Work Text:
“You're doing so good birdie, just like that.”
Blitzø teases at Stolas' entrance with two fingers, circling the hole and swiping through the slick with his claws. He's already had his tongue in there - can still taste Stolas’ heady arousal - and now they're getting ready for the main event.
Stolas bucks against him, desperate for more friction. His arms are out of the way, tied at the wrists with the rope looped through the headboard. The wonders of having an honest-to-satan bedroom for the first time in their relationship. Before, Stolas could have snapped through any bindings and taken what pleasure he wanted. Without his magic as he is now, his helplessness is finally a reality.
Blitzø groans, his own boxers unbearably tight. “Bet you want my cock, yeah?”
“Mrrph -” Stolas' needy keen is swallowed up by his gag.
“Greedy boys don't get what they want. Say please for me.”
Stolas collapses back against the bed, bird-puss practically weeping. His legs are spread so far that his thighs must ache already, but Blitzø grabs them and pushes them further apart. He digs his claws into Stolas' feathered flesh, dark blood beading up as he thrashes uselessly underneath him.
Finally, Blitzø works a finger into him. He's not gentle; one finger goes straight down to the knuckle, then pistons in and out. Stolas tries to clench around him but his thighs remain widely split. He's at Blitzø's mercy, every vulnerable spot open for the taking. With a second finger, Blitzø presses at the sensitive nub over Stolas' hole. He chokes on his next moan, saliva dribbling out around the gag.
From two fingers, Blitzø goes to three just as quickly. He's rough because knows Stolas can take it. When he gets too loud, Blitzø slaps against his hip with the spade of his tail to shut him up.
He plays with him long after he's already well-stretched. Blitzø curls his fingers inside of Stolas, nudging at the spot he really wants Blitzø to touch. Every time he passes over it, Stolas cries out more desperately. It's a good thing Blitzø thought to stuff his mouth before all of this.
“I know you want it,” he says, “so fucking horny, yeah? Bird-heat fully kicked in?”
Stolas nods, tears leaking from all of his four eyes.
Humming sadistically, Blitzø considers. “If you still know what the fuck I'm on about, I think you need a bit more time.”
“Mmmrph!”
He ignores him. Again, Blitzø curls his fingers inside his tight hole, palm pressed firmly against his not-clit and grinding over it. Next time, he'll try to stick his whole hand in.
But not tonight.
When Stolas is writhing on the mattress, hips bucking wildly up with every one of Blitzø's movements, he thinks they're about there. He takes his fingers out and leaves the lips winking, just begging for a good dicking. So horned up he won’t care who's giving it to him.
“I'll fuck you if you want,” Blitzø tries again. “I promise this time. Just nod and I'll have you seeing stars.”
But Stolas is too far gone. He grinds against nothing, warbling in suffocating need. Blitzø slaps against his hip again and he doesn't even twitch, whole body consumed with desire.
Blitzø. “Good birdie. You can have it.”
He climbs up over Stolas' shaking frame, seating himself on his waist and pinning his hips down. He leans in, balancing his hands in Stolas' tit fluff and hovering his face over Stolas' beak. This close, the red ball gag is shiny with spit, catching the light from their lamp. Blitzø swipes his own tongue over it, a weak imitation of a kiss.
Stolas has his eyes scrunched shut. His arms are completely tense, rope digging into his feathered flesh. Blitzø grabs his wrists and pushes them back, easing the pressure from the coarse binds.
He grinds down on Stolas' flat stomach, so hard he could probably cum from a strong breeze at this point. “You’re mine, remember that. I don't care how crazy he goes, I'm gonna fuck you myself after.”
Back when Stolas had been lucid, they’d talked about this a ton. He begged for Blitzø to stuff him with seed - and he called it that - no matter how pointless. He wanted it to feel like Blitzø was the one getting him pregnant (‘gravid, blitzy~’).
Like this… Blitzø already feels that way. He doesn't leave a job half done.
“Get in here!” He calls.
Blitzø doesn't turn around to look at Vassago. He remains seated on Stolas, pinning him down and blocking his view. Stolas struggles against him, gasping harshly as his burning want goes unsatisfied for so fucking long.
The mattress dips when Vassago kneels between his thighs. He doesn't talk, as agreed, but he lets out a small, desiring groan as he sees Stolas' cloaca spread wide open. Ready and waiting for him to fuck into, no need for foreplay or any of that gooey shit when Blitzø already has Stolas so stretched and needy.
Blitzø knows that Vassago has to scissor with his bird for this to work. Stolas shifts as Vassago positions him, one red thigh coming into Blitzø's peripheral vision. He leans lower over Stolas, so that all he can see is his tear-dampened face.
The reaction when Vassago slides their cloacas together is immediate. Stolas' eyes open, a moan falling out from behind the gag. Again, he seizes up, hips desperate to match Vassago's pace. The wet sounds of his every thrust fill the room.
Blitzø lets go of one of Stolas' wrists, gripping under his beak instead. “You like that? You want it?”
