Chapter Text
“You like that, baby?”
Ozzie’s voice sounds a million miles above Fizz. The imp is currently on all fours in the middle of the sin’s huge bed, thighs shaking hard as they work to keep him up for easy access. “Yeah, fuck yeah,” Fizz replies, voice rough and raspier than normal. They’re in the middle of their third round tonight, and Fizz feels fucking amazing.
His cunt is filled to the brim with both Ozzie’s cock and his cum, one large hand curled around his waist to keep him in place, the other bracing Ozzie as he clutches at the headboard for leverage. Fizz hasn’t been able to keep quiet all night, every breath out paired with a moan or gasp or a plea for Oz to keep going. Fizz is insatiable, thanks to him. Oz has molded him into the perfect fuck buddy; always eager, always ready to go, and emotionally distant enough to not make it weird.
At least, that’s how Ozzie sees it. Fizzarolli has gotten good over the years at hiding his real feelings. There’s no point wanting things when you work for Mammon, everything belongs to him in the end. Here though, just for a little while, he can pretend he’s got Ozzie, and pretend that Ozzie wants him in the same way.
“How are you always so tight, Fizzy? So perfect for me,” Oz purrs above him, his hips never stopping their endless pistoning. The jester laughs breathily, peeking over his shoulder up at the sin.
“Guess you better up your game, Ozzie.”
The rooster laughs brightly, the hand around Fizz’s waist unfurling and grabbing his tail, sending a shock of pleasure through the imp as he yelps and arches his back. “Am I boring you now? Want me to get mean again?”
“Oh no, what a terrible idea,” Fizz calls back with a cocky grin, heart racing as he earns another laugh. Ozzie’s fingers twist and curl Fizz’s tail around them, tugging it in time with the sin’s thrusts in. Fizz presses his forehead back to the bed, his cap’s bells jingling with every movement. “Fuck, I love that,” he groans as Ozzie kisses the tip of his tail, the appendage stiffening for a moment before relaxing in the other’s grip again.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, oh fuck, yeah, like that,” Fizz starts babbling when he’s close to cumming. It’s a hardwired trait, something he hasn’t been able to shake since his first time. Luckily Oz finds it cute, the sin leaning low and pecking little kisses into the imp’s sweat-sheened back. His tongue darts out and licks a stripe up his spine, the clown shuddering and whining at the strange feeling.
“Salty,” Oz explains with amusement in his tone, making Fizz giggle. He gets more forceful, Fizz’s voice punched out of him with each push in, his words garbling as his mouth runs off without his brain.
“Please, Oz, please,” he begs without knowing what he even wants. “I love that, yes, keep- oh fuck,” the pressure builds, the room a cacophony of noises. Skin slapping against skin, panting, jingling. “Please, oh fuck, please!” Fizz slips one hand below him, rubbing at his clit desperately. He’s so close, he doesn’t even know what number orgasm he’s at anymore. “Ozzie, Ozzie, yes, fuck, I love it, I love you, please-” Fizz cuts himself off with a choked gasp as his body tightens and his orgasm floods all his senses.
He feels like he’s floating. Every single inch of him is coated in a layer of bliss, of overwhelming pleasure. Fizz rides it out for as long as he can until reality seeps back in and the exertion hits him hard. He flops onto the bed, not even bothering to remove the hand between his legs, sandwiching it between himself and the mattress as he pants and slowly returns to himself.
When he does, he realizes Ozzie’s hand is no longer on his tail. In fact, he doesn’t feel Ozzie touching him anywhere anymore. His pussy is already empty, aside from the new piping hot load the sin just emptied into him seconds ago. It’s a struggle but Fizz lifts his head, holding his neck up to turn and look behind him.
“Ozzie?”
The sin freezes where he stands, to the side of the bed, arms frozen where they have just slid into the sleeves of his robe. The sin stares at him, Fizz staring back through bleary eyes, confused. “Where are you going?”
“Oh! Uh,” Asmodeus laughs, he almost sounds nervous but that can’t be true. Ozzie never gets nervous. “I just remembered some paperwork I’ve got to send back in tonight or there will be a delay in my next shipment. I’ll be back! You uh, you just rest for now, okay, Fizz?”
