking his lips and wiping his palms on his pants. "It's a ten minute walk and-"

"Sure." Octavia shrugged. "Dad never lets me go to to them, says they're too dangerous for me."

"Why not?" Blitzø asked. He was thankful that the conversation had moved on to something not containing his probable death.

Octavia tilted her head in thought. "Delicate bones?" She said, blinking and Blitzø felt a shudder run down his spine.

"Maybe not.... what about an arcade."

Octavia frowned. "Why?"

"There's this... mini golf-laser tag arcade, it was out of business for a while but they reopened it nearby and that might be a good place to get a bit lost. It's not too big, but we can probably hide you well enough in there from that asshole." He was already starting to walk, a plan forming in his mind. Maybe he could hide Via while he dealt with the man. Maybe he could ditch the girl somewhere... but he couldn't do that, looking at her wide eyes and trusting stare.

He hated children.

Blitzø nodded, shifting his gaze away from her. "Let's go, then." He hesitated. "How old are you?"

Via hummed, counting on her fingers as she followed him. "Ten, tonight. Daddy said if I ever needed help, I could seek you out."

Blitzø shuddered, feeling a deep ache on his thigh. The smell of burnt skin, the fire cracking-

Blitzø flinched when Octavia took his hand. He took in a sharp breath, gaze shifting down to the kid. "Fuck, you're Stolas's runt."

Via frowned but nodded, looking down. "Sorry."

"Shit, no, he had a gun- that guy is your uncle?" Blitzø demanded.

"He's a demon hunter who owes mother a life debt." Via mumbled. "He was sworn to mother before she fell. He followed her in death to fulfill his eternal wish to serve her, some odd years ago." She paused, considering what she knew of the man. "He likes card games and horses."

Blitzø cursed under his breath but accepted this. He was thankful when Via shut up as they began walking.

///

Blitzø was thankful that it was a short walk to the gaming complex. And that they hadn't fixed the gate yet. He ushered Via through the broken gate, leading her to the backdoor and fucking around with it until the door clicked open.

"Are we supposed to be here?" Via asked and Blitzø glanced sideways at her.

"It's the middle of the night and we're sneaking in the through the back. What do you think?"

She looked serious as she considered his question. Finally, she shrugged. "No."

Blitzø flipped on the set of dimmer lights, gaze flashing across the arcade floor. "You can play some of the games, just keep the noise down and I'll jump the prize counter later." He hesitated, studying the young girl. The sleeves of her sweater were rolled up to her elbows, while the hems of her pants dragged on the floor. She met his gaze, blinking slowly at him.

"What?"

"How likely is it that the uh..." He scrambled to think of what Via had called the man, "demon hunter will find us?" Blitzø asked, turning back to Via after rummaging behind one of the counters they passed.

Via shrugged in answer, taking the card that Blitzø had swiped. She turned, skipping down the walkway and stopping at one of the games. Her delight was visible when the machine turned on.

He paced the bottom floor of the arcade, gaze locked on the back door each time he passed it. He had locked it again, chained it shut but his skin still itched. He felt watched, but the night passed slowly. The only interruptions were the muted game noises, which dragged Blitzø's attention away from the circle he was making, keeping an eye on Octavia as he went.

He wasn't sure when he started relaxing, but it was gradual enough that, even as Blitzø made slow circles, he was growing tired. The urge that had prompted him out of his apartment and the spike of adrenaline when he had been shot at had faded now, leaving rivers of exhaustion in his wake. He patted his jacket pockets down once again, looking for his phone and sighing when he realized he didn't have it.

He hoped Fizz had gone back to bed and didn't notice that he still wasn't home.

Blitzø shook his head, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and continuing to walk. The arcade floor was creepy at midnight, but it was a layout that Blitzø knew well. He passed by Octavia, stopping long enough to watch the screen as she played. The cabinet itself was muted, thanks to the game pass override and Octavia was staring at it, moving the controls easily, despite having to drag around a small stool so she could be tall enough to see the screen properly.

Her noises were easy to predict, the excited and disappointed noises both.

He froze when he heard something clatter to the floor, turning to face the empty hallway. He could see where the item had fallen, his gaze going wide when he saw the shadows move. His hand drifted to his waist, blood turning to ice when he found himself unarmed despite having had one earlier. He lowered his hand, scanning the path. He moved closer to the fallen object, bending down and picking it up. He turned the plastic toy horse over, lifting his gaze back up to the darkened section of the arcade.

"Hello?"