Now, his needs being met, Stolas is present enough to nod. Blitzø unlatches his gag with a quick flick of his wrist, then dives down for a deep kiss. He is relentless, lips rough as he works his tongue into Stolas' mouth. He doesn't bother trying to avoid the sharp edge of his beak, swallowing down the coppery taste of his own blood eagerly. Stolas is just as desperate in return, loud moans crushed between them.
Vassago is fast. He's there for his own release, not to get Stolas off too. If Blitzø could get Stolas bird-pregnant alone, they wouldn't need his proxy parrot-penis bullshit.
He grunts as he cums. As he spills into Stolas, he whines, frantically chasing his own climax. But as soon as Vassago's finished, he stills and Stolas is left unsatisfied again.
Not looking over his shoulder, Blitzø says, “Thanks, I guess. Now get out.”
As he moves away, Stolas cries out. Without the gag, his every weakened plea is audible. Words escaping him, he can little more than desperately trill for attention.
But he doesn't need to this time.
Moving quickly, Blitzø slips back down Stolas' body, manhandling his long legs over his shoulders. Holding his reddened pussy up at a steep angle, Vassago's cum stops dribbling out of him. With two fingers, Blitzø scrapes back in what has already spilled out.
“Perfect,” he says, licking his lips at the view. “You're gonna keep that in for me, aren't you? Every last drop?”
“Please -” Stolas manages, but it's anyone's guess what he wants specifically.
Blitzø chuckles. “I've got you.”
He shuffles forward, pushing his boxers down and letting his dick spring free. He lines it up with Stolas' entrance, smearing the tip around the edge. Stolas bucks into the contact, held back by his binds.
“Such a fucking whore,” Blitzø says, though his voice is so soft that it might as well be a compliment.
Unable to hold back any longer, he pushes himself in. Stolas caws, relieved beyond anything Vassago could have offered. He squeezes perfectly around Blitzø's dick, thighs clamping down on him like a vice. If Blitzø didn't have his knees over his shoulders, they'd surely be bending around him and locking him in place.
Blitzø thrusts at a punishing pace, so hard and fast that Stolas stops struggling against his binds. He doesn't need to beg for friction when Blitzø fucks him like this - he just has to lay there and take it.
“Fuck, you're so tight, baby,” he groans, “you wanna make daddy feel good, don't you?”
“Yes, yes -” Stolas repeats like a mantra.
Blitzø feels his first release approaching and rides the wave. He knows it won't be the last of the night.
Stolas gets there first. He nearly screams, hole plugged up by Blitzø's dick and insides ravaged by his own cum and Vassago’s already. As Blitzø gets closer and closer, it's only going to get more overwhelming.
“You can take it,” he bites out, barely in time. A couple of thrusts later, he cums so hard his vision whites out.
During the orgasm, he tugs at Stolas' feathers to ground himself. He keeps going in shorter, aborted movements until he’s finished. He still doesn't pull out, not even as he starts to soften within Stolas' walls.
“Blitzø…” Stolas mumbles tearfully.
Blitzø stretches one arm out, rubbing over his cheek with his thumb. “You've got a few more hours of the fertility boost left,” he reminds him, “let's see if I can fuck two eggs into you.”
He shifts a little, looking down. It's small, but there's already a bump at the bottom of Stolas' abdomen from being so full. He twitches beneath Blitzø, hips moving unconsciously and wanting more.
“Gimme a few minutes; can't you wait?” he teases.
Stolas shakes his head desperately. “I need - now, please -”
Blitzø pushes down meanly, palm firm over Stolas' swollen bump. “I'll let you suffer for longer if you're a brat about it.”
“M’sorry, but I -” his pussy clenches, velvety walls perfect against Blitzø. Fuck, he's already getting hard again.
He trails his hand from Stolas’ cheek, claws raking down through his feathers. He scratches lightly over his chest and stomach, then more deeply at his hip. Eventually, Blitzø reaches the top of his hole, the not-clit engorged and poking out between the down. He pinches it between two claws and Stolas howls.
“That's for being bad,” he growls. “Whenever you rush me, I'll do it again.”
Stolas clamps his beak shut. He blinks his wet eyes, talons digging against the rope. Blitzø swirls his finger through the slick-damp feathers around his hole.
Out of his own control, Stolas bucks his hips.
“Impatient,” Blitzø warns.
Stolas trembles, wriggling to free himself as Blitzø slowly - so fucking torturously slow - returns his claw to the sensitive nub. He hovers it there, smiling as Stolas tenses, then pinches it even harder.
Sobbing, Stolas' body twists between fucking up against Blitzø or trying to pull away. Dick hard again, Blitzø makes the choice for him.
“Let's hope you can behave,” he tells Stolas, “I'm thinking three eggs might be in the cards.”
He feels the hot wave of slick that Stolas immediately sheds. Pupils carved into small, shaky hearts, he nods needily.
“As many as you want, please, I want them too ~”
Blitzø pulls back and then thrusts back in, once again setting a cruel pace. Fuck, if Stolas keeps talking like this, they're gonna end up with quadruplets.