Maybe it’s the fact that Fizz is actually kind of exhausted from this last session, or maybe he just doesn’t want to think too hard yet, but all he ends up saying is a muffled ‘kay’ as he presses his face back into the bed, groaning as he shifts his body and yanks his hand free. There’s a soft snapping sound and Fizz whines unhappily as he rubs his thighs together and turns onto his side, away from Oz. The sin has snapped away their mess, even though he knows how much Fizz loves just lying in it for a while afterward. He’d snip at him but his eyes are getting heavy. He’ll bring it up when the sin comes back.
When Fizz wakes up, it’s 7 am the next day and he is alone in the bed, a blanket tossed over him at some point during the night. He wakes slowly, groaning and stretching as he rolls onto his back and sits up, looking around the room.
There’s no sign of Ozzie. His robe is missing, his phone isn’t plugged in on the nightstand next to Fizz’s like it usually would be, and strangest of all, Fizz is still on top of the comforter, the bed made perfectly aside from where he’d slept. Ozzie never came back last night.
It’s too early to think yet. Fizz yawns as he stretches down off the bed, rummaging in the sin’s bottom dresser drawer to see what clothes he’s left here from prior nights. He pulls out a pair of hot pink leggings and a t-shirt striped in blue and pink and shrugs before tugging them all on and heading out of the bedroom.
Ozzie is not in the living room, and he’s not in the kitchen either. Fizz pauses his search to use the sin’s fancy espresso machine, making himself a strong cup of coffee and downing it almost immediately, smacking his lips and pouring another one, over ice this time, before he restarts his search.
The sin turns out to be in his office, his huge form looking ridiculous where it’s curled up on the couch inside. Fizz takes in the strange sight, sipping his coffee and trying to piece together what happened after he’d fallen asleep. He vaguely remembers Ozzie slipping out, something about paperwork. Maybe it’d taken longer than he thought and he hadn’t wanted to disrupt Fizz by rejoining him in bed. Dummy.
Fizz smiles as he sets his glass down on the coffee table, cupping the sin’s face in his hands and kissing him. The sin stirs almost immediately, his large hands instinctively reaching up and curling around Fizz’s body as he kisses back. The clown giggles a little and Ozzie’s eyes snap open, the rooster reeling back and sitting up. “Fizz! Good morning!”
“Morning, Oz. The fuck are you doing in here?”
Ozzie looks around dumbly for a second before realizing where he is, laughing sheepishly as he gets up, stretching and cracking his back. “Must’ve gotten swept up in the paperwork. Sorry about that. You need a ride home?”
Oh. Fizz stills then immediately plasters a grin on his face. “I mean, if you’re offering one I’ll take it, big man.” Ozzie has never, ever made a comment like that before. It’s a sign clear as day to Fizz: he’s somehow worn out his welcome. Ozzie doesn’t seem to notice the fakeness in Fizz’s face, grabbing his phone and tapping at something before smiling at the clown.
“Lena’s free this morning, I’ll have her pull the car around.”
“Sounds good, thanks Oz.” Fizz grabs his glass of coffee, downing half of it as he wanders back towards the door. “I’ll uh, I’ll just grab my shit. Thanks for a fun night!”
“Right. Same to you, Fizzy. I’ll see you later?”
“‘Course!”
Fizz all but runs out of the office. It takes only a few minutes for him to gather the things he’d come with last night, draining his glass before he hops into the elevator and takes it all the way down to the ground floor. His mind is racing. What the fuck did he do last night to get such a response from Ozzie?
Lena is parked out front of the palace as promised and she doesn’t bother waiting for Fizz to give an address before she takes off. All the drivers know where he lives by now. It’s the worst drive back Fizz has ever had. He spends the entirety of it staring out the window and wracking his brain for where last night went wrong.
It doesn’t hit him until he’s stomped up the final flight of stairs to his studio apartment, just as he’s shoved his key in the door. He freezes, eyes wide as he tries to convince himself he’s remembering wrong. His chest feels tight, he’s panicking. Metal hands grapple with the doorknob as Fizz flings himself inside, locking it behind him and sliding down the door until his ass hits the floor.
Did he actually say it out loud? Did he seriously tell Ozzie he loved him in the middle of getting pounded out of his mind?
“Fuck.”
He did. He’d done so well these last few months holding in every ounce of true affection he had for Ozzie, letting himself be happy with their current situation, and now he’s dropped a fucking bomb right on top of it. Maybe he’s overthinking, maybe it’s something else and the next time he sees Oz the sin will eat him out in his dressing room and all will be right with the world.