He saw Via lift her head in response, flashing him a frown, but Blitzø just shook his head and gestured for her to go back to playing. He started walking again, flipping on another set of lights. He narrowed his eyes against the additional brightness, catching sight of a piece of fabric just slipping out of sight. He picked up the pace, quick steps becoming a mild jog.

Blitzø skidded to a halt as the flash of metal greeted him, his gaze slowly moving over to the man from before, arm steady as he held out his gun. He had the briefest flicker of surprise cross his eyes before he smirked, cocking the gun.

"Well, if it ain't the trash that kidnapped the kid."

The man, who had ditched his jacket in the corner, was wearing a black shirt with jeans. The metal of a belt buckle caught Blitzø's gaze before he quickly returned to staring at the gun. He hadn't wavered in his stance, the man's eyes narrowed even as a bit of silvery hair fell into his eyes. In this light, Blitzø wasn't sure if they were brown or black but the weight of the gaze made his skin crawl.

"She came with me willingly. I wasn't the one chasing a little kid."

Blitzø hated the quiver he heard in those words, but he met the man's gaze. He was greeted with a raised eyebrow and the man lifting the gun up higher into the air.

"Now you-"

Blitzø launched himself at the man, arms outstretched. He collided with the wall of pure muscle, but was satisfied when they both tumbled to the floor. The gun was knocked from the hunter's hand, though he quickly reached out up to shove at Blitzø's chest, bringing his knees up and into Blitzø's chest.

Blitzø scrambled off of the hunter as the wind was knocked out of him. He struggled to catch his breath, gaze scanning the floor. He cursed as he kicked the gun in his haste to get at it, sending it further away. He tried to take a step forward, but felt the back of his jacket be pulled. His feet slid out from under him and he fell, the hunter still on his own knees as he grinned.

"You want to make this a brawl, then?" He hissed, hand latching onto Blitzø's ankle and yanked him back to the ground. The man stretched, cursing his luck as his fingers just grazed the edge of the gun. He lifted a foot back to slam it into the hunter's hand, grimacing when he heard a crunch as his foot made contact. The angle wasn't the best, and the mark was off, but it worked.

The huner let out a sharp yelp of pain and released Blitzø's ankle, allowing him to get back to his feet. The hunter did the same, though he was quick to follow Blitzø as he made for the gun again. He bent low to grab it, turning around on the hunter and lifting it up.

The man paused, tilting his head and studying Blitzø. "You think that scares me?"

"Maybe." Blitzø took a step back as the hunter pulled another gun from his coat, cocking his head to the side. "Why don't you leave the kid alone?"

"You don't know anything about that kid, how do you know that you're in the right by helping her?"

Blitzø placed his finger lightly on the trigger, adjusting his aim just slightly as the hunter talked. The sound of footsteps caught his attention once more and he saw Octavia poke her head around the corner, eyes wide. The distraction cost him as the sound of a gunshot rang out. He whipped his head around in time to see the hunter lunging at him, knocking him onto the back. The gun clattered from his grip, Via taking a step back at the sight.

"Any last words?" The hunter growled, shoving the gun up and under Blitzø's jaw, the muzzle still hot from the discharge.

He wondered what sort of scar it would leave and if he'd get the time to appreciate it at all.

"Octavia!"

Blitzø froze, gaze shifting to the side. He could still feel the muzzle of the gun pressing against his jaw, hard and uncomfortable. Slowly, he took a breath, watching the man's gaze shift down to him before back up to the scene unfolding across from them.

"Daddy!" Octavia called brightly, already running towards the new comer. The man above Blitzø lifted his gun away before grumpily shoving it in his jacket and holding out his hand. Blitzø looked from his hand to where Via was embracing the man from his nightmares. He was frantic, but voice gentle as he asked several questions, checking over his kid. He finally accepted the hand, allowing himself to be pulled up.

"Thanks for the entertaining fight." The demon hunter looked Blitzø up and down. "You're the only one I've ever seen stop and fight instead of trying to run." He inclined his head. "Name's Striker."

"Right, nice to-"

Blitzø took a step and the world spun, his gaze going dark.

When he opened his eyes, he found that he was in front of his apartment door, key already in hand. He lioked over his shoulder before he opened the door, stepping inside. He slipped out of his jacket, hanging it on the hook and, when he pulled his hands back, he realized he was shaking.

He stepped out of his shoes as he stumbled to bed, collapsing on his half of the bed and groping for the blankets. He found his phone instead and he froze, opening his eyes when the image of the man that had haunted his dreams for years now floated out of the dark.

There was laughter, but nestled along the laughter was a soft word of thanks.

"Blitzø?"

Blitzø went still when he heard Fizz. The familiar weight of a hand on his shoulder relaxed him, his eyes closing again. His heart was slowing down, the events of the night fading. His eyes were firmly shut when Fizz's slow hand movement stopped. There was rustling of sheets and then the flash of light as the small bedside lamp was flipped on.

"Oh my fucking god! Why the hell are you bleeding? What kind of midnight smoke ends in you bleeding?" Fizz scrambled across the bed, pressing his hands to Blitzø's shoulder and pressing down on him as he looked for the source the wound.

When Fizz's hand tightened where the bullet had grazed his arm, Blitzø let out a muffled cry of pain. "When the fuck did he shoot me?"

"BLITZO!"

Blitzø wince and Fizz lowered his voice.

"What the fuck happened?" Fizz demanded, gaze dropping to the blood on his hand when he pulled it away.

Blitzø sat up, tucking one leg under him as he turned to face Fizz. The pain was dull but it was starting to sharpen. He could feel it now, his arm protesting the abuse as Fizz turned his arm this way and that. Fizz hesitated, reaching out once more and resting his hands on Blitzø's shoulders instead, searching him over.

"And please, don't lie lie me." Fizz pleaded. "If this is some kind of new form of self harm or if this is-" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Blitzø, please, talk to me."

There was a pause, a moment of hesitance, but Blitzø reached out, pulling Fizz into a hug. "You remember that dumbass dinner dad made me do?"

Fizz pulled away, his mouth tugging further into a frown. There was nothing that Fizz didn't know, but there were matters that neither wanted to discuss, not after the first time the secrets were spilled, downing in vomit and tears.

When Fizz nodded, Blitzø relaxed. "Well, the dude's daughter shows up and-" He glanced at Fizz when he heard the sharp intake of breath, but the other man just nodded for him to continue. "And she asks me to help her out, because this crazy guy..."

He continued talking, even as he saw the disappointment deep in Fizz's eyes. There was concern there, right at top and worry, but the disappointment stung.

***

"Did you have a wonderful birthday, darling?" Stolas asked, glancing down at his daughter as she skipped along next to him, humming under her breath. She paused, glancing up at her father and shrugging.

"It was interesting. I got to go to this huge arcade with Blitzø, he snuck me in the back and let me use this card that gave me unlimited access to the machines." She paused, pursing her lips in thought. "Of course, he was very nice in making sure Striker didn't hit me when he was shooting."

"That's nice, darl-"

"He shot at you?"

Octavia glanced up when she heard her mother's voice, a smile splitting her face.

"I'm sorry, you said Striker shot at you?" Stolas asked, redirecting his attention to what his daughter said and focusing on her.

Octavia shrugged. "It was only after Blitzø had agreed to help. He was very nice and didn't actually aim at me. He did hit Blitzø though, I hope he's okay."

"I am going to-" The woman's voice is filled with rage.

"Everyone's fine now, darling. No one's bleeding." Stolas said, cutting into and waving away Stella's anger as the woman huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Octavia skipped between between her parents, going back to humming. It had been a very good birthday, she decided, the best she had in a while.

Chapter 4: Bridge - Final

Blitzø listened to the bustle of the court house, gaze sliding over to Fizz. The man had the goofiest of grins on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"You remembered the papers?"

Blitzø lifted a hand to his pocket, his eyes going wide as he pretended to pat down his jacket. Fizz lifted a hand, smacking him playfully and pushing him forward.

"Yes, I got the papers. I wouldn't fuck up, not now."

He ignored the snort, skipping his way down the main pathway to a nearly empty side hallway. The door to the judge on marriage certificate duty was ajar, soft music spilling out. Fizz took a step forward, lifting his hand up and pushing the door open. "Uhh, hello?"

There was a rustle and Blitzø stood on his tiptoes, straining to look over Fizz's shoulder.

It was the smell of smoke fire as the second man's hand caressed his jaw.

Blitzø forced his breath to even out, gaze flashing to Fizz. He wasn't watching him, was focused on talking to the man behind the desk. He followed Fizz inside, ignoring the screeching panic as he smiled at the judge. He looked up only once as Fizz took the papers from Blitzø.

"File with the clerk down the hall and to the left." He signed his name, sliding the papers back to Fizz and lifting his gaze upwards. "And then, congratulations, Fizz, Blitzø, you'll be married."

Vassago's gaze glinted and Blitzø let the chill run through him even as Fizz pulled him out into the hall.

Notes:

If I missed any tags, please let me know!