All is not right with the world. The next shift Ozzie and Fizz have together is two days later and there’s been complete radio silence between them since that awkward morning. Normally they’d text at least a little, send each other stupid memes or shit they saw that made them think of the other. Nothing.
When Fizz sees Oz at work he smiles at him from across the room, getting a weak one back and a nod of acknowledgement before the rooster hurries out. Fizz is fucked. He’s so fucked. He’s been trying to come up with excuses for days now, the only one that’s even slightly plausible is that he misspoke but with how Oz is acting maybe the rooster’s just lost all interest in Fizz entirely.
One of the first things Fizz was ever told about Asmodeus was not to fall in love with him. It was a known thing, told to every new employee at his establishments. He might fuck you, but he will never fall in love with you, and the moment he thinks you’ve caught some kind of feelings you’re done. But Fizz is different, or at least, he kind of felt like he’d been. Ozzie called on him constantly right from the start. He’d sleep over half the time, the sin’s even made him breakfast before! Sure, he knows he’s not the only one Oz is fucking probably, but he still thought he was kind of special.
Ozzie leaves him hanging for two more days before he asks to meet. Fizzarolli almost wants to skip it, he knows what’s coming. Why does he have to hear it face-to-face? He’s never had a say in what they had aside from accepting whatever Ozzie was willing to give him. Can’t he reject just this one thing?
Still, he shows up to the sin’s office as requested, knocking tentatively on the door and taking a deep breath when Oz tells him to come in. He plasters on his best people-pleaser smile as he walks in, shutting the door behind him. “Hey, Oz! Haven’t seen you around.” That’s not technically true, he’s seen Oz plenty. Mostly his back, as he retreats the moment he spots Fizz.
The sin is sitting at his desk. Bad sign. He’d been hoping for the couch, or at the very least the tea table. But the desk? A clear divide between them? It’s over. “Hey Fizz! Thanks for meeting me, sorry to keep you after the show’s finished.” Ozzie is giving him a casual smile like he isn’t about to rip Fizz’s heart out and stomp on it. “Please, have a seat.”
The jester does, folding his hands in his lap as he settles into one of the cushy armchairs in front of Oz’s desk. “What’s up?” He tries to keep his tone light, keep his smile up, but Ozzie’s expression shifts into something more serious and it’s like someone’s dumped a bucket of ice water on him. “Oz?”
“Fizz…” The rooster takes a steady breath. “During our last night together, you said something that has troubled me quite a bit.”
“Oh?” Apparently, his mouth has decided he’s going to try and play dumb.
“You said you loved me.”
“What?” Fizz laughs nervously. “No! No, I- You must’ve misheard me. I was probably talking about your dick! Love that dick, that’s not against the rules now is it?” Ozzie doesn’t smile. He folds his hands together atop his desk, frowning down at Fizz and the jester shuts up, shrinking back into the chair.
“Fizz. Please, be honest with me.”
“I’m sorry, Ozzie,” the words start to spill. “I know, I fucked up, I’m sorry but we can just- let’s just pretend it never happened! Nothing has to change, I mean, I’ve kept that in for months now and it’s not like you-”
“Months?” Shit.
“Did I say months? I meant weeks, days, just, I mean… fuck.” The clown’s shoulders sag. His chest hurts, and his throat is so dry it feels like he’s swallowed a cup of sand. “Okay. What happens now?”
Ozzie’s expression is hard to read, but Ram and Bull are clearly upset. The sin sighs, leaning down behind the desk and pulling up a box, setting it near Fizz. Fizz knows what’s inside just from what he can see sticking out the top. One of his sleeping cap’s poof balls sticks out of the box. He can see even the stupid shit is in there like the mug he’d bought to keep in Oz’s kitchen that says Thirsty Boy. It’s all of his things, everything he’d left over Ozzie’s these last few months.
“Well, you sure don’t do shit in halves, huh? Is that it, then? You sending me back to Mammon?”
“What!?” The sin has the gall to look shocked at the suggestion. “No! Absolutely not. I mean, if, if that’s what you’d like, I won’t stop you but you’re still my business partner, Fizz. I’d like to keep you working here if you’re okay with that.”
He can’t decide if that’s better or worse. “Sure, yeah. I love it here, would’ve sucked to leave so soon. So I guess we’re just… back to being friends? And co-workers?”
“Yes.” Ozzie gives him a little smile but Fizz can’t read the underlying feeling. Is it sadness? Relief? “I’d like it if we could stay friends. Thanks for being so understanding, Fizz.”
“Of course. I’ll just, uh,” He stands up, stretching his arms out and grabbing the box, pulling it to himself. “I’m gonna head out. Got one of the drivers waiting for me, don’t wanna keep him. I’ll see you around, Asmodeus.”
The sin falters, getting to his feet for a moment before thinking twice about it and sitting back down. “Right. See you around.”
Fizzarolli considers it a huge success when he makes it to the stairwell in his apartment complex before the tears start. Yes, the blurred vision and hiccups make it a bit hard to climb three flights of stairs, especially with a heavy box in his hands, but it’s a million times better than crying in the limo and having the gossip reach all of the Ozzie’s staff by the next day.
They still get something to gossip about when he ends up calling out the next two shifts, but he’s able to play it off by saying he’d gotten food poisoning. Asmodeus isn’t on the schedule at all for the rest of the week, and Fizz finds himself incredibly relieved. He can pretend everything’s okay in front of his coworkers and neighbors, but he’s not sure he’s ready to try and be normal around Ozzie anytime soon.
Every day feels twice as long and half as meaningful. It’s embarrassing to realize just how much of his happiness he’d left on Ozzie’s shoulders until now. He doesn’t even know where to begin with fixing it when all he wants to do is find that big stupid bastard and cry in his chest feathers.
When one of the succubi invites him out after their Saturday shift it feels like a godsend. He fights his first instinct to decline and ends up going to a crowded bar with them. He gets drunk and high and the girls try and fail to teach him how to dance sexy but it’s still somehow fun. They send him home in a cab and he wakes up in a group chat with most of them and realizes that for the first time that week, his first thought wasn’t about Asmodeus. When they ask him to join them tomorrow he texts back a yes immediately.
He tries to make friends with his coworkers and finds that the best way to fill the void is to actually fill the void. Fizz stops giving himself time to be sad, presses it back inside, deep, deep down, and keeps himself so busy that he’s got no time to let it out during the day. He picks up extra shifts, goes out with the girls, and pretends he isn’t still crying himself to sleep every night.
The first time he sees Ozzie is a full two weeks from their last conversation but it feels like only seconds have passed. His stomach feels like it’s been tied in a knot, and he can barely squeak out a ‘hey’ when the sin greets him like they haven’t cut their most intimate tie to shreds. He doesn’t seem bothered at all. Fizz ends up excusing himself and cries in the bathroom until showtime.
He avoids Ozzie like the plague from then on, conversing with him as little as possible. He distracts himself with his newfound sort of friends, huddling with them during breaks to keep from looking free. He starts smoking again, both to help cut the stress and also because Ozzie doesn’t smoke so Fizz knows he’ll never have to worry about running into him in the back alley where all the workers take their smoke breaks.
It becomes his safe haven quickly, so of course it only makes sense that the next time he goes out for one Ozzie is already out there, his phone in hand as he frowns down at it. The sin’s head raises and snaps to the open door before Fizz can retreat, and the way Oz’s face lights up at the sight of Fizz makes him ache.
“Fizz! Come on out, sorry, I was just taking a call.” The rooster steps aside and Fizz walks out, pulling out the pack of cigarettes from his costume and pulling one out, holding it between his lips as he pats himself down looking for his lighter. Ozzie snaps his fingers and offers a flame from his thumb, leaning low and lighting the cigarette for Fizz without asking.
“Thanks,” Fizz mumbles, taking a long drag and sighing as he watches the smoke rise and fade into the inky black sky. There’s a minute of pure, excruciating silence as Fizz pretends to fuck around on his phone as he smokes and acts like he can’t see the fucking puppy dog expression on Ozzie’s face as he waits to be acknowledged again. He should just snuff the cigarette and go back inside. Instead, he shoves his phone back into his pocket and leans against the wall, looking at Oz as he takes another drag. “Still waiting on a call?”
The sin stiffens, eyes darting between the phone in his hand and Fizz, and he laughs sheepishly, putting his phone away as well. “No, sorry. It’s good to see you, it feels like we keep missing each other!” Yeah. Purposefully. Fizz forces a smile on his face as he shrugs.
“Been busy. How are you?”
Oz’s expression is weird. Has Fizz lost his ability to read him in just a couple of weeks? “Good! I’ve been good. Busy too, of course. Caught your set earlier, you had some great new material.”
“Oh!” He had no idea Ozzie had been there. “Thanks.” His smile’s a little more genuine. Ozzie always appreciated Fizz’s talents, and as silly as it is to think it feels good to know that Oz didn’t just tell him he was funny before because they were fucking. He watches the sin watching him, trying to determine where those pupilless eyes are focused. Fizz sucks in another mouthful of nicotine and he’s positive Oz is staring at his lips now from the slight shift in his face.
“Want one?” He offers the pack to Ozzie, lips twitching with amusement at how the sin’s face flames with gold at being caught staring. He’s shared cigarettes with Oz after sex sometimes, but he’s never seen him just smoke one for the hell of it. Surprisingly, the sin does pluck one from the proffered pack with a muttered thanks, lighting it for himself and taking a drag.
They stand out there together, watching their smoke fade as it carries up and away, backs pressed to opposite sides of the alley. Fizz finishes his cigarette first, crushing the butt in his fingers and tossing it in the nearby dumpster before turning to the door. He’s stopped before he can grab it by a hand wrapped around his wrist. Ozzie’s right behind him now, the closest he’s been to him since that night. Fizz might not be able to actually feel with his hands but the rest of him feels clammy, nerves skyrocketing as he turns and looks up at the sin towering over him.
“Need something?” Can he not be a dick for like five seconds? It’s fascinating how quickly he’s thrown up his guard around Ozzie. Spikes first, humor second, vulnerability nonexistent.
“Fizz,” he needs Ozzie to stop saying his name, especially with that fucking face he’s pulling, like he’s the one who’s sad. The one who misses him. The one who’s been getting fucked up every night because it’s the only way he can fall asleep without crying about Ozzie first. Ozzie’s hand slides lower, takes Fizz’s in his, engulfing it, and Fizz can feel his throat tighten. He stares up at Oz as the rooster steps closer.
“Listen, are you free tonight? I was thinking we could grab some dinner, catch up. I-”
“Fizz! You out here?”
Ozzie pulls back like he’s been burned. Fizz turns to the door he’d been about to go through to see one of the succubi he’s been partying with, Lottie, standing there. She smiles at him before her eyes flick upward and her surprise is clear at seeing the King of Lust outside with Fizz. “Sorry! I was just um,” Lottie giggles nervously, eyes flitting back to Fizz. “You’re coming out with us tonight, right? We were gonna figure out what club we’re hitting up tonight, wanted your input.”
“Sure!” Fizz smiles at her, then glances back at Oz. “Have a good night.”
“You too.”
Fizz lets Lottie loop her arm with his, tugging him close and giggling in his ear as they head inside together. “Was I interrupting something?”
He lets out a bitter laugh. “Not at all.”
That night an incubus tries to dance with Fizz and Fizz lets him. He has fun, or the closest imitation to it he can get. The incubus calls him pretty and holds his waist when they dance, but when he goes in for a kiss, Fizz swerves him and runs back to the girls. He goes home alone, swaying and stumbling, and fucking calls Mammon, of all people.
“Fizzarolli, it’s fuckin’ 2 am! You’re lucky I don’t actually need to sleep.”
“Heyyy, Mammon! Need me for any appearances or anything soon?”
A dark chuckle crackles from the speaker. “What, getting tired of all the dicks and cunts in Lust?”
Fizz sighs, rolling onto his back where he’s splayed out on his bed. “No, it’s great, really. I just want to work on my next pageant routine, thought I’d kill two birds with one stone if you could use me somewhere for a week or two.”
“Aww, Fizzy, you know I’ll find somewhere to squeeze you in. The kiddies love you, and their parents love giving me all their money to shut their kids up for an hour!”
“Great, I’ll head back tomorrow, so long as there’s no scheduling problems with Ozzie’s. I’ll let you know.” He hangs up without bothering to wait for a reply, turning back onto his stomach and grabbing for a pillow to shove his face into.
The next day he clears the schedule with the set manager over the phone, packs a suitcase, and takes the first elevator to Greed.